The classroom was a storm of voices as soon as the teacher left. I barely had time to open my notebook before a girl near the back slammed her pencil down.
"Ughhh! Why is our teacher so bitchy these days?!" she groaned, loud enough for half the class to laugh.
Someone else chimed in with a smirk, "She must be on a diet or something. Her wedding's coming up."
A ripple of giggles followed, bouncing off the walls. Even the quiet students looked up at that. I couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Teachers never stood a chance against high school gossip.
Then another voice rose above the chatter.
"Oh my God, did y'all see that article?"
Heads turned. I looked up too.
"What article?" someone asked, curiosity spreading like wildfire.
"Apparently, TenPlanet is breaking up!"
"What?!" a boy practically jumped out of his chair. "No way, that's my favorite boy group!!"
The class erupted. A few groaned dramatically, a few clutched their chests like it was the end of the world.
"I'm so worried about Inkang now," a girl moaned, clutching her phone to her heart. "Y'all know he's my bias."
Laughter and complaints tangled together, filling every corner of the room. From the outside, it probably looked like a scene out of any ordinary high school—petty complaints about teachers, idol rumors, and exaggerated heartbreaks.
But as I leaned back in my seat, watching the way everyone buzzed with energy, I couldn't help noticing
how easily the world seemed to move for them. How quickly they could laugh, joke, obsess over celebrities.
And then there was Ajin—sitting silently, not even glancing up. Like the noise of the world never quite reached her.
The noise level in our classroom shot up like a festival after lunch. Chairs squeaked, phones lit up, and pockets of students were huddled over screens.
"You should worry about yourself," one of the girls snorted at her friend. "Inkang will be fine, haha!"
Seonghee sat two desks over, tossing her hair back with a grin. "Look, look! Here's the article. It says he's going into acting full-time now!" She turned her phone for everyone to see.
"Daaamn! Inkang is doing so well for himself!" another girl squealed, smacking the desk.
They were like a chorus—
"Turn, turn!"
"Let me see!"
"Oh my God, look at those photos!"
Someone read aloud, "I mean… c'mon. He's so hot. What director wouldn't want him in their drama?"
"Tell me about it." A dreamy sigh followed. "I wish I could marry him and see him every day."
Laughter rippled through the room. Seonghee and her friends giggled over their phones, passing screenshots back and forth like sacred relics.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the scene unfold. Everyone was loud, bright, alive. Even the boys joined in, pretending not to care but sneaking glances at the article.
And there was Ajin, at her desk near the window, head bent over her notes as if she couldn't hear a thing. Her pen moved slowly, but her shoulders were tight.
From where I sat, the whole class felt like two worlds pressed into one room: theirs—carefree and glittering with idol rumors—and hers, silent and heavy, as if no light reached it.
Seonghee leaned against my desk, her arms crossed, eyes glittering with something between curiosity and mockery.
"So," she said casually, though her voice was anything but, "how are things going with Junseo?"
My pen paused mid-stroke. The tip pressed too hard into the paper, leaving a faint dot of ink.
"…What do you mean?" I asked softly, without lifting my head.
Seonghee tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Don't play dumb, Ajin. Everyone's been noticing… the way he looks out for you. Walking you to the bus stop, sharing his umbrella. You two must be getting close."
Her words slid into me like little needles, but I kept my face blank. "We're just classmates."
"Really?" She let out a short laugh, tapping her nails against my desk. "That's not how it looks. People are talking, you know."
A flicker of heat rose in my chest, but I swallowed it down, staring at the half-finished notes in front of me. "…People always talk."
For a moment, silence hung between us. I could feel her eyes scanning my face, searching for cracks.
Finally, she smiled—sharp, almost triumphant—and straightened. "If you say so. But don't forget… rumors spread fast around here. You wouldn't want the wrong idea getting out."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to her seat, her laughter mingling with her friends' chatter.
I sat still, my hand clenched around my pen. Junseo… I never asked for his kindness. I never asked to be noticed. And yet—now I'm being dragged into the spotlight I've spent years trying to avoid.
