The agency called that evening.
Ha-rin stared at her phone like it was a ticking bomb.
I noticed because she had been staring at it for thirty seconds without blinking.
"You are not breathing," I said.
"I am breathing," she snapped.
She was not.
The phone buzzed again.
Manager Kang
"…They're calling too much," she muttered. "That means they're suspicious."
Internally, my thoughts lined up in perfect panic formation.
Too much contact. Pattern recognition. This is how things escalate.
Externally, I poured tea.
"Answering may reduce suspicion," I said.
She looked at me like I had suggested jumping off the balcony.
"Or," she said, "it could confirm it."
"That is also possible."
"That's not helpful!"
"I am presenting outcomes."
She sighed, rubbed her face, then answered the call.
"Yes?""…I'm resting.""No, I told you, the doctor said rest.""…Yes. Alone."
She glanced at me.
I raised my cup slightly.
"…No, I'm not lonely," she continued quickly. "Why would I be lonely?"
Pause.
"…Of course I'm at the dorm."
I nearly choked on my tea.
Dorm. Incorrect location. High-risk statement.
"Manager Kang," she said, voice rising, "you don't need to send anyone—"
She froze.
"…Tomorrow?"
She swallowed.
"…Yes. Okay."
The call ended.
Silence filled the apartment.
I set my cup down carefully.
"They're sending someone," she said flatly.
"To the dorm," I asked.
"Yes."
"That is problematic."
She shot me a look. "You think?"
Internally, I was already imagining headlines.
Externally, I nodded once.
"We need a plan."
She laughed sharply. "A plan? Like what, put a cardboard cutout of me in bed?"
"That is an option," I said seriously.
She stared.
"…You're joking, right?"
"I am evaluating feasibility."
She groaned and buried her face in a cushion.
"This is why I'm stressed," she muffled. "You say insane things with a straight face."
I sat across from her.
"We will adjust," I said. "Panic is inefficient."
She peeked out. "You really don't panic, do you?"
I did.
Constantly.
"I do," I said. "Quietly."
She frowned. "That's creepy."
"Effective," I corrected.
She sat up again.
"They'll notice I haven't been posting properly," she said. "No dorm selfies. No mirror shots. Nothing."
"That can be remedied."
She narrowed her eyes. "How?"
I picked up my phone.
"You will take photos," I said. "Controlled ones."
She blinked. "You're… helping me fake my online presence?"
"Yes."
"…Why do you sound like you've done this before?"
"I have avoided people for years," I said. "This is similar."
She stared at me for a long second.
"…You're weirdly reliable."
"That is acceptable."
She hesitated.
"Don't misunderstand," she said quickly. "I'm only listening because I have no choice."
"Understood."
An hour later, Ha-rin stood near the window, holding her phone.
"Does this look natural?" she asked.
She had angled the camera toward the wall, a corner of the sofa visible.
"It looks… empty," I said.
"It's the dorm aesthetic," she replied. "Sad and beige."
She snapped the photo.
Then another.
Then frowned.
"Why does your apartment look too clean?" she complained. "It's suspicious."
"I can add clutter," I offered.
"You don't own clutter!"
"I can acquire it."
She looked at me.
"…Please don't."
She uploaded the photo with a caption:
Resting today. Please don't worry.
She stared at the screen.
"…Do you think they'll believe it?"
I considered the variables.
"Yes," I said. "For now."
She leaned back against the sofa.
"…I hate living like this."
"I know."
She glanced at me. "You always say that."
"Because it remains true."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"…You didn't have to get involved this much," she said.
I looked at her.
"You are already involved," I replied. "Avoiding involvement now would be irresponsible."
She clicked her tongue.
"…You're really annoying."
"Yes."
But she didn't look angry.
She looked tired.
As she stood up to head to her room, she paused.
"…If they come tomorrow," she said quietly, "don't act strange."
"I will act normally."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
I watched her door close.
Only then did I exhale.
Slowly.
Silently.
Tomorrow was no longer theoretical.
And for the first time since this started, I understood something clearly.
Protecting her meant standing between her and the world.
I straightened my posture.
I can do that, I thought.
Just don't let it show.