put not your trust in men or devils - not idols!college!supernatural!dreamcatcher (tw: horror)

[ec.li.ps.e]

What passes next is the most stressful four hours of her life; officers, detectives, psychologists come in and out of the holding cell she finds herself sat down in, separated from her friends, to question her over and over again, until she's at her limit. Eventually, she just shuts down and refuses to talk. If she opens her mouth again, she'll cry. She might cry either way. Doesn't matter.

She didn't kill anyone - she knows who did. This is pointless. It's probably just for the sake of security, to make sure she doesn't go back on her story or whatever, but it's torture. It's psychological warfare. At least she's not handcuffed. She buries her face in her arms on the table and takes a deep breath to try and calm herself down.

The door squeaks open. She digs her fingers into her arms and doesn't lift her head. "Oh, Minji," her father says. He sounds gentle, almost sad, compared to the harsh men she's had to deal with. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize they'd do that."

"Do what?" she asks, only half lifting her gaze to him. Her head pounds. "Interrogate me?"

He nods and takes a seat across from her. "They did it to all of you - they're still talking to Yoobin." He reaches for her hand, but she just glares at him. "But the good news is, we have what we need from you and Miss Gahyeon. You're free to go."

She blinks. "What about Yoobin?"

He pauses. "Well… She's got some information about Shiang that could prove useful. It's just that we don't know how she got the information, and we have our questions for her-"

"She didn't do anything wrong."

"Having a weapon is a crime, Minji. Even if it was for self defense, she is still in the wrong there. She'll have to face punishment for that, if we find that she did have a gun, like our current investigation suggests."

Minji stares at him; his eyes are cold, unflinching. There's a chance Yoobin could go to jail. Something about the whole thing feels wrong, like they're focusing their energy on the wrong thing. Because they are. Because she's an easier target then Shiang? Because of something Yoobin's never told her?

"She didn't do anything wrong," she says, her voice level. Her heartbeat rushes in her ears. "I haven't- She wouldn't do that." She digs her fingernails into the flesh of her arms to keep her hands from shaking. Two months ago, she wouldn't have done any of this. Hell, a week ago, she would have taken the opportunity to rat Yoobin out, if only to steer her back on the right track, away from the line she's coming dangerously close to crossing (for her claims of leaving her past behind, Yoobin does an excellent job of clinging to it).

But things are different now. And they have to stick together.

Even if this means lying.

"I have never seen any evidence of a weapon in the dorm, or the car, or on her, or anything," she says. She doesn't blink, barely breathes. Hopes it's convincing.

Her father quirks his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" he says. He loses the familial familiarity he had a moment before. "People can hide things if they don't want people to know."

She shakes her head. "We've lived together for two years at this point," she says. "Something would have come up." She wonders if he can hear her heartbeat.

"You're not just saying this to protect her, right?" He leans forward.

"Absolutely not," she lies. This conversation has gone on longer than she wanted it to. She pushes herself upright. "This is just me being honest."

Her father stares at her, scrutinizing her, studying her. She stares back. After a long pause, he looks away. "Alright," he says. "I trust you, but only because you're my daughter. This is quite suspicious, Minji." He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. "Someone will come get you in a few minutes, to escort you to the front. I've arranged for the- three of you-" the way he paused suggests that he had only planned for two- "to spend at least the next few days at a hotel, while we investigate the dorm room. You'll be home soon." He sighs, lifts his hat off his head, scrubs at his hair. "I promise you."

And then he disappears into the hall, leaving Minji once again alone. The room feels cold all of a sudden, or maybe it's just her. She stares at the empty door for a moment, then falls back into her seat, buries the heels of her hands in her eyes. What am I doing? she thinks. Quite possibly, that is the stupidest thing she's ever done. Lying to the police. If her father finds out, she'll go to jail.

But she won't. Something tells her that. There's a little voice in the back of her head that's whimpering, You won't have time , and it sounds a little bit like Handong . Minji pushes it out of her head and ignores it.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Twenty minutes, or maybe thirty, pass before another police officer comes in and motions for her to follow him. She doesn't recognize him; he's not one of the ones that's been talking to her. "Kim Minji?" he asks, looking her up and down as she stands.

"That would be me," she says.

The officer nods. "Right, come with me," he says, and he vanishes into the hallway. She watches him go for a moment before following him on shaky legs. Her stomach hurts; her mouth is dry. She's been here for way too long and the last thing she ate was Bora's questionable dinner. Her joints are screaming for her to lie down. At least hotel beds are comfortable.

The officer walks her down the gray hallways of the police station and checks her out at the front. She receives her wallet and her keys - none of her change is in there, but she'll worry about that later - and a warm pat on the back. The clock on the wall reads 12:15 AM. She wishes she could have fallen asleep two hours ago, but she's still got a bit of time to go.

Gahyeon is already sitting in the front when she finally gets to sit down. The younger girl jumps to her feet, despite the tired, hollow look in her eyes. "Oh, thank God ," she says. She throws her arms around Minji. "I thought you were never gonna come back."

"Honestly, me too," Minji says. She tries to hug back, but she's too damn tired. "When Yoobin comes out, we're going to a hotel."

Gahyeon nods against Minji's shoulder. "Yeah, I heard. They better pay for room service, I'm fucking starving." Her fingers dig into the back of Minji's shirt. There's a lot more that she wants to say, clearly, but she's not doing so. Perhaps later, perhaps never. Minji doesn't want to push.

Yoobin comes out about ten minutes later. She looks as bad as Minji feels - her eyes are ringed with black circles. "Finally," she says. Gahyeon unhooks herself from Minji and darts over; Yoobin collapses into her arms. "I never want to talk to a police officer again."

"Me either," Gahyeon mumbles. "I kinda just want to sleep."

Minji leans back, her eyes trained on the door. "Soon," she says. She watches the clouded glass for a silhouette or something to suggest an approaching escort. "Please, God, soon. If I spend ten more minutes here I'm going to lose my mind."

"Going to?" Yoobin says, and she laughs - the kind of exhausted laugh that only comes from a person slowly going numb.

Gahyeon does the same. "I left my mind back at the dorms."

The door to the back opens, and Minji's father steps out. "Alright, girls," he says, and he rubs his hands together. "Let's get you to your lodgings for the night. There should be someone checking on you tomorrow and every day until you can return home - just to keep you safe." He crosses the room and puts his hand on the front door. "I'll leave you a list of numbers you can talk to if any of you feel unsafe or scared. You've been under a lot of stress-" he looks directly at Minji for that one- "and it's understandable if you feel that way." He pulls the door open and steps outside.

Yoobin sighs. "Yeah, that's a word for it," she says.

"I wish we could get clothes," Gahyeon says, tugging at the hoodie she's been wearing for about eighteen hours at this point.

Minji makes a noise of agreement and makes a move to follow her father, but she's stopped by someone grabbing one of her hands. She turns around to find Yoobin holding both her and Gahyeon like a vice. "When we get to the hotel room, I have some things to tell you," she hisses. "A lot of things, actually. And you're not going to like all of them." She lets go, taps both of them on the shoulder, and passes through them to head out.

Minji takes a deep breath and follows her. "Oh, man," she says, more to herself than Gahyeon.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 15: dancing with the devil

Everything hurts. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, everything hurts. She’s been shaking since he left the first time. Thankfully, she’s stopped feeling after the knife in her eye. Some merciful god out there decided to pull the plug.

Except now she’s feeling again, and it hurts, it hurts so much. She can feel blood drip-drip-dripping down her face, thicker than tears, warmer than tears. She touches her hands to her face to wipe it away.

It’s dry.

She opens her eyes and looks down at her hands, which stand out pale against the nothingness surrounding her. There is no blood, no bruises, no sign of trauma.

What am I so worried about? she thinks, and her voice echoes around her, expands into the space.

Her feet are on solid ground, yet she looks down and sees nothing but a flowing white gown around her legs. There is nothing above her, either. There is no color - no black or white or yellow or green or red , mercifully there is no red. She stretches her arms to either side of her and encounters nothing, no walls that might prevent her from moving. There is nothing here but her.

Am I dead? she thinks. Her own voice - or what might be her voice, she can’t tell at this point - ripples through the space. She gets no response except her own words reflecting back at her.

She pulls her hands in around her, takes a step backward, another, another, another. She’s trying to run, but from what? There is nothing to scare her. Nothing that might want to hurt her. Except, of course, that’s the problem. There is nothing.

Am I in hell? she thinks, desperately searching the void for a sign of life.

“Not quite,” answers her own voice. “But you’re certainly dead, Miss Handong.”

The sound fills the space.

Handong. That’s her name.

“It’s a pity,” continues the Handong that’s not Handong. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Actual Handong - she thinks she’s actually Handong at least - whips her head around, searching for the source of the voice - her voice. But there’s nothing. She swallows. Her heart should be pounding now; there’s nothing there.

“Never trust men, dear,” hums her own voice. “They’ll always lie.” Hand on her chin, twisting her forward, or maybe forward, tilting her head up. “But you’d already figured that part out, hadn’t you, Miss Handong?”