The hallway was quiet except for the sound of rain pattering against the windows. I had just stepped out with Ajin, our shoulders brushing under the umbrella I was holding, when a sharp voice cut through the silence.
"She startled me!" Seonghee's gasp was half shock, half irritation. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth twisted in disbelief.
"What the hell?! How long has she been standing there for…?!"
Ajin stiffened at my side. I felt her body tense, her hand tightening on her bag strap.
Seonghee's gaze flicked from me to her, and then back again. Slowly, a smirk tugged at her lips. "You two look good together."
The words hung in the air like smoke, poisonous and hard to clear away.
Ajin's head lowered, her eyes hidden beneath her bangs. I shifted my grip on the umbrella, trying to keep my voice even. "…Uh, okay. And?"
The edge in my tone surprised even me. Seonghee's smirk faltered for a heartbeat before she gave a small laugh, brushing her hair back as if she hadn't meant anything by it.
But I could see the spark in her eyes. She wasn't just teasing—she was filing this moment away, storing it like ammunition.
Ajin remained silent, her lips pressed tight. And I knew, without her saying a word, that this encounter would cling to her long after the rain stopped.
I stared down at the small, pink combination lock clutched in my hand. It was simple, unremarkable, but holding it now felt like holding a fragile secret. I knew what it guarded, and the weight of that knowledge settled heavily on my chest.
"I'm happy for you both," I heard myself say, the words feeling dry and detached, as if they belonged to someone else. I didn't know if the sentiment was true, a polite lie, or just something I was supposed to say in a moment like this. My mind was elsewhere, circling back to the other truth I held.
Junseo is...
I trailed off, the internal thought a whisper. I looked away from the lock, my gaze blurring slightly. A wave of complicated emotion—a mix of affection, admiration, and something more painful—washed over me.
...a great guy.
Yes, that was it. The simplest, most honest description. A great guy who deserved everything good.
I shifted my focus, pulling a pair of earbuds from my pocket. I needed a distraction, something to wall off the rest of the world. I slipped one earpiece into my ear, the soft plastic a familiar comfort, and let the music start. My eyes closed briefly, a small, involuntary sigh escaping my lips as the sound filtered in.
I was standing on a balcony, perhaps at the school rooftop, leaning against the railing. I held my phone in my hand, but it wasn't the music app on the screen. I'd minimized it to look at something else, something I kept hidden.
The screen displayed a list under the header: VOICE RECORDINGS.
* RECORDING_01 18:42
* RECORDING_02 20:11
* RECORDING_03 72:23
* RECORDING_04 02:59
A lump formed in my throat. I remembered each of these, each conversation a thread in a complex, tangled tapestry. The 72-minute one was the heaviest. It was everything.
I opened my eyes, the world snapping back into focus. I turned my head, still listening, still lost in thought.
A sliver of the world beyond the school filtered into my vision—a red, white, and blue barber's pole, spinning slowly, accompanied by the steady, vibrating sound of the buzzer.
BZZZ
BZZZ
The sound seemed to cut through the music, a jarring reminder of reality. I needed to focus, to figure out what I was going to do with the secrets contained in the phone in my hand and the lock I had just put away. My expression hardened; the great guy deserved the truth, even if I was the one who had to deliver it.
BZZZ.
Kim jae ho pov:
The phone in my hand vibrated, a sharp, insistent sound that cut through the silence of the barbershop. It was a text message from my "LIL BRO". My jaw tightened as I read the screen.
> hey...
> when are you coming home??
> dad is getting worse and worse...
> i really don't want to be alone with him :(
> if you see this, please come home!!
>
SIGHHHH. I felt a deep, weary frustration pool in my chest. "Why would I ever go home?!" I muttered, glaring at the message. I had already told my brother to stay over with a friend—a simple, clear instruction. Why doesn't he ever just listen to me?!
I snapped the phone shut, my features tightening as I looked down. I needed to ignore that. I had other things to focus on.
I was sitting in a barber's chair, a white cape draped around me. The stylist, a cheerful woman, leaned in.
"You wanted to dye your hair, right? What color—?"
I looked up at my reflection, a face of grim determination staring back. "I'd like to look... as stealthy as possible."
