The end of my last class was approaching dangerously fast—which meant I'd soon have to face the Demon, also known as Mr. Joon.
I can't even remember the last time I saw him. I do recall he taught us a few lessons last year, but not regularly. I didn't like him even back then.
He's too cold, distant, unfriendly. Sure, he explains things clearly and I always understood the material, but his style just didn't sit well with me.
I think I might have seen him once this semester, but I'm not sure.
He's the kind of person you never see around campus. He's always holed up in that crappy, far corner lecture hall, and maybe once a month he checks if anyone's taken his spot in the faculty lounge. Not that he really seems to care.
And then the other day Lee had the nerve to tell us that JJ "wasn't always like this," that he used to be just a regular, smiling professor. Bullshit.
I'm sorry, but someone with a face that stern has never smiled in his life—trust me.
I was sitting in my last class: Neuroethics and Decision Making. I had no idea what was being said, because mentally I was already standing in front of JJ, practicing the speech I had rehearsed over and over.
This was my only chance. If I messed it up, he wouldn't agree to help me, and I'd likely fail the end-of-year exam—and lose the high scholarship with it.
He's not even required to tutor anyone. If he agrees, it would be a gift for me... and a burden for him. I just hope it goes well when it's showtime.
Throughout the entire neuroethics lecture, I kept debating how I should ask him for extra lessons. I must have thrown out five different mental drafts. Either I came off way too assertive, or not confident enough. I didn't even know how I should act around him, or how seriously to take the whole situation—because I don't really know Mr. Joon, only by appearance.
Then the teacher said goodbye, and my heart instantly started pounding faster. My stomach twisted into knots. At that point, I was done with planning speeches. Whatever happens, happens.
"You got this, Jae! Call us right after it's over, okay?" Lee reminded me as we walked out of the lecture hall.
"Exactly. He's not some higher being you need to be terrified of. He's just a professor with an ego the size of his degree. You'll be fine!" Baek added, patting my back.
"I know. I'm nervous, but... if it works out, it works out. If not, then it's not my fault he's such a jerk," I sighed. "Okay, I'm going. I'll call you guys. See you!" I waved and turned toward the end of the hallway, heading for the far corner lecture hall—my body trembling the whole way.
I knew perfectly well that there was no reason to be this nervous, but I wasn't yet at a point in life where I could control these kinds of reactions.
I just wanted to get it over with.
After a few minutes of walking, I found myself in front of a dark brown door. It was closed. Most likely, that ominous lecture hall lay behind it... and inside, the unwanted presence: Mr. Joon.
Why is it that no one's around at times like this? The entire campus felt deserted. Sure, most study groups are done for the day by now, but still—it felt eerie.
I shook off the thought, took a deep breath, and opened the heavy door with trembling hands but a firm motion.
I didn't look around. I just closed the door behind me and slowly turned around.
I was nervous—and it only got worse when I saw Mr. Joon sitting at the teacher's desk.
He was twirling a pen between his fingers. Dressed elegantly in dark tones. His black hair was neat, but you could tell the day had worn on him. His pale skin contrasted starkly with his clothing, and I honestly felt like the Demon himself was sitting in front of me.
Even the black-rimmed glasses made him look more intimidating, and his pitch-black eyes practically burned a hole through me. That expression of his didn't help either.
Something stirred in me. That strange feeling again.
Like I wasn't myself.
It scared me, so I quickly composed myself and stepped closer.
"I didn't put that chair out for my imaginary friend," he said in his deep, commanding voice.
"Yes—sorry." I immediately sat down in the small chair in front of his desk, placing my bag beside me.
"You must be Park Min Jae, if I'm mistaken correctly," he said, staring at me.
What does that even mean—"if I'm mistaken correctly"? Is he for real?
"Well... Yes. I'm Park Min Jae, sir," I replied, flustered.
I didn't know where to look. At him? At the pen he was still playing with?
"Uh-huh. And why did you come here? Just to chat? I didn't stay late for tea," he raised an eyebrow, and I instantly felt uncomfortable—so much so that I almost stood up and walked out.
