Hana couldn't sleep that night. The courtroom whispers, her father's tears, the scarred man's cruel eyes—everything replayed in her mind.
She sat at the edge of her bed, teddy in her arms, the moonlight stretching shadows across her walls. Each creak of the old house sounded like footsteps. Each rustle of wind felt like a breath against her neck.
She closed her eyes, hugging the teddy tighter.
That's when she heard it.
Tap.
Her window rattled softly.
Hana froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
Slowly, she turned.
A small stone had struck the glass.
And outside—just beyond the faint glow of the streetlight—stood the scarred man.
His face was half-hidden by shadow, but the burning end of his cigarette glowed like a warning signal. His eyes found hers through the glass. Cold. Patient. Deadly.
He raised one finger to his lips. Shhh.
Then, with his other hand, he tapped the missing button on his coat.
Her blood turned to ice. He knew. He knew she had noticed.
And then—he pointed at her teddy bear.
Her heart stopped.
Before she could move, he vanished into the night, swallowed by darkness.
Morning came too quickly. Hana sat at the kitchen table, pale, her cereal untouched. Mrs. Park fussed over her, unaware of the storm raging in her chest.
Mr. Choi arrived not long after, his suit wrinkled from another sleepless night. "We have to prepare for tomorrow's session," he said, dropping a pile of papers on the table.
But Hana didn't look at the papers. She pulled out a sketchpad and began to draw.
The scarred man. The cigarette. The missing button. And now—him pointing at her teddy bear.
When she slid the sketch across the table, Mr. Choi's expression hardened.
"He was here?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
Hana nodded.
"Did he say anything? Did he—" He stopped, realizing how absurd the question was. Hana didn't need words. The sketch said it all.
Mr. Choi rubbed his temples, muttering curses under his breath. "He's not just watching us. He's taunting you."
He slammed the papers shut. "Enough. I'll request protective custody. If the court won't listen, the police will have no choice once they know he's threatening the witness."
But Hana's wide eyes told him what she already knew.
The police didn't believe her before. Why would they now
Later that day, Hana visited her father in holding. The glass between them felt heavier than ever.
He smiled through his tears. "My Hana… you were so brave yesterday. Drawing all those pictures… Daddy's proud."
Hana pressed her palm against the glass.
Her father mirrored the gesture, his hand trembling. "Don't be scared, Hana. Daddy will come home soon. Mr. Choi promised."
But Hana's throat burned. She wanted to scream that she was scared. That the scarred man wasn't just lurking in the shadows anymore—he was coming closer.
Instead, she drew a quick sketch on the small pad she carried everywhere now.
A man at her window. Cigarette glow. Teddy bear.
Her father squinted at the drawing, confused. Then his face crumpled, tears spilling freely.
"Bad man… he's still out there?" he whispered.
Hana nodded, her chest aching.
Her father pressed his forehead against the glass. "Don't let him hurt you. Promise me, Hana. Promise Daddy."
She couldn't speak. But she nodded. Hard
That evening, Mr. Choi met with Mrs. Park in his office while Hana sat quietly in the corner, sketching.
"I'm telling you," he said, voice tight, "this man isn't just a shadow in Hana's memory. He's real, and he's escalating. If the jury doesn't take her drawings seriously, then her safety becomes meaningless."
Mrs. Park's hands shook as she poured tea. "Then what do we do? She's just a child."
Mr. Choi leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "We use it. If he wants to scare her, then we turn his threats into evidence. Every sketch, every detail—when the time is right, we'll confront him through her drawings in front of the jury."
Mrs. Park gasped. "You'd put her through that?"
Mr. Choi's eyes darkened. "She's already in it. And if we don't push back, that man wins.
That night, as Hana curled beneath her blankets, she whispered in her heart, words she couldn't speak aloud:
Daddy, I'm scared. But I'll be strong. For you.
The teddy's stitched smile was the only answer she received.
But in the silence, she thought she heard it again
A soft tap against the glass.
And she knew—he wasn't going to stop.
Not until someone stopped him first.