Kang Minjae didn't sleep.
Not even for a second.
After the knock on the third-floor window, after the lily, after that note—he sat in his room, lights on, hoodie zipped, back pressed against the door.
He didn't even blink properly. Every sound felt exaggerated. Every shadow threatened to breathe.
By 4 a.m., his exhaustion was replaced by a jittery kind of awareness. Paranoia now had a heartbeat.
He had to know what was happening.
Who she was.
Why him.
And if he was truly alone.
He waited for his sister to wake up, then told her he had an early project at the library. He didn't want Mirae involved. Didn't want to expose her to… whoever she was.
He arrived on campus by 6:15 a.m., the city still half-asleep.
The hallway lights flickered as he made his way to the security office in the administration wing.
Minjae had worked there part-time last semester—just enough to know the basics. And he still had a friend who owed him a favor.
Jung Hojin, the sleepy tech major who could crack surveillance logs like a puzzle.
"I just need yesterday's footage," Minjae said, his voice low. "Library hallway, 7 a.m. to 7:30. Canteen entrance around noon. And maybe the dorm building from around 9 p.m."
Hojin looked suspicious but nodded. "Girl trouble?"
Minjae didn't answer.
Fifteen minutes later, they were scrolling through grainy footage.
The library hallway showed him entering. The desk. The moment he spotted the envelope.
But no footage of anyone placing it there.
It was like it had just… appeared.
"Must've been before opening hours," Hojin murmured. "No interior cameras during cleaning cycles."
Next: the canteen footage.
Minjae sitting by the window.
Again—nothing. No one approached. No one watched him closely.
He leaned closer. "Can you zoom out? Background window. Third row of tables."
Hojin did.
A flash of movement.
Someone sitting in the back. Wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. But the angle was off, and their head remained tilted away the whole time.
"She?" Minjae asked.
"Could be. But why would she let herself be caught on camera if she's being careful?"
Then came the dorm footage.
He braced himself.
Minjae entering his building. Normal.
Timestamp: 9:03 p.m.
Then, ten minutes later—
A shadow on the stairwell. Slender.
Moving softly.
Stopping at his floor.
No face visible.
The figure walked up to his door and paused.
In their hand: the photo.
They taped it silently and walked away.
But something chilled him more than their presence.
Their calm.
No hesitation. No glancing around.
Whoever it was, they were used to this.
They wanted to be seen.
He left the security office feeling even worse.
Because now he knew:
She was real.
She had walked right to his door.
And no one stopped her.
At class, Minjae could barely concentrate. The professor's words blurred, and the constant buzzing tension in his ears never quieted.
Still, no messages. No notes.
That, somehow, made it worse.
Around 2 p.m., he checked his bag before pulling out his notebook.
His stomach dropped.
Tucked neatly inside, between two pages—
Another white card.
Same ink. Same elegant script.
"I liked the look in your eyes.
Determined.
Do you feel stronger when you search for me?
Or more lost?"
He snapped the notebook shut.
And this time—he couldn't stay silent.
📲💬
You're enjoying this, aren't you?
Like it's a game.
💬
📲💬
It's not a game.
It's fate.
💬
📲💬
You're unraveling beautifully.
💬
Minjae felt his fingers tremble.
His heart wasn't just racing—it was burning.
This was control. A slow, deliberate possession of his life, routine, and mind.
And now, it was spreading.
He found another note in the laundry room later.
Another by his bicycle.
One inside his class folder.
Each one growing slightly more personal.
"You used to hum to yourself when no one was around.
You stopped after your mother cried that night.
But I still hear it, sometimes.
In my head."
"I wish I could erase your doubts like you erase your mistakes.
But maybe your cracks are what I love most."
Minjae couldn't breathe.
That one—about his mother—wasn't possible.
No one else knew about that night. Not even Mirae.
He was twelve. His mother had broken down after his father had disappeared for days.
He had tried to distract her by humming lullabies she used to sing.
That memory was buried.
And she knew it.
Whoever she was… she wasn't just watching.
She knew him.
That night, he sat at his desk, drenched in anxiety. He was about to turn his phone off when a final message came.
📲💬
You think you're being hunted.
But I'm just claiming what's mine.
💬
📲💬
You shine differently when you're afraid.
💬
📲💬
Don't look behind the curtain.
I'm already inside.
💬
He stared at those last words.
Slowly turned his head toward the window.
Curtains closed.
But now…
They fluttered. Just a little.
As if someone had passed by.
Or something had moved.
Minjae stood. Approached the window, hand shaking.
Pulled the curtain aside.
Nothing.
Then he looked down at his desk again.
And stopped breathing.
Because there, on his keyboard—
Was a brand-new note.
He hadn't seen anyone enter.
Hadn't left the room.
But the note was there.
"Password reset successful.
I've changed your lockscreen.
Do you like it?"
He snatched up his phone.
Screen lit up.
The lockscreen photo was different.
Now, it showed him.
Asleep.
On this very bed.
Face tilted, hand curled under his cheek.
Peaceful.
The image was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Because it had been taken… last night.
From inside his room.
____
[End Of Chapter 5]
____
📒 A/N:
This marks a turning point—no longer just texts and photos from a distance, Seo Yoonji is slowly breaching Minjae's private space. Her obsession is quiet, methodical, and precise. No direct contact yet, but the illusion of safety is gone.