"Yes, sorry, I just... I'd like you to give me extra lessons. Dissection lessons. I've noticed I'm really struggling with human dissections. I keep getting nauseous and I don't know why. Maybe I just need to get used to it... or something. I'm asking for your help because my group supervisor said that due to scheduling, you're the only one who might be available," I explained, half looking at him, half staring at the board behind him.
"If you can't handle cadavers, why did you even come to this university?" he shot back.
"Because I want to become a neurologist," I blurted out a little too quickly and confidently—probably enough of an answer for him.
"Maybe you should see a psychologist. Ever thought of that?" he sat up straighter, still fiddling with that damn pen.
"Look, sir, I'm not mentally ill. I just wanted to ask for your help so I don't fail my final. My family doesn't have the kind of money to buy their way through things. I fought hard to get here, and I haven't failed a single exam yet. I just needed a bit of support from you, but if I don't fit into your precious schedule, just say so. I've got better things to do too, believe me. I'm not a kid anymore," I said, standing up, bag in hand, already pissed off by his attitude.
"Sit down, Jae!" he commanded—but not angrily, not like me.
With one swift motion, I plopped back down onto the uncomfortable chair and placed my bag beside me again.
"Tell me, what exactly do you feel during dissection class when you see a dead body?" he leaned in slightly, as if trying to tune into me completely.
It was a hard question. One I wasn't sure I even wanted to answer, because... I hadn't really figured it out for myself yet.
"I'll try to explain, but I don't like talking about it," I sighed.
"That doesn't matter. Just speak," he said flatly.
What did I expect from him...?
"This only started this academic year. We just began working on human cadavers. Before, we only dissected animals. I do get nausea, dizziness, headaches—sure—but I think everyone does, just maybe not as strongly as I do. But that's not even the main problem. There's something... strange in me when I look at lifeless bodies. Actually, it's not even in me—it's more like it's with me. The feeling's gotten stronger over the last few sessions. Like I'm not alone during class. Like someone else is there. I don't know who, but I feel them. I'm scared of it—of this feeling. I don't want it to follow me anymore. I even sense it at my new apartment. I'm sorry if this sounds stupid, sir, but I swear I'm not crazy. It's really there. Maybe I just need to get used to seeing dead bodies... or maybe I need to change my perspective. I thought maybe you could help. You're more experienced," I tried to explain, even though it sounded way worse when said out loud.
Mr. Joon stared at me for several long moments, his dark eyes locked onto mine. I couldn't tell if he was waiting for me to say "just kidding," or if he was genuinely thinking.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're the student who was suddenly moved from Study Group 8 to Group 7 after the admissions process, right?" he asked out of nowhere.
"Yes, sir. I was originally assigned to Study Group 8, but due to administrative issues, I was placed in Study Group 7 right before my first semester started," I confirmed.
Why was he asking this?
Just then, a loud thud broke the silence, and I jumped. Mr. Joon had slammed the pen onto the desk, his face still unreadable as he stared at me.
"I don't believe in coincidences, Park Min Jae. Come here every Friday after your last class. I'll see what I can do about your... situation," he said, leaning back in his chair.
"Understood. Thank you, Mr. Joon! I'm grateful!" I stood up quickly, slung my bag over my shoulder, and bowed politely.
"You and I both know you don't actually want to spend time with me. Don't be grateful," he muttered quietly. "And Park...!" he called out as I was already at the door. "Once you step in here, you won't just get answers. You'll start asking questions too. That's guaranteed. And not just about the curriculum. Those, I'd ask you to keep... to yourself, if possible."
His words immediately sparked frightening thoughts—but by now I should have expected that. So I simply nodded, muttered a polite goodbye, and left the room.
I exited the university building quickly and headed home with long strides.
On the way, I felt a small wave of relief. I had survived my first few minutes with the Demon. But his final words stuck with me—and they bothered me.
It was like he knew something. Why did he agree so easily? And why bring up that admin error from years ago?
There was something mysterious in his tone, and I couldn't quite figure out what he meant.
I wonder what those Fridays will be like.
Could he really help me?