The city blurred around us as I weaved through the streets, the neon lights casting streaks of color against the dark asphalt. Cold air, fast motion, the steady hum of the engine beneath us.
Hyerin stayed silent behind me, but I could feel the shift—the way her grip around my waist had tightened just enough to be secure, how she adjusted her hold as we made sharper turns. She wasn't afraid, but she was careful.
Good.
She learned quickly.
The roads became less polished the farther we went, the air shifting from the pristine order of Seonghwa's district to something grittier, quieter, more alive beneath the surface.
Finally, I pulled into a dimly lit alleyway, the tires rolling to a smooth stop beside an unmarked building. No sign, no advertisements—just a heavy steel door and a single red light glowing above it.
Hyerin didn't let go immediately.
I tapped her arm lightly. "You can breathe now."
She let out a small breath, fingers loosening before she slid off the bike.
I pulled off my helmet, running a hand through my hair before glancing at her. She stood beside the bike, her expression neutral, but her gaze flickered toward the door—sharp, observant.
"You can ask now," I said, watching her carefully.
Hyerin exhaled. "What is this place?"
I smirked, stepping toward the door. "You'll see."
Reaching into my pocket, I tapped a small sequence against the steel—a pattern, not a code anyone could guess.
A faint click echoed from inside.
The door cracked open slightly, and a voice—low, familiar—muttered, "You're late."
I pushed the door open fully, stepping inside without hesitation. "Relax. I brought a guest."
A narrow hallway stretched before us, dimly lit, leading deeper into the unknown.
Hyerin followed, her footsteps light, cautious.
The door shut behind us with a finality that said turning back wasn't an option.
I glanced over my shoulder at her, my smirk widening.
"Welcome," I murmured, "to the real Seonghwa."
A dim glow from the overhead lights barely illuminated the hallway as we stepped inside, the air cool, heavy with something unspoken. The walls were lined with reinforced steel, soundproof—designed to keep whatever happened here hidden from the outside world.
A man leaned against the far counter, arms crossed, watching us with narrowed eyes. Manager Ha.
"Who is she?" he asked, his voice rough, edged with suspicion.
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I glanced down at Hyerin, whose expression remained calm—not tense, not frightened, just watching, absorbing everything like a puzzle to be solved.
I turned back to him with an easy smile. "Someone you don't need to know."
His eyes flickered to me, unimpressed.
"You know the saying, Manager," I continued, stepping forward, keeping my grip firm around Hyerin's wrist. "Curiosity killed the cat."
His gaze lingered a second longer before he exhaled, shaking his head. "Do whatever you want."
"I always do," I mused. "Now, let me bring my guest to the room."
I tugged Hyerin forward, our fingers brushing, my grip tightening ever so slightly.
For a reason I didn't quite understand, I didn't want to let go.
She didn't protest.
Did she not mind, or was she simply waiting to see where this led?
We moved past the main hall, past the groups of students hunched over desks, their faces illuminated by dim, flickering screens—too focused, too desperate to notice us.
Hyerin's fingers twitched slightly in my hold, but she didn't pull away.
Finally, I stopped in front of an unmarked door.
Turning to her, I smirked.
"Ready to see what really keeps this school running?" I murmured, voice low, almost teasing.
She stared at me, then at the door.
And then, in a steady voice, she said, "Show me."
I pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit room bathed in the faint blue glow of multiple screens. The air was cooler here, sterile, humming with the faint sound of machinery at work.
In the center of the room stood a row of sleek, capsule-like structures—smooth, metallic, their surfaces polished enough to reflect the cold artificial light above. They were lined up perfectly, each one embedded with an identification panel and a biometric scanner. The monitors next to them displayed fluctuating data—heart rates, brain activity, oxygen levels.
Hyerin stood at the threshold, unmoving.
Her gaze flickered over each pod, taking in the scene with sharp, deliberate precision. She wasn't just looking. She was trying to understand.
I let go of her wrist, stepping forward.
"This," I said, gesturing toward the pods, "is how students survive here."
She didn't say anything.
I placed a hand on the smooth surface of one of the capsules, my fingers tapping lightly against the biometric scanner. The screen beside it flickered, displaying an interface filled with encrypted commands—all inaccessible to anyone without clearance.
"These," I continued, "are sleep pods. Or, more accurately—performance-enhancement chambers."
Her fingers curled slightly, the first sign of a reaction.
I smiled. "You know how Seonghwa expects perfection, right? How it's not just about skill, but endurance? No normal student can function at that level without burning out." I tapped the side of the pod. "This is the answer to that problem."
Finally, she spoke. "What do they do?"
I glanced at her. She wasn't asking out of curiosity. She was asking to confirm what she already suspected.
