"Noor has only been back for three days, because she was absent starting on the same day as you."
"At first, I had no idea why she was gone for that long."
"I even heard that when her teacher called her name on the first day and received no answer, they didn't look surprised at all—as if Noor's absence was exactly what they had expected."
"And what's even stranger, the following day, the teacher just skipped Noor's name entirely during roll call. Even though there wasn't a single permission letter on the desk. It was as if… everyone already knew that Noor simply wouldn't be coming."
Rachel's words slid out like shards of ice, piercing Margaret's ears and forcing her to turn. One of her eyebrows arched, her eyes flashing with a restrained sense of bewilderment.
"How do you know that, Rachel?"
"You aren't in the same class as her, are you?"
Her confused tone drew a heavy sigh from Adelia, who was walking on her right. Moving with a lazy rhythm, Adelia's voice cut in.
"You know, Margaret?"
Margaret immediately turned to Adelia with a look of pure innocence, for she truly had no possible explanation in her head.
"Besides the rumors about you spreading through the whole school, there was one more piece of news that shook everything up—making an already complicated situation even worse."
Both of Margaret's brows knit deeper, forming fine lines on her forehead that rarely appeared—an undeniable sign that she was completely lost as to the point of this conversation.
Meanwhile, Rachel let out a soft sigh and continued, "You're giving Margaret a headache with your words, Adelia."
She paused for a moment.
The coldness in her gaze, which usually held back all emotions and secrets, slowly shifted—a creeping seriousness took root within them.
"I'm not in the same class as her, Margaret."
"And about her absence… I only found out after one of my friends told me about it."
Their footsteps turned left, leading them into the Grade 11 hallway—a temporary gateway before finally reaching the Grade 12 corridor.
The hallway wasn't entirely deserted yet; even though the bell for the next period was about to ring, groups of students still lingered in front of their classrooms, laughing and talking as they passed the time.
As Margaret stepped through the crowd, the previously cheerful atmosphere underwent an invisible pause. The laughter that had just been erupting, the boisterous conversations—all of it gradually subsided as pairs of eyes fell upon her.
Margaret noticed it, yet she continued to walk with unwavering composure.
However, Rachel and Adelia reacted differently.
Rachel responded with a frozen glare, while Adelia countered with a gaze sharp enough to make the surrounding air turn taut with tension. The crowd of students seemed to recoil, startled, before hurriedly attempting to revert to a normal demeanor—greeting her with thin, visibly forced smiles.
"My friend—the one in the same extracurricular as me, who is also Noor's classmate and close neighbor—told me everything. She said that both of them, Veriza and Noor, were attacked by an unknown individual on their way home from school."
Rachel continued her story in a flat, cold tone, as usual, after nodding back to a male student who greeted her as he passed by.
In that exact second, Margaret's eyes widened, her gaze radiating a shock she could no longer hide.
Her breath hitched for several seconds; it felt as if the entire world had ground to a halt along with her, before she finally struggled to compose herself—repositioning her posture and expression back to their original state: calm, controlled, as if nothing were wrong.
She restrained herself from reacting because Rachel's lips began to move once more.
"When my friend went to Noor's house with her mother and younger brother, Noor wouldn't allow anyone into her room. However, my friend managed to peek through a crack in the door. She was instantly horrified to see Noor's body covered in bandages—her condition was far more gruesome than what we saw in the cafeteria earlier."
"Noor's mother then, with a heavy heart, shared what had actually happened—and from what I heard from my friend…"
Rachel stopped abruptly.
Somehow, her tongue suddenly felt leaden, stiff and numb, as if her mind had already conjured a terrifying image of the words she was about to utter. But a second later, Rachel took a long, sharp breath—subtle yet firm, as if steadying herself—before her voice finally returned.
"A tall man, about one hundred and eighty-five centimeters."
"He had ears resembling white dog ears, and a tail emerging from his lower back. Behind his lips, two sharp fangs were visible, giving him a menacing appearance. Those were the descriptions of the person who attacked them, based on what Noor told her mother."
Her tone shifted—though it remained flat, there was something different now, a tiny tremor tucked deep within her voice.
Involuntarily, Margaret was struck by shock once more.
This wasn't just an ordinary jolting of the senses; her body responded in a way she could no longer control.
The veins in her neck and temples throbbed more intensely, carrying simultaneous waves of heat and cold that sent her heart racing far beyond its usual rhythm. For some reason, her fingertips suddenly grew cold and clammy, sticky with sweat and trembling slightly, as if her body were trying to warn her that this wasn't a mere interaction—this was something that affected her entire nervous system.
"A man? About one hundred and eighty centimeters tall?"
Her memory was immediately dragged back to that slip of white paper, the dark, dried, and gruesome stain—and the message that still made her shudder in horror.
"Could that man… be the same person who sent me that 'gift'?"
"And that writing—written in dried blood—is it possible that it was Noor's blood he used to write it?"
"Is it possible? But… isn't that a conclusion far too horrifying to even entertain?"
Margaret's hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the world for a moment, struggling to soothe herself from the chaos ravaging her mind. Her head swayed slowly, a faint shake—a movement almost invisible, yet heavy with the effort to dismiss all the wild possibilities leaping through her head.
"No… it's impossible…"
"It… it must just be a coincidence because the descriptions are similar."
Rachel noticed the strange movement beside her—a small gesture, yet enough to catch the attention of someone as sharp as her. Her eyes flicked toward Margaret, quick and fleeting, before returning her gaze forward.
