The next morning was soaked in gold. Baekhyun Academy looked deceptively serene under it—like a painting, like nothing had shifted in the last twenty-four hours. Like someone hadn't stolen something right out of her room.
But Hae-won knew better.
She sat by the window in the campus café near the Arts Block, legs crossed, a pen twirling between her fingers. Her tablet was still missing, and she hadn't reported it. She didn't plan to—not yet. What could she say? Someone took my digital sketchbook that had nothing sensitive on it but was very emotionally mine?
No. This wasn't about theft.
This was someone checking how she'd react.
"You know," Ji-ae said, sliding into the seat across from her with a tray of matcha and way too many scones, "for someone who just got publicly acknowledged and stared at like a meal by Jin-woon, you're shockingly moody."
Hae-won arched a brow. "I'd be happier if I didn't feel like I was being poked like a lab rat."
Ji-ae leaned forward. "Poked by who? The school?"
"Maybe. Maybe not just them."
A second passed. Ji-ae tapped a spoon against her cup. "You think this is about the camera thing?"
Hae-won glanced around. The café wasn't crowded, but ears existed everywhere.
"No," she said quietly. "But someone might've noticed I'm not just here to warm a scholarship seat."
Ji-ae's expression shifted. Not cold. Not sharp. But there was a flicker of something else—uncertainty?
Then it was gone.
"Drama queen," Ji-ae said with a smile. "Anyway, Na-ri and Tae-yul are baking again tonight. And this time, it's not for goodwill or grades. Just cake. You're coming."
Hae-won gave a small, exhausted laugh. "Only if there's chocolate involved."
"Please. We're all one stress test away from emotional collapse. It's triple fudge or bust."
---
That night, in the dorm kitchen, laughter echoed louder than the mixer.
Na-ri flailed while reading instructions upside down, Tae-yul nearly dropped a bowl of eggs, and Bo-ram, quiet as usual, had already made a perfect ganache in the corner. Hae-won felt the tension in her shoulders ease. Just a little.
Even Ji-ae looked... content.
Flour dusted the air like glitter. Music thudded softly from Na-ri's speaker. For the first time in a while, it felt like they weren't just surviving Baekhyun Academy. They were carving out tiny pieces of peace for themselves.
Later, as the cake cooled and their dorm lights dimmed, Hae-won stood at the sink washing bowls with Ji-ae beside her.
"You've changed," Ji-ae said suddenly, not looking at her.
Hae-won blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Not in a bad way." Ji-ae's tone was soft. "I just mean… you were more careful when you first got here. Now you're stepping into rooms like you own the place."
"I'm not."
"I didn't say it was a bad thing."
The water hissed from the tap.
"Sometimes," Ji-ae added, drying a spoon slowly, "I wonder what you'd do if people really tried to push you down."
"They already do."
Ji-ae turned to her. "No. I mean really. What would Hae-won do?"
Hae-won shrugged. "Smile. Say thank you. Then find a higher hill to stand on."
A pause. Ji-ae let out a laugh. But her eyes didn't quite match.
"You're dangerous," she murmured.
Hae-won tilted her head. "You just noticed?"
Ji-ae smiled again, folding the towel. "Maybe I did."
---
That night, as Hae-won returned to her room, her backup tablet still open and charging, she noticed something new.
A folded paper.
It had been slipped under the door, too neatly to be a mistake.
She picked it up, unfolding it slowly.
A sketch.
Her own drawing style. A rough charcoal outline of her in the auditorium. On stage. Staring back at the crowd.
Only this time, everyone else in the seats was faceless.
And one person—one shadow—stood up in the back row, watching her.
No name. No message.
Just that single drawing.
She didn't sleep much after that.