Sometimes it is better not to know than to know.
Because knowing often comes with things the heart is not prepared to carry.
And once you know, there is no turning back.
"Jina," Yoon called softly as she locked the door behind me the moment I stepped into her room.
The sound of the lock clicking into place made my chest tighten for reasons I couldn't explain. Her room felt colder than usual, like the air itself was holding secrets.
"I'm not saying you can't trust your friend," Yoon continued, lowering her voice, "but for now, that woman risked her life to tell you all that. I advise you to keep it close to your heart. Just for the moment."
I looked at Yoon. For the first time since I met her, her face held no smile, no light sarcasm—only seriousness. And somehow, she made sense.
Jan was my closest friend, my sister in this strange place, but if speaking could endanger that woman… then silence was safer. At least for now.
I nodded slowly.
"I understand."
Yoon relaxed slightly, as if she had been holding her breath. I turned and left her room without another word.
Outside her door, I stood still for a long time. My hand hovered over my chest, my heart beating louder than my thoughts. I didn't want to return to my room yet. I didn't want to face Jan's curious eyes, her questions, her concern. I wasn't ready to lie. And I wasn't ready to tell the truth.
So I decided to walk.
The school was quieter than usual, the kind of quiet that made footsteps echo louder than they should. I walked behind the main building, toward the far back of the school compound—toward a place I had avoided for a long time.
The spot where Hae was found hanging.
I stopped a few steps away. My feet refused to go further at first. The air there felt heavier, colder, like the place itself remembered what had happened.
I stood there, staring.
That was when I saw it.
Blood.
Not fresh. Not bright. Old, darkened stains pressed into the ground like scars that refused to heal. My throat tightened. My first instinct was to run, but something stronger pulled me closer.
The blood looked… intentional. As if it had been dragged.
I looked around quickly. No one was there. The school buildings stood silent, watching.
My heart pounded hard against my ribs as I followed the trail. Each step felt wrong, like I was trespassing into something I shouldn't see. The blood led me away from the hanging spot, deeper behind the building.
Then it stopped.
Right there.
A sudden cold breeze brushed past my face, sharp and unnatural. I froze. Slowly, I lifted my head—and saw it.
A small building.
No roof. Just bare walls, aged and cracked. The windows were tightly shut, reinforced. The only entrance was a thick metal door, locked with a giant key—far bigger than any normal lock I had ever seen.
My stomach twisted.
I walked closer, every nerve screaming at me to turn back. The place felt wrong. Empty, yet full. Silent, yet loud with unspoken things.
I went around the building, checking for another entrance. Nothing. Just that door. That lock.
I swallowed hard and pulled out my phone. My hands trembled as I snapped a few pictures—the blood stains, the door, the massive key. Evidence. Proof. Something real.
Then fear caught up with me.
I stepped back quickly and turned away.
My feet carried me instinctively toward the tree.
Raven's tree.
Relief washed over me when I saw him there, lying across the thick branch, eyes closed, body still. For a moment, he looked like part of the tree itself—as if he belonged there more than anywhere else.
As I approached, his eyes opened slowly.
"Raven," I called softly.
He looked down at me and jumped off the tree with ease, landing silently. The moment he stood before me, something inside me broke.
I hugged him.
I didn't even think about it. My arms wrapped around him tightly, like he was the only solid thing left in a world that kept shifting beneath my feet. He hesitated, then hugged me back.
I felt his heartbeat—steady, strong. Alive.
"I've been looking for you," I whispered.
"You need to stop looking for me, Jina," he said calmly, pulling back slightly. His voice was cold, distant.
"A lot is happening," I said quickly, afraid he might leave. "I can't stay calm anymore. I don't know where to start, but I have to start."
He studied my face for a long moment, then looked away.
"Jina… I warned you when things were still clear. When it was still safe. You didn't listen. Now, I don't know what to tell you anymore."
My chest tightened.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Why are you saying that?"
"I have to go," he said. "The only thing I can tell you is—try to survive. Any way you can."
Fear gripped me instantly.
"Raven!" I grabbed his arm. "Don't say things like that. You're scaring me."
"I have to get inside," he replied firmly.
I refused to let go. He sighed and led me back toward the tree.
He stared at me for a long time before speaking again.
"If I told you to disappear," he said quietly, "to never be seen again… could you do it?"
My heart shattered.
Disappear? Leave my mother? Jan? Everything? I shook my head slowly.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"That's it, Jina," he said. "That's the point."
I swallowed.
"Why do you always talk under this tree?" I asked softly.
He touched the trunk gently.
"Because this is my only safe place," he said. "My home."
The word home echoed in my mind.
"You're weird," I said weakly, trying to lighten the mood.
He smiled—for only the second time since I met him—then climbed the tree again.
"I need to rest," he said.
I watched him lay there, peaceful, as the wind brushed past him gently. For a moment, everything felt unreal.
I finally turned and left.
Life is unpredictable. If I left, my mother wouldn't be safe. If I stayed, she still wouldn't be safe. Same with Jan. Same with everyone.
Leaving wouldn't solve anything.
Finding the truth would.
I returned to my room. Jan wasn't there. Her door was locked. I closed mine quietly, dragged a chair to the window, and looked out.
Raven was still there.
Watching him, I realized something—he didn't just like that tree. He belonged to it.
I opened my novel, pretending to read, while the darkness outside slowly crept closer.