The next morning, the clouds were gone.
But the school looked even colder in the sunlight.
Haena walked past the gates of *Hwayang High* feeling like she had stepped into a place untouched by time. The walls were clean, the air still, the corridors polished. But the silence behind every smile, the weight behind every glance—it was all too… rehearsed.
Like everyone was playing a role.
**A Warning in Disguise**
She found Yujin by her locker, chewing her lip.
"You're still sitting next to him?" Yujin asked, glancing around.
"Obviously," Haena said. "They assigned me there."
"You should ask to change."
"Why?"
Yujin hesitated. "Because people who talk to Joon Seo… change."
Haena frowned. "What do you mean?"
"They either disappear, transfer, or… stop talking altogether. Like Soo-Min."
"The girl who transferred?"
Yujin nodded. "I was close with her. She sat next to him last year. First she couldn't sleep. Then she started seeing things. Crying in class. Said someone kept whispering to her in her dreams. Then one day, she vanished. Her desk was just… empty."
"Did she leave a note?"
Yujin hesitated again. "Yeah. One sentence. *'He's not supposed to be here.'*"
**Back in the Classroom**
Joon Seo was already at his desk when Haena entered.
He was wearing the same black uniform. Same posture. Same expressionless stare toward the window. Like he never left the school.
Haena sat beside him slowly. She said nothing. Neither did he.
But when their bags touched beneath the desk—barely a brush—he tensed.
She looked at him.
And this time, he looked back.
Their eyes met again. And she felt it. That same eerie pull from yesterday.
Like the world dulled for a second. Like she had entered *his* silence.
**Teacher Trouble**
Miss Do arrived, carrying more than just books—she carried unease.
Her voice trembled ever so slightly when she called attendance. And when she reached Joon Seo's name, she paused.
Everyone held their breath.
Then quietly, she skipped to the next.
*He doesn't exist on the record.*
*But he's right here.*
Haena scribbled in her notebook, but her hand paused when she noticed something on her desk.
A folded paper. Slipped between the pages of her book.
She looked around. No one was watching her.
She opened it.
**"Do not trust him.
He is not what he seems.
If you talk to him again,
you will end up like the rest."**
No name. Just that.
Her heart raced.
**After Class**
On her way to the restroom, Haena caught the tail end of a conversation near the faculty room. Two teachers.
"She's sitting next to him now," one whispered.
"We shouldn't allow this," the other murmured. "It's starting again."
"But what can we do? He's… on the register now. They'll notice if we move her."
Haena pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath.
**They. Who is *they?***
What exactly was going on in this school?
---
**At Lunch: The Boy Appears**
The lunchroom buzzed, but when Joon Seo entered, silence dropped like a curtain.
He walked to the back of the room, sat at an empty table, and unwrapped a simple bento box. But he didn't eat. He just sat there, opening and closing the lid like clockwork.
Haena couldn't stop watching him.
"Don't," Yujin warned again. "The more you look, the more he sees."
"I want to ask him."
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."
**Flashback: Her Childhood Memory**
That night, Haena lay awake, flipping the note in her hands.
And suddenly—
A flash. A dream. Or a memory?
She was six years old, standing in front of a burning building.
A boy was inside. Black hair. Pale skin.
She remembered his eyes, wide and silent, staring at her as the flames grew.
She never told anyone about that night.
Not even her mom.
*Was that… him?*
** The Library**
After school, she wandered to the old library wing—a part of the school students avoided.
She didn't know why she went. Curiosity? Instinct?
Books lined the walls, dusty and untouched. She ran her fingers along the shelves and paused when she found one that looked newer than the rest.
A yearbook.
Class of 2021.
She flipped through the pages. Class 3-B.
And there he was.
Joon Seo.
Smiling.
*Three years ago.*
But written beside his name in red ink—smudged and faint—was one word.
**"Deceased."**
**End of Chapter 2**