Actual Handong wriggles, tries to squirm free from the hand holding her, but there’s no hand there. She expects to hear her blood rushing through her ears, feel her hands shaking with adrenaline. Instead, she just stands there. She isn’t even breathing.

“What are you so scared of? I can’t do anything anymore. The worst part’s over with.” Invisible hand lets go. “Unless you think being trapped here for all of eternity is worse than death itself.” Her own voice titters in her ears. “It appears there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

Huge misunderstanding , Handong thinks. Is she thinking it? Does she even think anymore?

“Yes.” The voice ripples and flows, like water, like honey, like blood.

Who am I talking to? She spins around, straining her eyes to see something, anything , in the endless void. Are you God?

What might be a memory flickers across her vision: a man, eyes wide with madness, turning to her and saying, Have you ever talked to God, Handong?

Are you the God he was referring to?

She gets no response for a while - then, laughter, mocking laughter. Her own voice cackles back at her. “Oh, he cracks me up ,” sings “God”. “He’s completely off his rocker, isn’t he? Such a shame, really. I thought I had finally found a good one, but it appears I was wrong.” The voice just sighs. “I’m not God, dear. Not yet, at least. Your friend, he was supposed to be aiding me, but then he went and bungled that with you.” What feels like a finger jabs into her shoulder. “Men.” Sigh. “Always cutting corners.”

Handong flinches away from the touch. Aiding you. Who are you? Are you the devil?

The voice laughs again. “Wrong again. I’m nothing, yet, and it seems that I’ll continue to be nothing.” It sounds like it’s pouting. “And you managed to get yourself stuck here, with me. Isn’t this lovely?”

Then who are you?

“A friend. My name is unimportant.” Something brushes her cheek, like a finger, but too long. “I’m also all you have left right now, Miss Handong.”

She opens her mouth, as if to let out a small cry, but nothing comes out. There’s more things running along her face now; then, something covers her eyes, and she can no longer see herself. “Don’t act so shocked. You were sacrificed. Surely you’re aware of that .” It pulls away. “Disrupting fate, sending you away from your proper ending, depositing you here. Come, you’re a smart girl.”

Handong opens her eyes again, and this time there is something else in the nothingness. This time, she stares face to face with herself , except she’s just a bit too tall, her shoulders are just a bit too wide, her smile just a bit too toothy. Not-Handong shimmers, too, in and out of existence, as if it takes a great effort to maintain this form. She lifts a hand and waves with fingers that stretch and stretch and stretch. She tilts her head at an 87 degree angle. “Perhaps,” she says, “this was a good thing.”

What the hell are you? Actual-Handong takes a step back. What the hell are you doing?

The thing in front of her grabs her hand and pulls her towards itself. “You were struggling, so I figured I’d… coagulate, I suppose, to make things easier for you.” It leans down. It’s gotten taller. “Humans like to see what they’re talking to. You were human, no?”

Its teeth are pointy. Handong nods rapidly. Last time I checked.

“Well, he got part of it right.” It slinks back, shrinks to a regular form, lets go of Handong’s wrist. “Human. Forgot the rest of it. Oh, well.” Its smile falls; Handong gets the distinct feeling that she’s being studied. She curls her hands into her chest.

I am dead , she finds herself thinking again. Oh, Christ, I am dead.

It sighs. “You’ll get over this eventually,” it says. An idea lights up its eyes - for a second, it has too many. “Perhaps I can help with that?” It slinks around her, both cat-like and not at the same time. “Or at least, I can ease the pain .” It disappears behind her back.

Help me? Ease the pain? Handong tilts her head to look at it, but it comes up around the other side, one of its hands pressing her shoulder to her side, the other two gesturing into space.

“What do you miss the most right now? Friends, family, a lover or two, money? Revenge?” It spins around in front of her. It still looks like her. “There must be something .”

She takes a step back, her shoulders hiking to her ears. Everything? she thinks. Breathing?

It purses its lips, teeth seeming to slip through its skin. “Come, I can’t do everything, yet.” It tilts its head. “In time, perhaps.” Taps her forehead with enough force to push her backwards. “Think.”

Handong feels her feet go out from under her. The next thing she knows, she is falling, falling, falling. She doesn’t hit the ground. There is no ground to hit. She shuts her eyes.

“There must be something ,” it repeats, both far too close and impossibly far away from her ears.

Images pass behind her eyelids: her family, eating food in a restaurant; a walk in the woods at dusk, her best friend by her side; a bike ride through Seoul, the wind in her hair; a late night conversation with her roommate, sharing a giant bucket of cheese puffs. Her roommate giggles and throws one of the puffs at her. Her roommate’s name is Gahyeon.

That name is on her lips when she stops falling abruptly.

“Oh?” it coos. One arm is looped under Handong’s back, the other holds her wrist. It leans over her, as if it's her partner in a tango. “This… Gahyeon?”

She shakes her head. No, not just Gahyeon. Bora and Siyeon and Minji and Yoohyeon and Yoobin too. All of them. All of my friends. I never got to say good-bye. She leans upwards. I was only supposed to be gone for two weeks.

It grins. “Your friends,” it says. “Yes, I believe I can do that.” It lets go of Handong. “In exchange, however, you have to do something for me.”

This feels like a trap.

“What can I do that hasn’t already been done to you? You’re already dead.” It crosses its arms, its head bobbing. “I can’t banish you to hell, I can’t blink you out of existence.”

What do you want me to do? Handong tries desperately to read it, but its face is rippling and glitching.

It sighs. “To be honest, your soul is already mine- that’s why you’re here. If you promise to stay, and give me help when I need it, I can return you to your friends.” It sticks out one of its four hands to shake. “I won’t ask for much, I can swear that to you.” It smiles. “Do we have a deal?”

Handong narrows her eyes. What will you want me to do?

“Nothing out of the ordinary. No murder . I won’t need that.” It sprouts two more arms and wiggles its outstretched hand. “Do we have a deal, Miss Handong?”

She swallows, staring at the thing in front of her. Alarm bells ring-ring-ring throughout her entire body. She shouldn’t.

Except she’ll be stuck here for eternity otherwise.

She looks it right in its fluctuating number of eyes and shakes its hand with a firm, business-man like grip. “Deal,” she says. It’s the first word she’s actually managed to speak.

" Pleasure doing business with you,” it says. And then it disappears.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

It doesn’t come back for some time, though Handong isn’t sure how much. She tries to count the passing of time, but every time she does, she loses track before she even hits fifty. She’s not even sure if time is real. Is it? Is she? Is any of this?

Clearly, something is, or else she wouldn’t be feeling right now, right?

Except, she’s dead.

S he is definitely dead.

“Your friends,” it says, this time without forming - Handong finds herself forever grateful for that. “They seem to be handling you poorly.”

I wouldn’t blame them , she thinks.

“Would you like to see?” Something hand-like taps her shoulder. “I can show you.”

How? Handong flinches, like she always does when it touches her. You can do that?

It laughs. “Not all the time, dear. Or else I would have offered by now.”

A flash of white light cuts through the nothingness. She shields her eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. A whimper escapes the back of her throat. It’s the common room. It’s the common room in the dorm, and there, sitting in a circle of chairs - Yoobin, then Siyeon and Bora on the other side, and then there’s Yoohyeon and Gahyeon and Minji on the couch, and they are all staring at her. “Hey,” she squeaks, and she reaches out her hand towards the vision. Her fingers seem to phase away.

It sighs. “They can’t see you , Miss Handong. They can’t hear you, either.” Its long fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her hand back towards her body. “It is not you who is seeing right now.”

Then… What is? You? Handong wants to cry. They’re right there. They’re so close. She could touch them, except she can’t.

" He might be a complete wackjob, but he’s sure helpful for you ,” it says. “It’s awfully convenient of him to be a police officer, don’t you think?”

There’s a chill starting at the bottom of her spine. Oh. Yes. Him. She watches through his eyes while he swings his gaze from person to person. How is this happening?

It runs a hand down her shoulder. “His soul’s mine, you forget. He’s basically a puppet at this point.” The hand stops at her elbow. “Something wrong?”

“Wednesday?” Yoohyeon is saying.

A puppet . Handong goes rigid.

“Exactly. He does what I ask and nothing more. He’s yet to run his course.” It pats her head, like she’s a pet. “You’ll find that he’s very useful, dear.”

He’s seeing Yoohyeon on Wednesday .

“Indeed he is.”

Alone.

“Right again.”

Handong steps away from where she thinks the hands are coming from, even though it’s pointless; they’ll find her anyway. Hang on. Is this some kind of exchange? Her body for mine? We didn’t agree to that.

Hands, hands everywhere - on her cheek, on her chin, in her hair. “You’ll find out. Relax. I promise you will see your friends again.”

The vision snaps back to nothingness, leaving her completely alone. And… How will that happen?

I t simply laughs. Handong lunges, trying desperately to grab one of the hands that feel so goddamn real, but there’s nothing there, nothing; they slip from her grip, and she only stumbles. What does that fucking mean? I don’t want more people to die!

“You will get what you want,” it says. Now the hands are behind her, tangling in her hair and holding her by the back of her gown. “I promise .”

