The year was gradually drawing to a close, and with it, the semester. It felt surreal—like a dream slipping away too fast to grasp.
Carrie, ever the dedicated scholar, sat hunched over the dining table, completely absorbed in her studies. Nothing—not hunger, not exhaustion, not even a rogue flying cockroach—could break her focus. Across from her, Ava and Leo engaged in their own version of a "study session," which mostly consisted of giggles, whispered jokes, and dramatically pretending to flip through pages. And then there was Jae-Wook, the effortlessly gifted learner. While Carrie practically inhaled knowledge like her life depended on it, Jae-Wook simply existed and somehow understood everything.
Tonight was a strange mix of tension and relief—the night before their final paper. As expected, Carrie was the last one standing… or rather, sitting. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on her, her eyelids drooping dangerously with every passing second. The text on the page blurred together.
Then—thud.
Her head hit the table. She was out.
Right on cue, Leo strolled in, stretching lazily. His eyes landed on Carrie, face-planted into her open textbook, surrounded by an army of empty coffee cups. He let out a small chuckle.
"She pushes herself too hard," he mused. "If I were her dad, I'd be so proud."
With a sigh, he reached for the light switch, but before he could flip it—
"Don't. You. Dare."
Leo froze.
Carrie's head had snapped up so fast it was almost supernatural. Her bloodshot eyes locked onto him, burning with the intensity of someone who had transcended sleep deprivation and entered a whole new dimension of academic suffering.
"Uh… you sure you're okay?" Leo asked hesitantly.
"I just need more coffee," she muttered.
Leo eyed the tower of empty coffee cups. He let out an incredulous laugh. "Yeah, totally. That won't kill you or anything."
Moments later, Carrie returned, gripping a fresh cup like it was the elixir of life. She slumped back into her chair, rubbing her temples.
"This is exhausting," she groaned. "I've read everything, yet it feels like I know absolutely nothing." She exhaled sharply, glaring at her notes like they had personally betrayed her. "It's honestly a talent to be as unbothered as Ava and Leo. Let's just finish this."
But despite her determination, exhaustion had other plans. Her blinks lasted longer, her head grew heavier, and within minutes, she was slumped over the table again—this time completely out, her cheek smooshed against her notes.
Minutes later, quiet footsteps echoed down the dining corridor. Jae-Wook strolled in, a book tucked under his arm. One glance at Carrie, and he let out a quiet sigh.
"She really doesn't know when to stop, does she?" he muttered to himself.
He walked over, nudging her shoulder. No response. A little firmer this time.
"Carrie."
Still nothing.
His gaze flickered to the battlefield of empty coffee cups around her. He shook his head and, with a small sigh, reached for the blanket draped over a nearby chair. Carefully, he placed it over her shoulders, making sure she was warm.
And then—something weird happened.
As Jae-Wook lingered for a moment, he found himself… staring. The usual stress lines on Carrie's forehead were gone. Her expression was peaceful, her lips slightly parted in sleep. She looked different—softer, almost… nice?
A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Cute! She looks so much better when she's quiet," he muttered under his breath.
Then—
"What are you doing?"
Jae-Wook's hand recoiled like he'd touched a live wire, reaching for the back of his neck. His soul might have actually left his body for a second.
Ava.
She stood in the corridor, arms crossed, staring directly at him like she had just caught him committing a felony.
Jae-Wook straightened up immediately, trying to feign nonchalance. "Nothing."
Ava squinted. "You were staring at Carrie just now. Admiring her even."
"No, I wasn't."
"I can swear you were."
"She had too much coffee, so I was checking if she was still breathing," Jae-Wook lied smoothly.
Ava hummed, unimpressed. "Oh really? Then why were you smiling?"
"I wasn't. I grimaced," Jae-Wook interjected.
Ava smirked. "That's not what it looked like."
Jae-Wook huffed. "Believe whatever you want. I'm going to bed." Without another word, he turned and walked off with the speed of someone escaping a crime scene.
