Mrs. Go sat on the sofa, the television murmuring softly before her. She did not truly watch it. Her fingers pressed the remote now and then, changing channels without settling on any, her eyes drifting repeatedly toward the clock as though time itself were something she needed to keep in sight. When she finally rose to make herself a cup of tea, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden.
She paused, then moved quickly toward the door. Even so, she opened it with care, easing it ajar rather than flinging it wide. The instant she saw her daughter standing there, a quiet relief softened her expression.
Mrs. Go smiled.
"Did school let you out early since it's the first day?" she asked.
Nau Rin stepped inside, slipping off her coat and changing into her house slippers as she answered,
"Yes. We hardly had any real classes. It was all introductions and explanations, and then we were dismissed."
Trying not to be obvious, Mrs. Go swept her gaze over her daughter—a swift yet thorough appraisal from head to toe. She looked for anything amiss: a bruise, a slight limp, or even the faintest shadow of unease. Finding none, she finally exhaled the breath she had been unconsciously holding.
"Thank goodness…" she whispered.
Nau Rin looked at her, confused.
"What?" she asked.
Mrs. Go hurriedly changed the subject, smiling as if nothing were amiss.
"Are you hungry? Would you like to eat something?"
Setting her shoes aside, Nau Rin turned back toward her mother.
"I already ate lunch. Have you eaten?" she asked gently.
Mrs. Go nodded.
"Of course. It's already three o'clock," she replied, her tone light.
Nau Rin gave a small nod, lifted her bag from the floor, and settled it over her shoulder.
"Then… Mom, I'll be in my room," she said quietly before turning away.
Mrs. Go watched her retreating figure and murmured softly,
"All right…"
Inside her room, Nau Rin closed the door without a sound. She set her bag on the chair and changed into comfortable clothes, her movements unhurried.
To her left, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the entire wall, the books arranged with meticulous care—sorted by genre, then alphabetically, their spines aligned in neat rows. On the opposite wall stood a wardrobe, modest in size but ample in space. Beside it was a small desk and chair meant for studying. Pens, notebooks, and textbooks lay orderly along the desk's edge, while her bed rested close by, unadorned and familiar.
The wall opposite the door held a modest window, yet it let in an abundance of light. Late-afternoon sunlight streamed through it—gentle and warm— spilling across the shelves. The light caught on the book spines, lending them a quiet brilliance, as though the room itself were holding onto the calm of the day.
The sunlight had mellowed into a soft shade of gold. Shadows stretched long through the window, slowly claiming the corners of the room, quietly signaling that evening had drawn near. Nau Rin closed the book she had been reading and let it rest in her hands for a moment before setting it aside.
When she went downstairs, her father was already home, seated comfortably at the dining table. From the kitchen rose gentle clouds of steam as her mother prepared dinner, smiling as she spoke with him. Their voices blended easily together, warm and unhurried, filling the house with a sense of peace, as though a calm happiness had settled into the walls themselves.
Nau Rin took her seat and looked at the two of them.
"What are you talking about? You've been laughing this whole time," she asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
Her father smiled and studied her for a moment before replying,
"We were just saying how you've grown up so much. It feels like only yesterday you were still so small."
Nau Rin tilted her chin slightly, a faint pout forming.
"I guess so. When did I get this old?" she said.
Her father answered at once, his tone gently reproachful, almost teasing,
"Old? You're still a child. If you're already old, then what does that make us?"
Her mother shook her head softly in agreement.
"That's right, sweetheart. Try not to say things like that in front of others, too. Some people can be sensitive about it."
Nau Rin looked from her father to her mother, then smiled calmly.
"But growing older isn't such a bad thing," she said quietly. "Everyone walks alongside time, after all."
Her father nodded, conceding the point.
"That's true. Still, you're not at an age where you should be calling yourself 'old' yet."
Soon the three of them gathered around the table, enjoying the meal while it was still hot. As they ate, her father spoke again, his voice gentle.
"Arim, how was your first day of school?"
Nau Rin answered simply,
"Nothing special. Just a normal day. But the school food was better than I expected."
Her father nodded.
"I see," he said, first placing a side dish into his wife's bowl. Then, taking a fresh pair of chopsticks, he added the same to his daughter's bowl.
It was a small, familiar gesture—but one that carried the quiet warmth of home.
They continued talking until dinner was finished, their voices weaving together and spreading a gentle warmth throughout the house. Once the meal was over, her parents settled into the living room, sinking comfortably onto the sofa as the television flickered on. Nau Rin, meanwhile, returned to her room and calmly resumed reading, turning the pages in unhurried silence.
Night fell slowly, darkness settling in its wake, and when the pale, gentle light of morning finally rose once more, a new day began just as softly.
As Nau Rin walked, she glanced at her friends and spoke lightly,
"Why do you all look so gloomy? Isn't a new morning supposed to mean a fresh start?"
They looked at her in turn. Minho yawned, rubbing his eyes, and answered with a lazy grin,
"You'll be just like us soon enough."
At 7:45, she passed through the school gates with steady steps. In the shadows of the yard stood the disciplinary teacher, who cast her an uneasy, appraising look. Around her, students instinctively kept their distance—three, four steps at a time—forming an invisible circle as they moved past her, careful not to come too close.
