POV: Jun-ho
The knock came early.
Too early.
Ara was already awake. She lay still on her narrow dorm bed, staring at the faint crack in the ceiling where two concrete panels didn't quite meet. Morning light filtered through the thin curtains, pale and colorless, as if the sun itself hadn't fully decided to rise yet.
Knock. Knock.
"Inspection." A voice called from the hallway. Male. Island staff.
Ara exhaled slowly and sat up. Around her, the other girls stirred—sleepy groans, rustling blankets, the soft thud of someone rolling off their pillow. Ara swung her legs down and stood, already dressed. She preferred to sleep lightly. Habit.
She crossed the room and opened the door.
Two staff members stood outside. Both wore navy uniforms with the island administration insignia stitched neatly over the chest. Both smiled.
Too evenly.
"Good morning. Dorm inspection. Routine." The older one said. His hair was cropped short, peppered with gray.
Ara nodded and stepped aside without a word. They entered, eyes scanning the room with methodical precision. Beds. Windows. Bags. One of them lingered by the balcony door, testing the lock twice before nodding to his partner.
"Please make sure doors remain secured at night. For your safety." The younger one said.
"For…what reason?" One of Ara's roommates asked, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Island wildlife. And liability." The older staff member chuckled softly.
Liability.
Ara watched his eyes as he said it. They didn't flicker. Didn't waver.
"Breakfast begins at seven. Orientation briefing at eight sharp in the main hall. Attendance is mandatory." The younger man added. They left as efficiently as they'd arrived.
The door clicked shut.
The room exhaled.
"That was weird." Someone muttered. Ara didn't respond. She crossed to the balcony and slid the curtain aside an inch.
Outside, the island stretched under the morning sky—lush greenery, winding paths, the distant glint of the sea. Beautiful. Quiet.
Too quiet.
Down below, more staff moved between buildings in pairs, radios clipped to their shoulders. They didn't talk much. When they did, it was brief, hushed.
Ara let the curtain fall back into place. Rules, she thought.
Already.
—
I have always liked mornings.
They made sense. There was a rhythm to them—wake, stretch, breathe, start again. Even now, away from home, the familiarity grounded him.
I joined the flow of students heading toward the cafeteria, the air thick with the smell of toast and brewed coffee. The building buzzed with low conversation, chairs scraping against tile, trays clattering.
At the far end of the room, I spotted Ara.
She sat alone at a table near the window, back straight, eyes on her food but not really seeing it.
Her bow case leaned against the chair beside her, close enough to reach without standing.
I hesitated. We hadn't really talked yet. Not properly. Just a glance yesterday. A moment. I grabbed my tray and walked over anyway. "Mind if I sit?" I asked. Ara looked up. For a fraction of a second, something unreadable passed through her eyes. "Go ahead." She nodded.
I sat across from her, setting my tray down carefully. Rice, eggs, soup. Simple. "Sleep okay?" I asked. "Fine."
Her voice was calm. Neutral. I smiled faintly. "You look like you're about to shoot someone who interrupts you." One eyebrow lifted. Just slightly. "I don't shoot people." She said. "Good to know. I was worried." I replied.
The corner of her mouth twitched before she caught it. I noticed. "Dorm inspection wake you up?" I asked. "Yes."
"Me too. Felt a bit…intense for a school trip." Ara paused, chopsticks hovering over her bowl. "You noticed." I shrugged. "Hard not to. They checked our windows twice." She studied me for a moment, as if reassessing a piece on a board.
"You pay attention." She said. "Someone has to." I replied lightly.
Across the room, Minjae's voice cut through the chatter.
"So let me get this straight. We're on a tourist island, but we have curfews, locked gates, and security patrols?" Minjae said loudly, standing with his tray balanced on one hand. Several heads turned. Daeho stood near the cafeteria entrance, arms crossed. "These are standard safety procedures."
"Standard for what? Prison?" Minjae shot back.
A few students laughed nervously.
I felt the shift immediately. The subtle tightening in the air. Authority is being tested. "Sit down, Minjae. This isn't a discussion." Daeho said, voice firm. Minjae grinned. "Everything's a discussion if enough people are annoyed."
I glanced at Ara.
She was watching too. Not with amusement. With focus. Jisoo sat a few tables away, quiet as always, eyes flicking between the arguing figures and the nearby staff members. I followed his gaze.
The island staff hadn't intervened.
They just watched. Minjae eventually laughed it off, dropping into a chair amid half-hearted cheers. Daeho walked away, jaw tight. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Ara looked back at her food. "Rules." She said softly. "Seems like summer comes with a lot of them." I nodded.
—
Orientation took place in a large hall overlooking the sea.
Glass windows lined one wall, sunlight pouring in and reflecting off the polished floor. Rows of folding chairs faced a small stage where a projector hummed quietly. Students shuffled in, some still yawning, others whispering.
I sat near the middle. Ara took a seat two rows ahead, off to the side. The island administrator—a man with a practiced smile and an immaculate shirt—stood at the podium.
"Welcome. We're pleased to host you this summer." He began.
The speech was…fine. Polished. Reassuring. But I kept noticing the details that didn't quite fit. The way staff members stood at each exit. The way radios crackled softly, constantly. The administrator's repeated emphasis on remaining within designated areas.
"Certain facilities are restricted for your safety. Please respect posted signage." The man said.
A student raised a hand. "What kind of facilities?" The administrator's smile didn't falter. "Research zones. Maintenance areas. Nothing of interest to you."
I glanced toward Jisoo.
Jisoo wasn't looking at the stage.
He was watching a staff member near the door. The man stood stiffly, one hand pressed to his radio, brow furrowed. When he realized he was being watched, he turned away. I felt a ripple of unease.
After the briefing, groups spilled out into the sunlight. Conversations buzzed—complaints, jokes, plans for the afternoon.
"See? All bark, no bite." Minjae clapped me on the back.
"Still, let's not give them a reason to bark more." I said. Ara walked past us, heading toward the archery range area indicated on the map. I watched her go.
—
Ara preferred distance.
It made things clearer. She walked the perimeter of the campus slowly, memorizing paths, noting blind spots. The archery range was closed for the morning—maintenance, a sign read.
She frowned. A staff member stood nearby, pretending not to watch her. She turned back. As she passed the administration building, she heard raised voices inside. Muffled. Urgent.
Then static.
A sharp burst from a radio. The voices stopped. Ara didn't slow her pace.
—
That night, I lay on my bed, hands folded behind my head, staring at the ceiling again. The day replayed in fragments. The rules. The staff. The way Jisoo's eyes kept drifting to things no one else noticed.
He rolled onto his side.
You're being paranoid, I told himself. It was just an island. A school trip.
Still—
From outside, faint and distorted, came the sound of radio chatter.
"…—repeat—signal—"
Static swallowed the words. I sat up. The chatter cut off abruptly. Silence rushed in to fill the space. Down the hall, a door creaked open. Someone whispered. I swung my legs off the bed, heart beating a little faster than it should have.
Whatever summer rules this island had, I was starting to suspect they weren't meant to protect us students at all.