Another night had come, and with it, a new wave of disturbing sensations. Hannah lay in bed, wide-eyed, unable to sleep as the same soft, persistent whisper echoed inside her head, pleading with her to take care of Jin.
"Be there for him… He needs you. Don't make the same mistake," the voice murmured again and again.
She tossed and turned, her patience fraying. These whispers weren't normal. Nor was the haunting lullaby from her childhood that drifted through her mind in those quiet hours. Something was wrong with her. Deeply wrong. Maybe it was time to ask her mother to take her to a specialist—someone who could silence the storm in her mind.
"Give me a break!" she finally screamed into the empty room, her voice raw with desperation.
The voice didn't stop. The whisper returned, unrelenting.
"Take care of Jin… He needs you…"
Hannah buried her face in her hands as hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. Her body shook with quiet sobs. This place—the school that had once seemed like a dream—was draining her. Every night without sleep chipped away at her resolve. The students were cruel, the nights unbearable, and the shadow of the school's so-called prince of darkness loomed over it all.
It's just in my head, she tried to convince herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she rubbed at her temples in vain.
"Hannah, don't leave him… He needs you…"
The voice came again, softer this time. But it was enough to shatter her.
She curled into herself, pressing her face into the pillow, her body trembling as sobs took over. She cried like a child, overwhelmed by fear and confusion. The whispers were always about Jin—always pulling her back to him, always clawing at her sanity.
Something was wrong with this room. Deeply wrong.
At last, at two in the morning, she couldn't take it anymore. In a desperate burst of energy, she threw off the covers and stormed out into the hallway in her pajamas. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, drawing in a shaky breath to steady herself.
"Someone help me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Please."
She slid down the door until she sat on the cold floor, her head bowed, hands resting on her knees. Exhaustion consumed her. At first, she had believed it was all some cruel prank—another hazing ritual by upperclassmen eager to scare the new girl. But this... this was something else. Something far more sinister.
She needed to get out. Or at the very least, move to another room before her mind snapped entirely.
Not even aware of where her feet were carrying her, she began to wander the silent halls. All she wanted was peace, some kind of escape from the torment in her head. Anything was better than lying in that cursed bed, haunted by voices calling out to her about a boy.
Was it really all in her imagination? Was her obsession with Jin so strong that it had bled into her subconscious, crafting whispers and dreams? Lately, her nights were filled with visions of him—tender, emotional scenes where they shared deep feelings. She felt connected to him in a way she couldn't explain.
Lost in thought, Hannah froze mid-step.
She had wandered all the way to the first floor.
The corridor was steeped in darkness, lit only by the faint, eerie glow from outside filtering through the windows. Shadows danced along the walls. She paused, a cold shiver running down her spine.
Someone was there.
She couldn't see anyone clearly, but she felt them. A presence in the dark. Watching her. Following her.
She turned slowly, scanning the blackness, and finally, a figure emerged.
Tall. Dressed in black. Wearing a red mask.
Her breath caught in her throat. The mask—it looked like a devil's face.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Why are you tormenting me?"
The masked figure stepped forward silently. She couldn't see their eyes, but she could feel their gaze—piercing, intense, malevolent.
"Did I do something to you?" she cried. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Then, without warning, the figure broke into a run.
She stood frozen, paralyzed by terror. It all happened in a blur. The figure raised a hand—and slapped her across the face.
Pain exploded across her cheek. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, clutching her burning skin. Her whole body shook.
The masked figure vanished into the darkness.
She sat there, sobbing, broken.
Why is this happening to me? Why can't I sleep anymore?
"Hannah…?"
She knew that voice.
Blinking through tears, she looked up and saw Jin approaching, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to work out a kink.
"It's always the same," he muttered. "These nightmares are killing me."
"Jin," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He stopped, his eyes widening as he spotted her huddled form on the floor.
"Hannah!" He rushed over and crouched beside her, cupping her face in his hands. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Someone's after me," she cried. "I'm so scared. He slapped me, Jin. I don't know what he would've done if you hadn't shown up."