She paused, considering. "What would be a super stealthy hair color?"
"Umm... w-what about black...?" I suggested, but then immediately regretted it. "Oh, I dunno. I feel like black would make me look really aggressive, no?"
I needed to blend in, to become unremarkable. Whatever the job was, I couldn't afford to stand out.
The next important message was already on my phone, sent to me by someone else. I scrolled back to it, reading it again.
> Password 1004
> Friday 4th Period P.E. Class
> AJIN BAEK
>
Then, another message below it. A P.S., adding to the assignment.
> P.S.
> There's something else you need to do for me that day.
> FRIDAY DURING P.E. CLASS...
>
The instructions were specific and non-negotiable. I had my task, and I had my deadline: Friday.
When Friday finally arrived, I felt the familiar sense of dread as the time for physical education approached. We were walking down the hall, my feet encased in the black and white of my sneakers.
"UGH! I hate P.E. class," a guy near me complained. "I hate getting all sweaty! I hate it so much that I'd rather study."
Another student chimed in, "Even if they let you stay in the classroom, you'd just stare at yourself in the mirror all day—"
"Nevermind..." the first boy cut him off, then turned to a girl. "Hey, do you want to ditch class... and hang out with me instead?"
I ignored them, my mind a blur of passwords and P.E. periods. I kept walking until I reached the correct meeting point, my heart thumping a quick, anxious rhythm.
Suddenly, a person approached.
"SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING!" they said, their tone bright and casual. I watched their feet—dark pants and black, platform sandals.
"Whew, it's been a busy day!"
I looked up, meeting their gaze. The time had come. The task, the password, the final instruction—all of it was about to begin.
This set of images details a scene in the P.E. class, involving an attempt to ditch or excuse someone from the lesson, and the conversation surrounding the missing student, Junseo, and the main female student, Ajin.
Here is the novel expansion, using an omniscient third-person perspective to capture all conversations:
Authors pov
The gymnasium was loud, filled with the CHATTER of dozens of students and the rhythmic THUNK of shuttlecocks being smacked across the badminton nets. The P.E. teacher, Ms. Kim, sat on a folding chair, clipboard in hand, supervising the chaos.
"Hey, stop that! Watch the net!!" someone yelled from the court.
On the sidelines, a couple of students were plotting. The boy with the dark shirt from the last scene leaned in toward the girl next to him.
"Hey, do you want to ditch class... and hang out with me instead?" he whispered.
The girl's eyes widened. "Oh my God... We'd be so screwed if we got caught!"
The boy smiled slyly. "You could... make something up and try to get excused from class." He paused, a wicked thought crossing his mind. "I know! Why don't you tell the teacher that... you need to go to the Nurse's office and meet me in our classroom?
"Nurse's office...?" the girl repeated, considering the ruse.
The boy added a condition. "Oh, and don't tell anyone! I don't want people to gossip about us."
"Okay!" she agreed easily.
Meanwhile, two other students stood together, confirming the absence of one of their classmates.
"Ajin's... not coming to P.E. class today?" the girl with the ponytail asked a male student nearby.
"Yeah, she said she wasn't feeling very well," he replied casually.
"Good! That b*tch deserves it," the girl sneered, immediately dismissing the conversation. "Anyways..."
Back in the clamorous gym, a student approached the teacher.
"Ummm... Ms. Kim?"
Ms. Kim looked up from her clipboard. "What's up, Seonghee?"
Seonghee, the girl who had agreed to the boy's plan, clutched her stomach, her face contorted in a feigned expression of distress. "Oh, um... my stomach..."
"What about your stomach?" Ms. Kim asked, her voice concerned but skeptical.
Seonghee doubled down on the act. "I-It hurts...! I feel like... throwing up. I think I need to go to the nurse's office..." she whimpered, letting her voice trail off.
Ms. Kim studied her face, then glanced at the clipboard. "...That bad, huh?"
"Yeah... I tried to ignore it but... I don't feel too good," Seonghee insisted.
The teacher sighed. "Okay then. Go see the nurse. Do you need anyone to go with you?"
