A teenage girl lay in the meadow, her body still, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Eyes closed, she listened to the soothing chorus of birdsong that drifted through the trees—sharp and melodic, yet deeply calming. It was the kind of peaceful moment she cherished.
Here, surrounded by open space and wild grass, far from the restless pulse of city life, she could finally breathe. No noise, no expectations, no eyes watching her. Just the sky, the earth beneath her, and the gentle hum of life that didn't ask anything of her.
People always assumed she was a typical New York girl—materialistic, high-maintenance, someone who couldn't survive without luxury. But they didn't know her. Not truly. There was only one person in the world who really understood what she loved, what she feared, what she hated.
"Hannah?"
She opened one eye, then the other, a soft smile forming on her lips as she turned her head. Jin was approaching, stepping lightly over the grass, and lay down beside her on the blanket with a sigh.
"I'm sorry I made you wait so long," he murmured. "I had to explain things to my father."
"You didn't have to," she replied calmly, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun with one hand. "He already suspects something. I overheard him arguing about us. They know how we feel about each other."
His body stiffened. Propping himself up on his elbow, he studied her face with surprise.
"And you didn't tell me about this sooner?"
Hannah sat up and turned to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. Her thumb moved in a slow, soothing motion across his skin.
"We're too young to talk about true love," she said with a lightness that pierced like a knife. "This feeling… it'll probably fade soon. And then we'll just be ordinary siblings. Don't you think it's a little funny?"
Jin froze. Her words hit him like ice water.
"Funny?" he repeated, voice low and tight. "You really think this is amusing?"
He tried to stand, but Hannah moved with him, leaning back against his chest to keep him still. Her touch was soft, familiar. She rested her head against him, placing a hand on his knee, playing absently with the fabric of his pants, as if that might ease the tension.
"Jin, you do know I love you… right?"
He tilted his face toward the sky, jaw clenched as he fought the storm rising inside him.
"So, let's just enjoy this moment," she whispered. "Let's spend time together—just us—and not worry about the future. We're still young. In a year… or even two months… who knows? Maybe we'll fall in love with other people. Maybe our parents will get what they want. Maybe it'll all work out."
He couldn't take it anymore.
Without a word, Jin got up from the blanket and walked away, heading toward the car in the distance, his back rigid with unspoken pain.
They were supposed to spend a quiet, perfect afternoon together.
But she had ruined it.
Hannah—Danielle—lowered her shoulders and sighed, alone again in the clearing. Above her, clouds were beginning to gather, swallowing patches of blue sky. Thunder rolled in the distance, a low, ominous growl. But she had no intention of moving. She felt strangely at peace where she was, despite the ache in her chest.
Then, suddenly, the sky dissolved.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her dorm room. Darkness surrounded her. The echo of thunder was gone. She lay motionless on the bed, heart pounding. Her breath came uneven now, shallow.
Something wasn't right.
The visions—fragments of memories that weren't hers—were starting to invade her dreams. Images of places she'd never been, moments she'd never lived. That field. That conversation. Jin.
None of it belonged to her. And yet…
What was happening?
Could it be this room?
Ever since Hannah had moved into the boarding school, the dreams had started. And always, always, Jin appeared in them—older, familiar, like someone she had known forever. But she hadn't. Had she?
And then she heard it.
A whisper.
"Danielle…"
Her eyes snapped open, and she scanned the room, her muscles tensing with alarm.
"Danielle…"
The name repeated, softer this time, threading through the darkness like smoke. Someone was in the room. She could feel it.
She slipped out of bed, bare feet pressing into the plush carpet as she searched each corner. Her eyes darted left and right, expecting someone to leap out in laughter, another dumb student prank.
That had to be it. It had to.
She didn't believe in ghosts.
But then the picture frame on her desk suddenly tipped forward and crashed to the ground. Glass shattered, sharp and final. Her heart jumped.
She walked over, hands trembling, and picked up the photograph. In the dim light, her eyes widened. A woman's face stared back at her, next to a cheerful, smiling girl.
But there was something wrong with the photo. Something off.
She blinked. Rubbed her eyes. Looked again.
The image was back to normal.
She sat back on the bed, knees drawn to her chest, and took a long, shaky breath.
A loud bang jolted her upright.
The door.
Someone was pounding on it—aggressively, purposefully.
She raced to the hallway, yanked the door open, and caught a brief flash of movement disappearing around the corner. Too fast to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but definitely a student.
"Idiots," she muttered under her breath, glaring down the empty corridor.