She twists her head around and finds herself once again looking into her own face, looking into her own eyes, and her own smile, and then it shimmers and suddenly it is all teeth and eyes and hair flowing in a breeze that isn’t there-

The hands release her.

She falls.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

By the time she hits the ground, it’s been so long that she's forgotten what it feels like to stand on something solid. She sits there, in a heap of white gown and blonde hair, until there’s this new thought that ripples out through the darkness.

Stop , they think, and their voice is familiar.

Handong lifts her head and sweeps her hair out of her face. Where has she heard them before?

Please, stop.

She whips her head around, a name bubbling to her lips. Yoohyeon? she thinks, scrambling to her feet. Yoohyeon! Oh, God, no!

She spins around and comes face to face with a horrible, bloody mess - scraped legs and arms, not to mention a gory stump where the head is supposed to be. Her hands fly to her mouth. What happened to you? she thinks.

Slowly, almost as if Jell-O being poured into a mold, layer by layer, Yoohyeon’s head reforms, bottom up. Handong? Is that you? she is thinking, and then her eyes form, and her mouth drops open, and she screams. Handong! Handong, Handong, holy shit , I thought you were dead!

She runs forward and wraps the other girl in a hug; Handong sinks into it. Christ, it’s so nice to feel limbs that are real.

Where are we? Yoohyeon thinks, rocking back and forth. Last thing I remember, I was...

She freezes, and steps back, and pulls away. Handong tries to smile. I don’t know myself, she thinks. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The last thing I felt was… And then I was here.

Yoohyeon’s eyes widen. Oh, no. You’re dead. I’m dead. We’re both dead. She touches her hand to her own face. Is this hell?

It says it’s not, but I’m not entirely unconvinced.

What says its not? Yoohyeon tilts her head.

“Oh, that was unexpected,” it says, announcing its presence with a booming voice that makes Yoohyeon flinch. “I was worried, that the car wouldn’t send you here.”

What the fuck?

Handong holds her hand out to the younger girl, who gladly accepts it. She wraps her other arm around the girl’s shoulders. It , she thinks.

It laughs, circling around and around the two of them. “Handong, this might be your doing. I’m proud of you.” Its voice stops somewhere in front of them. This time, when it chooses to form, it’s taller than the both of them, and its features swirl and glitch between both of their faces. “Greetings, Kim Yoohyeon.”

You’re definitely not God , Yoohyeon says. She pushes into Handong. You’re definitely not God.

“You’re a smart one. I like that.” It grins. The edges of it spill off its face. “Correct. I’m not God, yet.” It sidles over and touches Handong’s cheek with one of its many hands. “But with the help of your friend here, I may yet become one.”

Hang on . Handong tries to arch her head away, but its fingers are stuck like glue. I didn’t agree to that.

It laughs. “Oh, but you said you’d help me with whatever I ask, didn’t you?” it coos. “In exchange for your friends?”

What did you do? Yoohyeon asks. She wriggles free from Handong’s arm and stares at her. Did you make a deal with the Devil?

Handong shakes her head. “ A devil,” it says. “I’m nowhere near so important yet.”

You never told me that! Handong grabs its wrist and peels its fingers off of her face. You never told me that once!

“I didn’t think I had to. You seemed intelligent enough.” Its five eyes glitter, and it shoves her to the ground. She collapses in a pile. “I wasn’t expecting your desperation to cloud you so thoroughly.” It sighs. “Humans. Always so emotional.”

Handong , Yoohyeon thinks, and she puts her hand on Handong’s shoulder; at least, Handong hopes it's her putting her hand on her shoulder. Oh, God, Handong.

God can’t help us anymore.

“God never could.”

Handong lifts her head and stares at the monster still standing away from her. You told me I’d get what I want. And I don’t want more people to die.

It shakes its head. “Too bad, dear. You forgot that part of the original agreement. That is on you.”

Can I do something? Yoohyeon thinks, pushing herself back to her feet. She juts her chin out. Can I make my own deal?

Yoohyeon, don’t-

She holds her hand up and smiles at Handong. “What are you thinking of?” it asks.

Yoohyeon shrugs. You can have my soul, in exchange for our lives. Then, you get my soul and hers and whoever else you have, and we can fulfill both agreements. Right?

Handong curls her hands into fists.

It doesn’t answer for a moment, just thinks, and then it starts to laugh. It laughs so loud and so hard that its face splits in two. “Oh, if only it were that easy !” it sings, once it has calmed down. “Unfortunately, I can’t take on any more before I fulfill this one. Simply the nature of the deal.” It approaches Yoohyeon and lifts her chin higher up. “Keep that in mind, child, for the next time.”

And it vanishes, and Handong lets out a strangled sob. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry , she thinks over and over again.

Yoohyeon drops down next to her, cross legged. I… Well, I can’t say it’s okay, because it’s clearly not. Handong crawls over and puts her head in her lap. But! We’ll get out of this somehow. Yoohyeon puts her hand on Handong’s hair. We have to. There’s no way we can’t stay stuck like this… Forever.

Handong sniffs. You think so?

I know so. Besides, there’s two of us now. Two heads is always better than one, right?

Handong wishes she could have Yoohyeon’s optimism. Yeah. Right.

She hides her face in her hands and sobs.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Things change faster this time; at least, it feels like they do. Maybe it's just the presence of a friend. Or maybe things are speeding up. Handong doesn't know anymore which one she'd prefer. On the one hand, this needs to stop, this needs to be over with already. On the other, she hates that it means more people would die. She'd rather stop existing entirely at this point. But it won't let her change anything at this point. Stupid devils and their contracts. Stupid Handong for believing something too good to be true.

Yoohyeon isn't adjusting to this very well. The younger girl paces and paces and paces, searching for a way out or something . She has her arms out, feeling for a wall. At one point, she walks off in one direction and reappears on the other side, like she is Pac-Man and this is the maze. But she doesn't give up. She keeps walking. Handong, meanwhile, has sat down and refuses to get up.

C'mon , Yoohyeon says after some time. She squats next to her and holds her hand out. You can't have given up already.

Handong smiles wanly. Clearly, you don't know me at all. This is my fault. I can't fix it. Nothing to do but wait.

Yoohyeon sighs, folds her arms. You're kidding. There's always a way out. That's what all the stories say.

Yeah, well, this isn't a story. Handong curls her knees up into a ball. Who's the hero? Because it sure as hell wasn't me, and it's not you.

The younger girl tilts her head and drops next to her. Minji, maybe? She'd be cut out to be a hero. She leans her head on Handong's shoulder.

Handong nudges her side. You're just saying that because you're in love with her.

Shut up. I am not.

Oh? Really? You're going to-

Handong? Is that you? says a new voice. A new familiar voice. Handong and Yoohyeon jump to their feet in unison. Wh- Where am I?

Bora! Yoohyeon says, and she claps her hand over her mouth. How did- What are you doing here?

Handong whips her head around, searching the void for the presence of her friend. There, slumped as if sitting, is the older girl. Blood trickles down her hands, from her wrist - Handong's eyes widen as she watches it. It evaporates into pink mist and leaves her skin smooth and unmarred. Bora sits up and stares at the two of them. Yoohyeon, too, huh? Oh, no.

Yoohyeon runs towards her and drops to her knees. It- It's good to see you again, sort of. I guess. I missed you. This isn't good.

Please tell me you didn't kill yourself , Handong thinks, approaching more cautiously.

Bora wraps an arm around Yoohyeon's shoulder; a sad smile spreads on her face. Right now, I don't remember why I did it. Guilt? Anger? Fear? I don't know. I'm sorry, guys. I failed everyone. She tenses up while Yoohyeon squeezes. I didn't expect to end up here. Where is here?

Handong pulls Yoohyeon off and motions her hand out for Bora. Purgatory , she thinks. At least, I'm pretty sure. It says it's not hell, but it sure feels like it.

A devil's domain, Yoohyeon says. So, maybe a hell .

"This is very interesting," it says. It's voice is now all of theirs, a grating blend that scratches at Handong's ears and stabs at her soul. "It appears we may be joined by three tonight. Perhaps this will be over sooner than I thought." Fingers wrap around Handong's wrist and tug her away from her friends. "Would you like to watch?"

Watch what? Yoohyeon asks.

"I'm afraid I can't show you, my dear." It sounds almost apologetic. "See, your soul isn't mine , per se. And neither is yours, Kim Bora. You're only here because of-" it grabs Handong by the chin and twists her around; a different finger pokes into her cheek, a different hand tangles in her hair- " this one's deal with me. If you want to blame anyone, blame her." Handong flinches and tries to squirm away, but she's held fast. "As such, I can't touch you, can't show you what she sees. Perhaps that will change - but that is up to you."

Bora presses her hands to her temples, her eyes widening with horror. Handong, you made a deal with the fucking devil.

A devil, Yoohyeon corrects. The devil wouldn't need to do this, I don't think.

"You're a smart girl, Yoohyeon." It laughs. "We could be excellent partners, but that is for later. Shiang still has his contract to fulfill, after all." It spins Handong around so she's facing another white void. "Speaking of which, things are getting very interesting."

