"Jae! Why didn't you call us back yesterday? Both Baek and I tried to reach you several times. We were worried! What happened with the tutoring?" Lee confronted me first thing the next morning in the hallway, his blue-haired friend right beside him, just as I was heading to our EEG and sleep diagnostics lab session.
I assumed they were already in the classroom since I got to the building later than usual today.
"Hey guys! I'm sorry I didn't pick up... I just wasn't in the mood to talk. I needed a bit of a break. I know it was rude, but I hope you understand. I don't want my own issues to ruin our friendship," I sighed deeply.
"Come on, that's what friends are for. You should've called us instead, but whatever. So? What happened with Mr. Joon in the end?" Baek asked, curious, as we settled into a shared desk.
"Nothing happened. He's just as scary as he was last year. I didn't know he wore glasses now, but it only makes him seem colder. I was reminded again of how much I hate his style. But in the end, he agreed to tutor me on Fridays. It was surprisingly easy... which actually worries me. The whole vibe he gives off is just unsettling," my voice trailed off.
"Yeah, I saw he wears glasses now. But did he say or do something that freaked you out?" Lee asked, concerned.
"I get the feeling he knows something he's not saying. But you know what I realized yesterday? Maybe I'm reading too much into everything because of that weird rumor you told me when you guys were over. I don't even believe it, yet it still got under my skin, and now I'm more scared of him than ever. I keep thinking he could do something bad to me at any moment. Maybe the problem is just me..."
"Oh come on, Jae! What Lee said was nonsense. Don't let that mess with your head. Lee, seriously, if you ever want to share creepy stories again, maybe keep them to yourself," Baek scolded him gently.
"Alright, alright. I didn't mean to freak anyone out. Sorry, Jae. Maybe it really is just a silly rumor. Let it go," Lee shrugged, but his tone didn't exactly sound convincing.
I could tell he believed it. He truly believed in that eerie legend. No one has ever proven it true, though, so maybe it really is just something someone made up to scare the gullible. Well, it worked on me...
Time flew again. Not helping was how I buried myself in tasks. Half the day at the university, then working online at night to keep my mind off things, plus prepping for surprise quizzes.
I truly regretted how little time I was spending with my friends lately, but I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't help it. Everyone has bad phases sometimes.
Even at night, sleep was rare. I kept feeling something beside me in bed that wasn't me. It was terrifying... but I was getting better at managing it.
And suddenly, Friday was here. And that meant one thing. Tutoring with Mr. Joon.
Today I was only with Lee, since Baek was feeling unwell and stayed home.
My brown-haired friend and I started our day at the coffee machine, where I downed a much-needed double espresso. Then we headed to our lecture on clinical ethics and neurological decision-making, where the professor, once again, talked about the grim topic of when a corpse becomes truly dead. I hated that subject.
Lunch break came next, followed by a small-group class discussing diagnostic errors.
And then came the worst part of my day. The end of all my classes...
"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you to the last room?" Lee asked as we stood in the hallway.
"No, go ahead. I'll be fine," I forced a smile.
"Alright then. Good luck, and bye. If I call, please answer, okay?"
"Of course. Bye!" I waved and headed in the opposite direction, toward the back rooms.
My palms began to sweat again, just like Tuesday. My stomach clenched.
I was nervous, but I felt more composed today.
The hallway was empty as I walked down it. My shoes made soft clicks on the polished floor, each step feeling like I was getting closer to something I wasn't sure I wanted to approach. But it was just a tutoring session...
My hand clenched around my bag strap. Only a few more steps to the edge room. The door was closed, but a faint line of light spilled out from underneath. He was already there.
I took a deep breath and knocked.
"It's open," came Mr. Joon's calm yet commanding voice from inside.
I slowly pressed the handle down and entered. He was already seated, like he'd been waiting, perfectly still. The desk was neatly arranged with nothing unnecessary: just a thick bundle of notes, a bottle of water, and that familiar pen he spun between his fingers like I was his entertainment.
"Sit down," he nodded toward the chair placed in front of his desk, just like last time.
I sat, trying not to stare. But as he looked at me over the desk, it felt like he was trying to peel away my inner layers. One by one.