But a chill clung to her spine. It wasn't just a prank. Something else was happening here.
And it was only just beginning.
*
Mariah clenched her teeth when she felt someone yank her ponytail. The sharp pull forced her to stop abruptly. She turned to face Joseph, immediately noticing the familiar, malicious grin stretched across his face.
He always did this — stopping her in the most irritating way, as if calling her name was beneath him.
"You're really so jealous of my relationship with Jimmy that you started a rumor?" he hissed, his voice low but venomous. "It's pathetic that you made us out to be lovers. But you're right about one thing — you've always been the third wheel, and I had to get rid of you. So stop making those puppy-dog eyes at him. He's not coming back. He knows I despise you. Even though he still talks about you, he wouldn't dare fix what's broken. He's banned."
The eighteen-year-old girl laughed in his face, a sharp, barking sound that drew attention in the corridor. She couldn't comprehend how someone could be such a fool — managing their best friend like a possession and dishing out "bans" like some deranged monarch.
"I always suspected something wasn't right in your head," Mariah sneered, her voice mocking. "But dictating who your buddy talks to? That's a whole new level of crazy."
His grin vanished as he pushed Mariah against the cold wall. She winced in pain, glaring up at him as he pointed a rigid finger in her face.
"I don't care who Jimmy sleeps with. He can date whoever the hell he wants — as long as it's not you. I won't allow it."
"Well," she snarled, straightening up as he stepped away, "let's see how long your little lapdog obeys you. What will you do when he tucks his tail and runs back to me, begging me to take him in and change his owner?"
"Watch your mouth," Joseph snapped, his eyes flashing with fury.
As he stormed down the hallway, a smug smile tugged at his lips. The other students stepped aside instinctively, creating a path for him. Joseph basked in that fear, finding dark pleasure in humiliating others. He wanted to punish every one of them — for what someone had done to the girl he once loved. He hadn't forgotten. He'd never forget.
*
In class, Hannah drifted in and out of consciousness. She would've fallen asleep sitting upright if a boy hadn't accidentally kicked her chair.
Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, disoriented, as the teacher continued explaining the lesson, seemingly oblivious to the class's restless energy. Most students were scribbling notes, but Hannah couldn't concentrate. The sleepless night was finally catching up with her, and her head throbbed from fatigue.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to soothe the ache, just as a woman stepped into the classroom and beckoned the teacher into the hallway.
The man reminded the class to behave, then left, closing the door behind him.
Conversations erupted instantly. Cards flew through the air — one sailing just over Hannah's head. The room buzzed with life. Everyone had someone to talk to. Everyone except her. She sat alone, a silent island among a sea of chatter. No one dared approach her.
She rested her head on the desk and nearly drifted off again, only for the same boy to kick her chair once more. Furious, she turned around and pierced him with a deadly glare.
"Do that again and I'll kick you in the face," she growled, her fingers tightening around her pen like a weapon.
"Maybe you should come to your senses instead," he shot back, resting his chin in his palm. "Because of your recklessness, you've already made the worst possible enemy. Don't you regret it?"
"No one from the younger classes wants to talk to you," he added. "They think you're insane — ever since you messed with the king of the school."
"The king of the school," Hannah echoed sarcastically, snorting. "Did he crown himself or what? 'Dark prince' is more like it — pompous to the point of painful idiocy."
A snicker escaped her, but it faded quickly as she noticed one of her classmates holding up a phone, clearly recording her outburst.
Hannah rose from her chair and marched over to the girl's desk, pointing accusingly at the phone.
"Delete it."
"Why?" the girl replied, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. "Afraid you'll die if I show it to your prince?"
Under different circumstances, Hannah might have laughed. But the smug look on her classmate's face stoked her anger.
She wanted to snatch the phone out of her hand — to smash it. But she held herself back. A physical confrontation would only make things worse. The girl would rat her out in a heartbeat, and Hannah didn't need more problems this early in the school year.
Her eyes widened as the girl tapped the screen and uploaded the video to the school's forum — a private network accessible to every student at the prestigious Horace Mann boarding school.
Dread settled like a stone in Hannah's stomach.
A wave of notification pings rippled through the classroom. Everyone had access. There was no escape. She could already hear the whispers, feel the judgment. The girl who had posted the video merely shrugged, pleased with herself and the chaos she'd unleashed.
The teacher re-entered the classroom, and the students instantly fell silent.
Hannah returned to her desk, her hands trembling beneath the surface. She braced herself.
