9:55 AM — Dormitory Block C & D.
The investigation was still ongoing.
A team of detectives had arrived, taking over the scene. Mr. Riot—the lead detective—was interrogating the three girls together. They sat beneath a small hut located near the building's exit, temporarily used as an interview area.
Ryu, Kenny, and James were not involved in the questioning.
James and Kenny hadn't seen the scene directly, but they didn't need to. From the crowd's murmurs alone, they could imagine how horrific it was. They hadn't managed to catch up to Ryu earlier—James had pushed partway through the crowd but stopped several people back.
He wasn't brave enough.
James had never watched horror movies, never exposed himself to things like that. Seeing a real dead body—especially in such a condition—was far beyond what he could handle.
Kenny, on the other hand, hadn't even known his sister was there until now. He already knew the victim was Samy, but knowing that only made it worse. He wanted to go to Jenny, to comfort her—but fear rooted him in place. Furthermore, he was terrified that doing so would force him to see Samy's body, even by accident. The descriptions he'd overheard from the crowd were enough.
Yes—Ryu's friends were afraid of dead bodies.
For the moment, the three of them sat on a bench near the small park beside the dormitory, trying to calm themselves. Ryu sat with his legs slightly apart, elbows resting on his knees, chin supported by both hands. His gaze lingered on the building—on the place where the so-called suicide had occurred.
After a few seconds, his eyes shifted toward the hut, where Jenny, Ruka, and Pho were being questioned by Mr. Riot, once a highly renowned detective.
He was so focused on observing the scene that he didn't notice James's approach.
James wasn't sitting with them. He stood behind the bench and placed both hands on Ryu's and Kenny's shoulders, squeezing slightly. His voice was calm, deep—but there was an edge to it, "Aren't you two forgetting why we came here?"
Slowly, Ryu and Kenny turned to face him. James's expression was dark as he stared down at them.
"We're here to visit Leon, right?" he continued. "Look at the time. We're fucking late."
Kenny let out a nervous laugh.
"H-haha! Y-yeah…! We're here for Leon...!"
How the hell did I forget that... Ryu scolded himself.
The two of them stood up at the same time. Ryu took the first step, heading toward Leon's dorm—Room 228—with James following closely behind.
When they reached Leon's dorm, the three of them stopped in front of the door.
"Well," James said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, "who's gonna knock and greet him?"
Kenny glanced at Ryu.
Without hesitation, Ryu stepped forward. After everything he had seen recently today, dark thoughts crept into his mind.
Leon... please don't tell me you're—
He stopped himself and shook his head lightly, What the hell am I thinking? Calm down and knock.
Ryu raised his hand and knocked on the door, "Leon? Are you in there?" Seconds passed. No answer.
Ryu's chest tightened, anxiety creeping in—until, just as panic began to take hold, the doorknob twisted from the inside. The door creaked open slowly, revealing the room—and the figure standing before them.
Leon.
Thank God... you're okay.
Relief washed over Ryu, but it didn't last long. One look at Leon told him something was wrong. His hair was messy, his face pale, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted—unwell.
Ryu frowned, concern replacing relief.
"Leon... why didn't you answer my calls or messages?" he asked gently. "Are you okay?"
Leon lifted his gaze toward the three of them, his expression pale and drained. He let out a weak sigh, "I'm… very sick."
James stepped forward at once, "Leon, why don't I take you to a doctor? Come on."
Before Leon could protest, James went into the dorm and pulled him outside. He turned back briefly and addressed the others, "You two, head back to class. Tell Miss Buran I'm taking Leon to a clinic for a checkup."
With that, James guided Leon past them. Ryu hesitated only a moment before following, and together they headed down the stairs toward the ground floor.
Soon, Ryu, James, and Leon reached the car. They climbed inside, the engine started, and the vehicle rolled out of the parking area, disappearing from sight.
Kenny, meanwhile, remained behind.
"I'll stay here," he said quietly.
Ryu and James exchanged a glance with him, understanding immediately. They nodded and continued on their way.
Kenny turned and walked toward the small hut where Jenny and her friends were gathered. Mr. Riot was no longer there.
Jenny sat beside Ruka, allowing the girl's head to rest on her shoulder while gently keeping watch over her. A short distance away, Pho sat alone, her attention fixed on her phone—either distracting herself or trying to calm her nerves.
Kenny stopped behind his sister and spoke softly.
Jenny turned at the sound of his voice, and Ruka lifted her head from Jenny's shoulder.
"Brother?" Jenny said, confusion flickering across her face. "What are you doing here? Wait—don't you have class?"