Seonghee shook her head, sinking down slightly onto the ground. "I can go alone. Thank you."
As the class continued to play badminton, Ms. Kim made a note on her clipboard, glancing up at the now-empty space where a certain student should have been.
It looks like Junseo already ditched class. The teacher made a mental note of his absence, seemingly unworried, perhaps used to it.
The field was clearing for Seonghee's clandestine meeting, and the missing Junseo was an unspoken thread connecting the whole scene.

I leaned against the railing of the rooftop, the city sounds a dull hum below. The white wire of my earbud was visible against my skin, pumping music into my ears, but my mind was elsewhere.
Junseo is...
I tightened my grip on my phone, my gaze lost in thought. Just moments ago, I'd held the small, pink combination lock, a secret I hadn't yet divulged. "I'm happy for you both," I'd told them, even as the truth of my feelings felt heavy.
...a great guy.
I pulled up the screen again, looking not at the music, but at the list of voice files. They were the evidence, the core of the complicated situation I was in. I saw the blurred reflection of the spinning barber's pole in a distant window, a jarring reminder of the extreme measure I took to try and become unremarkable. The stylist's questions echoed in my memory.
"What color—?"
"I'd like to look... as stealthy as possible."
"Umm... w-what about black...?"
I had been preparing for this day, for the instructions I'd received: Password 1004. Friday 4th Period P.E. Class. AJIN BAEK. There was also the cryptic P.S.: "There's something else you need to do for me that day. FRIDAY DURING P.E. CLASS..."
It was Friday now. I walked the hall, overhearing the usual P.E. complaints. "UGH! I hate P.E. class. I hate getting all sweaty!" A friend and I had a brief, clipped exchange. Why was I even doing this? I sighed internally. I had to focus on the mission.
I reached the classroom marked 2-4, the one specified for the task. The door was unlocked
"WHAT THE HELL?" I muttered, pushing it open. The room was empty, the desks neat rows in the gray light. "I thought he'd be waiting for me here. The door is unlocked too..."
I stopped dead. On the chalkboard, written in white chalk, was a message: "Come to the art studio" with a small note below, "don't forget to erase this."
Down in the gymnasium, the girl with the ponytail—Seonghee—had successfully feigned a stomach illness. She was now heading towards the same classroom.
As she reached the door of Class 2-4, she saw the message on the blackboard. "THE ART STUDIO...?" A flush rose on her cheeks. That's kind of romantic! she thought. I wonder why he wants me to meet him there...
A classmate, with short, dark hair, passed by, throwing Seonghee a suspicious glare. "LIAR."
Seonghee ignored her, her focus only on the chalk message.
I was already on the move. I reached the art studio, which was just as empty and quiet as the classroom.
TAP TAP TAP
I fidgeted, leaning against the door frame, using a pen to tap the wood impatiently. "Ugh, I was so bored just sitting around waiting for her to show up."
Then, I heard it. SLIDE.
The sound of the chalkboard sliding open. I stared. Instead of a board, there was a hidden space.
THUD.
Something fell inside, hidden from view. My blood went cold.
I peered into the dark void. This was not the reunion I was expecting. This was something else entirely.
This final, complete set of images initial reflection, the accomplice's mission, and the climax in the art studio. To honor your request to use "I" instead of Ajin while acknowledging the context that Ajin Baek is the female lead, I will adopt the perspective of the male accomplice who is carrying out the mission for Ajin, as he is the one shown in most of the close-up, first-person action panels (holding the lock, getting the hair dyed, and reacting in the art studio).
The narrator is I (the male student tasked by Ajin).
I leaned on the rooftop railing, the distant buzz of the city a low backdrop to the music pouring into my ears. I had just walked away from Junseo and the girl, the words "I'm happy for you both" feeling like a bitter joke. I still held the small, pink combination lock in my hand.
Junseo is... a great guy. That didn't make what I was doing right, but it made it necessary. The proof was right here. I flipped open my phone, ignoring the persistent "VIRUS on your phone" notification. I opened the VOICE RECORDINGS. The files, especially the 72-minute one, were the bomb I was about to drop.
BZZZ. BZZZ.
