Joseph sprang up from the bed with restless energy, his thoughts gnawing at him like wild animals refusing to be tamed. The silence of the empty room pressed on him; his roommates still had not returned, and that only left him more alone with the memory of his last words to Hannah. Sharp, cruel words he had thrown at her face without hesitation. Words that could have cut her deeper than he intended. He wondered, just for a fleeting second, whether leaving her in such a state had been reckless. What if she had done something foolish because of him? Had that thought crossed his mind earlier, and he had chosen to ignore it?
His jaw tightened as he bit his lip. The question would not leave him alone.
Joseph moved quickly toward the door, his hand hesitating on the cold metal knob. Was it wise to return to her now? To humble himself and see if she was all right? Pride and guilt wrestled within him, until the latter won by a thin margin. Without giving himself time to reconsider, he pushed the door open and stepped into the corridor.
His footsteps echoed against the polished floor as he hurried down the staircase to the first floor. He reached Hannah's door, his heart pounding harder with every second. A girl passed him in the hall, her eyes widening in mild curiosity at his anxious stance, but the cold warning glare he shot her was enough to silence any further interest.
Joseph shoved the door open—and froze.
Hannah sat slumped on the floor, her hand lifted weakly, crimson blood dripping from her palm. Her face was ghostly pale, yet her eyes remained oddly calm, detached, as if she were somewhere far away.
A sharp ache seized Joseph's chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut. A memory surged back, raw and vivid—the image of his mother in the bathtub when he was only five years old. Blood everywhere. A caregiver's momentary distraction had given her just enough time to take her life. The scene had burned itself into his soul, and now, staring at Hannah, the wound split open again.
His mother had been unappreciated, neglected, left to rot in silence. Pushed into the arms of another man, and then punished for it. He had spent years blaming the twins for her death, but wasn't the truth simpler—more brutal? His father had destroyed her. The man who claimed to love her so fiercely, who should have cherished her beauty and her fragility, had only tightened the noose around her neck.
And now Hannah, her pale face mirroring his mother's striking features, bled before his eyes.
"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath.
Hannah lifted her gaze at last, her sad eyes shimmering with tears.
"Joseph…" Her voice trembled. "She did this to me. She's here… and she says you want to hurt me. But she's lying, isn't she? I shouldn't believe her?"
The boy's throat constricted. He stepped quickly to her side, slipping an arm beneath hers and pulling her carefully to her feet. Her knees gave out beneath her, fragile as glass, but he held her steady.
"Can you walk to the parking lot? My car is outside. We need to get you to the hospital."
She only stared at him for a moment, then gave the faintest nod.
His eyes flicked to the edge of her bag, where his mother's scarf lay folded. The sight pierced him, and without thinking he snatched it up and pressed it against Hannah's bleeding hand.
"It's eight in the evening.," he muttered urgently, more to himself than to her, "so we still have time to make sure no one finds out. We'll avoid people. Don't let anyone see you like this, understand?"
The girl nodded again, her silence heavier than words.
Joseph wrapped his arm firmly around her shoulders and guided her toward the corridor, their steps slow and uneven, as though both were carrying the weight of ghosts that refused to let go.
*
Joseph drove Hannah to a discreet, privately run hospital, one owned by a family friend. He managed to arrange everything in secret, his quick thinking and connections ensuring that Hannah's mother was never informed. At the reception desk, he carried himself with an authority that belied his age, claiming guardianship over her. Being legally of age, he signed every document without hesitation, paid the bill in full, and made it clear that no further notifications were to be made.
Hannah, though exhausted and pale, felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. She could not bear the thought of adding to her mother's burdens, not now. Her mother had already endured too much, and Hannah preferred to face her demons alone. She was seventeen—old enough, she told herself, to start making her own decisions. The thought of her mother discovering that she needed psychiatric help filled her with shame. After all, she was not her biological daughter. What if that truth made her adoptive mother think less of her, or regret taking her in? No—Hannah could not allow that disappointment to take root.
Now, sitting in the passenger seat of Joseph's car, the night pressing heavily outside the windows, Hannah looked down at the bandages wrapped neatly around her wrist. Only then did the reality of what had happened begin to settle in her chest like a weight she could no longer ignore. Her voice trembled as she broke the silence.
"You and Jin were right. I… I do need help."