Ava watched him go, raising an eyebrow. She glanced back at Carrie, then back at Jae-Wook's retreating figure.
"Hmm. Suspicious, why was he smiling?" she muttered. Then her eyes widened. "Wait… did he poison her coffee??"
Goosebumps flooded her skin.
"LEO!!"
"LEO!!" she called out, spinning on her heel and retreating to her room to report the "incident."
But obviously… she never came back.
Meanwhile, Jae-Wook stood in front of his mirror, fingers aggressively running through his hair in frustration.
"What was I thinking?" he muttered. He paused, then groaned. "No. Worse. I wasn't even thinking."
He glared at his reflection, then let out a low, humorless laugh.
"I must be drunk, yes that's it, too much caffeine"
Another laugh escaped, a bit wilder this time. He shook his head and stormed off to bed.
He needed to sleep this off.
---
MEANWHILE
The room was suffocating, thick with the acrid stench of petroleum, as if the walls themselves had soaked in crime. The air was heavy, unmoving, as though afraid to stir the silence—except for the ragged breathing of a man bound to a chair. The only light came from a golden-hued spotlight cast cruelly upon him, leaving the rest of the room swallowed in darkness. Shadows clung to the corners, watching.
A voice, smooth yet laced with quiet authority, sliced through the stillness.
"Unmask him."
The order was met without hesitation. Rough hands seized the man's face, yanking the hood away. His eyes, wide with unfiltered panic, adjusted to the sudden glare—only to land upon a figure stepping forward from the void.
Na-eun.
Her beauty was a striking contrast to the bleakness of the room, radiant in a way that did not comfort, but rather unsettled—like a flower blooming in poisoned soil. A smirk teased her lips, the kind that sent a chill deeper than the coldest of threats.
"Hello, Mr. Jack," she greeted, her voice carrying an air of unsettling elegance.
Jack's lips quivered before words tumbled out in desperation. "P-please, ma'am… please don't kill me. I swear, I'll get your money. Just give me more time."
Na-eun sighed, rolling her eyes as she traced absent patterns along the barrel of her gun. "Time?" she mused. "You've had enough of that. And yet… you still stand in my way."
Jack's throat bobbed, his eyes darting toward the shadows, hoping for mercy where there was none. "Please, I—I promise, I'll pay the loan back. Just let me—"
She cut him off with a scoff. "And how do you plan to do that, hmm? Your harvest dropped by millions this year, didn't it?"
His silence betrayed him.
Na-eun chuckled, tilting her head as if studying a puzzle missing its last piece. "There is a simple way out of this, Jack. Sell me the land. You get money, and you don't have to worry about the loan. A win-win."
Jack stiffened, his expression shifting—no longer just fear, but something deeper. Something resolute.
"I can't," he murmured, voice shaking but firm. "That land… it's all my family left me."
Na-eun's smirk widened, something dark glinting in her eyes. "How touching," she mused, her voice practically dripping with mock sympathy. Then she leaned in, her whisper a cruel secret. "Do you expect me to pity you?"
Her gaze hardened.
"I killed mine."
Jack's breath hitched, terror creeping into every fiber of his being. The weight of her words settled upon him like a noose tightening around his neck.
Na-eun straightened, glancing at the clock. She sighed theatrically. "Times up."
Jack turned his head slightly, almost instinctively, as if he could escape what was coming.
"Say hi to your family, then."
The gunshot shattered the silence, blood painting the dimly lit room like the final brushstroke on a tragic masterpiece. Jack's body slumped, his lifeless gaze frozen in terror.
Na-eun barely spared the mess a glance. With a quiet hum, she set the gun down, reaching for a silk handkerchief. She dabbed at her fingers delicately, as though wiping away nothing more than a bit of dust.
"Clean this up."
With that, she turned on her heel, stepping over the pooling crimson without so much as a second look, disappearing into the darkness she ruled.