I exhaled, turning back to the pod. "They force your body into a hyper-efficient state of rest. A single hour in here is the equivalent of five hours of sleep. It keeps your mind sharp, your body from breaking down."
I tilted my head. "At least, that's what they tell you."
Hyerin didn't flinch, but I saw the way her shoulders stiffened slightly.
She was catching on.
I leaned against the pod, watching her. "You've already figured it out, haven't you?"
Her gaze flickered back to the monitors, where vitals fluctuated in real-time. Some were stable. Others… not so much.
"The pods aren't just helping them rest," she murmured. "They're—"
"—pumping something into their system," I finished for her, my tone light. "A substance that forces the body into recovery, accelerates memory retention, heightens focus. A shortcut to excellence."
She stared at me, waiting.
I smiled. "And like all shortcuts, it comes with a price."
The screen behind me flickered, displaying a student's vitals that had just dropped into the red zone. A quiet alarm beeped, barely noticeable under the hum of the machines.
Hyerin's eyes darkened.
"So this is what they're using," she murmured. "The students who never seem tired. The ones who can study all night, compete all day, and still function perfectly."
I watched her carefully. She wasn't disturbed. She wasn't horrified.
She was thinking.
Calculating.
I pushed off the pod and took a step closer to her.
"Now the real question, Hyerin," I murmured, voice low, "is what you plan to do with this information."
For the first time that night, she hesitated.
And that—that hesitation was what intrigued me the most.
Her eyes flickered between the pods, the glowing monitors, the fluctuating vitals on the screen. The hum of machinery filled the silence between us, a steady, mechanical pulse against the quiet tension in the air.
Finally, she spoke. "Isn't this against the law?"
I smiled, tilting my head slightly. Ah, there it is. The idealism.
"Against the law?" I repeated, my fingers trailing idly along the smooth surface of the pod. "Not exactly."
She narrowed her eyes slightly, waiting.
"The substance might be harmful to the body," I continued, "but at the same time, it's medicine—an enhancer that hospitals and research labs use regularly. Technically, it's not illegal." I tapped the biometric scanner, watching the screen flicker in response. "It exists in a gray area, neither fully sanctioned nor outright banned. The school knows, of course. They choose not to interfere."
Hyerin's lips pressed into a thin line. "So they're turning a blind eye."
I chuckled softly. "Turning a blind eye? No. That would imply they aren't benefitting from it."
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, a sign of restraint.
I stepped around the pod, closing the distance between us. "Ironic, isn't it?" My voice was softer now, thoughtful. "We're two students working toward becoming lawyers, fighting to get into the most elite law school in the country." I gestured to the pods, to the students lying inside them, hooked up to a system that was both their salvation and their downfall. "And yet, here we are. Doing things like this."
Hyerin didn't move, her expression unreadable.
"You don't approve," I mused, watching her closely.
She exhaled, barely a sound. "It's not about approval."
I raised an eyebrow. "Then what is it about?"
She finally looked at me, her gaze steady.
"How far people are willing to go," she murmured. "And what happens when they go too far."
Ah.
A different kind of answer than I expected.
I smiled, slow and intrigued. "Then I guess you'll have to stick around to find out."
Hyerin didn't react immediately, her eyes lingering on the screen where another set of vitals fluctuated. She was still thinking, still processing.
Then, without looking at me, she asked, "Have you used this machine?"
I tilted my head slightly, studying her.
The question was direct, but her tone was careful—not accusatory, not judgmental. Just searching.
"Of course I have," I admitted easily, trailing a finger along the curved surface of the pod. "But not as often as the others."
I turned toward her fully, letting my gaze settle on hers. "Someone like me doesn't need a shortcut like this to stay at the top." My voice was light, but the weight of the words was unmistakable.
Then, a smirk. "Do I seem that desperate?"
Hyerin held my gaze for a moment longer. Then, to my surprise, she nodded.
I blinked, caught off guard for the first time tonight.
Then, a quiet chuckle escaped me. "Blunt. I like that."
Her expression didn't waver. "It's the truth, isn't it?"
I exhaled through my nose, amused. "Maybe."
Silence settled between us, thick but not uncomfortable.
She wasn't easily swayed. She wasn't rattled by what she had seen, nor was she eager to condemn it.
Most people, when faced with this truth, either justified it or rejected it outright.
But she?
She was still deciding.
I leaned against the pod, watching her carefully. "So, what do you think, Hyerin?"
Her fingers brushed against the sleeve of my hoodie—the one I lent her, the one she was still wearing.
She looked at me, gaze unwavering.
"I think I want to know more."
A slow, satisfied smile curled on my lips.