The campus felt like a mirage now—real only on the surface. Beneath the laughter of students, the clatter of shoes, and the hum of city life, Minjae could feel it.
Something was watching.
Or someone.
And if the number on that last note was correct…
Five. Out of nine.
He wasn't just chosen. He was part of a circle.
A circle he never asked to join.
⸻
Minjae paced outside the university library, his breath fogging slightly even though the weather was warm. He hadn't been able to think straight since discovering the stitched-in card from the bag and the phrase "She marked you" from the stranger the day before.
He hadn't told Mirae.
Not yet.
A part of him feared dragging her into this mess. A larger part feared she was already part of it.
Then, from the reflection of the library glass, he saw him again—the same guy who bumped into him yesterday. A flash of that checkered hoodie, black cap low over his eyes.
Minjae turned sharply and followed.
⸻
The guy moved fast, slipping between buildings and down narrow service corridors. Finally, he stopped in the shadow of the clock tower where students rarely wandered.
"You followed," the boy muttered without turning.
"I have questions."
"You won't get answers. Not the ones you want."
Minjae stepped closer. "You said I'm the fourth."
"Fifth, now. She marked another."
He turned finally. His eyes were bloodshot. Sleepless.
"She doesn't choose randomly. She watches. Studies. Then marks."
"Who is she?"
The boy didn't answer directly. Instead, he handed over a sealed envelope.
"No return address. Just this symbol."
Minjae's chest tightened.
The eye. With the bleeding heart.
He ripped it open. Inside was a single polaroid of the boy standing in a stairwell—eyes wide, terror in his expression.
It wasn't a selfie. It had been taken from above.
Scrawled underneath, in the same crimson ink:
"You're not awake yet, Minjae. But I am."
⸻
That night, Minjae double-locked his dorm room, stacked chairs behind the door, even taped a piece of string to the frame. He didn't sleep.
At exactly 2:00 a.m., a tap echoed on his window.
He froze.
His dorm was on the third floor.
No balcony.
No ledge.
Just a thin pane of reinforced glass.
Tap.
He slowly turned toward it.
There was no one outside.
But on the window…
A note.
Pressed from the outside.
He gathered the courage to open the window.
There was nothing there.
No rope. No drone. No hook.
Just the wind, and that single slip of paper fluttering into his hands.
⸻
"What do you see when you look in the mirror, Minjae?"
Underneath, this time, was no symbol. Just a line:
"5/9 have seen it. When will you?"
And finally, a number: Room 503
He checked the campus map immediately.
There was no Room 503 in any active building.
But the old dorms on the east side—condemned after a fire years ago—they had a fifth floor.
No one was allowed up there.
⸻
Minjae couldn't sleep.
He knew the others must be getting notes too.
Were they all as scared?
As curious?
As broken?
He stared at the mirror above his desk.
What do you see?
He leaned in.
His own reflection stared back. Pale. Eyes sunken. No glow of innocence left.
But something shifted in the reflection.
A flash—barely a second—but it was there.
A figure behind him.
Tall. Slender. Long hair.
He spun.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
But when he looked back at the mirror…
A crack had appeared in the corner. From the inside.
As if something behind the glass wanted out.
⸻
📲💬
From Unknown
They told you not to look too deeply.
💬
He dropped the phone instantly. The number was still saved as "From Unknown", and the profile image still blank.
But something was different this time.
There was a file attachment.
[audio.mp3]
He played it. Against all reason.
At first, nothing but silence.
Then a whisper:
💭 "You're getting warmer. But don't burn, Minjae. You're mine… and I hate sharing." 💭
His throat went dry.
Then the file deleted itself automatically.
No trace left.
⸻
The next morning, Mirae knocked on his door.
He hesitated before opening it. She looked worried—dark circles under her eyes.
"You didn't come to breakfast again."
"Yeah… I wasn't feeling well."
"You're not eating. You're barely sleeping." She stepped in. "I'm worried, Minjae."
He nodded. "I'm just… dealing with something. I'll be okay."
She frowned. "Is this about dad?"
Minjae paused.
In all this chaos, he had almost forgotten.
Their father's company. The collapse. The shame.
Maybe that's when all this started.
Or maybe that was just what made him vulnerable.
He forced a smile.
"Yeah. Maybe it is."
But she didn't believe him. And he knew she wouldn't stop watching him.
Just like someone else already was.
⸻
That night, he made a decision.
He packed a flashlight, gloves, and a student master key he'd borrowed from the maintenance office weeks ago.
And just after midnight, he headed to the east wing.
Toward the condemned building.
Toward Room 503.
⸻
[End of chapter 10]
⸻
A/N:
Things are accelerating. The web around Minjae is tightening, and the pieces are falling into place. But who really holds the strings? And what is in Room 503? In the next chapter, we go inside. Prepare for the beginning of the descent.