Handong, you- Bora sounds like she's struggling to grasp this. You seriously-

Calm down, Bora, Yoohyeon says.

In my defense - Handong tries to lift her hand, but now that is pinned to her side- I had just died and I was vulnerable. It preyed on me.

What the hell did you expect a devil to do? Bora shouts.

"Silence," it snarls, as the void fills with an image. There's a forest, and someone standing on a porch, and Handong realizes with growing horror that she's looking through his eyes again and this is the place where she died. It's difficult to see in the dark, but there are three bodies out there. She squirms to try and get closer. Then, he lifts a gun and fires.

"You couldn't possibly think you were the only ones with a gun," he says, at the same time as Siyeon's scream splits the air.

No! Handong finally breaks free of its iron grip on her and runs forward. She reaches her hands into the void. Siyeon- That must be Yoobin- No, no, no! They need to move! Run, you idiots! You're going to die!

It laughs. "See what I mean? Isn't this fascinating? I wasn't expecting this from them."

What are they doing? Yoohyeon asks. Handong doesn't tear her gaze from the images in front of her. What's happening?

"What did we do to you?" Yoobin asks. Her voice is raw with emotion. It looks like she's holding a gun. Handong curls her fingers into fists.

Please, get out of there. Run. Don't do anything stupid. She feels a cry bubbling in the back of her throat. She bites it back.

They're fighting back? Bora asks. Against the fucker that killed you guys?

Oh, no, Yoohyeon says. That's not good.

"Listen to him, spouting lies," the devil mutters. It sounds like its rolling its eyes. "He has no idea why this is happening. I wonder how he'd react if he knew this was for you ." It loops at least three arms around her shoulder and chest and torso. Thank God she can't see it. "Let's see, how will this-"

Suddenly, it drops her, and she stumbles. The image in front of her flickers, as if changing cameras. Suddenly, Handong is looking up at an angry, blood-spattered Siyeon, with tears streaking her face, and shaking hands. "That- Hang on, that wasn't supposed to happen," the devil says. "How the fuck did that happen?"

What's going on? Yoohyeon asks.

The image flickers back to Shiang's perspective. "Chinmae!" he shouts, and Handong's face splits into a grin involuntarily.

Siyeon killed someone! she says. She killed his partner!

One down, one to go! Bora cries.

The devil digs its fingers into Handong's wrists. "This changes nothing," it says, its raspy voice more of a hiss than anything else. "This only delays the inevitable-"

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

He stumbles backward, looks down. Blood is bursting from a wound that he presses a bandaged hand to; his arm is looped around a crutch. He lifts his head and raises the gun again. Handong whimpers. Run, run, get out of there. Come back to them. You can do it.

It squeezes her wrist. "You are a fool, Handong."

C'mon, Yoobin! Yoohyeon cheers. C'mon, Siyeon! Kick his ass! Yeah!

How do you know they're winning? Bora asks.

I don't. I'm just hoping. I'm hoping really, really hard.

There were three bodies standing a moment ago. Now there is only one - Yoobin, it's Yoobin, she's running, finally. She turns tail and runs back into the blackness. Handong winces at the sound of glass shattering. Maybe we can win yet , she thinks, letting herself have a bit of hope. There's a chance.

Hand or elbow or fist or something smacks her chest. She stumbles backwards - ah, great, time to fall again- only to be caught by Bora. Someone's a sore loser, the smaller girl teases. She helps Handong to her feet.

It growls, coagulates. Its head is far too wide with features that shift and melt between the three of them; its teeth are sharp and numerous; it's got seven, eight arms and counting. Bora grabs Handong's hand. "You forget who you're dealing with," it spits.

Yoohyeon crosses over to Bora's other side and links arms with her. No one, yet , she says, raising an eyebrow. That's what you told us, at least.

Yes, you're nobody. Handong squeezes Bora's hand. No god, no devil. Nobody.

Bora smirks. A pathetic little nobody that preys on vulnerable humans.

For the first time since her death, Handong feels something other than weakness. A small smile creeps on her face.

It doesn't respond. Slowly, its face shifts to a reasonable size, wiped clean of features save for a single black eye in the middle of its forehead. It makes a noise, like a hum, like a buzz, like a mechanical whirr . Then, its mouth opens - a black, gaping maw, toothless, dripping ooze - in a sort of smile, and then it is gone.

Did… Is it dead? Bora asks. Did we kill it?

Handong shakes her head. No, it just does that. It comes and goes. It's probably always here.

Fuck, is this what death feels like? asks a new voice, and the trio drops each other's hands. This is awful.

Handong turns around, searching for Siyeon's appearance. There's a body lying somewhere in the distance; it sits up, and it's Siyeon, without a doubt. Bora takes off at a run and tackles her so they're both on the ground again. Welcome to the party, Yoohyeon says. Sorry you have to be here.

I'm so sorry, I failed you, I know you were worried because you're not subtle, Bora babbles. Siyeon struggles to sit up under her. I regretted it as soon as I did it but it's okay, I guess, because now we're all here.

Siyeon puts her hand on Bora's face. I knew it, she says. Handong and Yoohyeon exchange a quick look - the younger girl shrugs. Where is here, by the way?

Why don't you ask Handong? Yoohyeon says, motioning at her.

Bora backs away to let Siyeon stand; Handong withers under her gaze. Right, okay. Welcome to purgatory. She looks at her hands. I was sacrificed by Shiang to some deity-devil-thing that won't share its name, and then in a panic, I made a deal with it I shouldn't have, which is how the other two ended up here. Points to Yoohyeon. But you, you were killed by Shiang, so… Even if I hadn't said anything, you'd be here.

Siyeon's face falls. You… You what? She walks forward, lifts her hands, stares Handong in the eyes. No, you didn't.

I'm sorry. Handong drops her gaze. This is all my fault. If I hadn't opened my mouth, none of this would've happened.

Siyeon wraps her arms around her in a tight, squeezing hug. You idiot , she says. It's good to see you again. I just wish it wasn't like this.

Handong buries her head in her friend's neck. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Well, hey. Yoohyeon claps her hands. Now there's four of us. Four is better than two. Right?

Right , Bora says. We can get out of here yet.

Something laughs; it echoes around the nothingness. Siyeon squeezes her fingers into Handong's back.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 16: what's your secret?
Gahyeon has never been happier to see a hotel bed in her life. Officer Kim leads the three of them up four floors, to a room with the number 5104, and gives them each a key. He’s saying something when he opens the door, but Gahyeon’s barely paying attention. She staggers into the room and flops face-first on the first bed she sees. It smells like clean linen. She sinks four inches into the mattress.

“Thanks, Dad,” Minji is saying. “We’ll be sure to be careful.”

Someone takes a seat on the other bed. Gahyeon toes her sneakers off and curls up on top of the blankets. “Judging from how quick investigations typically progress, you should be able to return to the dorm in the next three days,” the officer says. He sighs, sounds like he’s smiling. “Someone will be here to check on you every day, just to be safe. Try not to leave the hotel too much. Good night, girls.”

The door clicks shut. Gahyeon sits up and blinks blearily. Minji’s pulling her shoes off at the other bed, and Yoobin is standing next to the television, her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t like this,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t like waiting.”

“Me either,” Minji says. She yawns. “But it’s all we can do at this point.”

Yoobin shakes her head. “That’s not true. We have to move, or else we’ll die.”

Gahyeon picks up a pillow and hugs it like a stuffed animal. “What are you talking about?” she asks. “What can we do? Run away?”

“That’s seriously tempting me right now,” Yoobin says. She taps her finger against her upper arm. “We have to prepare, because… Well, first, I need the gun back…” She’s started to pace, thinking out loud as she does so. Gahyeon tracks her with her eyes and buries her chin in the pillow. “Once we get that, we need some bullets…”

“First, we need to sleep,” Minji says. “We can discuss this in the morning.”

Yoobin sighs. “No, first I need to get back to the dorm and get the gun back. If they investigate and find it and trace it to me, I’ll be thrown in jail, and you’ll no longer be able to defend yourself, and you’ll be sitting ducks.” She combs her fingers through her hair. “If we can get there tonight, that’d be best, but I don’t have a car…”

Minji falls backwards on her bed. “Whatever you’re planning, just… Count me out, please. It’s been a long day and I just want to sleep.” She sighs. “I still think it can wait till morning.”

“I threw the gun in the dumpster outside Bora’s window,” Yoobin says. “They’re gonna search there eventually. We need to get it back now…” She stops her pacing by the window, pushes the curtain aside. “Except it’ll take God-only-knows how long to walk there….” Taps her finger on the glass.

Gahyeon sets the pillow back on the others. “Do you want someone to go with you?” she asks, rubbing her eyes. “Because… I guess I can. I mean, I don’t wanna, but if we have to-”

“We do.” Yoobin steps away from the window. “If we don’t move fast, we’re, well… We’re screwed. I can explain on the way. Unless you want to know now, Minji.”

