"Who do you think it is?"
Ji-ae didn't look up from her phone. "Hmm?"
"The person who left the sketch," Hae-won said, nudging the edge of the charcoal paper on her desk like it might bite. "It's the second one."
"Oh," Ji-ae replied, tapping away. "Maybe your secret admirer is just emotionally repressed and really into shading."
Hae-won gave her a flat look. "I'm serious."
Ji-ae finally looked up, blinking. "So am I. Boys here don't know how to say hi. They draw cryptic things and send anonymous text messages. It's like... their love language is surveillance."
Hae-won sighed.
It wasn't fear, exactly.
It was more like standing near an open door in the middle of the night. Cool air. The suggestion of footsteps.
She'd already asked Bo-ram and Na-ri. Both had denied it, confused but intrigued. Bo-ram swore it was "kinda romantic in a slightly stalkerish way."
But Hae-won couldn't explain the unease that threaded beneath her skin.
She didn't tell them about the text.
Not yet.
---
The next morning was misty and gray. The kind of Baekhyun weather that made students wear trench coats over their uniforms and speak in quieter voices.
By second period, the director's office had issued a campus-wide notice:
"All students are reminded to update their biometric IDs by the end of the week. Facial recognition will be required for evening access to library and garden zones."
Ji-ae read it aloud during study break and sighed. "Nothing says privacy like corporate-grade monitoring."
Hae-won nodded, her mind already drifting.
In class, her design professor passed back their assignments. When he reached her, he paused.
"Excellent work," he said. "You've got the eye."
She smiled faintly.
But when she flipped the page open, her own design notes weren't the only thing scribbled there.
Another sketch.
Her again.
And a single word beneath it in sharp, angular lettering:
"Soon."
---
Later that day, as the sun dipped into its soft lavender arc, Hae-won stood by the reflecting pond. The water mirrored the school in perfect symmetry—like Baekhyun had no flaws unless you stepped too close.
She heard footsteps behind her.
"Is that a new routine?" Jin-woon's voice broke through the quiet. "Staring down the pond like it owes you answers?"
She didn't turn. "And if I said yes?"
"I'd say you have good taste. It's the only honest surface here."
He came to stand beside her, hands in his coat pocket, eyes straight ahead.
"You looked distracted earlier," he said. "Sketchbook trouble?"
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
He smirked. "I saw you tuck something in your folder during design class. And I know the professor doesn't hand out bonus drawings."
"Do you watch everyone this closely?"
"No," he said simply.
That answer left no room for pretense.
She looked away first.
"So?" he added after a beat. "What was it?"
"Nothing," she lied.
Jin-woon tilted his head. "Hm. Let me know when you're ready to say more."
And then, without waiting, he walked off, his footsteps quiet but definite.
---
That night, Hae-won locked her windows. Drew the curtains. Hid the sketch in a notebook under her pillow.
And just before sleep took her, her phone lit up again.
Unknown Number:
> You're not afraid.
That's what makes this fun.