"Don't worry," Kenny said, gently patting his sister's shoulder. "This is a pretty solid excuse to skip class, don't you think?"
Jenny frowned. "Brother, you're not even in high school anymore. Why do you care about skipping?"
Kenny only smiled, choosing not to answer. Instead, he turned his attention to the girl beside her. "Ruka… are you okay?"
Ruka didn't respond. She kept her head lowered, silent, giving only the smallest movements—quickly wiping at her eyes, staring down at the floor.
That was answer enough.
Kenny studied her for a moment, then gave a quiet nod. He hadn't asked to hear words—he only wanted to know how badly she was hurting.
Just then, Mr. Riot returned to the hut, several drinks in hand from the vending machine. He passed one to each of the girls before finally noticing Kenny standing there.
"Oh?" Mr. Riot said, curious. "And who might you be?"
Kenny smiled politely. "I'm Jenny's brother."
Jenny glanced at Kenny awkwardly before turning to Mr. Riot. "Uh—yeah. This is my brother, Kenny."
Mr. Riot stepped forward and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Kenny. I'm Riot."
Kenny accepted the handshake without flattery, his tone calm and respectful. "You're that popular detective, right? To be honest, Jenny's a fan."
Jenny's eyes widened as color rushed to her cheeks. "Huh?!"
Mr. Riot turned toward her, a knowing smile forming. "Oh? Is that so?" he said lightly. "That explains why you seemed a bit nervous earlier."
"Oh! Ah… n-not really—! Ahem… I was just really nervous about the questioning!" Jenny denied awkwardly.
Mr. Riot chuckled softly at her reaction before turning his attention to Kenny. With a polite gesture, he told the girls to stay where they were for a moment—he wanted a word with Kenny.
The two of them walked a short distance away from the hut. Jenny watched them go, confusion flickering across her face, but she didn't follow. Instead, she stayed where she was, one arm still wrapped around Ruka's shoulders.
"Ruka…" she murmured.
Ruka remained silent, her face buried between her knees, hands covering her head as if trying to shut the world out. She didn't respond—didn't even move.
Jenny tightened her hold slightly, unsure of what else to do. Words felt useless right now. All she could offer was her presence, quietly staying by Ruka's side as the weight of the morning pressed down on them both.
***
Near the roadside, Mr. Riot pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. With his right hand, he took a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on, the flame briefly illuminating his face before he lit the cigarette.
Kenny watched him, eyes unconsciously widening.
So cool…
"Ahem." Kenny cleared his throat and finally spoke. "So… what is it?"
Mr. Riot turned his head toward him, then exhaled a slow stream of smoke. It drifted straight into Kenny's face, and he inhaled it by accident. Instinctively, he waved his hand in front of his nose and stifled a cough, forcing himself into an awkwardly composed expression.
"Sorry, sir. I don't smoke," Kenny said, just in case.
Mr. Riot couldn't help but chuckle. He turned back toward the road as a car passed by, its tires hissing against the pavement.
"Youngster…" he muttered, loud enough for Kenny to hear—though not clearly enough to catch the full meaning.
As Kenny finished clearing his throat, Mr. Riot added calmly, "I smoke for a reason. And sooner or later, you might find something like this… helpful for your mental health."
Kenny straightened, stopping his coughing act. "I won't smoke," he said firmly. "It's harmful."
Mr. Riot pretended not to hear him.
Instead, he finally revealed why he had brought Kenny aside. "Kenny, was it? I wanted to ask you a favor…"
A favor… Kenny echoed silently, curiosity stirring. He glanced at the detective, wondering what kind of request would come from a man like him.
Noticing Kenny's reaction, Mr. Riot continued, "You have a friend named Ryu, don't you?"
Kenny startled. He had never introduced any of his friends to Mr. Riot. Confusion flickered across his face, but standing in front of a detective, he chose not to question it openly. He simply nodded in response, then asked cautiously, "But, sir… how do you know?"
Mr. Riot smiled faintly as he took another drag from his cigarette. He exhaled the smoke slowly before answering, "I have personal business with him."
That only deepened Kenny's confusion—and curiosity.
"What do you mean…?" he asked.
Mr. Riot didn't answer. He continued smoking in silence, leaving Kenny to ponder the meaning on his own. Seconds passed, heavy and uncomfortable.
Then, without warning, Mr. Riot flicked the cigarette to the ground.
"Is smoking allowed here?" he asked casually.
Kenny's gaze dropped to Mr. Riot's shoe as it crushed the cigarette, snuffing it out. Slowly, he looked back up. "No."
"Do me a favor, will you?" Mr. Riot said.
Kenny stayed silent.