Minji lifts one of her hands lazily. “You’re not gonna change your mind, no matter what I say,” she mutters. Her eyes are half shut. “I mean, I’d feel better if you just tossed the gun and left it at that, but…”

Yoobin sighs. “I promise you, when this is all over, I will throw the gun into the ocean and we never have to deal with it again. I’ll change my name or cut off my step-dad. I’ll do whatever I need to to make sure this is over and done with for good . Promise.” She holds up her hand. “Pinky swear? I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“You better,” is all Minji says. “Stay safe, guys. I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get back.”

Gahyeon pulls her sneakers back on. “Can we stop at the vending machine? I need a drink. Or else I’ll pass out on the way there.” As if on cue, she yawns, wide and cat-like. She shakes her head, blinks, slides off the bed.

Yoobin nods. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack again, not when he’s injured like that. Unless he has more allies than I think he does, which… I don’t want to think about that.” She waves her hand, beckoning for Gahyeon to follow. “Tonight has been a night .”

“Yeah,” Gahyeon mumbles. They walk out of the room, following the signs to the vending machines. “What happened, by the way?”

Yoobin points at the cameras and shrugs. “In a moment,” she says.

Gahyeon puts in three hundred won for a can of Monster, pops the tab, and takes a sip. Yoobin leads her towards the elevator, then out the back door. They skirt the bushes surrounding the parking lot and stop on the sidewalk. “Remember a week ago? When you got drugged?” the older girl says, without taking her eyes from her phone.

The energy drink is already nearly empty; pure sugar hits Gahyeon’s stomach and sends a jolt through her limbs. “Barely?” she says. “Since I was drugged? Why?”

Yoobin points down the road, and the pair walk down the barely occupied sidewalk. They cling to the streetlights and each other. The slightest noise makes Gahyeon jump. “It starts there,” Yoobin says.

They stop at an intersection, and Yoobin launches into a long, almost unbelievable tale that starts with the bartender from what feels like a lifetime ago and ends with Siyeon stabbing a man to death before bleeding out on the forest floor. Every sentence that falls from Yoobin’s lips shocks Gahyeon more. She digs her fingers into Yoobin’s wrist.

“When I drove off, I’d shot Shiang, but something tells me that won’t stop him for long. He was up and walking after being caught in that car crash literally a day ago. A gunshot is nothing to him.” Yoobin winces and wiggles her hand in Gahyeon’s. “Let go, that’s starting to hurt.”

“Sorry.” Gahyeon drops her hand, flexes her fingers, buries them in the pocket of her hoodie. “So, he’s crazy, huh?”

Yoobin shrugs. “Basically, yes,” she says. She shakes her head slowly. “He thinks he’s doing this for some God or whatever. And that scares me more than the fact that he’s slowly killing all of us.” They’ve been walking for about ten minutes; Gahyeon recognizes this corner store that they’re passing.

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Because that means he’s not going to give up. He believes he has to do this, so he won’t give up until he has . The only way to guarantee that we’re safe is for him to disappear, be it because he’s thrown in jail or dead himself. Even if we run, he could follow us.” Yoobin checks her phone and sighs. “I think that’s the worst part of this.”

Gahyeon feels her blood run cold - or maybe it’s the caffeine suddenly kicking in, she’s not sure and, frankly, she doesn’t care. “So we can’t just… Leave Seoul. We have to leave the country.” She fixes her gaze at the streetlight that marks the entrance to the dormitory parking lot. “I have a friend in Japan we could stay with, at least for a bit. Or maybe we could reach out to Handong’s parents and hide in China. Or… I dunno. The Philippines? No, that isn’t a good idea…”

They round a corner and walk to the back of the dorms, so they’re closer to the dumpster. Yoobin tilts her head. “Japan feels like a good place,” she says, hopping off the curb. “They’re pretty good at protecting people. Can you talk to her tomorrow?”

Gahyeon nods. “Yeah! We talk almost every day, anyway. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” She checks her phone - it’s fast approaching one in the morning. Thank God she only has one class on Fridays. She doubts she’ll be awake before noon - and anyway, she won’t be able to attend, she doesn’t have her laptop. She needs to sleep. Her brain is starting to shut down.

“We’ll talk to Minji about it tomorrow,” Yoobin is saying as she walks back towards the dumpsters. She lifts her phone up and uses it as a flashlight. “I can’t see her having a problem with it. She’d like it best if no one else died, anyway. Crap, my phone’s almost dead…” She hops up on her tiptoes. Gahyeon looks over her shoulder to see if anyone’s coming. It’s eerily quiet, even for one in the morning; the road sounds muffled from here. She turns back around when Yoobin pops herself up onto the dumpster with a loud bang .

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

“Shouldn’t you be more careful? What if someone sees us?” she hisses.

Yoobin sways back and forth on the edge of the dumpster. “Well, I have a place to hide. Do you?” With that, she leans down, and Gahyeon rubs her hands together impatiently. Despite the Monster-induced electricity coursing through her veins, she still feels ready to topple over at any moment. She hops up and down to keep herself awake.

“So, I have another question.”

“Mm, yeah?” Yoobin swings off the dumpster, flashing what’s definitely the gun briefly in front of the light before shoving it in her pocket. “What’s up?”

She jogs down to the younger girl, who shrugs. “Oh, just… What’s your secret?” she asks, staring at her. “Like, why do you know how to do this? What’s with the gun in the first place? There’s a chance we’re going to die in the next three days. Might as well learn now.”

Yoobin puffs out a heavy breath. “I knew I was going to have to do this eventually,” she mutters, more to herself then Gahyeon. “It’s a really long story.”

“We have half an hour and all of tomorrow.”

They pause at the corner. Yoobin has a look in her eyes, like she’s trying to figure out where to begin. She cocks her head to one side, waves her hand, shrugs. “It’s… I don’t like my family,” she says. Pauses. “Dad, he had… Habits, y’know. He kept getting into trouble with the wrong people, from before I was born, on. And sometimes he’d get hurt. And sometimes they’d hurt my mom. Y’know, typical shit.” Stuffs her hands in her pockets. “Eventually, Mom hit her limit. They got divorced. She remarried. And I was like, ten. Mom thought we’d left this all behind.” Sighs. “We hadn’t.

“Turns out, some of Dad’s bullshit had gotten him connected to, well, gangs, and stuff like that. And by the time he was gone, it was too late - all of it was connected to us, and we were targets. Especially me.” She gestures at her face and sighs grimly. “I’ve always looked like him - apparently, the resemblance is strong enough that others noticed it too. And that makes my life especially dangerous, at least, at night. It’s why I moved here, instead of sticking by my family. I was hoping I could just cut off my family and start my own life in Seoul, but then I went to visit, Mom gave me the gun because she said Seoul was getting dangerous for girls like me , which was… At the time, I didn’t know what it meant. But it probably had something to do with my father.

“She was misinterpreting something she saw on the news. Really, I was in no danger. And the reason we’re targets now has nothing to do with him . And that scares me.” She shrugs. “Everything scares me. But we can’t stop moving.” Tilts her head. “I think maybe this is a sign that I should have moved out of the country years ago. When I was first looking to get out of there, I thought about moving to Japan But I didn’t. Maybe it’s time. Maybe I should have. Not that this is my fault, I don’t think I’m that important, but…” Kicks a pebble into the road. “Sometimes, I think about it. And that’s that.” She stops at another corner, checks the map on her phone. “That’s my secret.”

Gahyeon stares at her, her eyes wide as dinner plates. Every word that she hears, every sentence… It feels like a story, like she’s stumbled into some kind of TV show. Except Yoobin’s face tells her that it’s the truth, and the older girl’s not one for lying , just not saying things. Gahyeon drops her gaze to the cracked sidewalk at her feet. “Holy shit, dude,” she says, after a long, almost unbearable pause. “You… Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Yoobin smiles wanly. “Oh? What were you expecting?”

Gahyeon shakes her head, shrugs. “I don’t even know, just... Not that. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I don’t know what to say.” She yawns. “Sorry, this is a lot to take in at one in the morning.”

“It’s a lot to take in at any time. You’re fine, Gahyeon.” Yoobin loops her arm through the younger girl’s. “Thank you.”

Gahyeon blinks. “For what?” she asks. They’re about halfway to the hotel at this point.

“For listening. You’re the first person I’ve told this to. I think…” Yoobin laughs drily. “I think that was my problem, keeping it bottled up. My head’s clearer. At least, it feels like it.”

Gahyeon nudges her side. “Maybe you’re just delirious,” she says. “It’s been a long day.”

Yoobin nods. “You can say that again. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” She sweeps a hand through her hair. “I need to shower.”

“Sure thing,” Gahyeon says. Then, she cocks her head to the side and smiles. “You know what I think? I think everything’s going to be okay.” And she means it.

Yoobin raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” she asks.

Gahyeon shrugs, pulls her arm from Yoobin’s, laces their fingers together. “Because we have a plan,” she says. “Or at least, the beginnings of one. Because we’re safe for right now. And because we made it this far, right? He’s injured, we’re not. We’re free to move around, he’s not. The odds are in our favor, if you think about it.” She squeezes Yoobin’s hand. “We just… Have to keep moving.”

They pass by an alleyway; something within clatters, then hisses. Stray cat, most likely. Yoobin nods, albeit hesitantly. “Yes,” she says. “You’re right. Yes.” A soft smile spreads on her face.

They walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence; even the anxious thoughts bouncing around Gahyeon’s brain have quieted. She swings Yoobin’s hand back and forth as they walk. Just have to keep moving. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

They walk back in through the back entrance of the hotel without arousing any suspicion. Sure enough, Minji’s snoring away in the far bed. In the dim light from the hallway, it doesn’t even look like she changed. Gahyeon tiptoes into the room and the other bed, slips under the covers. She wiggles out of her hoodie and hangs it on the bedpost.

Sleep takes her as soon as her head hits the pillow.

In her dreams, she falls. Nothingness surrounds her; there is nothing for her to hold on to. Voices flicker around her head, but she can’t make out the words, nor who they belong to. She falls, and falls, and falls.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 17: haunted

"And how much will that be?" Minji asks into the phone early next morning. The dim light of the alarm clock says 7:34.

"I believe, Miss Kim, all expenses are covered for the next few days, due to the circumstances of your stay here," says the receptionist. "Your food will be delivered shortly."

"Thank you," Minji says, as the receptionist hangs up. The hotel room is eerily quiet. She looks over at the other bed, at the sleeping girl curled up within it; tucked into a ball like she is, Gahyeon looks half her age, small and innocent. Minji tears her eyes away and rolls over onto her back. On the couch to her left is a quietly snoring Yoobin. She's half dangling off the couch. It doesn't look comfortable.

Minji sighs. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it, drops it on her chest. She doesn't have a single notification. She wasn't expecting to, but she still hopes. Still dreams.

Her eyes flutter shut. She should try and get back to sleep, but the image of her nightmare haunts her. She can’t recall the details at this point, but the feeling remains, resonating around her skull like a ping pong ball. Snippets of voices play back in her head - Handong’s, Yoohyeon’s, Siyeon’s, Bora’s, her father, his voice - but the words are unintelligible. They’re gibberish. Meaningless drivel. And yet…

She throws her hand over her forehead. Perhaps she’s just anxious, because she’s definitely overthinking. Dreams are meaningless, after all. Just your brain trying to process the events of the day. Nothing more, nothing less.

7:40. She’s running on six hours of fitful sleep. At least she’s got nothing to do today.

Yoobin snorts, making Minji jump. She sits up and blinks blearily. “What time is it?” she mumbles.

Minji’s not entirely sure she’s awake. “Seven thirty,” she says, through a yawn of her own. “When did you get back?”

Yoobin pulls herself onto the couch, tucks the thin hotel blanket around her legs. “Two?” she says. She shrugs and curls up again. “Dunno.”

“Did you…” Minji struggles to finish the sentence. The gun leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

“Mm-hm.” The younger girl pulls the blanket over her head. “Everything’s… Gonna be… Fine.”

Minji watches her drift back to sleep and sighs. “Yeah,” she says, to no one but herself. She wishes she could go back to sleep. Once again, she finds herself picking up her phone. This time, she opens YouTube.

The silence is killing her. She plugs in her earbuds and waits for breakfast to arrive.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

The others don’t wake up to a functional degree until noon. Sure, Gahyeon’s awake by ten-thirty, but she spends half an hour on her phone and another forty minutes using up all the hot water in the shower. Yoobin’s like a log, unable to be woken up by anything, which is quite unlike her. Minji chalks it up to stress and doesn’t question it.

They order more room service, lament their lack of fresh laundry - Gahyeon’s made up for it by wrapping herself in a bedsheet-towel-toga thing, and they laugh for a bit - watch the news. They don’t talk about the night before, not for a while.

Eventually, Minji breaks the silence. Not having a plan is getting to her; anxiety has sunk into the bottom of her stomach, and it threatens to make her lose her breakfast. “So,” she says, turning the volume on the TV down, much to Gahyeon’s squeak of protest, “what are we doing now?”

She looks between her two companions, who are both looking elsewhere. “Watching TV,” Gahyeon says. She smiles a bit.

Minji rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant,” she says. “With… The future. What are we doing next?”

“We can’t stay in Seoul,” Yoobin says. She clasps her fingers together and stretches. “That’s a given. So we need to get out of here, at least temporarily.”

Minji tilts her head. “I have family out in the countryside. They’d be willing to take me in, at least. I’m sure I can convince them about the rest of you.”

Gahyeon lifts up her phone. “I have a friend in Tokyo. She hasn’t gotten back to me yet, but I think we’ll be fine?” She taps the screen a few times. “She’s nice, at least.”

“And if we can’t leave?” Minji asks. She drops her gaze to her hands. “What then?”

Yoobin sighs, pushing herself to her feet. She steps over to the nightstand next to Minji’s bed and pulls it open. “Then we need more bullets,” she mutters. From out of the drawer she takes the gun. Minji flinches. “I wouldn’t mind having more, anyway.” Yoobin pops the gun open, squints into it. “I’m down to… one.” Swallows. “And I’d have to be damn lucky to kill him with one-”

“We’re not killing anyone!” Minji says. Her hands fly up almost involuntarily; she grabs Yoobin’s wrists. “We’re not killing anyone. No one else is going to die .” Panic seizes at her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“Let go, Minji,” Yoobin says coolly. She wiggles her way free from her grip. “I don’t want to kill him, either, but we need to be prepared .” Sets the gun back in the drawer, shuts it. “That’s all I’m suggesting. No more, no less.”

Gahyeon clears her throat and shifts. She’s clinging to her pillow. “I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice,” she says. “I mean, I don’t want to kill anyone, either, but… But… If it came down to one of us dying or him dying, it’s obvious.” She smiles grimly. “Okay, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to suffer. I don’t think I could do it, though.”

Minji bits her lip. “When would we leave?” she asks, changing the subject. “We should at least get some stuff before we go.”

“I don’t think we have a place yet,” Gahyeon says. She drops her gaze to her phone. “Tamako hasn’t replied.”

Yoobin shrugs. “As soon as we can?” she offers, stepping back to the couch and dropping onto it. “Once we get back in the dorms, at least. We do need stuff. We can’t just… Leave. As tempting as it is.” She flexes her hands together. “When does she normally wake up?”

Gahyeon smiles wanly. “Like, two. She’s an artist. You know what their sleep schedules are like.”

“Aren’t you an artist, too?” Minji cocks an eyebrow. “Technically?”

The younger girl shrugs and falls back onto the bed. “I rest my case.”

Minji sighs. “Look, we can’t do anything until we know for sure where we’re going,” Yoobin says. “So… When we get back to the dorms, maybe a day? How long will it take to buy plane tickets? Or get a working car? We’d need Siyeon’s keys for the SUV and…” She trails off and doesn’t finish that sentence.

Minji lifts her phone up. After several hours of near consistent use, it’s already almost out of juice. “Well, we can solve that problem later,” she says, just as her phone rings in her hand. It startles her; she jumps. “God dammit, Dad,” she mutters, answering and pressing the phone to her ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

She walks over to the little alcove by the doorway for privacy. Gahyeon gives her a quizzical look as she passes. “So,” her father says, “I was asked to take today off, what with the stress of this all.”

“Oh.” Minji brings a hand to her lips. “That’s… Okay, then.”

He laughs. “You understand why. To be honest, my boss has been nagging me to take a break since… Well, since it all began, but you know how I am. You know how I don’t like sitting still.”

She nods, even though he can’t see her. “Sure do, Dad.”

“Which is why I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me, for some…” He trails off and coughs. “Well, some under the table investigation.”

Minji’s eyes widen. “Dad, isn’t that- Well, that just- What do you mean?”

“Relax. It’s perfectly safe. I’d just take you with me, to investigate this place that your friend mentioned. Originally, they were planning on checking it out tomorrow but I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s more important than they think, especially when searching for him . If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It’s entirely up to you, Minji.”

She curls her hand into her chest, screws her face up. “It’s…” she begins.

It feels like a bad idea. Part of her is desperately trying to back out of this, say no before she gets herself into a mess that she can’t get out of. And yet, an even louder part of her, the part that speaks, wants her to go. She can’t just sit still. She wants to help.

Besides, it’ll get her away from the conversation about the gun .

“When do you think we’ll go?” she says with resolution.

“I was thinking in the next half an hour, if that’s alright with you. Better to go in the cover of daylight. Harder for people to hide when it’s light out. I’ll come get you, then.”

She nods again. “See you soon, Dad.” And then she hangs up and turns around. Her friends are staring at her expectantly. “What?”

Gahyeon pokes one of her hands out of the blanket. “What’s happening?” she asks, waving her hand. “Where are we going?”

“ We are not going anywhere,” Minji says. “Dad’s picking me up to, uh… Just, go out, I guess.” She stumbles over the words.

Yoobin cocks an eyebrow. “What are you guys going to be doing, Minji?” she asks. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Minji laughs nervously. “Oh, just out. To the place that you went last night, I think. He just wants to do some looking around.”

No one speaks; the room goes silent. “Well, shit,” Gahyeon whispers. “You’re gonna die.”

