Moon Jaewon dreamt of footsteps.
They echoed down a hallway that had no end, each step bouncing off the walls and returning to him like an accusation. He couldn’t see his own shadow, but he could feel it chasing him, clinging close no matter how fast he ran.
The air reeked faintly of mold, and a copper tang burned the back of his throat. His chest heaved, his lungs begging for air, but the hallway never ended.
Then, a voice slid into the silence.
“Moon Jaewon…”
It was soft, low, a whisper that somehow sounded right beside his ear even though the hall was empty.
Jaewon stumbled, his sneakers squealing against the tiles. He whipped around, expecting—no, dreading—to see someone behind him.
There was no one.
Only the flicker of a dying fluorescent light above, buzzing like an angry insect. The sound grated against his nerves.
He tried to move forward, but the hallway bent, twisted, stretched longer. Every step forward seemed to carry him back to the same spot.
“Moon Jaewon.”
This time the voice was clearer. Closer. Intimate.
His pulse hammered as he turned again—and froze.
A figure was waiting at the end of the hall.
A boy.
Tall, pale, his black hair falling in front of his eyes. He didn’t move, yet the shadows around him seemed to crawl toward Jaewon, stretching across the tiles like greedy hands.
Jaewon’s throat dried instantly. He wanted to run, but his body wouldn’t obey.
The boy tilted his head, curious, like an animal studying prey. His lips parted slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was calm, but heavy with something ancient and sorrowful.
“If you love me… you’ll die.”
The words struck Jaewon like a blow. He stumbled back, but before he could scream, the lights overhead burst with a sharp pop.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Jaewon jolted awake, his body damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell violently, his heart beating as though he had sprinted miles.
For a few moments, he couldn’t breathe. The image of the boy lingered behind his eyelids, his pale face burned into memory.
It was only a dream.
Only a dream.
He forced himself to sit up. The small rented room around him was quiet, the walls painted a dull cream that made everything look lifeless in the early dawn light. His blanket was twisted around his legs, damp from sweat.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes and whispered, “What the hell was that…”
But the words from the dream still echoed in his ears.
If you love me, you’ll die.
Jaewon dragged himself out of bed, legs heavy, as if the dream had taken more energy than a real chase. The faint chill of the early morning made him shiver when his bare feet touched the wooden floor.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
He had moved in only two nights ago, into his cousin’s small place near the edge of town. Everything about it felt temporary: the cracked plaster walls, the faint smell of mothballs, the uneven hum of the old refrigerator downstairs. His cousin, Park Jiwon, had set it up for him before leaving early to work most mornings.
Jaewon reached for his phone on the nightstand. 5:42 AM. He groaned. The first day of school and he’d barely slept.
He shuffled to the tiny bathroom attached to his room, splashed water on his face, and stared at his reflection.
Dark circles under his eyes. Lips pale. His black hair stuck up at odd angles from tossing in bed. He pressed his palms against the sink and leaned in closer.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he muttered.
The faucet dripped once.
He froze.
For just a split second, the mirror seemed wrong. His reflection’s mouth didn’t move with his. Its lips curved into something almost like a smile.
Jaewon blinked, and it was gone. Just his own tired, miserable face staring back at him.
He let out a shaky laugh. “Great. First day here and I’m already losing my mind.”
Downstairs, the faint smell of coffee hit him before he reached the kitchen. Jiwon was there, already dressed in a clean white shirt and slacks, his tie slightly loose around his neck. He looked up from the newspaper as Jaewon entered.
“You look terrible,” Jiwon said without preamble.
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Had… weird dreams.” Jaewon grabbed a piece of toast from the plate on the counter and sat across from him.
Jiwon’s brows furrowed slightly. “Weird how?”
Jaewon hesitated. If he told the truth, it would sound crazy. A boy whispering curses in endless hallways? Even he could barely make sense of it. “Just… unsettling. Like someone was watching me.”
Jiwon was quiet for a long moment. Too long. He folded the newspaper carefully, set it down, and said, “Dreams feel heavier in this town. Don’t think too much about it.”
Jaewon frowned. “Heavier?”
Jiwon forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll get used to it. Just focus on school. And Jaewon—don’t stay out late.”
Jaewon gave him a puzzled look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But Jiwon didn’t explain. He just took a sip of his coffee, gaze fixed on the dark liquid, as though avoiding Jaewon’s eyes on purpose.
By the time Jaewon left for school, the sun was creeping over the rooftops, its weak light painting the streets in shades of pale gold. The town was smaller than Seoul, quieter, almost suffocating in how still everything felt. Rows of old houses pressed close together, their roofs uneven, their windows shuttered.
The walk to the bus stop was short, but every step seemed to echo louder than it should. A stray dog barked from somewhere down the street, sharp enough to make him flinch.
He shoved his hands into his blazer pockets and muttered, “Just nerves. That’s all.”
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the dream hadn’t really ended when he woke.
The school bus rattled like it was older than the students it carried. The seats were cracked vinyl, patched with tape in places, and the windows fogged faintly despite the morning chill.