Joseph glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his hands steady on the wheel.
"I would rather not become… crazy," she continued, her lips quivering despite her attempt at composure. "Though people already look at me that way. But I know now that my condition is worsening. I see things no one else can, and I even hurt myself while believing it was some… entity."
Joseph's eyes hardened, though his tone remained calm. "The most important thing is that you want help. You have to fight this yourself, otherwise no amount of sessions with a psychiatrist will help. I know this… because my mother was forced into treatment against her will. And it destroyed her. It made everything worse."
Hannah's breath hitched, and for a moment she only stared down at her hands. "You knew for a long time, didn't you? That something was wrong with me?"
"Yes," Joseph admitted quietly. His voice carried a weight of memory. "I began to suspect a while ago. You had that same wild, desperate look in your eyes… the one my mother had. It's something you can never forget, even as a child."
He slowed at a red light, his gaze turning to her, sharp and unflinching. "This illness—it's in the blood. Genetic. And often it stays hidden until something… breaks you. A trauma, a painful event. Then it comes alive. Not everyone is strong enough to fight it."
"So one of my parents must have been sick…" Hannah whispered, her voice hollow. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking, as though the truth was beginning to stitch itself together. "That makes sense. It all began after Danielle's death."
The light shifted to green, and Joseph turned his attention back to the road, his knuckles pale as they gripped the wheel.
"I understand now," Hannah murmured after a pause, "why you suddenly started showing interest in me. Even though you didn't like me at all in the beginning."
"Until now, I still don't like you," Joseph shot back, too quickly, his words sharper than intended.
Hannah's lips curved into the faintest smile, one she tried to hide. "Then why do you care about me? When you saw me back there… you looked worried. You know, Joseph, sometimes you act like an older brother. Stern, scolding, but at the same time… protective."
The words made him choke, his throat tightening as if she had struck him. He exhaled sharply, gripping the steering wheel even tighter, his palms damp with sweat.
"I always wanted an older brother," Hannah continued softly, unaware of his turmoil. "When my sister found me, I thought it was enough. I was happy to have her. It's nice, you know? To have someone by your side. Someone who always supports you. What about you? Do you have a brother or sister?"
Joseph's mouth went dry. For a long moment he said nothing, staring fixedly at the dark stretch of road ahead. Finally, he forced the words out, clipped and cold.
"I don't have one. Siblings are nothing but a nuisance."
Hannah laughed quietly, shaking her head at his harshness.
"You don't mean that. You may act cold as ice, but I think you'd be a good brother."
"End this topic," Joseph snapped, his voice sharp with agitation as he turned the wheel too abruptly into the left street.
The car jolted, and Hannah slammed her shoulder against the door, glaring at him with wounded indignation.
*
They arrived late. By the time they stood before the heavy doors of the boarding school, the hour had already passed nine in the evening, and the building was locked. Hannah felt an uneasy prickle at the back of her neck, a sense of inevitable trouble, yet Joseph appeared unconcerned, his expression as calm and detached as ever.
She watched him slip a phone from the pocket of his jacket and dial a number with practiced ease. She had expected him to call one of his friends, but her eyes widened slightly when she heard the name he spoke into the receiver.
"—Ashley, this is Joseph. Last time we spoke, you mentioned I could turn to you with any request. Well, I need your help. Hannah and I are freezing outside the school. If you let us in, I'll explain everything later."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, turning just in time to see Hannah trembling beside him—though it was hard to tell if it was from the cold or the fear she carried with her like a second skin.
"I suppose I should breathe a sigh of relief that you maintain such… cordial relationships with another school supervisor," she murmured, her voice edged with sarcasm, though her lips curved faintly. "Acquaintances certainly help."
"Be grateful I have such acquaintances," he replied coolly, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through her, "because otherwise you would have been sleeping in the trunk of my car tonight."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing.
"You should also be grateful for my acquaintances at the hospital," he continued, unbothered by her silence. "Otherwise your mother would have found out about your little problem."
"I could have handled it. I didn't need your help," she shot back softly, though the words lacked conviction.
"You probably would have—bled to death, that is—if something hadn't tempted me to go back to your room," he muttered under his breath with a bitter half-smile.
