Seo Jun noticed the change before anyone told him anything was wrong.
It wasn't in words. His father hadn't sat him down. There was no warning, no explanation, no sudden confession. Instead, it lived in the quiet details small shifts that most people wouldn't even register.
Han Tae Seong woke before the sun now.
When Seo Jun stepped out of his room that morning, his father was already dressed, standing by the window with his arms folded, staring out into the still dark street. He didn't turn when Seo Jun walked past. He didn't say good morning. His eyes stayed fixed on the outside world like he was memorizing it.
Breakfast tasted the same, but the air felt heavier.
Seo Jun almost asked if something was wrong. Almost.
He didn't.
The front door locked behind him with a final, solid click that echoed longer than it should have. Seo Jun paused on the porch, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and felt something tighten in his chest. The sound felt deliberate. Protective. Like a line being drawn.
The walk to school felt off.
Not because anything had changed but because nothing had. The same streets. The same cars passing by. The same neighbors leaving for work. Normality moved forward like it always had, uncaring and steady. But Seo Jun moved through it differently, like he'd stepped slightly out of sync with the world.
He glanced over his shoulder.
No one.
A few steps later, he checked again.
Still nothing.
And yet the feeling didn't go away.
By the time he reached school, unease clung to him like a second uniform. The crowded hallways didn't help. Too many faces. Too many places to hide. The noise felt artificial, loud in the way silence often was right before something broke.
He took his seat by the window.
The teacher started the lesson. Words drifted through the room, meaningless sounds stacking on one another. Seo Jun stared at his reflection in the glass instead. It felt wrong to look away from the outside for too long.
Halfway through the class, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
A message.
Come straight home after school. Dad
That was it. No explanation. No reason.
SeoJun swallowed and slipped his phone away.
During lunch, it happened.
He wasn't sure how he noticed at first only that something pulled his attention across the courtyard like a hooked wire. Near the school gate stood a man he had never seen before. Middle aged. Plain clothes. An average face that refused to stick in memory.
The man wasn't staring openly. He leaned casually against the fence, head slightly lowered, posture relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Their eyes met.
It lasted less than a second but Seo Jun felt it. A cold awareness, sharp and intentional, like being singled out in a crowd without a word spoken. Then the man turned away, indistinguishable from every other adult nearby.
Seo-Jun stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the ground.
When he reached the gate, the man was gone.
No chase. No confrontation. No proof that anything had happened at all.
That scared him more than if there had been.
The rest of the day passed in fragments. A question here. A laugh there. Life continuing around him like nothing was wrong. Seo-Jun's nerves stayed tight, pulled thin by the constant expectation that something terrible was just one step away.
Yet nothing happened.
That evening, his father was waiting at the door.
Han Tae Seong didn't ask how school was. He watched Seo-Jun carefully, gaze sharp but unreadable, like he was examining cracks in glass under a light only he could see.
"You're home early," he said.
Seo Jun nodded. "Like you said."
A brief pause followed. A nod of approval.
They ate dinner quietly.
Plates clinked. Chopsticks moved. Television noise filled the gaps where conversation should have been. Every time Seo-Jun tried to speak, the words caught in his throat. His father didn't look at the screen once.
Halfway through the meal, Han Tae Seong finally spoke.
"From tomorrow on, you come straight home," he said calmly. "No stopping. No detours."
Seo Jun hesitated. "Dad… is something going on?"
His father met his eyes.
For the first time that day, something flickered there calculation. Concern. And underneath it all, resolve.
"There are things you don't need to understand yet," Han Tae-Seong said. "Just do as I say."
Seo-Jun nodded slowly.
After dinner, he went to his room and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Outside, distant traffic hummed. Somewhere nearby, a door closed. The normal sounds of life continued, but they felt far away, like echoes from another time.
His phone buzzed again.
No message this time.
Just a missed call from an unknown number.
Seo Jun turned the phone over, heart pounding.
Somewhere out there, someone was watching. Not rushing. Not striking. Merely waiting with patience that felt practiced and intentional.
And for the first time, Seo Jun understood something he never had before:
Silence wasn't safety.
It was anticipation.