As if unaware, Nau Rin entered her classroom and took her seat, calmly laying out her notebook and textbooks one by one. Soon after, the Korean language teacher arrived. At the signal from the class president, the students sat up straight and greeted the teacher in a single voice.
When the lesson began at the blackboard, Nau Rin observed her classmates from the back row. Some listened intently, eyes fixed forward as they filled their notebooks with neat notes. Others slipped their phones from beneath their desks, fingers moving in secret, while a few, overtaken by sleep, nodded off, their heads dipping again and again. Nau Rin maintained the appearance of listening, yet quietly drew another book from her bag and read on.
Thus the following classes—social studies, mathematics, and the rest—passed in the same muted, uneventful calm.
During the break, as Nau Rin went into the restroom, she sensed footsteps following behind her. When she turned around abruptly, she saw them—the same girls from the day before. They closed the door behind them with polite smiles and greeted her sweetly. Yet in the next moment she found herself backed into a corner against the tiled wall.
Kim Mina walked toward her.
"We were just coming to the restroom and ran into you," she said casually. Then, as if it were an afterthought, her voice sharpened into something unmistakably directive. "Oh—right. Give me your phone. We forgot to get your number yesterday."
Across the room, Nam Yunhee stood before the mirror, carefully reapplying lipstick. At the same time, Lee Minjae slipped a cigarette from her pocket and held it out.
"Want one?"
Before the offer could hang in the air, Yoo Dahi snatched the cigarette away.
"Are you trying to get caught by a teacher?" she snapped. "You know we only do that during lunch."
With Kim Mina's hand still extended, Nau Rin had no choice but to pull out her phone and place it in her palm. Mina tapped through it methodically, scrolling one contact at a time. Finding nothing beyond a handful of numbers, she curved her lips into a thin smile.
"Alright, then. I'll save my number," she said lightly. "If I call, you'll pick up. You will, won't you?"
She handed the phone back.
At that moment, the restroom door creaked open and another student stepped inside. Instantly, Yoo Dahi barked,
"Can't you see we're in the middle of a conversation? Close the door!"
The student glanced once at Nau Rin, hesitated, then quickly looked away and shut the door from the outside.
Kim Mina turned to face Nau Rin again.
"We'll take this as you understanding us," she said, her voice soft, almost kind—yet beneath it lay an unmistakable warning. With that, the girls left the restroom one by one.
After washing her hands, Nau Rin walked back toward her classroom.
As soon as Nau Rin reached the classroom doorway, the noise that had filled the room moments before fell abruptly silent. All eyes turned toward her as she walked to her seat, every gaze fixated, silently following her steps like shadows trailing her every move. The classroom settled into a heavy, quiet stillness, and Nau Rin felt each glance pressing on her with a weight of scrutiny.
Another hour passed, and soon it was time for lunch. The bell rang, and at that exact moment, Nau Rin's phone vibrated. A message appeared on the screen: "Come to the rooftop stairs. Bring drinks." She knew immediately who it was from.
Checking her remaining balance, she hurried to the cafeteria and bought a single small carton of soda for the 1,000 won she had left. She knew it wouldn't be enough for all of them, but there was no other way.
Pushing gently on the metal door marked "No Entry", she stepped onto the stairwell leading to the rooftop. Halfway up, she found them—two by two, laughing and talking amongst themselves. The moment they saw her, their gazes locked on her face, then followed her hand holding the drink, and their expressions instantly darkened.
Yoo Dahi stood and sneered at the drink in Nau Rin's grasp.
"What's that supposed to be?" she spat.
Nau Rin held it up calmly, her face a mask of composure.
"I only had 1,000 won. That's all I could buy," she replied evenly.
Yoo Dahi's anger flared; her eyes darkened, teeth clenched.
"Are you joking with us? What do you expect us to do with just one drink?" she shouted.
Kim Mina stepped forward, her gaze sharp and menacing.
"Did you think you could just do whatever you want because we've been playing nice with you?" she hissed, snatching the carton from Nau Rin's hand and dumping it straight over her head.
Nau Rin froze. Shock widened her eyes, disbelief etched into her face. Soda dripped through her hair, ran down her face, and soaked her white blouse, leaving dark, spreading stains.
As they laughed, they had no idea of the lethal, icy gaze concealed behind her blurred lenses.
Standing two steps above on the staircase, Nam Yunhee looked slightly shorter than her. Crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back, she sneered as she poked a finger at Nau Rin's shoulder:
"How do you even survive looking like that? Look in the mirror—your oversized uniform, those huge glasses… you look just like a frog." She brushed past and left through the door.
The others followed, casting dismissive glances as they went. Kim Mina lingered until the last moment, leaning close and whispering,
"You just follow what we say obediently… then nothing bad will happen."
A cold wind slipped in through the narrow gap of the rooftop door, cutting straight through Nau Rin, as if intent on freezing her soaked clothes even further. Her body registered the chill instinctively, a faint shiver stirring beneath her skin—yet she did not tremble.
Instead, upon her cold, expressionless face, a smile quietly bloomed.