Morning sunlight crept reluctantly through the dorm window, as though even it was uncomfortable shining on a school that smelled faintly of formalin.
Han Yura was already awake, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a cup of coffee that looked strong enough to dissolve guilt. The notebook from last night lay open before her, filled with neatly written observations — and several doodles of scalpels stabbing smiley faces.
Across the room, Yoon Haerin groaned from under her blanket.
"Please tell me I dreamt that corpse thing."
Yura took a slow sip. "You didn't. But congratulations, you've officially participated in your first unauthorized autopsy. Most students have to wait till midterms."
Haerin peeked out, her hair sticking up like a frightened hedgehog. "They said it was a training dummy."
"Mm." Yura flipped a page. "And I say cafeteria meatballs aren't made from roadkill. We all lie to stay functional."
Haerin let out a tiny whimper. "You're not… reporting this, right?"
"I'm an orphan on scholarship, Haerin. If I report a murder, I'll become the next anatomy project."
Yura's expression stayed calm, but her mind was a crime scene of possibilities.
---
THE CLASS OF SKELETONS
Their first official class was Advanced Anatomy I. The dissection lab had been scrubbed spotless, and the suspicious cadaver table was gone.
Professor Lim Sora stood at the front, immaculate as always, her expression unreadable.
"Today," she began, "you'll learn to identify anatomical structures. Remember, respect the dead."
Yura raised an eyebrow. "Considering how lively some of them are, that might be difficult."
A few students giggled. Professor Lim's eyes flicked to Yura. "Miss Han, if you find death amusing, perhaps you'd like to lead the demonstration."
"Gladly."
She walked to the front. A preserved cadaver lay before her, hands crossed politely as if apologizing for the inconvenience.
Yura put on gloves, her movements precise and practiced.
"The key," she said dryly, "is to remember that the human body is basically an overcomplicated bag of fluids with identity issues."
Laughter rippled through the room — a mixture of nerves and amusement. Even Professor Lim's lip twitched, almost a smile.
As Yura continued the demonstration, she noticed something odd. A faint mark — a tattoo — partially hidden near the cadaver's shoulder blade. It wasn't in the documentation.
A symbol shaped like a stylized eye with three lines beneath it.
Yura's scalpel hesitated for just a moment. Then she resumed, pretending not to notice.
---
AFTER CLASS
Haerin practically sprinted to her side once the session ended.
"Did you see the mark? On the back?"
"So you noticed too," Yura said, removing her gloves.
"What do you think it means?"
"Either a secret cult," Yura said lightly, "or a bad tattoo artist with a sense of drama."
Someone else spoke up from behind them — a deep voice, smooth but lazy.
"You two really shouldn't whisper about dead people in the hallway. They might get jealous."
Yura turned.
A tall boy leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket. His uniform jacket hung loosely, tie untied. His hair was dark, his eyes sharp — the kind of boy who looked like he'd been suspended multiple times and had the audacity to enjoy it.
Kang Daejun.
Yura recognized him from orientation gossip. The infamous troublemaker who'd allegedly switched schools after "an incident." No one knew what kind.
"Daejun," Haerin whispered. "They say he once dissected a frog and named it after the principal."
"Creative," Yura said, unimpressed. "I'd have gone with the dean. Frogs are better listeners."
Daejun smirked. "You must be Han Yura. The prodigy with a death wish."
She tilted her head. "You must be the reason the janitors carry tranquilizers."
He laughed — low, amused. "Touché. Listen, corpse girl, word around the campus says you saw something yesterday."
Haerin stiffened. "We didn't—"
Yura cut in. "Gossip spreads faster than rigor mortis here, doesn't it?"
Daejun shrugged. "Just saying, you might want to watch your back. Some people don't like questions. Especially when they involve missing students."
He started to walk away, then glanced back. "Oh, and if you ever need help digging up secrets—figuratively, of course—look me up."
"Why would I need your help?"
He grinned. "Because you're new, and I already know where the bodies are buried."
---
CAFETERIA CONVERSATION
Lunch at Hanrim Academy was a performance art piece in trauma. The food looked suspiciously anatomical — spaghetti shaped like intestines, sausages coiled like tendons.
Haerin poked at her tray. "Do you think they do this on purpose?"
"Of course," Yura said. "Psychological conditioning. If you can eat something that looks like an organ, you're ready for fieldwork."
