Morning arrived with all the enthusiasm of a hangover.
Hanrim's sky looked like it hadn't slept either — gray, unbothered, and vaguely threatening rain.
Han Yura sat at her desk, eyes half-open, brain still replaying the whisper from last night.
The voice wasn't a hallucination. She knew what hallucinations felt like — they were louder, more confident, and usually came with the smell of cafeteria curry.
Haerin's voice broke her thoughts. "You didn't sleep."
"I tried," Yura said, flipping through her notebook. "But my brain decided to host a paranormal Q&A session."
Haerin frowned. "Is this about the vault?"
"No, it's about how our reflection has trust issues."
Before Haerin could respond, the door opened — Professor Min Haesoo stepped in, wearing her usual disarming smile.
She was new this semester — too kind, too cheerful, and far too observant. The kind of teacher who could lecture about autopsy ethics while complimenting your hairstyle.
"Good morning, my lovely little pathologists!" she said brightly. "Let's talk about something fun — tissue preservation!"
The class groaned collectively. Yura murmured, "Finally, my favorite topic."
Daejun shot her a look from across the room — a silent behave yourself she cheerfully ignored.
Professor Min began writing chemical formulas on the board. "Now, before we discuss tissue preservation, a quick announcement. Dean Seo has invited two students to assist in the upcoming Founder's Memorial Exhibit. It's an honor — and a test of responsibility."
The students whispered excitedly. The Founder's Exhibit was legendary — a showcase of Hanrim's history, and access to places usually forbidden.
Professor Min smiled. "The chosen assistants are… Yoon Haerin… and Han Yura."
Haerin froze mid-breath.
Yura looked up slowly, suspicion curling like smoke. "That's... convenient."
Professor Min met her gaze. "I trust you'll represent the school well, Miss Han."
"Of course," Yura said sweetly. "I'll try to keep my criminal tendencies to a minimum."
A few students snickered. Haerin's hand shot up in panic. "Professor, are you sure—?"
"Yes," Min Haesoo interrupted gently. "The Dean herself requested it."
Yura smiled faintly, voice dripping with sarcasm. "What an honor. I feel deeply endangered."
---
AFTER CLASS
Haerin cornered Yura near the stairwell. "Yura, this is bad. You're on her radar. Dean Seo doesn't 'request' things — she warns people politely."
"Then it's mutual," Yura said. "I've been warning her with my existence since day one."
Daejun joined them, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You're going to the Founder's Exhibit?"
"Apparently," Yura said. "It's either a trap or an internship. I'm fine with both."
He frowned. "You shouldn't go alone."
"I'll have Haerin."
"Haerin panics when she forgets her pen."
"Exactly. She's unpredictable. That's useful."
Haerin sighed. "You two are going to get me killed."
"Don't be dramatic," Yura said, heading down the hall. "If anyone dies, it'll be for narrative symmetry."
---
THE EXHIBIT PREPARATION ROOM
Two days later, they reported to the exhibit room — a wide, dimly lit hall on the ground floor, lined with display cases and old photographs. Banners read HANRIM ACADEMY — CELEBRATING 60 YEARS OF SCIENTIFIC EXCELLENCE.
Haerin arranged documents, while Yura examined a display chart of the school's founders.
There were four names — including Dr. Seo Minjung, the current dean's mother.
Beneath the portraits, an embossed symbol — the same eye sigil from the journal.
Yura leaned closer. "They really don't hide their cult aesthetic well."
Professor Min approached quietly, carrying a tray of preserved specimens. "Fascinating, isn't it? The founders believed that science could transcend mortality."
Yura smiled politely. "Did it work?"
"Depends on your definition of alive," Professor Min said — then turned away before Yura could respond.
That was unsettling.
Haerin whispered, "Okay, she's terrifying."
"She's charming," Yura corrected. "In a I'll-discover-your-body-in-a-freezer way."
---
THE FOUND FILE
As the day went on, Yura's attention drifted to a stack of old display items in the corner. One of them was a rusted metal case labeled RETIRED MATERIALS — DO NOT USE.
Which, naturally, made it irresistible.
When Professor Min left to take a call, Yura crouched and pried it open. Inside — old photos, lab notes, and a broken data recorder.
She turned it over. Faintly scratched on the side:
Property of L. Jaein.
Her breath caught.
"Haerin," she whispered, "look at this."
The recorder flickered weakly when she pressed the button. A faint static crackled — then a voice, warped but recognizable:
> "—Transfer… incomplete… subject retains fragments… do not trust—"
Then, silence. The recorder went dead.
Haerin's eyes widened. "That sounded like—"
"Lee Jaein," Yura finished softly. "He recorded this before he died. Or before he stopped being alive."
A sound from behind made them both freeze.
Professor Min stood there, hands clasped, expression unreadable. "That's not part of the display."
Yura hid the recorder behind her back. "Neither am I, but here we are."
Min Haesoo smiled — the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You're very much like him."
Yura blinked. "Like who?"
"Lee Jaein," she said simply. "He asked the wrong questions, too."
---
THE NIGHT MEETING
That night, Yura and Daejun met again on the rooftop — their unofficial investigation headquarters.
The journal lay open between them, beside the broken recorder.
"He recorded something before… whatever they did to him," Yura said. "And now the Dean wants me in her little memorial display."
"Maybe she's testing you," Daejun said. "Seeing how much you know."
Yura tapped the journal thoughtfully. "Then we'll give her something to test."
He raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"We sneak into the Founder's Exhibit during the final setup," she said. "Find whatever she's hiding behind those portraits."
"Yura, this is escalating quickly."
"It's called momentum."
He sighed. "You know, for someone so sarcastic, you're remarkably serious about danger."
She smirked. "Sarcasm is just how I flirt with death."
---
FINAL SCENE
Later that night, as Yura walked back alone through the dorm hallway, she noticed something under her door — an envelope.
No name. Just the symbol of the eye stamped in black wax.
She opened it carefully. Inside was a single photograph — grainy, old, clearly from Hanrim's early years.
In it stood four people: the founders. But in the background, barely visible — a fifth figure.
Standing among them.
Smiling directly at the camera.
Wearing Yura's face.
Her stomach tightened. The photo slipped from her hand.
Outside, thunder rolled again.
Hanrim wasn't haunted.
It was repeating itself.