Ring.
Jurin flinched. The shrill sound cut through the suffocating silence of her room like a blade. Her swollen eyes dragged toward the nightstand, where her phone vibrated against the wood.
Who would call at this hour?
Her hand trembled as she snatched it up. The screen blurred with tears, but one thing was clear:
Unknown Number.
Her stomach clenched. She let it ring out, tossing the phone onto the bed.
But it rang again.
Her lip split under the pressure of her teeth. Slowly, with hands that wouldn't stop shaking, she answered.
Hello?" she said, a tremor in her voice.
When no one answered, a new wave of fear mixed with anger: "Hello?" she tried again, her voice scraping against her raw throat.
The silence broke. A voice-smooth, gentle, almost kind.
"Did you find out?"
The air drained from the room. Jurin froze where she stood, her chest hollowing, the world shrinking to the weight of those four words.
"Oh... so you did find out." The voice deepened, softened into something amused.
Her lungs forgot to breathe. She knew that voice. She couldn't mistake it.
Sank Yvestine.
A chuckle rolled through the line-warm at first, then shifting into something venomous, crawling into her ears like poison.
"How are you feeling right now?"
Jurin's body crumpled. Her mind split apart, trying to understand if this was real, if she was awake, if the nightmare had simply followed her into reality.
The scream tore from her throat, filling the dark room, "You bastard!"
She collapsed to the floor, hands clawing at her own skin as though she could tear the fear out. Tears gushed, blinding her.
"Y-you..." Her throat clenched tight, swallowing air that refused to come. Her fingers trembled.
"I called to tell you," he said smoothly, as though this was all a joke, "you can keep it, if you like those things. I don't need it anymore."
A shiver rippled up her spine, sharp and electric.
Her mind shattered. Was she really dreaming? Awake? Nothing made sense.
"What are you upto?... WHAT ARE YOU UP TO? you monster! I'll send you to jail!"
He only laughed-soft, patient, merciless.
"Jail? Are you sure about that?"
Her head snapped up, wild, terrified. "Y-y-you sound confident?"
His answer slithered down the line:
"You have no proof that bag is mine. The only fingerprints on it... are yours. And if you thought about recording this call, don't bother-my voice won't be captured. So... you have nothing. No evidence. Nothing."
The words dripped like acid, each one burning deeper than the last.
"Good luck."
The line went dead.
The silence that followed was louder than his voice—buzzing in her ears, pressing on her chest, as if the room itself mocked her.
In the void, she could hear only the frantic pounding of her own heart, loud and wet in her ears, as though it might burst through her chest.
The phone slipped from her hand, clattering onto the floor. Jurin remained there, sprawled on the cold tiles, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as though it would cave in on her.
Her nails dug into the ground until blood welled beneath them. Her breath came in broken gasps, a soul unraveling piece by piece.
Her life had shifted in one night-from weary routine to a waking nightmare stitched with blood and horror.
And outside her window, dawn arrived mercilessly, the first light of morning spilling into a world that no longer felt safe.