A message from my little brother, pleading for me to come home because Dad was getting worse. I let out a sharp SIGHHHH. "Why would I ever go home?!" I had told him to stay with a friend. Why doesn't he ever just listen to me?!
I had a mission. I had been preparing for it. In the barbershop, I had asked the stylist, "I'd like to look... as stealthy as possible." We settled on black, a deep color meant to make me an invisible shadow.
The mission parameters, received earlier, flashed in my mind: Password 1004. Friday 4th Period P.E. Class. AJIN BAEK.
There was also the postscript, the detail that complicated everything: "P.S. There's something else you need to do for me that day. FRIDAY DURING P.E. CLASS..."
It was FRIDAY. I walked the hall, hearing the usual complaints. "UGH! I HATE P.E. CLASS! I hate getting all sweaty!" I had no time for P.E.
I reached the area of Seonghee's locker, the small, pink lock attached to it. The key to the plan was already in my hand. "Okay, I sent the text..." I muttered, referring to the distraction I'd orchestrated.
I had an additional instruction for my accomplice: "PLEASE KEEP AN EYE ON SEONGHEE AND TEXT ME WHEN SHE STOPS BY THE CLASSROOM AND LEAVES."
I focused on the lock on Seonghee's locker. SEONGHEE SIM. I worked the combination: ONE... ZERO... ZERO... FOUR...
It clicked open with a quiet CLICK.
"Seriously? Her password is ANGEL**?!" I snorted in disbelief. "Wow. Does she really think—"
I planted the evidence inside. "Now I just have to plant the evidence..."
My task was done. All that was left was to wait for the final message.
A new text came in: SEONGHEE JUST LEFT THE CLASSROOM. JAEO.
The message confirmed that Seonghee had followed the chalk redirection to the art studio. I was already there, leaning against the door frame. I was dressed in the clothes requested for the meeting, impatiently tapping my pen. "Ugh, I was so bored just sitting around waiting for her to show up."
Suddenly, the door to the Art Studio opened. It wasn't Seonghee. It was Ajin, her dark hair and pale face framed by the doorway. She looked at me with an intense focus.
"Ajin," I greeted her. She sat down, her expression serious. I felt my hands starting to tremble. This whole operation made me profoundly uneasy.
"I'm sorry... I think I'm just feeling a little nervous," she said softly.
The Art teacher, a mild-mannered guy in a cardigan, sat nearby. "That's okay. Take your time. I wish I could get you some tea or something... but I don't have any in the studio..."
Ajin's eyes met mine, a manipulative spark replacing her nervousness. "It's okay. Could you hold my hand instead? I think that might help me calm down..."
The teacher looked flustered. "Your hand...?"
"Yes, please. My hands shake a lot when I'm nervous."
He hesitated for only a second, then reached out, gently covering her hand with his. "HERE, HOW'S THAT? I feel better already. Thank you..." Ajin said, her voice smooth. Another target hooked, I thought grimly.
Then, the true purpose of the meeting materialized.
SLIDE.
The sound was sharp. The large chalkboard at the front of the room slid open, revealing a hidden compartment.
THUD.
Something fell inside the black void. I stared, my eyes wide. My blood ran cold, a wave of sickening understanding washing over me. The mission wasn't just to plant evidence or set up a meeting.
The man in the dress shirt and sandals, who I had seen waiting earlier, was leaning over the hole, looking down at the terrible thing that had dropped.
"... SEONGHEE, YOU B*TCH...!!" he hissed into the dark opening.
What the hell...? I knew, in that sickening moment, that I had just become a key accomplice in something far darker than I had ever imagined.
*Translator's note at the bottom of the original image confirmed that "1004" (Cheonsa) sounds like the Korean word for "Angel."

Part I: The Planning and Preparation
I leaned on the railing of the rooftop, the city below a muted distraction as my music pumped into my ears. I kept glancing at my phone, not at the three-part "VIRUS on your phone" notification—which I'd grown used to ignoring—but at the Voice Recordings I had made. The 72-minute file was the key, the roadmap for the entire operation.