"Well..." he started, leaning back. "I decided that before we dive into dissection techniques, it might be better to clear your head first. I'm not a psychologist," he added sarcastically with a shrug, "but judging by how you trembled during our last session, I shouldn't be handing you a scalpel just yet."
"Fair point," I attempted a smile, but it came out more as a grimace. "Even looking at anatomical diagrams is tough for me."
"That's a problem, Park Min Jae," he leaned forward, and the way he said my name froze me again. "Because if you want to work with the central nervous system, you need to know where a person begins... and where they end."
"Maybe I'm scared because... I can't tell where that line is. When someone is still a person, and when they're just a body," I admitted softly.
He stopped spinning the pen. His fingers stilled. Something about the usual rhythm of the session faltered.
His gaze deepened for a moment. Not frightening, but curious. But then, as quickly, it turned ice cold again.
"Interesting perspective. Didn't think students still pondered these things. Most just memorize Latin, pass their exams, and forget where the thalamus even is."
"Well, I try to understand. Not just study."
"That's also a problem," he muttered, flipping a page in his notes. "Those are the ones dissection hits hardest. The ones who think too long about whose body they're cutting open, and why it no longer breathes."
My stomach twisted. I couldn't tell if he was insulting me or warning me.
"Alright then," he flipped again and looked up. "Theory. Can you name the three main parts of the brainstem?"
"Medulla oblongata, pons, and mesencephalon," I listed quickly, grateful to find solid ground in the material.
"Finally, something you know," he remarked. "Now, tell me where you'd find the reticular formation, and what happens if it's damaged."
We went back and forth like this for about half an hour—question, answer, challenge. His tone was never kind, but not hostile either. Just... cold and precise. Like a scalpel.
But something shifted when we circled back to how I feel seeing a cadaver in the dissection room.
Mr. Joon suddenly stopped writing. He tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on me like he was searching for something I didn't know I possessed.
"How exactly did you put it earlier?" he asked quietly. His voice was softer now, but not any warmer.
"That...? That sometimes I feel like I'm not alone?" I repeated hesitantly, not sure where he was going.
He nodded slowly and leaned back, fingers curling again around his pen. A glimpse of something flashed beneath his sleeve—a small tattoo? Just a symbol, maybe. But he moved so fast I couldn't make it out. Maybe I imagined it...
"Interesting," he murmured and went silent. Like he was deciding whether to say more.
I waited.
"You know, there was a student years ago who said something similar. Especially when he was in certain places."
My breathing slowed. I didn't want to know. Really didn't. I felt like I was being drawn into something I shouldn't be part of. Maybe I was reading too much into this, but his words unnerved me.
"And what happened to him?" I asked, curiosity overriding fear.
"He doesn't attend anymore," he replied simply. So casually that my stomach clenched.
"Then why tell me this if it doesn't matter?" I asked, a bit sharper than I intended.
He gave a faint smile, not kind, not warm. Like I was a toy, and he was amused.
"Because sometimes, small details help reveal the bigger picture. Though I doubt you're close to seeing it yet," he said dryly, with a strange dark undertone.
"I'm trying!" I snapped. "You said you wanted to help, then help! Don't just test me."
He was getting under my skin again. On purpose, I swear.
"Oh, this isn't a test. This is just... the antechamber," he said cryptically. Then he stood, pulled out an old anatomical book from a drawer, and placed it before me. "This is where we start next week. Study the dissection methods of the brainstem. I want to know what exactly you don't understand."
"Alright," I nodded, reaching for the book. But I still felt his gaze on me. Not invasive, but impossible to ignore.
"You're a strange one, Park," he muttered quietly. "At your age, I also thought I had all the answers. Turned out, I was just multiplying the questions."
"So maybe I shouldn't bother looking for answers at all?" I asked, half-joking, half-lost.
"Oh, you should. Just don't use common sense while doing it." He sat again, but this time, it felt like he wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking at something else. Behind me. Inside me... I couldn't tell.
I said nothing more. Took the book. Stood. Nodded in farewell.
And when I stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind me, I had to stop for a moment.
Something about that one hour had left a mark on me. Not just his words. His presence. The unease. The buried questions.
Mr. Joon knows something.
And he knows I won't just be battling coursework.
It's Friday.
And this was only the beginning.