Jaewon slid into a seat near the back, clutching his bag to his chest. A few students were already on board, chatting in low voices, their gazes flicking curiously toward the unfamiliar face.
“New kid, huh?” one boy muttered to his friend, not bothering to keep his voice down.
Jaewon pretended not to hear. He pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, watching the town roll by as the bus jolted forward. The streets here seemed frozen in time—rusted shop signs, old bicycles leaning against walls, children’s chalk drawings faded but still clinging to cracked sidewalks.
At one corner, he noticed an elderly woman standing by a small shrine. She bowed three times, her lips moving silently. Beside her, a plate of offerings sat: fruit, rice cakes, and a candle already burned low.
Strange, he thought. He hadn’t seen anyone do that back in the city.
The bus groaned as it climbed a small hill, and the school came into view.
It wasn’t large, maybe three stories tall, with gray concrete walls and wide windows streaked by years of rain. The building looked weary, like it had been standing far longer than it should.
The moment Jaewon stepped off the bus, he felt it—the weight of eyes. Not everyone stared openly, but enough glances lingered. Whispers rose like insects buzzing at the edges of his hearing.
New student.53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ63IssYbyOp
Where’s he from?53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhooGg2oRkd
Didn’t someone else transfer last year? He didn’t stay long…
The last comment pricked at Jaewon’s nerves, though he couldn’t tell if he imagined it.
Inside the classroom, the teacher introduced him. “This is Moon Jaewon. He’s just transferred here from Seoul. I expect you all to treat him kindly.”
A polite chorus of greetings followed. Jaewon bowed slightly. “Please take care of me.”
He slid into the empty desk assigned to him, second row from the back. His classmates gave him curious smiles, some polite, some too nosy.
But his attention caught on someone else.
In the very last seat, by the window, a boy sat with his chin resting on one hand. His hair was jet black, falling into his pale face. His uniform was neat but somehow looked like it belonged to another time, the white shirt too stark against his skin.
He didn’t look at Jaewon. He didn’t look at anyone. His gaze was fixed outside the window, far away.
Still, Jaewon felt something like a chill trickle down his spine the longer he looked at him.
The teacher’s voice pulled him back. Lessons began. Students whispered to one another when the teacher wasn’t looking, but no one spoke to the boy at the back. His isolation was too complete, as though the space around him dared anyone to cross it.
Jaewon tried to focus on the blackboard. But his mind kept circling back.
Who is he?
At lunch, Jaewon carried his tray nervously, scanning for a place to sit. Before he could panic, a cheerful voice called out.
“Hey, new guy! Over here.”
A boy with warm eyes and a playful grin waved him over. “Cha Dohyun,” he introduced himself once Jaewon sat down. “You looked like you were about to eat in the bathroom.”
Jaewon laughed awkwardly. “Was it that obvious?”
“Don’t worry, everyone looks like that their first day.” Dohyun leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’re brave though, transferring here.”
“Brave?” Jaewon tilted his head.
Before Dohyun could answer, a girl with long hair tied neatly back set her tray down across from them. “Ignore him. He likes to exaggerate.”
“Han Yerim,” she introduced herself with a polite smile. “You’ll get used to the people here. Most of us are harmless.”
“Most of us?” Jaewon asked, but Yerim only shrugged, eyes flicking briefly toward the back of the cafeteria.
Jaewon followed her gaze.
There he was again. The boy from the back of the classroom. Sitting alone at a table near the window. He ate slowly, mechanically, like each bite was an obligation rather than hunger.
The distance between him and everyone else was almost physical. No one dared sit near him.
As if sensing the weight of Jaewon’s stare, the boy lifted his head. Their eyes met across the room.
Jaewon’s breath caught.
For just a heartbeat, he swore the cafeteria grew quieter.
Then the boy lowered his gaze again, returning to his food as if Jaewon didn’t exist.
“Who’s that?” Jaewon asked before he could stop himself.
Yerim’s lips pressed into a thin line. Dohyun glanced around, lowered his voice even further.
“That’s Baek Sion.”
The name felt heavy, like a stone dropped into water.
Jaewon repeated the name under his breath. “Baek… Sion.”
Dohyun leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t get too curious. People who do—” He cut himself off, suddenly busying himself with stabbing at his rice.
“What?” Jaewon pressed.
Yerim gave Dohyun a sharp look, then turned back to Jaewon. “It’s nothing. Just school gossip. You know how kids can be.”
But her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Jaewon frowned, but he let it go. For now.
Still, throughout lunch, his gaze drifted back again and again. Something about the way Baek Sion carried himself was… different. Detached. Like the entire world existed at a distance, and he was too tired to step closer.
At one point, Jaewon thought he saw Sion’s lips move, whispering something to no one in particular. But when he blinked, the boy was eating silently again.
The afternoon dragged. The classrooms felt heavier than they should, the air stale even with the windows open.
By the last period, Jaewon’s head was pounding. The teacher’s voice droned in the background as he glanced outside. Clouds had gathered thick and gray, swallowing the sun early.