The conversation ended abruptly as Ashley appeared at the door. She hurried to them, glanced quickly around to ensure no one else was nearby, and ushered the teenagers inside with a frown.
"Explain yourselves," she demanded, her sharp eyes narrowing particularly at Hannah. "Where have you been at this hour? Do you know how terrified I was when I went to check your room? Instead of you, I found a broken frame on the floor. What happened there?"
"Didn't you see the blood?" Joseph asked, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. Hannah's eyes shot to him with fury—he was supposed to keep it secret.
"What blood?"
"I broke a frame and cut myself. It's nothing serious, but Joseph took me to the hospital," Hannah explained quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him feigning interest in the ceiling as if the matter were trivial.
"And you didn't report it to me? I'm your caregiver—I should be the one helping you."
"I was there," Joseph cut in, shrugging. "No reason to make a fuss. She wasn't dying yet…"
"Joseph!" Ashley snapped, but he only lifted his shoulders again. "Go back to your rooms. Quickly. Tonight, I'll turn a blind eye, but next time, I won't. Even if you ask me for something like this," she added, looking directly at him.
"I haven't yet exhausted my helpful card," he muttered under his breath.
They walked side by side in silence until Hannah suddenly stopped at the foot of the stairs. Joseph turned, his brows furrowing as he caught the worry etched on her face.
"What is it now?"
"I… I can't go back there. I can't be alone, because that's when she appears."
"You already realize it's an illusion. Can't you force yourself to believe it?" His tone was brusque, though his eyes flicked briefly to Ashley, who lingered nearby, listening.
"If it were that easy, I wouldn't need treatment, would I?"
Ashley crossed her arms, exhaling sharply. "What are you still doing here?"
"You treat me like a child," Joseph muttered, offended. "We've known each other long enough. You could turn a blind eye to certain things."
"This is my job. It's well past twenty-one. Be grateful you weren't punished tonight. I have duties, Joseph. Don't make them harder."
Reluctantly, they returned to their rooms. Hannah hesitated at her door before slowly stepping inside. She scanned the quiet space with wary eyes, bracing herself for what she might see. Nothing stirred.
She crouched, gathering shards of glass from the floor. From her pocket, she pulled the bloodstained handkerchief Joseph had used to bandage her wound. Rage flickered through her. He had destroyed the only memento she had of her biological mother.
She tossed her jacket onto the bed with a frustrated motion—
"You are a traitor."
The voice froze her where she stood. She turned her head sharply, her wide eyes landing on the figure gliding toward her.
"You believed that bastard, even after I showed you I wasn't an illusion."
Her breath hitched. She repeated silently in her mind: You are not real. You are not real. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the apparition to vanish. When she opened them again, the room was empty.
Relief flooded her chest in a shaky exhale—until the door creaked open. She jumped, clutching at her chest, only to see Joseph and Jin step inside. Their sudden appearance at such a late hour startled her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in a thin, strained voice, still unsettled.
"You said you didn't want to be alone tonight," Joseph answered simply, locking the door behind him. "You were afraid you might hurt yourself. So we both came. Less suspicious that way."
"Do you realize what will happen if the supervisor catches you? You came to my room for the night!" Her unease grew; it felt improper, almost suffocating, to have them both here.
"We won't leave you, Hannah," Jin assured gently. "I heard what happened. It's lucky Joseph went back to your room. Tomorrow afternoon we'll sneak out and visit my aunt. No more waiting."
She looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty.
"I'm angry he told you so directly," Jin continued, glancing at Joseph, "but he did the right thing in the end. He isn't the bastard he pretends to be."
Joseph's icy stare toward his friend was almost murderous.
"I told him everything while I waited for you at the hospital," Joseph muttered, crouching in his usual spot. Jin bent to pick up the shards of glass Hannah had left behind.
"I decided to do it," Hannah said softly. "Even if nothing is wrong with me—if something really does appear here—I'd rather be certain I'm healthy."
"You're not," Joseph cut in bluntly. Jin shot him a warning look and shook his head. Joseph, however, never softened his words. "So what? It's the truth. Better for her to accept it now than to be shocked tomorrow."
"Enough, Joseph," Jin said firmly. "She already realizes she may need help. Don't make it harder."
Hannah smiled faintly at Jin. His warmth was a stark contrast to Joseph's cold detachment, and she still couldn't understand how Danielle had treated him so cruelly. He was too kind for that.
