Jurin's Pov:
This silence is unbearable.
I sat rigid, staring out the window, refusing to move an inch. Every bump of the road made it worse-why did it feel like his broad shoulder inched closer each time? My chest tightened, nerves clawing up my throat.
I can't take this.
"Stop the car. Over there." My voice came out sharper than I intended.
The driver slowed to a halt. I yanked at the handle. Once. Twice. Nothing. My pulse spiked.
"M-Ma'am, please, easy!" the driver's voice wavered, giving me a helpless look.
"Why isn't this door opening?!"
He tugged at the lock, frowning. "Looks like it's jammed, ma'am. If you don't mind, you can step out from the other side."
I clenched my fists, forcing in a deep breath. This humiliation was worse than any gossip I'd endured.
"Sir, could you cooperate, please?" the driver asked, his eyes darting nervously to Sank Yvestine.
"Alright." His voice was smooth, unbothered. He slipped out of the car like it cost him nothing, leaving me to crawl across the seat.
The moment I stood, he was there. Towering over me-too close. His presence pressed against me like a shadow I couldn't escape. My throat went dry.
What the hell is wrong with him?
If he tried something-if he dared-I'd defend myself, with my fist.
His hand lifted, and panic surged. I shut my eyes, bracing.But instead of striking, his palm landed on my shoulder. The car door thudded shut behind me. I flinched.
"Did you find out?" His voice was low, almost intimate-nothing like the polished tone he used with those ladies in the church.My eyes snapped open.
"W-what?"
Find out what? About his girlfriend? One of his flings?
He studied me, one corner of his mouth tugging upward in a ghost of a smile. "I see."
My chest burned. "Move. You're blocking my path."
From the outside, it probably looked like something else entirely. I darted a glance at the driver, but he was pretending to talk on his phone.
"Look," I hissed, facing him again. "Everyone will get the wrong idea. Step aside already."
I shoved against his arm, but he only chuckled. The sound slid under my skin like fire.
"You'll need me very soon."
I froze. The arrogance in his voice-the sheer confidence-was maddening.
My fists curled so tight my nails bit into my palms. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer. Just shifted back, making space for me as though it had been his choice all along.
I rushed past him, heat scalding my cheeks. I hate this. I hate him. I hate every second of this suffocating insults.
I swore to myself, with every step pounding against the pavement: This is the last time. I never want to see Sank Yvestine again. Ever.
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I finally made it home. What a strange, exhausting day.After a quick wash, I collapsed onto my bed. My eyelids sank almost instantly. Sleep swallowed me whole.
-When I blinked awake, the room was drowned in shadows. Midnight. The silence was so heavy it pressed on my ears.
I stretched, bones cracking, trying to shake the fog from my body. Then, like a beast clawing inside me, hunger ripped through my stomach.
Cup noodles. That's all I can manage.
I shuffled toward the kitchen, half-dead with sleep, already picturing steam curling off a cup of instant cup noodles, then I froze.
A smell.
Sharp. Metallic.
It scorched my nostrils, clinging in the back of my throat.
"What is...?" My eyes darted around. The shoe rack? No, that had been freshly painted weeks ago.
The smell grew stronger as I stepped closer.
It wasn't the rack.
It was the bag.
My work duffel bag. The one I'd carried to the store everyday.
But- wait.
My breath stuttered. "This... isn't mine."
It looked almost identical, but the stitching was wrong, the color just a shade off.
My pulse thundered in my throat as my fingers fumbled with the zipper.
The moment it slid open, the stench hit me full force.
I gagged, stumbled back.
"B-blood???"
The bag was soaked in it-dark stains clinging to crumpled clothes, wrinkled, drenched.
And then-huh?!-At first I thought they were twigs, splinters—anything else. But no. Jagged, broken. Human nails. Some still carrying traces of flesh.
A raw scream ripped out of me, shattering the silence, my throat tearing with the sound. I crashed onto the floor, gasping like I'd been struck by lightning.
"W-what is this? This can't be real. It can't-" My hands shook violently as tears blurred my vision.
"This... this wasn't my bag."
Then- like a blade slicing through the haze- memory returned.
…and suddenly, the memory crashed back—where I'd seen that bag before