I tightened my grip on the small, pink combination lock. Junseo is... a great guy. I had told them, "I'm happy for you both," even though the lie tasted like ash.
My phone vibrated with texts from my little brother. BZZZ. BZZZ. He was begging me to come home, saying, "dad is getting worse and worse..." and "I really don't want to be alone with him :(". I let out a sharp SIGHHHH. I was already deep in a terrible situation; I couldn't face that one, too. Why would I ever go home?! I had told him to stay over with a friend, but "why doesn't he ever just listen to me?!".
I shifted my focus back to the mission. I had even changed my hair color to blend in, wanting to look "as stealthy as possible". I had settled on black, a discreet color, even though the stylist wondered if black would make me look "really aggressive". The final instructions from Ajin were clear: "Password 1004. Friday 4th Period P.E. Class. AJIN BAEK". There was an added detail: "P.S. There's something else you need to do for me that day. FRIDAY DURING P.E. CLASS...".
Part II: The Distraction
It was FRIDAY. The high-pitched CHATTER and rhythmic THUNK of badminton filled the gym.
"UGH! I HATE P.E. CLASS! I hate getting all sweaty!" a student grumbled as they walked by.
I watched as a boy with a dark shirt approached the girl with the ponytail, Seonghee. "Hey, do you want to ditch class... and hang out with me instead?" he asked. He suggested she "make something up and try to get excused from class," proposing she tell the teacher she needed to go to the Nurse's office and meet him in the classroom, adding, "don't tell anyone! I don't want people to gossip about us".
A female student confirmed what I already knew: Ajin was "not coming to P.E. class today" because "she wasn't feeling very well". "Good! That b*tch deserves it," the other girl sneered, before continuing her conversation.
Seonghee then went to the teacher, Ms. Kim. "Oh, um... my stomach... I-It hurts...! I feel like... throwing up," she whined, claiming she needed to go to the nurse's office. Ms. Kim bought the excuse, noting that "It looks like Junseo already ditched class". Seonghee left, ignoring the girl who passed her, muttering "LIAR".
Part III: The Hook
I was already in the empty Classroom 2-4. "WHAT THE HELL? I thought he'd be waiting for me here. THE DOOR IS UNLOCKED TOO...".
On the chalkboard, I found the new instruction: "Come to the art studio," with a small note below, "don't forget to erase this". Seonghee soon arrived, seeing the message on the board. "THE ART STUDIO...?" she thought, a blush rising. "THAT'S KIND OF ROMANTIC! I wonder why he wants me to meet him there...".
I made my way to the ART STUDIO. Ajin was already there. I was bored waiting, TAP TAP TAP-ing my pen against the door frame.
Ajin spoke to the male teacher (the one with the glasses and sweater). She confessed, "I'm sorry... I think I'm just feeling a little nervous." She then confided that she knew he'd been trying to help her "since the beginning of the year".
The teacher was kind. "That's okay. Take your time. I wish I could get you some tea or something... but I don't have any in the studio...".
Ajin seized the moment. "It's okay, could you hold my hand instead? I think that might help me calm down...".
He agreed. She murmured, "I feel better already. Thank you...".
Ajin leaned in, whispering, "I really regretted turning you down...". Then, the horrifying reveal: the chalkboard slid open with a SLIDE, and with a deafening THUD, something fell inside the hidden space.
The man in the dress shirt, who had been lurking nearby, looked into the void and shouted, "SEONGHEE, YOU B*TCH...!!".
Ajin was finishing her conversation with the unsuspecting teacher. She told him, "I knew how you felt but I ignored it because I was afraid of what others would think of me...". The teacher, emotional, offered, "Ajin, I really care about you, and—".
"WAIT, I— I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT," the teacher desperately pleaded.
Ajin smiled a chilling, triumphant smile. "I think I'm ready to take that step..." she purred.
I realized the full scope of her sociopathic game. Looking at her, radiant in her manipulative victory, a terrifying understanding settled over me.
"THIS IS A GAME I CAN'T LOSE," she concluded.
And I, the unwilling accomplice, knew I was utterly trapped. "You won't be able to slip out of this one," her dark intentions promised.