The rooftop was supposed to be her kingdom.
Today it felt like a courtroom.
Minah paced, phone clenched in her hand, hair damp with nervous sweat despite the cold wind. The photo in her bag burned like a hidden bomb. Whoever had slipped it into her locker knew everything. And worse—they weren't afraid to show it.
One by one, her circle arrived. Not as loud, smug teenagers like usual, but pale, fidgeting ghosts dragged into daylight.
Jisoo came first—tall, sharp-jawed, too arrogant for his own good. His father owned one of the largest news companies in the country, a man who could rewrite tragedies with a few editorials. Jisoo had been there that day. He had laughed the loudest before the scream silenced him.
Behind him trailed Eunbi, her lips painted perfectly but trembling at the edges. Her mother was a minister's daughter, a woman who had married into another family of influence. Eunbi always acted untouchable, but Minah saw her mascara smudged, her eyes restless.
Last was Hyejin. Cold, neat, precise. Her father owned the very school they stood on. It was his authority that made CCTV footage vanish, that silenced the teachers, that turned the rooftop into a void where nothing "officially" happened. Hyejin didn't fidget—she stared at Minah like someone calculating a chessboard.
Together, they looked less like rulers of the school and more like cornered prey.
"You called us… why?" Jisoo asked first, forcing a scoff but failing to mask the tension in his voice.
"Don't play dumb," Minah snapped. She pulled the photo from her bag and tossed it onto the floor between them. The smiling girl's face stared up at them all, unblinking, accusing.
Silence. A silence so sharp it cut into the air.
Eunbi's hands flew to her mouth. "Where… where did you get this?"
"It was in my locker," Minah said through clenched teeth. "And this morning—" She shoved her phone at them, showing the anonymous post. Even ghosts follow queens.
Jisoo swore under his breath. He kicked the photo like it was toxic. "This is bullshit. Somebody's messing with us."
"Somebody knows," Minah shot back. "They're not just 'messing.' They're targeting. First online, now this. If they go public with proof, with details—"
"They can't," Hyejin interrupted, voice flat. Her arms were crossed, but her eyes were dark, flicking across each of them. "We cleaned it. Every angle. My father saw to it."
"But what about students? Rumors? Someone saw—" Eunbi stammered.
"Rumors don't matter without evidence," Hyejin said, but there was a tremor under her control. "And even if they did, Jisoo's father can bury them. Right?"
Jisoo clenched his jaw. "Yeah. Of course."
But his eyes betrayed him. They all remembered the scream. They all remembered the body.
Evidence wasn't just erased—it lived in their memories, rotting them from the inside.
Minah slammed her hand against the railing. "Don't you get it? Someone is dragging her ghost back into the open. Hashtags, posts, photos. First it was the politicians. Then me. Tomorrow it could be you."
Eunbi began pacing. "This isn't fair. We didn't kill her—we were just—just kids—"
"Laughing while she begged," Minah hissed. "That's what we were. And don't forget, you're the one who pushed her first."
Eunbi froze, her face draining of color. "I—no, that wasn't—"
"Enough." Hyejin's voice cut the air like a blade. She stepped forward, heels clicking on the rooftop floor. "Pointing fingers doesn't change anything. What we need is control. The same way we handled it before."
"And how do you suggest we do that?" Minah snapped.
"The same way we always do," Hyejin replied coldly. "We create the story. We feed it. We drown the truth before it breathes."
She turned her eyes to Jisoo. "Your father controls the headlines. He can bury the online trend under a bigger scandal."
Jisoo smirked bitterly. "Oh, right. Just distract the whole country with smoke and mirrors. Standard playbook."
Hyejin looked at Minah next. "And you—your father can push legislation, blame unemployment or protests on 'outside agitators.' Redirect the anger."
Finally, she looked at Eunbi. "Your family has connections in entertainment. A new idol scandal, a sudden dating rumor—people eat that faster than politics. Use it."
Eunbi's lip trembled. "So we just… keep lying?"
Minah's voice was cold now, steady, even as her insides twisted. "We don't have a choice. If the truth surfaces, none of us walk away clean."
The wind howled across the rooftop, lifting the photo at their feet, flipping it over as if the girl herself wanted to be heard again.
They all stared at it in silence.
A pact made of fear, stitched together by their parents' power. But underneath it all, the ghost remained.
Unseen.
Unresting.
And watching.