At the next table, a group of seniors laughed loudly. One of them—tall, confident, wearing gold-rimmed glasses—stood out.
Choi Minseok.
Yura recognized him from the student bulletin: top senior forensic investigator, charming, frighteningly composed.
He noticed her glance and smiled faintly. "You must be the new genius. Welcome to the asylum."
Haerin blushed instantly. Yura didn't.
"Do all seniors flirt with freshmen, or is this part of the mentorship program?" she asked.
Minseok chuckled. "Neither. Just good manners. We look out for promising students."
"Interesting definition of looking out," Yura said, sipping her coffee. "Does it involve hiding cadavers too?"
His smile faltered for a fraction of a second — then returned. "Careful. That kind of humor can get you noticed."
"Good," Yura said. "I hate being boring."
When he walked away, Haerin whispered, "Why are you like this?"
"Charm is overrated. Suspicion keeps you alive."
---
THE LIBRARY FILES
By evening, Yura was back in the library — her natural habitat. The forensic archives smelled of dust and quiet cover-ups.
She flipped through old records, looking for anything related to the Founder's Class or missing students.
Nothing. Several pages had been removed, cleanly cut. But as she pulled a thick ledger from the bottom shelf, a folded paper slipped out.
It was a class photo — black and white, taken years ago. Twelve students in lab coats, smiling stiffly.
At the center stood Dean Seo, younger but unmistakable.
And just behind him, she recognized a face she'd seen on the wall portraits: Dr. Seo Jinwoo, the founder himself.
At the bottom of the photo, someone had written in pen:
> "They said we'd make history. They never said we'd become it."
Haerin found her there, reading by lamplight.
"Please tell me that's not another corpse record."
"Worse," Yura said. "It's a ghost story disguised as school history."
Haerin frowned. "Maybe we should tell someone."
"Who? The dean? The woman who probably moonlights as a mortician?" Yura closed the book. "No. We'll figure it out ourselves."
"You're forming a detective club, aren't you?"
Yura smiled faintly. "Don't be ridiculous. Detective clubs are childish."
Pause.
"Although… we might need a name for ours."
Haerin groaned.
---
A STRANGE INVITATION
Later that night, as Yura returned to her dorm, something white caught her eye — an envelope slipped under the door. No sender.
Inside was a single card, thick and glossy. Embossed on it was the same eye symbol from the cadaver's tattoo.
Beneath it, printed neatly:
> "The truth bleeds beneath Hanrim.
If you wish to see it — come to the anatomy lab. Midnight."
Yura stared at it, unimpressed. "Mysterious notes. Classic."
Haerin peeked over her shoulder. "You're not going, right?"
"Of course I am," Yura said. "It's either a clue or a trap. Either way, I hate to disappoint."
"Yura!"
"Relax. If I die, you can have my coffee stash."
Haerin made a strangled noise. "You joke about everything."
"It's called emotional regulation."
---
MIDNIGHT AT THE LAB
The hallways were silent except for the low hum of fluorescent lights. Yura moved like a shadow, coat swishing lightly.
The anatomy lab was locked. She picked it open with a dissecting pin—because of course she could.
Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a single desk lamp. On one of the tables lay an object covered by a cloth.
Yura sighed. "If it's another body, I'm filing for emotional compensation."
She lifted the cloth. Underneath was… a recorder.
She pressed play. A distorted voice filled the room.
> "If you found this, you're not supposed to be alive. Stop digging. The academy is not what it seems. They're watching everyone."
Yura blinked. "Well, that's refreshingly vague."
Then the tape crackled again.
> "Start with the Founder's Journal. It's hidden where the dead never stay still."
The recorder clicked off.
Yura stared at it for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she smiled. "Looks like we've got homework."
---
MORNING AFTER
The next day, she attended class as though nothing had happened. Daejun gave her a knowing look from across the room. Minseok passed her a brief nod. Haerin looked like she hadn't slept.
Professor Lim began another lecture — this time about forensic entomology.
"Insects," she said, "reveal truths that humans hide."
Yura jotted that down. So do corpses.
Her eyes drifted to the window, where crows perched on the fence like a bad omen. Or perhaps, she thought, the best omen possible.
Because for the first time since arriving, she wasn't just curious anymore. She was invested.
Hanrim Academy had secrets buried deep.
And she intended to dig up every single one.
Even if she had to use her own scalpel.