His expression turned grave.
"Did you see who it was?" he asked, helping her to her feet.
She shook her head. "No… he wore a red mask."
"Have you told the dorm supervisor about this?"
"I did. After the last incident, I told her everything. She said she'd speak with the headmaster. She's supposed to let me know today what they decide."
Jin placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning closer so he could see her tear-streaked face.
"Do you want me to walk you back to your room?"
Immediately, she shook her head. "No. I… I can't go back there tonight."
"Then where will you go? You'll collapse from exhaustion."
"I don't care. I just can't go back there," she whispered.
He nodded slowly.
"Well… if you're going to wander the halls like a ghost, want to come to the cafeteria with me? I need a drink," he said, gesturing toward the kitchen.
She nodded, silently following him into the darkness.
*
The boy pulled two drinks from the vending machine and handed one to Hannah. She blinked in surprise, her fingers closing around the cold can of her favorite flavor.
"Did you know?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course I did," he replied with a slight smirk. "Once, I asked you why you liked that particular flavor so much. You told me you tried it because of someone... and it just stuck."
"Did I really say that?" she murmured, stunned. "Did I mention who I meant?"
"I guessed it was one of the idols," he said, his tone laced with mock annoyance. "You just laughed mysteriously. That made me a little jealous, you know."
Hannah glanced at him and let out a soft chuckle.
"There are plenty of idols I adore," she said playfully, counting them off on her fingers. Jin watched her with eyes that sparkled with amusement... and something else.
"You remember your love for idols," he murmured, his voice tinged with quiet sadness, "but you forgot about me."
That simple sentence struck her harder than she expected.
"I wish I knew what all of this meant," she confessed, lowering her voice. "This isn't normal… none of it is."
They talked for a long time after that. Jin shared stories from his childhood — silly memories, embarrassing moments, tales filled with warmth and laughter. But Hannah didn't catch half of it. Fatigue pulled at her, and the emotional toll of the night finally overcame her. Her body leaned against him, her head gently resting on his shoulder as sleep took her without warning.
Jin froze for a moment. Her weight was light, almost featherlike, but the position was far from comfortable. Still, he didn't move. Waking her felt cruel, not after everything she'd been through. So he remained there, stiff and quiet, holding his breath every time she shifted. He knew his back and neck would ache for the rest of the day, but he didn't care. She was safe. And for now, that was all that mattered.
A little past five, Hannah slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the cafeteria's early morning gloom. She lifted her head, groggy and confused, then caught sight of Jin's amused expression. In an instant, last night's memories returned — especially the moment in the bathroom and what she'd seen there.
She jerked away from him as if burned, the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped. "You must've been uncomfortable. You should've woken me."
"You've fallen asleep on my shoulder plenty of times," he said, smiling gently. "I'm used to it."
She offered him a small, sheepish smile, brushing her hair behind her left ear.
In that fleeting second, Jin caught sight of the skin beneath it again — and the sight filled him with unease. He had been trying to work up the courage to ask her about the scar, but before he could speak, she stood up abruptly.
"I need to go back to my room. Thank you for staying with me last night. I felt safer because of you… and I actually managed to sleep."
"If you want," he said, trying to sound casual, "I can keep you company every night." He winked playfully.
Hannah's eyes widened in panic, and before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel and dashed out of the cafeteria. Jin chuckled softly, shaking his head — but the smile faded as quickly as it came.
That scar… it wasn't normal. And neither was her behavior lately.
He stared at the spot where she had just stood, unease settling deep in his chest. Something had changed her. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. The nightmares, the distant looks, the way she seemed to forget things that should have mattered.
Could she be suffering from memory loss? Or was it something deeper?
Whatever the truth was, he needed to get closer to her. He needed to uncover what she was hiding — before it was too late.
*
Mariah's roommates had already left for breakfast, their absence leaving the room strangely hollow. She was the only one still there, wrapped in a haze of disorientation. The room felt unfamiliar in the dim morning light, and for a moment, she couldn't even make out the time. Her body was heavy from oversleeping, and she knew instantly — the day had already started wrong.