“No, no!” Minji holds up her hands. “We’re going in broad daylight and besides, he’s a police officer. He can keep me safe. Honestly, he’s more… But- No, no one’s gonna die. I told you.” Curls her fingers into fists. “No one else can die.” Her nails bite into the flesh of her palm. “Ow.”

Yoobin swivels around so she’s lying properly on the couch. “I have faith in your dad,” she says, shrugging. “Not because he’s a cop, but because he’s your dad. And besides -” she lifts her hand and waves it nonchalantly- “Shiang’s recovering from a gunshot wound. And a car crash. He’s either dead, dying, or in hiding. Not even he’d be stupid enough to fight back now . Not when he’s as beat up as he is.”

Minji realizes that she still doesn’t know what happened last night. But that can wait. She shoves the thought out of her mind and nods enthusiastically. “Y-Yeah, exactly. I’ll be fine. Promise.” She smiles, holds up her little finger. “Pinky swear. I’m gonna come back tonight.”

Gahyeon shuffles her way to the end of the bed to complete the promise. “Well now you’re just tempting fate,” she chirps, but she’s smiling, even so. “If you die, I’m going to astral project into heaven and beat your ass, or whatever happens when you die.”

Minji rolls her eyes. “I promise you won’t need to do that. But I will accept it. If you have to.”

“You better.” Gahyeon feigns throwing a punch. “Oh, hey - what if you asked your dad for bullets?” She drops the blanket from around her shoulders, squeaks, scurries to pick it back up again.

Minji grimaces. “What? No?” she says, at the same time that Yoobin says, “Well…”

She whirls to face the younger girl, waves her hands frantically. “Are you crazy? I can’t ask my dad for bullets . I already lied to him about the gun .” She scrubs her hands down her face. “Which is a literal crime. We’d all go to jail for that.”

“So don’t ask, then,” Gahyeon says. She shrugs, as if that’s the simplest thing in the world. “Just grab ‘em.”

Minji gapes. “ Steal bullets ? From my father ? Who is a police officer ?” She counts on her fingers. “That’s at least three separate crimes. No.”

“Only if you get caught!”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “That’s not how it works, Gahyeon. It’s still a crime.”

“And this is just a suggestion,” Yoobin says. Her eyes are trained on the television again. “It’s not important, anyway. We can always figure something out - if we’re lucky, we won’t even need them, in the first place.”

This feels like a trap. Minji sighs and drops back on the bed. “I’ll let you guys know what happens,” she says, plugging her phone in.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Her father comes to get her in half an hour, just like he said he would. Minji feels a pang of regret at the thought of leaving her friends behind, but she pushes the thoughts out of her mind. She needs a break, anyway. She’s losing her mind staying in this hotel room. It’s like quarantine all over again.

The first five minutes of the car ride pass in an awkward silence.

“Alright, Minji,” her father says as they turn onto the main road. “What’s on your mind?”

She fidgets, presses her forehead against the window, shrugs. “Just… Stressed, I guess,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “I’m sick of this. Sick of losing people. Sick of fear.”

Her father sighs, a solemn look in his eyes. “I understand,” he says. “This isn’t easy. Or natural. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with this right now… In a way, it feels like I failed you. I’m your father. I should have been able to protect you and all of your friends. And… I didn’t.” Shakes his head slowly. “It’s pointless to apologize, but I must. Words can’t bring people back to life but… I’m sorry, Minji.”

She looks at him. “For… What?”

“Part of this is my fault. Or at least, it feels like it is.” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “If I’d trusted my gut, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. And for that, I will forever be sorry. I don’t think I will forgive myself.”

Minji’s first instinct is to say It’s okay , because that’s what you’re supposed to do when comforting someone. Except it isn’t okay; he’s not entirely wrong. Misplaced trust got them here. And now they’re in a car driving god knows where to put an end to this.

“You haven’t given up,” she says. “And… You’re doing this for me. Us. All of us.” She gestures around the car. “It’s not okay but… this makes it better. Thank you for doing this.” Smiles wanly. “Even if it’s not a lot. Thank you.”

Her father nods. “Of course. This is the least I can do.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I love you, okay? And your friends, too. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I know, Dad.” She squeezes back. “I know.”

She slowly pulls her hand away from her father’s and turns on the radio, just for the silence to end. A soft, gentle song starts to play. Minji recognizes it immediately as one of Yoohyeon’s favorites; her breath catches in her throat.

She fixes her gaze out the windshield and counts the lampposts they pass. The ghost of her friend’s voice mingles with the singer’s in her ears.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but the woods wasn’t it.

Her father drives down a dirt road, the tires sinking into the mud left behind from the recent rainstorm, and Minji feels a hole open in her stomach. No wonder no one was caught; she doubts anyone’s been down here, besides them, because of the rain, because of how deep they are travelling into the woods. The radio’s started to cut out.

“Are… Are you sure this is the right place?” she asks, squinting over out the window. The trees are getting denser and denser.

Her father hums. “It’s what Yoobin said. Cabin in the woods, take exit thirty-five…” He leans over the steering wheel. “It should appear any minute now…”

He trails off as the car crunches over something. Sitting in front of them is a squat wooden cabin, rotting and old. The porch bows. The windows are dark. Minji has a bad feeling about this.

“Look,” her father says, and he points at the ground. “Tire tracks.”

Minji follows his finger with her eyes. “And broken glass,” she says. The forest floor glitters with the stuff.

He shuts the car off and drops his hands. “Alright. This must be the place, then.” Jerks his hand towards the backseat. “There’s rubber gloves in the first aid kit in the trunk, for emergencies, but we should use them here. Just in case.”

She nods. “Right. Makes sense.” And doesn’t move.

“You know,” he says, already opening his door, “if you want to go back to the hotel, or stay in the car-”

She shakes her head. “No, no. We’re here. I’m staying.” As if to emphasize her resolve, she pushes her door open and steps out. The ground slips under her feet; her sneakers sink into the mud. Wind whistles through the trees and chills her.

The cabin in front of them looks abandoned. Its windows are covered in a thick red cloth that ripples in the breeze. The supports holding up the porch are splintering, peeling away. There are two muddy lines leading up the stairs. She shivers.

“Here,” her father says, offering her a box of gloves. “I’m going to look around out here, just see what’s what.”

Minji takes a pair and fits them on. They cling uncomfortably to her skin. “I think I’ll head inside,” she says. She doesn’t wait for him to respond before walking up there. She takes high steps to avoid sinking into the dirt.

The porch creaks under her weight. There’s a thin layer of mud, slowly drying, leading up the steps and to the door. She reaches out for the doorknob; it eases open on its own, scraping and screeching against the floor. She winces and peers inside.

The lights are out, unsurprisingly, so she takes her phone out to use it as a flashlight. The mud - its blacker than the mud on her sneakers, she realizes - continues down the hall. A once-golden carpet lies bunched up and wrinkled against one of the walls. A small wardrobe cabinet is tilted askew. The door is slightly ajar, revealing a pair of shiny black shoes and a pair of tall boots. Minji picks her way carefully down the hallway.

The hall opens up into a big room, slightly lit by the massive window on the side. It holds a dining table decorated with candles and fake fruit, a large television, a taxidermy deer. A bloody knife is embedded into the wood of the table, with a bloody handprint pressed next to it. More droplets dot the floor immediately next to the chairs. The mud continues to the stairs in front of her.

It’s quiet. It’s so, so goddamn quiet, and Minji’s breath is echoing in her ears. She hops up on her tiptoes and sneaks her way towards the staircase. Not that there’s anyone here to hide from. She hopes. She can’t be too sure.

When she turns her flashlight to the top of the stairs, the light catches on the blade of a large, intricately carved, violet colored hunting knife, dangling from one of its mounts at an odd angle. It sways back and forth with every step she takes. She holds her breath, inches past it.

It falls anyway.

The clatter rings in the too quiet house. She hurries her way towards the first door she sees, pushes it open.

It’s a bedroom. The mud continues beneath her feet, all the way to the bed. The red rug is crumpled and wrinkled. The floor is smeared with dirt and something else. The room reeks with a sickly sweetness. There’s something on the bed, covered completely by a sheet mottled with red and black stains.

She eases towards it. I shouldn’t touch this. Takes another step. I don’t want to see what’s under this.

She grabs the sheets and pulls it aside.

A man’s corpse stares back at her.

Its brown eyes, glassy and sightless, pore into her own from a sunken, shiny face. Its lips are frozen in a scream. Its arms are folded over its chest. Dried blood crusts around an ugly wound on its neck.

She screeches, drops the sheet, staggers backward. Her hand covers her mouth. “O-Oh, oh, God,” she stammers. “Th-That’s a body.”

Her feet get tangled in the carpet. She plummets to the ground with a thud . Her breathing catches in her throat.

Something creaks. She goes dead silent, completely still, but nothing comes. She waits just a moment longer before she pushes herself to her feet and scurries out of the room. Her heart pounds, her legs shake.

That was a body. Someone has brought a body - someone has dragged a body from outside, up the stairs, into the bed. Someone - no, it’s very obvious who , killed someone and put them in the bed.

There is another mud trail on the floor. It continues, down the hall, towards one of the two doors.