"Are you shocked, Margaret?"
"I felt the same."
Margaret's eyelids snapped open instantly, as if her name had been called by something pulling her out from a whirlpool of thoughts. Her gaze anchored on Rachel.
"Isn't that… impossible?"
"It's impossible for anyone to have characteristics like that, right?"
Rachel's previously stiff expression began to shift.
Her face hardened, contorting as if she had just swallowed something incredibly bitter, holding it on the tip of her tongue before she could let it go. The corner of her lip trembled—a small but clear movement—as if a bitter laugh were about to escape, but with full conscious effort, Rachel held it back, drawing her lips tight to maintain the cold curtain she always kept up.
"Anyone would find it hard to believe at first, Margaret. But…"
She paused again, this time a bit longer, before finally continuing.
"Noor said it herself."
"Somehow, she and Veriza suddenly found themselves in a filthy, dimly lit, and grimy alleyway. Noor's body felt half-numb, and when she tried to open her eyes, a sharp sting suddenly pierced the back of her neck."
"Then, the man appeared out of nowhere, attacking her with his legs while cursing in a language Noor didn't understand. Her consciousness was hitting rock bottom when one of her eyes caught something—not the man's face, but a pair of dog ears perched on his head, and a long tail protruding from his lower body."
Rachel's breathing grew heavier toward the end of her sentence; her chest rose and fell with a rhythm that betrayed the hidden pressure beneath her calm tone. There was a palpable tension in every movement, every inhalation, and every sigh.
"And what makes it all feel so impossible… yet increasingly like a grim reality…"
Adelia's voice suddenly slipped in, causing Margaret to snap her head toward her.
"Veriza experienced the exact same thing."
"She witnessed it with her own eyes. While lying helpless beside Noor, she saw two small children—each with cat and dog ears—nearly lunging at her."
"She was only lucky because a passerby happened to enter the alley and stopped them before Veriza lost consciousness completely. But by the time that person came to help Veriza and Noor, those two children had somehow vanished from the spot."
There was no hint of her usual sarcasm, none of the biting wit that was always her trademark.
This time, her voice was so faint, as if every word were being drawn from her own personal experience, rather than just a story she had heard or was passing along.
"What makes it all not just impossible… but utterly terrifying is that they—those little children—claimed to be Shapeshifters. And they intend to seek revenge on the humans who abandoned them."
"Now, I'm confused myself."
"Should I believe such nonsense from arrogant, obnoxious people like them? And yet, my curiosity persists… What exactly is a Shapeshifter? Is it true they can change form? Humans into animals, animals into humans? But… that is truly impossible."
She turned toward Margaret.
"What do you think, Margaret?"
"Do you believe that Shapeshifters actually exist in this world?"
*********************************************************************************************************
"Veriza is still at home."
"She seems to have turned into someone half-crazed; she keeps lashing out and won't let anyone get near her. Only her parents can approach, because she views every stranger as a Shapeshifter."
"She often raves incoherently, telling stories about how those Shapeshifters almost killed her with a heavy wooden club, and how her eyes always bulge in terror whenever a stranger draws close."
"If you're asking whether their parents reported it to the police—perhaps they did. But I don't know, I haven't looked into it that far."
"What's clear to me is that their alibi sounds… gray. It's impossible for a man and small children with those characteristics to exist. I just think the two of them might be hallucinating because they were so terrified in that situation."
Those were the final words spoken before they eventually parted ways, each heading to their own classroom.
Margaret exhaled a sharp, frustrated breath as her gaze dropped once more, staring down at her shoes.
"So that's why Noor was all alone earlier, while every eye was fixed on her, and whispers echoed all around."
"It wasn't just because of the bandages and the plasters… maybe it's because that unpleasant news somehow managed to spread, even though Rachel said her friend had kept her mouth shut."
Another sigh escaped Margaret's lips, heavier and trembling, as if carrying the entire weight of the restlessness that refused to leave her chest.
Her fingers rose, pressing against her temples in a near-reflexive motion, before slowly sliding down to the back of her neck, as if trying to stifle the roar of thoughts spinning relentlessly in her mind.
"Frankestein Oppa suddenly kissing me… a man standing at one hundred and eighty-five centimeters… the gift and the writing in dried blood… the man in his eighties… the attack on Veriza and Noor… and now, Shapeshifters?"
"What exactly is happening around me, huh? Why is all of this giving me such a headache? And… Shapeshifters? What is a Shapeshifter? Is it true they can change form? But… that's truly impossible."
"Goodness… this first day of school… has become the absolute worst of the worst I have ever experienced."
What Margaret failed to realize, as she began to ruffle her hair in almost unbearable frustration, was the shadow of footsteps approaching calmly from her side.
When the figure came to a halt beside her, a voice dropped so close, shattering the riot of her thoughts.
"Margaret?"
Margaret turned spontaneously, without a second to prepare herself. In the following heartbeat, a surge of shock rushed through her—like a door suddenly flung open toward a strange, blinding light—as she discovered exactly who was standing beside her now...
The figure smiled the moment their gazes locked. His arm extended, holding a bouquet of blue roses whose hue resembled the twilight after a rain, along with a pristine white tote bag.
"I thought the sandwich from yesterday wasn't quite luxurious enough for you. So, today I brought a variety of chocolates… which I'm certain you'll love."