Finals concluded.The atmosphere in the classroom was tense as students waited for their final results. Some were already celebrating, while others anxiously fidgeted in their seats. Suwon, clutching her result sheet, nervously twisted it in her hands, her eyes flickering between the paper and her classmates. Her breath was shallow, and she couldn't shake the tight knot of fear forming in her chest.
Beside her, Juwon beamed with pride, the other students congratulating her on her second-place ranking. It was an achievement, but Suwon couldn't help but compare. Her own performance was a distant thought as she tried to avoid looking at the result sheet that felt like a weight in her hands.
And then there was Hanbin—always at the top, always a step ahead. First place again. Suwon's heart sank a little as she recalled her own anxieties about disappointing her mother. She couldn't afford to fail, but what if she did? What if the fear of not being good enough had clouded her judgment during the exams?
As the second period concluded, the homeroom teacher stepped into the classroom, drawing everyone's attention. "Students, we have a new classmate joining us today," the teacher announced, gesturing towards the door. "Please come in."
A tall boy entered the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. The classroom greeted him with a warm welcome, curious whispers filling the air.
"Hello, I'm Seok Woo," he introduced himself, his tone casual and relaxed, carrying a hint of nonchalance. The informal nature of his introduction left a distinct impression on the class, sparking intrigue among his new peers.
A chilling wind seemed to sweep through the classroom, casting an uneasy silence as Seok Woo's cold and rude demeanor left a sour impression. Once the teacher departed, the classroom buzzed with whispers and speculation about the new student.
Moments later, a male student burst into the room, excitement evident in his hurried steps. "Guys, guys! I found out about the new kid," he announced, catching his breath. "He's Bae Seok Woo, the son of the school's chairman."
The revelation sent a ripple of surprise through the class. "What? The chairman's son?" someone echoed in disbelief.
"Yeah," the boy confirmed. "He's known to be rude and a bully. That's why the chairman sent him to the countryside, hoping to keep him out of trouble."
"Then why is he back here?" another student inquired, curiosity piqued.
The boy shrugged, exhaling heavily. "I don't know that part," he admitted, leaving the class to ponder the reasons behind Seok Woo's return.
Seok Woo's arrival had struck the school like a thunderbolt. As the chairman's son and a known bully, his sudden transfer stirred curiosity and unease. Rumors swirled, each more speculative than the last, but no one knew the real reason behind his return.
Juwon exited the broadcasting room, her thoughts scattered, only to find Seok Woo waiting for her, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. His gaze was fixed on her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"Shouldn't you welcome me as the only acquaintance?" he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with something unsettling.
Juwon halted but refused to meet his eyes. "Why should I?" she replied confidently, turning to face him fully.
Seok Woo leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers. "You know that better than anyone," he murmured, his voice low and provocative.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Juwon retorted, her tone steady despite the rapid beat of her heart. "But did we talk before? Do you know me?"
Seok Woo smirked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "Your acting is really very good, Juwon," he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker.
Juwon's expression hardened, masking the unease that churned within her. Whatever game Seok Woo was playing, she wasn't about to let him win.
NANHUI HIGH SCHOOL
Before Juwon's transfer…
Seok Woo was in the midst of his usual antics at Nanhui High School. One evening, seated in his room, he dialed a number, his fingers drumming against the table impatiently. The call connected, and he spoke, his tone sharp and direct.
"Find out everything you can about the ID name, 'Risingmoon,'" he instructed, leaning back in his chair. The voice on the other end acknowledged his request, providing him with information as he listened intently. As the details unfolded, a spark of excitement lit up in Seok Woo's eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
He ended the call, satisfied. With newfound knowledge, he began texting her—'Risingmoon'—each message crafted carefully to draw her in, to play the game he so enjoyed. His eyes never left the screen, watching every response, every word, with a keen interest.
He knew all along who she was, long before she had any clue. The game was set, and Seok Woo was ready to enjoy every moment of it.
Juwon had always felt a certain unease whenever she had to visit her aunt's house in the remote village of Ulsan. Her father, a man of few words, was deeply respectful of his elder sister, a staunch believer in shamanism. This deference often translated into a reluctant compliance from Juwon, despite her loathing for the superstitions that dominated her aunt's household.
That night, the moon hung in the sky, almost full, casting a silvery glow on the winding road. The air was cool, and the breeze slipped through the lowered window, brushing against Juwon's face as she sat in the passenger seat of her father's car. Her father, with a stern expression, broke the silence, his voice filled with a warning tone.
"Juwon, I know you don't like this, but don't do anything to upset your aunt. We are here because she called, and it's important."
Juwon didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on the moon, her thoughts elsewhere, far from the conversation. She let the wind play with her hair, savoring the brief moment of calm before the inevitable tension that awaited at her aunt's house.
Juwon's aunt's home, perched at the very edge of the village, was secluded, accessible by a small bridge that crossed a narrow river. The house was surrounded by a dense forest on the right, with an open field stretching behind it. The gentle flow of the river in front of the house added an eerie serenity to the place. As Juwon and her father arrived, they stepped into a space filled with a mix of rustic charm and unsettling quiet.
