Students were still talking about the rehearsal when Ji-Soo quietly stepped off the stage. The bright lights faded behind her, replaced by the softer glow of the auditorium hallway.
She exhaled slowly, as if releasing the heavy emotions she had carried during the act.
"Ji-Soo!"
Footsteps hurried behind her.
Min-Ju.
He jogged to catch up, slightly out of breath.
"Wait."
She turned.
The moment their eyes met, she smiled — small, unsure — and he forgot whatever he had planned to say for a second. He just stared.
"You were…" He shook his head softly. "That was incredible."
Ji-Soo looked down, suddenly interested in the floor.
"I thought I messed up."
"You didn't mess up," he said quickly. "You made half the room cry."
Her fingers curled together shyly.
"Really?"
He nodded. "I almost ran on stage. I thought you were actually hurting."
She let out a tiny laugh, embarrassed.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize for being good at something," he replied.
She lifted her eyes again, and he noticed how different she looked — less guarded, almost glowing from the praise.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
"You know…" he added casually, "for someone who kept saying 'I'm bad at acting,' that was a pretty big lie."
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
"I didn't lie!"
"You did," he teased. "A dangerous liar, too."
She turned even pinker.
"Stop…"
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
"You get shy when people compliment you."
"I do not."
"You do."
She covered part of her face with her hand, which only made him chuckle.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
The noise of the auditorium felt far away.
Min-Ju hesitated, then gently tapped her forehead with two fingers — a soft, reassuring gesture.
"Don't overthink it," he said. "Just keep being like that on stage."
Ji-Soo's smile returned, brighter this time.
Without thinking much about it, he reached for her hand and gave it a light tug.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go, Ji-Woo."
She froze.
"…Ji-Woo?"
The name felt unfamiliar on her tongue.
She looked at him, confusion flickering across her face.
"My name is Ji-Soo."
Min-Ju stilled.
Then he slowly nodded.
"That's your name," he said gently. "Ji-Woo."
She searched his expression, trying to see if he was joking.
He wasn't.
"That's… my name." she asked quietly.
"Yes."
Something unreadable passed through her eyes — surprise, curiosity, maybe even recognition she couldn't explain.
He gave her hand a small reassuring squeeze.
"You just don't want to remember yet."
Ji-Woo — Ji-Soo — looked down at their joined hands, then back at him.
The uncertainty was still there, but so was a growing sense that the pieces of her life were waiting somewhere just beyond her reach.
She nodded slowly.
"…Ji-Woo," she repeated, testing the sound.
Min-Ju smiled.
"Let's go."
And this time, she walked beside him without stopping.
--
Mi-Sook had just rounded the corner when she saw Ji-Woo standing by her locker, quietly reading a book.
Ji-Woo looked peaceful, unaware of anything around her. One hand held the book tightly, the other rested against the metal locker door.
Mi-Sook stopped walking.
Her eyes narrowed.
So calm… like nothing ever happened.
Just then, Ji-Bok approached. He said something Ji-Woo didn't quite catch, then casually pushed her locker shut for her with a soft clang before walking off.
Mi-Sook's lips twitched.
A slow smirk formed.
She tilted her head, letting her hair slide neatly over her shoulders as she crossed her arms.
I'll handle this myself, she thought.
Her gaze returned to Ji-Woo, sharp and calculating.
What scares you…?
She watched a moment longer, thinking.
Then it clicked.
Spiders.
She had overheard it once — a small conversation, barely important at the time. But now?
Useful.
A quiet, pleased breath escaped her.
You must be afraid of spiders…
Her smile grew colder.
Let's see how brave you really are, Ji-Woo.
Mi-Sook pulled out her phone and typed quickly.
"Can you get me a tarantula?"
She stared at the message for a second before hitting send, her expression unreadable but her eyes glinting with intent.
Across the hall, Ji-Woo turned a page, completely unaware that someone had just decided to turn her peaceful days into something far less comfortable.
--
A soft breeze moved through the back of the school, bending the tall grass and rustling the leaves of the old trees.
It was quieter there — far from the chatter of students and the ringing bells.
Mi-Sook walked across the open space, her phone still in her hand.
Her uniform was perfectly worn, as always.
The white shirt sat crisp beneath a dark blazer, not a wrinkle in sight.
Her skirt swayed slightly with each step, brushing just above her knees, while her tie rested neatly in place.
Even the wind couldn't disturb her polished appearance — it only lifted a few strands of her long hair, letting them dance behind her before settling again.
She looked composed.
Untouchable.
Ahead, a man stood waiting near the fence.
All black.
Black hoodie. Black pants. A cap pulled low over his face, and a mask hiding everything but his eyes.
Mi-Sook slowed but didn't hesitate.
When she reached him, he said nothing — just held out a small clear container with air holes along the lid.
Inside, something shifted.
She collected it carefully, her fingers steady as she took the container from his hand.
The tarantula moved slightly, its legs pressing against the plastic.
Mi-Sook lifted the box closer to eye level, studying it with calm interest rather than fear.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind.
Then a smirk curled onto her lips.
"Perfect," she said quietly. "Small… but venomous-looking. Just what I need."
Her eyes hardened.
"Let's see how long her calm lasts."
She lowered the container and gave a short nod.
The man turned without a word and walked away, his dark figure disappearing past the trees.
Mi-Sook remained there a second longer, the box resting lightly in her hands.
The spider shifted again.
Her smile returned — thin and sharp.
Then she turned toward the school.