"Do you think you'll be able to hide your treatment from your mother for long, if you really need it?"
Joseph's question landed heavy. Hannah's shoulders slumped as she met his gaze, then looked away.
"Don't worry about the money," Jin said, his voice steady and kind. "My aunt already knows your situation. She won't take a penny from you. She pours her heart into her work. She only wants to help people. And I think, in time, you should tell your mother the truth. She loves you. She deserves to know. If something were happening to her, wouldn't you want her to tell you?"
Hannah looked at him, eyes stinging, and nodded.
He was right. But still—why did the thought of confessing to her mother terrify her so much?
"I will tell her," she whispered. "But not yet. For now… I want to keep it a secret. If there really is something wrong with me… I need to face it myself first."
*
Hannah never quite knew when her body had surrendered to sleep. The last memory etched in her mind was the sight of the three of them huddled together on her bed, a forgotten board game sprawled across the blanket—something she had discovered tucked away in her closet weeks ago.
Despite his endless protests and dramatic sighs, Joseph had eventually joined them, claiming boredom. Yet, as the game progressed, Hannah had watched his sharp features soften into something rare: a genuine smile. It was fleeting but unmistakable, a boyish curve of his lips that revealed a warmth she had not seen before. In that moment, he had looked almost gentle, even approachable, as though another version of him—hidden deep beneath the arrogance—had finally surfaced.
When her eyes fluttered open again, the first pale fingers of dawn were already stretching through the window. A dull ache spread across her limbs. She was lying twisted in an awkward heap, her head resting on Jin's lap while her legs draped clumsily across Joseph's stomach. The mattress beneath them sagged under the weight of three restless bodies tangled in uneasy sleep.
She blinked, groaning softly, and pushed herself upright, massaging her temples. With a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, she studied the boys still sprawled beside her.
"Why are they even here?" she murmured under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.
"You were the first to doze off," Joseph's groggy voice came from beneath her. He cracked one eye open, his hair sticking up in messy tufts. "Right into Jin's lap. And get those duck legs off me."
He shifted, rubbing at his back with a wince.
"Then why didn't you just sleep on the floor?" Hannah asked, one eyebrow raised.
Instead of answering properly, Joseph smirked faintly and slapped her thigh with the flat of his palm. The blow was harder than he intended, making her clench her teeth and massage the sore spot.
"Now you get to suffer with me," he muttered, stretching until his spine cracked. "My back feels like it's been broken in two."
"You would have slept better on the floor," Jin interjected, his voice still thick with sleep as he stretched his arms above his head.
In the next instant, Joseph pounced on him, pressing a pillow against Jin's face in mock aggression. They rolled and twisted on the bed, trading muffled laughter and stifled grunts as they shoved, pushed, and swatted at each other.
Hannah stared, wide-eyed, her lips parting in surprise. To her, they looked strangely like lovers locked in some chaotic embrace, their roughhousing tinged with a strange intimacy she couldn't quite understand. Flustered, she tore her gaze away and slipped off the mattress, deciding she wanted no part in their tussle.
She padded toward the door, hand reaching for the knob, when Joseph's amused voice cut through the air.
"Where are you going, little sister?"
Hannah froze. Her brow furrowed as she slowly glanced over her shoulder. Joseph sat motionless on the mattress, the mischief drained from his face as quickly as it had come. He looked startled, almost guilty, as if the words had escaped before he could catch them.
"...Sis?" Hannah repeated softly, her voice carrying both confusion and disbelief.
"Someone's feeling playful," Jin teased lightly, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. "Joseph wants to play the big brother now? What's this—sudden concern for Hannah's well-being?" His tone was joking, but Joseph didn't laugh.
Instead, he averted his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "I'm tired. Talking nonsense. Must've overslept." He rose quickly, moving to the door. When he stopped beside Hannah, he leaned down, his dark gaze locking with her startled one. His voice lowered, rougher now, almost defensive. "You said yesterday you always dreamed of having an older brother. I just… granted your wish. To cheer you up before today's visit."
He didn't wait for a reply. With a final glance, he pulled away and slipped out of the room, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Hannah turned to Jin, her expression a blend of confusion and curiosity. He only shrugged. She mirrored the gesture, neither of them finding words to explain what had just happened.