Inside, the scent of herbs and the sound of quiet chatter from the kitchen greeted them. Juwon spotted her cousin and her cousin's daughter busy preparing something at the stove. She walked past them, making her way to her favorite spot in the house—a window seat that overlooked the field. It was the only place that gave her a sense of peace in this otherwise disconcerting house. She sank into the seat, her gaze fixed outside as her father went in to speak with his sister.
Moments later, her father reappeared, followed by a figure that made Juwon's irritation spike—a shaman, clad in traditional garb, holding a bell that jingled with each step. Juwon's expression soured as she watched the shaman's assistant distribute small bowls of some herbal concoction.
In the living room, which had a glass wall offering a view of the river, they all gathered. The room had a cozy yet tense atmosphere, enhanced by the soft burble of water from a small aquarium on a nearby table. The shaman began chanting, her eyes closed, the bell in her hand shaking rhythmically. Juwon sat stiffly, her arms crossed, refusing to touch the bowl offered to her. Her cousin, sensing her reluctance, forced a spoonful into Juwon's mouth.
As the shaman's murmurs grew more intense, the atmosphere thickened. Suddenly, the water in the aquarium turned a deep red, the fish inside flailing before falling lifeless. Gasps filled the room, eyes widening in horror, but Juwon remained unimpressed. She leaned back, scratching her ear with an exaggerated nonchalance, clearly mocking the display. To her, it was all an elaborate ruse—just another reason to scoff at her aunt's superstitions.
"We'll have to do a ritual. This village has been cursed with evil eyes," the shaman declared, her voice trembling as she widened her eyes in fear. "I'll provide the rules you must follow for this ritual. No one is to leave the village before it's completed. And during the ritual, anyone attempting to cross the bridge will face dire consequences. Something catastrophic will happen if we don't act swiftly."
Her gaze swept across the room, lingering on each person as if trying to gauge their reactions. "After consuming this meal, do you feel any burning or discomfort? I've placed a talisman within the food. If anyone harbors evil, their skin will burn upon eating it. Fortunately, it seems you're all safe. But we must proceed with the ritual as soon as possible."
Juwon's aunt, with a mix of concern and determination, nodded. "We'll perform the ritual this Friday, in two days. Everyone in the village must participate," she announced firmly, leaving no room for dissent. The weight of her words hung in the air, pressing down on Juwon, who felt her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.
Everyone in the village held Juwon's aunt in high esteem, so they complied with her instructions without question. As the day of the ritual arrived, the villagers gathered at her house. Juwon, feeling unwell but compelled to attend, donned a white midi dress. The village was small, and the turnout wasn't large, but the presence of nearly every villager filled the space with a tense, expectant atmosphere.
Juwon, unimpressed by the proceedings, took her usual spot by the window, a book in hand, seeking solace in its pages. In the living room, the shaman began the ritual, chanting incantations and performing elaborate gestures. As the ceremony advanced, a chilling event unfolded—a shaman's assistant collapsed, bleeding from their eyes, and died on the spot. Panic rippled through the gathered crowd, and a group of young villagers, driven by fear, attempted to flee. Ignoring the strict warning, they crossed the bridge, triggering the very consequences the shaman had forewarned.
Chaos ensued. The lead shaman, steadfast in her commitment to the ritual, began vomiting blood but pressed on with her chants, undeterred. The atmosphere grew heavy with fear and unease.
Juwon, utterly detached from the hysteria around her, felt a wave of boredom wash over her. She stood up from her seat by the window, her face a mask of indifference. As she moved, the book she had been holding slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a soft thud. Her gaze, distant and unreadable, seemed to pierce through the mounting chaos, as if she were standing apart from the reality unraveling around her.
Present time...
SUMOON HIGH SCHOOL
The final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, but Suwon couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in her mind. She trudged toward the cram school, but her thoughts kept drifting back to her mother and the impending conversation she'd have to face. What would she say to her? How would she explain the slip in her ranking? That new girl—how had she managed to secure second place? Now, Suwon had not one, but two competitors to deal with. The pressure weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't help but wonder, what should she do?
Unable to cope with the anxiety, Suwon decided to skip cram school for the day. Instead, she found herself heading to her usual sanctuary—the old factory near the field, a place she always retreated to when she needed to escape. Once there, she sat on the cold concrete floor, the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders.
She gathered wood and lit a small fire, the flames flickering in the evening air like her own private campfire. The warmth was a small comfort, but it couldn't quell the storm brewing inside her. She turned off her phone, choosing silence over the noise of the world, and didn't bother telling anyone where she was.
Sitting in the growing twilight, staring at the flickering flames, her mind began to wander. The vast sky above her stretched endlessly, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she, too, was like the moon—isolated, distant, with no one to confide in. The tears that threatened to fall were held back, but the ache of loneliness lingered, deep and unrelenting. She felt like she was fading into the emptiness of the world around her.