Mr. Riot didn't wait for a reply. "Pick it up and throw it away properly—for me."
Huh? What the hell…?
Kenny disliked being ordered around like that. He bristled internally, irritation flashing through his thoughts. Still, after a brief hesitation, he complied.
He picked up the cigarette and walked to the nearest trash can by the dormitory entrance. After dropping it inside, he turned and headed back toward the detective.
The detective noticed Kenny approaching and turned to face him. After a few steps, Kenny stopped beside him.
"Let's go to your class," Mr. Riot said casually.
Kenny nodded, but a sudden realization struck him. Mr. Riot had already taken a few steps forward when Kenny spoke up, stopping him.
"Sir… I heard from the crowd that Samy died brutally. That it doesn't look like a suicide at all. Is that true?"
Mr. Riot turned around. "I confirmed it as a suicide," he said calmly. "Don't overthink it."
He paused, studying Kenny more closely. Then, in a lower voice, he added, "I can tell you're incapable of even seeing a dead body. You're afraid of something, aren't you?"
Kenny blinked, unable to catch his words clearly. "Huh? Sorry, sir—I didn't quite hear that…"
Mr. Riot didn't repeat himself. Instead, he turned away, his tone once again indifferent. "Lead me to your class. Let's go."
Kenny scratched his temple as the detective headed toward a rather old-looking car. Despite its age, it was meticulously maintained—clean, polished, and oddly out of place in the modern campus.
"I see… okay," Kenny murmured, following him.
They got into the detective's car, and soon, the vehicle pulled away, heading toward the game development department.
***
10:01 a.m. — Game Development Department
Ryu Senariyu stepped out of James's car and closed the door behind him. He paused for a moment, staring at the classroom building ahead, before turning back toward the vehicle.
James sat in the driver's seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel. Leon occupied the back seat, slumped slightly, his condition still worrying. James was about to take him to a clinic.
James lowered the window and looked at Ryu. Meeting his gaze, he spoke firmly, "Please inform Miss Buron about everything that happened. And if class continues, keep your ears open. Anything important—tell me later."
Ryu nodded, understanding the weight behind James's words.
"I will," he replied.
The engine hummed as James prepared to drive off, leaving Ryu standing there—alone, with far more on his mind than just class.
For his entire college life, this was the first time something like this had happened. He had lived a normal, uneventful life on campus—until today. A suicide. Just a single, shocking incident—but enough to fracture the ordinary rhythm of his world.
Still, Ryu couldn't stop his mind from racing, trying to make sense of everything, trying to connect the pieces. Today felt… off. Twisted. Unlike any normal day he had ever experienced.
He could feel it in himself: the energy that had coursed through him this morning, the restless buzz that had kept him awake. For the first time in his life, he hadn't slept before 11 PM the night before. And now he couldn't help but wonder—why today? Why all of this?
His thoughts inevitably circled back to a lesson from his past—one his father had drilled into him from childhood:
Do not sleep past eleven at night.
Ever since he was small, Ryu had been forced to adhere to that rule. His father would not allow him to stay up as late as he wanted. It was a law of the household, uncompromising and absolute.
Of course, as a child, he had often broken it. Nothing terrible had happened at the time. Yet the punishments were inevitable: the beatings that followed each transgression. Each time, he had no choice but to obey. He carried that rule with him, faithfully, all the way through high school, sleeping early because that was what his father wanted, not because he truly wanted to.
But today, after ignoring the rule once, Ryu couldn't shake the thought that his action might mean something—something more than mere defiance.
It was hard to believe, almost insane—but perhaps there was a connection. Perhaps today, in some strange way, the past and present had collided.
Yet the memories weren't clear. He didn't remember the moments he had broken the rule as a child—not fully. He remembered the punishment, the fear, the coercion—but not the actual acts themselves, not what had truly happened while he was awake.
And then, in a flash, it came. As he quickened his steps toward his classroom, a fragment of memory struck him—one that should have been lost.
The forgotten past.
In the vision, he saw a woman with brownish-golden hair, draped in a white gown. She stood with her back to him. And he—still a child in the memory—was sitting on the ground, crying out loud.
The figure slowly turned.
Before he could even react, a familiar presence intervened. A hand grabbed him, pulling him away from the woman in white. It was his father.
His father had scooped him up in a hurry, lifting him onto his shoulder. Ryu was small, light, and fragile at the time, so it had been easy for his father to carry him back to the house.
In that instant, the woman in white vanished from his sight, swallowed by the blur of motion. The next thing he knew, he was being placed gently on the bed he had always slept on.