The storm was coming.
*
Walking down the main corridor, Hannah felt the weight of every stare pinned to her back. Conversations hushed when she passed, only to erupt in whispers the moment she moved on. Their eyes were filled with judgment. Hatred. Contempt.
No one could stomach the fact that she had dared to speak ill of their beloved deity — the untouchable Joseph.
She lifted her chin, trying to remain composed, but halted mid-step when she spotted him.
Joseph stood at the other end of the corridor, dressed in all black, striding toward her with an expression of cold, deliberate intent. At his side walked Jimmy, who looked almost gleeful, as if the unfolding drama was a performance written just for his amusement.
He must have been thrilled to see her facing retribution.
Joseph stopped directly in front of her. He gazed at her from beneath the shadow of his long, inky fringe. His eyes, icy and unreadable, bored into her until she swallowed hard and tried not to look away. Her fists clenched by her sides, and she shifted her weight anxiously from foot to foot.
"The dark prince," Jimmy laughed behind his hand, unable to hold back. Joseph cast him a withering look from the corner of his eye but didn't dignify him with a reply. His attention remained fixed on the sixteen-year-old girl before him.
"You know..." he said, his voice low and measured, "I was planning to leave you alone. At least until the end of the first semester. But you've just given me a reason to be unpleasant."
He reached forward and brushed his fingers against a loose strand of her hair, then tucked it behind her ear with unsettling precision.
"You have only yourself to blame," he continued. "I don't appreciate that you're trying to win over my friend."
He paused, letting the tension settle in the space between them.
"And on top of that... you slander me behind my back."
Hannah furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing as she tried to interpret his words.
"Wait, back up," she said cautiously, extending her hand in front of her. "Which friend are you talking about?"
Instead of answering, Joseph seized her wrist and yanked her closer, a twisted smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Hannah tilted her chin defiantly and met his gaze head-on, unflinching despite the tight grip on her arm.
There was something unnerving in the way he studied her face — like a predator fascinated by the expression of its prey.
"You know..." he murmured, voice dropping to a whisper, "I actually like the title 'dark prince.' I may be arrogant, but—" He broke off suddenly, leaning in close, his breath brushing her ear. "I hate being called an idiot. That's the one word I can't stomach."
A chill coursed through her body. It started at her scalp, prickled down her neck, and slid along her spine like the fingers of a ghost. She blinked rapidly as he released her hand.
"Was that a threat?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Joseph didn't answer. His gaze shifted above her head — focused on someone approaching from behind.
A boy walked toward them with a hurried step, his expression tense.
"Joseph," the newcomer said firmly, stepping between them.
Hannah turned and stared, her eyes widening. It was him — the boy from her dream.
Jin.
Her heart skipped, torn between recognition and confusion.
"I didn't do anything," Joseph said quickly, raising both hands in a mock display of innocence. A faint smile flickered across his lips. "I'm keeping my promise."
Jimmy, watching from the side, glanced at Hannah with thinly veiled curiosity. He couldn't understand what made this girl so special — what it was about her that stirred Jin's protective instinct. Ever since he found out that someone had hit her with a ball, Jin had flown into a fury and warned them to stay away from her.
Jin was the only person Joseph genuinely respected. Though Joseph had ruled the student body like a tyrant ever since Jin had stepped down as class president, the former leader had never cared about popularity. He had simply walked away from power. Joseph took the vacant throne without hesitation — despicable, controlling, yet oddly well-suited for it.
"If you're keeping your promise," Jin said coldly, "then why does she look like that? What did you say to her?"
Joseph's grin faded. He stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on his friend's shoulder.
"You know I respect you," he said quietly, "and I always listen when you speak. But if someone talks about me behind my back... do you think I'll just let it go?"
His eyes slid toward Hannah, sharp and cutting.
"I don't like how you're defending her. That's what she wants — to gain your sympathy. Don't fall for it. She's not as innocent as she looks. There's something about her... something hidden."
He stared at her, waiting for a reaction. Hannah said nothing, but confusion clouded her features.
"She has the eyes of someone carrying secrets."
As she passed them, Hannah shivered. The air around them felt colder — heavier. She felt stripped bare under Joseph's scrutiny, exposed in a way she didn't understand.
Jin remained still, watching her as if trying to decide whether Joseph was telling the truth. Yet he didn't judge her outright. He didn't need confirmation — he already knew she was hiding something.
He just didn't know what.
But he was determined to find out.
At any cost.