When the bell finally rang, students rushed to pack up, laughter and chatter filling the room. Jaewon gathered his things slowly, his head still foggy.
As he zipped up his bag, a shadow fell over his desk.
“Moon Jaewon, right?”
He looked up to see a tall girl with sharp eyes and perfectly tied hair. She wore the badge of class president pinned neatly to her blazer.
“Uh, yes.”
“I’m Jung Hyejin,” she said briskly. “Class president. If you need anything, come to me.”
“Thanks,” Jaewon said, bowing slightly.
Her gaze flicked toward the back of the room. Sion was still seated, staring out the window, unmoving.
Hyejin lowered her voice. “One piece of advice. Don’t sit near Baek Sion. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even look at him if you can help it.”
Jaewon blinked. “Why?”
“Because he’s dangerous.”
The word landed like a stone in his stomach.
Before he could ask anything else, Hyejin straightened, her expression back to calm professionalism. “Welcome to the class.” She walked away.
Dangerous.53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRTz3FTBTUT
The word repeated itself in his head, but it made no sense. The boy hadn’t spoken a word all day.
And yet, the more he thought about it, the more he remembered the dream. The whisper. The pale figure at the end of the hall.
His chest tightened.
Most of the class emptied quickly, but Jaewon lingered, too unsettled to move. By the time he finally stood, only two students remained: Sion by the window… and himself.
He hesitated. Should he say something? The boy hadn’t looked at anyone all day, but up close, Jaewon could see how fragile he seemed. His skin was too pale, his posture too still.
As if sensing his indecision, Sion slowly turned his head. Their eyes met.
Jaewon’s breath caught in his throat.
Sion’s gaze wasn’t angry, or hostile. But it was unreadable, dark, and it seemed to strip away the noise around them.
Then, without a word, Sion stood and left the classroom. His steps made no sound, though Jaewon swore he could feel the floor shift beneath them.
The silence that followed was too heavy. Jaewon shoved his books into his bag and left quickly, shaking his head.
“Dangerous, huh?” he muttered. “He just looks lonely.”
But even as he said it, the memory of that whisper lingered.
If you love me… you’ll die.
By the time Jaewon finished packing the rest of his things, the halls were already quiet. Most students had rushed out as soon as the last bell rang, their voices fading into the distance.
He adjusted his bag and started toward the exit, but halfway down the corridor, a faint sound made him stop.
Music.
Soft, slow, deliberate notes carried through the still air. A piano.
Jaewon frowned. Was there a music club practice today? The sound was coming from the old wing of the building, the part of the school he hadn’t explored yet.
He should’ve left. His cousin’s warning about staying out late lingered in the back of his mind. But curiosity tugged harder.
The melody was haunting—gentle but heavy, like a lullaby meant to soothe the dead instead of the living.
Step by step, Jaewon followed it.
The corridors in this part of the building were dimmer, the light bulbs flickering occasionally, buzzing like they could go out at any second. His footsteps echoed unnervingly, each one louder than he expected.
Finally, he reached the music room. The door was slightly ajar.
He hesitated, then pushed it open just enough to peek inside.
And there he was.
Baek Sion.
He sat at the grand piano near the window, his posture elegant, his pale fingers resting lightly on the keys. But what froze Jaewon wasn’t the sight of him—it was the sound.
Because Sion’s fingers weren’t moving.
The keys pressed themselves, rising and falling in time with the melody. The song played on as though guided by invisible hands.
Jaewon’s heart lurched into his throat. He nearly dropped his bag.
Sion’s head lifted slowly. His dark eyes locked onto Jaewon’s through the crack in the door.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Sion’s lips parted. His voice was quiet, but it filled the room.
“Why are you here?”
Jaewon swallowed hard, forcing his voice to steady. “I… I heard music.”
Sion tilted his head. His fingers slid off the keys. Instantly, the melody stopped.
“There’s no music,” he said flatly.
The silence that followed pressed down on Jaewon’s ears until he could hear his own pulse.
“I—I should go,” Jaewon stammered, stepping back quickly.
Sion’s gaze lingered on him, unreadable, as if deciding something. Then he turned back to the piano, saying nothing more.
Jaewon practically fled, his footsteps too loud in the empty halls.
Outside, the sky had already darkened. Clouds smothered the last of the sun, and the campus lights flickered to life one by one.
He tried to shake it off. He was imagining things. It had to have been a trick of the light, a draft, something explainable.
But as he hurried down the path toward the main gate, a whisper followed him again.
“Moon Jaewon…”
He froze, every hair on his arms rising. The voice was right behind him. He spun around.
No one.
The path was empty.
Jaewon’s heart pounded in his ears as he turned back—only to stop dead in his tracks.
Under the flickering streetlight ahead stood Baek Sion.
His pale face was tilted slightly upward, his black hair shifting in the wind. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He only stared at Jaewon, his expression unreadable.
Jaewon couldn’t breathe.
From the moment I met him… my life was no longer my own.
Darkness seemed to press closer around them as the streetlight flickered again.
ns216.73.216.143da2
and then Add to home screen.