For a brief, fleeting moment, his gaze met his father's eyes—and yet, Ryu couldn't remember what passed between them. The memory—or perhaps it was a vision—was hazy, fragmented, and impossible to reconstruct fully.
By the time he arrived in front of his classroom, the flash had faded completely, leaving only a lingering sense of unease. He suspected it had been more of a vision than a true memory.
Even so, the effect on him was undeniable. He appeared at the doorway in a state of panic, and the whole class froze in confusion at his sudden, flustered arrival. Miss Buron, initially stern and frowning at his tardiness, caught sight of his expression. In an instant, her irritation melted into concern.
"Why are you so late, Ryu?" she asked, stepping toward him. "Where are your friends? Kenny and James?"
Ryu took a deep, steadying breath. He was tired from running, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. He leaned against the door frame, gripping its edge for support, and stood there for what felt like an eternity—more than five seconds—before he finally prepared to speak.
But before a single word could leave his lips, a voice rang out from the classroom.
A student had stood abruptly, eyes wide with shock. It was Anna Rolling, a classmate of Ryu's. She wore a crisp white shirt emblazoned with the words "I don't give a f" across the chest, paired with dark blue jeans. Her short, straight hair barely reached her shoulders, framing her face without a single bang.
Miss Buron's attention immediately snapped to her. "What's wrong, Anna? Why do you look so shocked and terrified?"
Other students leaned forward, murmuring questions, curiosity and concern spreading across the room.
Anna didn't move from her place. Instead, she held her phone up, tilting it so the screen faced the class—and eventually Miss Buron. Everyone squinted, trying to make sense of what they were seeing.
Finally, Anna spoke, her voice trembling as she rushed through her words. "Someone… someone from our college… committed suicide…!"
The room went silent, the words hanging heavy in the air.
Miss Buron couldn't make out much from the screen Anna held, but the explanation alone was enough to shock her.
"Oh my God… Really? Who?" she asked, her voice tight with disbelief. She was desperate to know who had died.
Before Anna could answer, Ryu spoke up, his voice trembling slightly. "Sam… Samy Reverend. Our junior."
"What?!" Miss Buron gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as shock registered fully on her face. For a brief moment, she was silent, frozen. The rest of the class followed a beat later, their expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief, mirroring the teacher's reaction.
Even after the initial shock passed, Miss Buron's instincts took over. She noticed Ryu standing before her, weak and unsteady, the exhaustion etched across his features. Calmly, she stepped closer and wrapped her right hand around his shoulder, guiding him gently toward his seat.
Ryu allowed himself a moment to relax, leaning slightly into her support. A sudden weariness washed over him, and he let himself sit, taking the time to breathe and let his body recover rather than dwell on the news.
Miss Buron helped him settle, then turned her attention to the rest of the class. The room was buzzing, students whispering and murmuring among themselves, the shock of the suicide spreading like wildfire.
She raised her hand, her voice sharp and commanding over the rising noise. "Quiet, everyone!"
"We'll be stopping class for today. Tomorrow's session will be held online."
Miss Buron stepped to the front of the room and gathered the items from her desk. "You may all leave."
Chairs scraped softly against the floor as students stood and began filing out of the classroom. Miss Buron slipped her handbag over her arm, her gaze lingering on Anna. Anna was still packing her things, her movements slower than the others.
Approaching her, Miss Buron spoke quietly. "Anna, could you help him out?" She gestured subtly toward Ryu.
Anna looked up at her, startled. She paused, then followed the direction of Miss Buron's gaze to where Ryu sat, slumped over his desk. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.
Why me… Anna thought as she hurriedly stuffed her belongings into her bag.
Miss Buron smiled reassuringly. "I'll put my things away first. I'll be back to help."
With that, she exited the classroom.
Anna finished packing, slung her bag over her shoulder, and carefully pushed her chair back under the desk. Taking a quiet breath, she walked toward Ryu, whose head rested on the tabletop.
"Hey, Ryu… are you okay?" she said softly, patting his back. "Wake up."
Her hand lingered awkwardly for a moment. She had never helped a guy like this before. The closeness made her nervous—she was shy by nature—but concern for her classmate outweighed the discomfort.
Ryu slowly lifted his head, his eyes still half-closed. He pressed his left hand against his temple as a sharp headache throbbed through his skull. His fingers tightened against his face, trying to suppress the strange, unexplainable pain.
Despite it all, he forced himself to move. He tried to stand on his own, swaying slightly.
Anna reacted instinctively, stepping closer and supporting him by the waist.
"Let's get out of here," she said gently.
Together, they made their way out of the classroom, leaving behind the empty room and the weight of the morning's news.