Yoon Haeyon didn't react when she opened her locker and found only empty air. Her books were gone.
She stood there for a second, eyes scanning the empty compartment as the whispers behind her grew louder. She didn't turn around. She didn't speak.
'The bully finally started... Should I attack them back or should I stand still?'
She wasn't a girl who cried and did nothing when being bullied. But since this wasn't her life to begin with, she just shrugged and decided to let it go for now.
However, if they dared to touch even a strand of her hair, she would make sure they regretted it.
She closed the locker as if nothing happened. Her face remained blank, not out of fear or embarrassment, but out of habit.
Back in Eden Garden, showing pain only invited more of it.
By the time she reached her desk, it had already been trashed. The chair knocked over, and someone had scribbled rude words across the surface in thick, red ink.
'Ah... What a child play.' she smirked, didn't get disturbed at all.
How could she? The cruelest bully of them all was fate.
The rest of the class acted as if they hadn't seen anything. The teacher hadn't arrived yet.
Jisoo was seated elegantly in the middle row, reapplying lip gloss while her friends snickered behind cupped palms.
Haeyon picked up her chair, wiped the desk with her sleeve, and sat down like nothing had happened.
They kept pushing and come the second day and they desperately needed a reaction.
During gym class, Haeyon caught one of the girls dumping something into her locker—ink, she assumed, or maybe rotten juice from the cafeteria.
She said nothing, even when the girl made eye contact and smiled. In her world, this kind of pettiness had no room to exist.
People there fought over food, over guns, over safety. And yet here, where everything was clean and pristine, cruelty still bred in silence. Just dressed in a different uniform.
By lunch, the tension cracked.
Jisoo sauntered over, flanked by two girls with sharp chins and sharper tongues. Haeyon was sitting under the tree at the edge of the courtyard, eating the bland sandwich the housekeeper had packed.
Her eyes stayed on the sky, distant and dull, even when Jisoo plopped down beside her.
The sun filtered through the branches, casting light on her pale skin and long lashes. She looked like a doll someone had placed there for decoration—unmoving, untouched.
"You've got nerve, looking at Seo Rian like that," Jisoo said sweetly, brushing a strand of her hair back.
"You are already have boyfriend don't you? Oh, it's ex-boyfriend now! And you want to snatch another handsome man again?"
Haeyon blinked once, slowly. "Who?" as she slapped the bitch's hand.
'Ah, so this girl has a boyfriend?' she thought.
Hayeon has tried to know more about the girl life, but she didn't left anything important in her room. Not even her phone or a note.
Jisoo scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Don't play dumb. You were staring at him in class like you wanted to jump him. Don't think I didn't see."
"I wasn't staring," Haeyon said, her voice flat. "He is the one who stared at me first."
'She did all of it over a man? What a joke!' she said inwardly, her eyes glared at her.
"Really? Because it looked like you couldn't take your eyes off him." Jisoo leaned in, her tone turning syrupy.
"You think just because you came back from the dead or whatever, you can start making moves on people like him?"
Hayeon rolled her eyes, "I'm not interested in him."
"Well, that's good." Jisoo smiled, but her eyes were cold. "Because someone like you should know their place."
Haeyon didn't reply. She turned her face back to the sky, hoping the girl would lose interest and walk away. But Jisoo wasn't done.
"You think acting mute and mysterious makes you cool? News flash—it doesn't."
"You're just a freak who got dumped in the middle of nowhere, and now you're pretending you don't know anyone. It's pathetic."
Before she could respond, something sharp snipped past her ear. A sudden coldness brushed her neck. She turned.
Jisoo was holding a pair of pink-handled scissors.
Hair. A long strand of Haeyon's black hair floated to the grass.
Haeyon froze.
"Oops," Jisoo laughed. "My hand slipped. Don't worry, you're still pretty."
The world narrowed. Haeyon stood slowly, sandwich dropping from her lap. Her hands didn't shake. Her jaw didn't clench. But her eyes... they sharpened like a blade being drawn.
"Say that again," Haeyon said quietly, her voice calm but dangerous.
"What, you going to cry? Gonna run to your rich daddy and—"
She grabbed Jisoo by the back of her hair and slammed her face into the picnic table with a crack.
Blood splattered from Jisoo's nose as she screamed, hands flailing, the scissors dropping with a dull clatter.
The two girls beside her shrieked and jumped back. The courtyard went dead silent.
Haeyon leaned down, face inches from the now crying girl. Her voice was ice.
"Don't you dare touch me again or I destroy that pretty face of yours!"
Jisoo whimpered, hands covering her bleeding nose. "You psycho...!"
Haeyon didn't respond. She turned and walked away.
Detention came, of course. The school nurse patched up Jisoo's nose, and Haeyon was forced to write an apology letter.
She wrote it with perfect penmanship, folded it neatly, and then dropped it in the trash on her way out. No one said anything to her face, but she saw the stares.
The way students parted in the hallway. Seo Rian passed her once near the stairwell and paused for half a second, looking surprised.
But she turned her face away, his existence in this world and her world was enough to shatter any peace left and it annoyed her.
***
That night, she stood under the shower far longer than necessary. The cut in her hair was uneven now, the jagged ends curling where they shouldn't.
She didn't care. She didn't cry. Her thoughts weren't on Jisoo or the punishment she knew would follow.
They were on Michael. Was he still alive and well? Was she late now to help him?
The peace, the comfortable space, and the good food make her even feel guilty.
After that, she decided to sleep.
*
*
*
Smoke filled her lungs, and the sharp, acidic scent of burning metal surrounded her. Michael's voice was screaming her name, loud and raw.
"Hayeon! Don't let go!"
She was reaching. His hand was just out of reach, fingers stretched toward hers, but the wind was too strong. The portal behind her howled like a beast.
"Michael!" she screamed back.
But he vanished in the light.
She woke up gasping, hand clutched around her wrist.
The golden tattoo pulsed faintly.
She stared at it, jaw tight. "I'm coming back," she whispered. "No matter what this place is, I'll find a way. Wait for me."
And the mark hummed once—soft, but real.