Nothing seemed to be going her way. She had woken up irritable and on edge, a jittery tension crawling under her skin. And now, as if the universe had decided to mock her further, she had cracked her favorite powder compact — the creamy shimmer now spilling in a chalky mess across the front of her uniform. She stared at the white streaks smudging into the fabric and clenched her teeth.
She wanted to kill Jimmy for this. If it hadn't been for his stupid joke last night, she wouldn't have dropped it.
And just as the thought formed in her mind, the worst happened — the door flung open and Jimmy himself burst in uninvited, all fury and reckless energy. His presence, loud and unasked for, sent her spiraling further into rage.
She spun toward the mirror, still trying to salvage her skirt, and barked, "You should at least knock! I'm not one of those floozies you just crawl into bed with on command!"
She furiously brushed at the powder, only to smear it deeper into the fabric. "Damn it!"
Jimmy's voice cut through the room like a blade.
"I think you're talking about yourself," he growled. "I heard you've been playing house with that redheaded faggot in the meadow."
She froze, eyes snapping to his reflection. "The faggot?" she repeated, her voice rising with outrage. "The only faggot here is you. And if I recall correctly, I haven't 'played' with you in the meadow for years."
In a sudden, violent motion, Jimmy crossed the room and grabbed her by the shoulders. He spun her around with more force than necessary, his fingers digging into her skin. His eyes blazed, electric with fury, and his breathing had gone ragged. The grip hurt.
"Let me go, or I swear I'll smash your pretty face in," she hissed between clenched teeth, meeting his glare with her own.
"Have you let that lowlife mess with your head so much that you hate me now?" His voice was sharp, acidic, almost trembling.
She didn't flinch. "Lowlife? Again, sounds like you're talking about yourself."
He let out a short, bitter laugh, his gaze flicking over the room like he couldn't bear to look directly at her. She deliberately averted her eyes, heightening the tension between them. Her cold indifference pushed him to the edge. With a sudden, aggressive move, he gripped her chin and forced her face toward his.
"What the hell is so special about him that you forgot me so damn easily?"
If only he knew that she still dreamed of him — that every night she cried into her pillow because he had chosen someone else. Because he had thrown her away like she meant nothing. But she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
"You want to know what's so great about him?" she said coolly, staring him down. "Everything."
He blinked, the sting of her words settling in. "So now that someone else is interested in you, I'm supposed to just sit back while you throw yourself at him?"
There it was. Jealousy. Burning through his chest like acid. He hadn't realized what he'd lost until he saw her smile at someone else — saw her rest her head on his shoulder. The way she looked when she laughed. The worst part? She looked genuinely happy.
He couldn't take it.
"And his kisses?" he asked, his voice low and bitter. "Are his kisses better than mine?"
Mariah's laugh was sharp, deliberate. "He's not bad," she said.
That was enough to snap the last thread of his restraint.
Without warning, he crushed his mouth against hers. His hand cupped her cheek, the other pushing her back toward the wall. The kiss wasn't gentle. It was desperate, forceful — a twisted attempt to reclaim something already lost. She tried to shove him away, but he held her there, his hand pressed against her chest, trapping her.
She turned her face to the side, refusing to meet his eyes. But he only smirked, arrogant and triumphant.
"Still think I'm not better?" he whispered, smugly.
Her lips trembled. She fought the urge to cry — not from fear, but fury. A white-hot fury that bubbled in her throat and made her fists curl at her sides. She wanted to scream, to slap him so hard it would leave a mark. He didn't deserve her tears. He didn't deserve to know how much he'd hurt her.
"You're good for nothing," she spat, her voice shaking. "You've turned into a slimy, disgusting bastard. Just like Joseph."
That landed. Jimmy's face tightened. He released her with a scoff, but didn't take his eyes off her for a moment. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him with a bang that echoed through the silence.