Monday morning, the classroom smelled like it always did—expensive perfume, fresh paper, and the kind of tension you could iron a shirt with. I was on time. I was in my seat. Everything looked normal. Which was why it felt completely wrong.
Yuri was gone. Her chair sat perfectly pushed in, her desk spotless. Like she'd never existed.
I set my bag down quietly. My hands moved slower than usual. Bora was on my right, scrolling through her tablet like I didn't exist. Haeun was on my left, leaning in to whisper something to a boy in the front row, her voice light, her smile practiced. Not at me. Never at me. But I felt it anyway.
When the teacher walked in, the class snapped to silence like someone had flipped a switch. But something still buzzed under the surface.
— "Lee Nina," the teacher said.
I looked up.
— "Yes?"
He stared over his glasses. Neutral face. Cold tone.
— "You're requested in the vice principal's office. Immediately."
No one reacted. Not even a cough. But I felt it. The collective inhale. The faint pause. That moment where the room quietly decided I was no longer one of them. I stood. Picked up my bag. Left. No questions asked. Questions were for people who belonged here.
The hallway felt too quiet. My steps echoed too much. I didn't walk fast, but I didn't drag my feet either. Just enough to look calm. Just enough to pretend this was normal.
It wasn't.
I knocked at the office door.
— "Come in."
Vice Principal Kwon sat behind a glass desk that looked like it had never hosted a real problem. She wore thin-framed glasses, a stiff navy blazer, and an expression that said she hated being interrupted.
— "Sit down, Miss Lee."
I sat. She handed me a tablet.
— "We received this over the weekend. Do you recognize the person in the photo?"
I looked. It was me. Or, almost me. An old version. Brown hair. Tired smile. The name 'Alma' written under the image like a caption in a police file.
My stomach flipped.
— "That's not me," I said. Lie.
She placed the tablet back on her desk with robotic precision.
— "Your file is incomplete. No academic records. No verified transfer. And yet, here you are."
I didn't blink.
— "So what?"
— "So," she said slowly, fingers laced, "some families are starting to ask questions. And I don't like having no answers."
My heartbeat picked up. I kept my voice level.
— "Are you accusing me of something?"
— "Not yet."
She watched me like a math problem. One she didn't like the look of.
— "But if your place here was based on false documentation, now is the time to clarify—before it becomes… irreversible."
— "There's nothing to clarify."
She tapped a note on her screen.
— "Very well. You may return to class."
I left without another word. And I didn't let myself breathe properly until the door clicked shut behind me.
Someone had sent the photo.
Someone had decided to make a move.
I went back to class. Sat down like I hadn't just been summoned and threatened in admin-speak. No one looked at me. No one had to. The silence around me said everything.
At lunch, Yuri's seat at our usual table stayed empty. No one mentioned her. Not even the girls who usually commented on the weather like it was politics.
I picked at my food. I wasn't hungry. I was watching. Watching Bora, who barely blinked as she scrolled through some confidential-looking document. Watching Haeun, who laughed once—delicately, controlled—before exchanging a look with a girl I didn't recognize.
I didn't know who had sent the photo. Not yet.
But whoever it was, they wanted something.
After school, I didn't go home.
I walked to the admin building instead. Past the usual exits, past the staff lounge, straight to the records office. The place where transfer files were kept, where acceptance forms were signed, where proof lived or disappeared.
The hallway was empty. The lights were dim. The records room was supposed to be locked. It wasn't.
I slipped inside. Quiet. Fast.
Filing cabinets. Dozens of them. Organized by last name. L, for Lee. Easy.
I pulled the drawer.
Nothing. No file. Just a blank space between names.
I checked the next cabinet. And the next.
Then finally, in the last drawer, shoved to the back, I found it.
One folder. No label. Just a single sheet inside.
Name: Lee Nina.
Status: Unverified.
Notes: Admitted by exception. Performance under review.
And at the bottom, a signature. Small. Clean.
Seo Rayan.
And now?
I walked out of the building slowly. Not panicked. Not rushed. Just steady.
He was already there. Leaning against the gate, phone in hand, like nothing in the world could touch him.
Rayan.
I stopped a few steps away. He looked up.
— "You knew," I said.
He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket like we were just chatting about the weather.
— "I knew your file was blank. Not why."
— "But you signed it."
He didn't deny it. He didn't apologize either.
— "You deserved to be here. Even without the paperwork."
I stared at him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask why. Instead, I took a step closer.
— "Who else knows?"
His eyes didn't move from mine.
— "No one that matters. Not yet."
I nodded once. No smile. No thank you.
Then I walked past him without another word. No pause. No glance back.
I didn't know who was going to strike first.
But I already knew who I'd be aiming at.