You ever see someone fall to their death and think, Well… this is it?
I did.
Last night.
Or, well… technically the night before I stopped being alive. Whatever. Details.
There I was, balancing on the edge of the building like a complete idiot, wind in my hair, gravity reminding me it has opinions about physics, when I saw him.
Min-Jun.
Our eyes met for that one ridiculous, dramatic second. Like some cheesy movie, except it wasn't cheesy—it was horrifying, and I was falling.
Fast.
I screamed something like "HELP!" but, seriously, who even hears that when they're plummeting?
I don't know.
I think my voice cracked.
Then… impact.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, I remembered something important: Call the police.
Yeah, like that would help now.
That's how it started.
That's how he—Min-Jun—got dragged into my mess, whether he wanted to be or not.
--------
I woke up before my alarm.
Which is illegal, by the way.
If I set an alarm, it means I don't want to wake up early. That's the whole point.
But no—my brain had other plans.
Yesterday wouldn't leave me alone.
Those eyes—desperate, angry, exhausted—right before he fell.
And the last thing he saw…
…was me.
Yeah.
Not exactly something you just "walk off."
I stared at the ceiling for a while, hoping it would offer emotional support.
It didn't. Just stared back.
Very unhelpful.
So I got up.
I'm not exactly intimidating.
Small, kind of fragile—like if life gets slightly louder, I might fold.
My hair—black, soft, annoyingly silky—keeps falling into my eyes like it's trying to hide me from my responsibilities.
I put on my uniform.
Perfectly ironed, of course.
That's what happens when you're rich—your life might be a mess, but your clothes? Flawless.
Yeah, I'm rich.
I mean My parents are rich.
Big house, too many empty rooms, parents I mostly see in passing. My dad lives on business trips, and my mom… well, she exists through messages and instructions.
Luxury.
Very warm.
Very personal.
I grabbed my bag.
It looked heavy. It was heavy. I considered leaving it behind and starting a new life.
Decided against it.
As I reached the door, she walked in.
"Min-Jun," she called softly.
Mrs. Hana.
She wasn't just "a maid."
She never felt like one.
Warm eyes, gentle face, always neat but never stiff. She moved quietly, but somehow the whole house felt less empty when she was around.
" Madam said there's food in the fridge. Make sure you eat when you get back," she said, adjusting my collar like she'd done it a hundred times.
I nodded. "Okay."
Flat.
Dry.
Classic me.
She sighed, stepping closer, and gently pinched my cheeks.
"Min-Jun, what is that face? Are you planning to scare your teachers today?"
I blinked, then smiled—wide this time, soft but real.
"I thought it was charming."
"It's tragic," she said, but she was smiling.
"…Okay, maybe a little tragic," I admitted.
"That's better," she said. "Go on. And don't skip meals."
"I don't skip meals," I replied.
She raised an eyebrow.
"…intentionally," I added.
She laughed quietly.
I hesitated for a second, then said, softer, "I'm leaving now… bye, Hana."
She nodded. "Have a good day, Min-Jun."
She always says that like it's actually possible.
She's the only person in that house I'm close to.
Sometimes… I accidentally call her mom.
It's humiliating. Truly. I consider disappearing every time.
But she never makes it weird.She just smiles and says, "That's okay."
Which somehow makes it harder to pretend I don't mean it.
By the time I reached Haneul High, I was already tired—and the day hadn't even started yet.
I stopped at the gate.
Took a breath.
Adjusted my bag like I had control over anything in my life.
"Alright," I muttered, "let's go pretend everything is fine."
Then I walked in.
When I walked in, the atmosphere hit me immediately.
Tense. Quiet. Too quiet.
Not the normal "we hate school" quiet—this one felt heavier. Like the whole building knew something I didn't want to remember.
I paused just inside the hallway, adjusting my bag like I had somewhere important to be. I didn't.
I have friends.
…Okay, that's a lie.
I have a friend.
And even finding him feels like a side quest most days.
The inside of Haneul High looked different today. Lights brighter than usual, floors too clean, voices hushed into whispers.
Students were already lined up neatly for assembly—rows and rows of uniforms, all facing forward like we'd been programmed.
We don't do assemblies outside.
Of course not.
This is a "prestigious" school. Everything has to be indoors, organized, slightly suffocating.
At the front, the teacher stood on the raised platform, microphone in hand.
Behind her stood the school president and vice president, stiff and polished like they were part of the furniture.
And behind them—
A screen.
Big.
Bright.
Unavoidable.
I stepped closer.
Then I saw it.
The picture.
My chest tightened.
The memory slammed back so fast it felt physical—those eyes, that moment—
I winced.
Yeah.
That's him.
Around me, the reaction spread differently. Some students just stood still, faces blank, processing.
Some who knew him went cold, like someone had pressed pause on them.
And the ones who were close—
They were crying.
Even the guys.
Trying not to, obviously.
Tight jaws, clenched fists, looking anywhere but the screen. But you could see it.
The teacher's voice continued, steady but softer now.
"Today, we mourn the loss of one of our students…"
A pause.
Then—
"Niran Wongchai, has passed away. May his soul rest in peace."
"Amen," everyone echoed.
I said it too.
Quietly.
Because I knew him.
Classmate. Popular.
The kind of guy everyone knew—even if they didn't know him.
We talked once.
Group project.
He made me do everything.
Because, apparently, holding a pen was beneath him.
I almost snorted at the memory.
Almost.
…Yeah.
He had too much ego.
But still.
Another person gone.
Dead.
Or… not just dead.
Maybe something else.
I shook that thought away quickly.
Not the time.
Not the place.
Not something I was ready to think about.
A voice came from behind me.
"Hey… Min-Jun. You okay?"
I turned.
Jea-Hyun.
Tall, wiry, that usual mischievous energy toned down for once. His grin was smaller today—still there, but quieter.
Like even his personality was being respectful.
He stepped closer and placed a hand on my shoulder.
I blinked. "Yeah… I'm fine."
Lie. But a polite one.
He glanced at the screen, then back at me.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said lightly.
I huffed. "You say that like it's not becoming my brand."
That earned a small smile from him.
He looked back at Niran's picture, eyes lingering a second longer.
"Good guy," he said. Then added, "Too much ego though."
I let out a quiet breath. "Yeah… I remember."
"What a great friend I am, right?" he muttered, shaking his head slightly.
I looked at him, softer this time.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Jea-Hyun."
He shook his head. "It's okay."
Which, translated, meant: it's not okay, but let's not do this here.
The assembly wrapped up not long after.
People started moving, breaking out of their lines, voices slowly returning—but lower, heavier than before.
We all dispersed to class.
Just like that.
Like nothing happened.
Like everything did.