Should I? she thinks, and she shouldn’t, she knows she shouldn’t because god knows what she’s seeing down the hallway, but her feet are carrying her there anyway and it’s too late. It’s too late. She needs to know.

At the last second, she stops herself. There’s two doors here - one to the right, one to the left. The mud continues to the left. She pushes open the door to the right.

It’s a bedroom. It’s just a bedroom, she should say, because there is no body in the bed, just a fat metal box overflowing with bandages. Clothes and papers are strewn haphazardly around the room. The bedsheet is stained with blood; droplets decorate the floor. But there is no body in the bed, and clearly, the person who was in the room previously left in a hurry, judging from the mess they made - he made, she tells herself, because she knows exactly who it has to have been.

She tiptoes into the room, her hands curled into her chest. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. Perhaps nothing at all, perhaps she’s just stalling for time. She forces her breathing to slow.

Bright blue ink catches her eye; she glances down on the desk, reaches to pick up the one pieces of paper written in hangul. Four of the things written on it are crossed out, with little notes scrawled on the side. She knows, right away, what they are, without even reading them.

Han Dong. Kim Yoohyeon. Kim Bora. Lee Siyeon. Lee Yoobin. Lee Gahyeon. Kim Minji. ??? Running only delays the inevitable and Yoobin’s death will be fucking sweet.

The paper slips from her fingers and flutters to the ground.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

How did he know my name? What does he mean the inevitable ? What’s going on here?

The door to the closet swings gently, side to side, back and forth. Minji bolts, out of the bedroom and across the hall, without thinking. This time, the door slams shut behind her, and she is left in the dark.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she breathes. Her hands are shaking, shaking so much she’s struggling to pull her phone out of her pocket. She succeeds, turns on the flashlight, regrets it.

In front of her is a small altar, it looks like. Another blade catches the light, reflecting and shining and glittering. Directly beneath it, in the center of the table, is a canine skeleton. It’s stuffed with wilting flowers. Slowly, she inches towards it, more out of curiosity than anything else. She reaches out a finger towards one of the buds.

It crumbles to dust at her mere touch.

She backs away again, taking small steps. Her foot squelches on something; she jumps away. She twists around, trying to see what she stepped on.

A hand. A hand, with blood and mud and dirt crusted in the lines of its palm. It doesn’t move, just lies there. It’s draped in a nice white sleeve.

Minji scans the flashlight up, completely unable to breathe. She recognizes that shirt, though, admittedly, with less blood on it. She recognizes that face, too, even with gory black holes where the eyes are supposed to be. She claps her hand over her mouth. The world tilts.

“Si- Siyeon,” she whimpers. She crouches, stretches a shaking hand towards the body slumped in front of her. “O-Oh god, Siyeon, n-n-no-”

The door slides open. She screams, rockets away towards the alter, slams into it. The bones rattle and shake and drop down around her. “Minji- Minji, it’s just me!” her father says. He shakes his hands. “Are you- What the hell is that?”

Minji drops her hands from her face. “Sorry,” she says, her voice strained. “I’m- It’s-” She points pitifully at the body, which is now half in shadow from the door.

Her father peers around to look. “Oh.”

She starts to move, smacks her head on the table. A foot bone rolls off and bounces off her leg. “I-I think- I’m gonna throw up.” She crawls forward, then stands. Her phone has slipped from her grip. She reaches down to get it.

Siyeon’s body has slumped over further now. Empty eye sockets stare at the floor. Minji squeezes past her father and runs down the stairs and back towards the car. She manages to make it to the treeline before she has to drop to her knees and empty her stomach.

Oh, God. Siyeon’s dead here, and Shiang must have killed her, and him too, and he’s planned all of this, he knows who they are and he’s planned all of this, and he’s not going to stop until they’re all fucking dead , and-

She leans over a puddle of vomit and gasps for breath. Her stomach turns and roils. “ Fuck ,” she moans. She can’t think of anything else to say. She rocks back, wipes her mouth, gags. She needs to settle her nerves. And her gut, before she loses what little else she has in there.

She staggers to her feet, picks her way carefully towards the trunk of the car. There’s a first aid kit in there, right. Perhaps there’s something in there that can help. Pepto-Bismol or an antacid or something. The trunk is still open, just a bit. She pushes it open and reaches for the box that has the first aid kit. It’s next to a black backpack that jingles when she nudges it.

She hesitates for a moment, her hands hovering next to the bag. What… was that? She tugs it towards her. It clanks again.

Curiosity has not gotten her anywhere good today, but she obeys it anyway and unzips the front pocket.

Inside is an open box of what is unmistakably bullets. She picks it up, examines it in the light. A memory lurks in the back of her mind. Yoobin’s voice, Gahyeon’s giggling suggestion to steal something.

“Minji? Are you alright?” her father calls. She pokes her head around the trunk just in time to see him coming down the steps of the porch.

She looks back at the bag. “No?” she says. “I’m just grabbing some- antacids-”

It’s now or never. She shouldn’t do this.

The image of Siyeon’s body floats behind her eyelids when she blinks. Her head is suddenly overwhelmed with the voices of her friends, but she can’t make out the words, can’t figure out what they’re trying to tell her. She swallows.

“We’ll head back now,” he’s saying. “I think… I think I know what I need to do next…”

She grabs the open box, shoves it in the pocket of her hoodie, and slams the trunk shut. “Right,” she says. Her voice is hollow in her chest. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Please.”

She clutches her pocket tightly to keep it from making noise and slips into the passenger seat. “Absolutely, Minji,” her father says.

They drive back in silence, except for the ringing in her ears.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 18: flight, part two
Yoobin lies back on the other bed and sighs. “The television?” she says.

Gahyeon hums. “Warmer,” she says.

“The television remote ?”

“Warmer yet!”

Yoobin props herself up on her arm, squints at the entertainment unit. “The photo book next to the television,” she says, pointing at it.

The younger girl lifts her hands in a thumbs up. “You got it!” she chirps. “Alright then, your turn.” She flops backwards.

Yoobin twists her head, looking around the room. Her eyes fall on the blinking red light of the phone between the beds. She stares back up at the ceiling. “I spy with my little eye,” she says, closing her eyes, “something red.”

“Hmm,” Gahyeon says. “ Red , huh? That’s a tricky one.” She puffs out a breath. “Is it the cover of the photo book? There’s a red bird on it.”

Yoobin hadn’t noticed that, truthfully. She shakes her head. “Try again.”

Gahyeon huffs and sits up. “ Man ,” she says, sighing. “Um… The curtains?”

Yoobin shakes her head again; Gahyeon falls back dramatically. She’s trying to wring as much entertainment out of this game as she can. Her efforts are not unappreciated. “Okay, okay. The coffee packet?”

Before Yoobin can disagree this time, however, there’s a rattling at the door. Instinctively, she shoots upright, rests one hand on the nightstand next to her. “Who’s there?” Gahyeon calls, tugging the blanket tighter around her.

“It’s just us,” Officer Kim is saying, and Yoobin relaxes just a bit. The door swings open slowly. A rattled, shell-shocked Minji staggers into the room and takes a seat next to Gahyeon. Her father comes shortly after. “I’d order dinner, if I were you. She’s a bit shaken up by… I shouldn’t have done this. Forgive me. I’ll see you girls again tomorrow.”

Before Yoobin can ask what’s wrong, he vanishes, clicking the door shut behind him. Minji takes a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” Gahyeon asks. She puts her hand on Minji’s shoulder, drops the blanket a bit to offer it to her friend.

Minji pulls something out of her pocket and tosses it at Yoobin suddenly. The younger girl can’t catch it; it drops to the floor with a metallic clatter. “Take them,” she says, her voice edged with panic. “Take your stupid fucking bullets. Why didn’t you tell me that that was where Siyeon was?” She leans forward, and Yoobin flinches away at the intensity on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me ?”

“Minji, Minji,” Gahyeon says, pulling her aside. “Calm down. You were asleep, and then you didn’t want to talk about it, so…”

Minji balls her hands into fists and presses them against her temples. “What the hell is going on here? Because I thought- I thought I’d get some answers from visiting this place but now I’m more confused than ever.” She stares directly into Yoobin’s soul. “Explain. Please. I need to know.”

Yoobin sighs, leans forward, grabs Minji’s hands. “What I’m about to say is going to be a little ridiculous,” she says, squeezing her hands gently. “But I swear that it’s true - and Gahyeon knows all of this already. I wouldn’t lie about this.” She doesn’t smile. “Promise me that you’ll listen.”

“I saw a skeleton stuffed with flowers and a body tucked into bed and Siyeon with no eyes ,” Minji says, all in one breath. “I don’t know what’s happening but ridiculous doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Yoobin swallows. Siyeon’d died right there, right in front of her - at least, that was the assumption Yoobin’d been working on. “Siyeon… What?” Her eyes widen. “I didn’t know that part, or the skeleton…” She sighs. “It must go deeper than I thought, and that’s terrifying.”

“ Stop being cryptic and get to the point,” Minji says. Her hands have started to shake; her eyes are filled with fear. “What’s going on?”

Yoobin takes a deep breath and relays all the information she knows, from the very beginning. The bartender, the drugging, the god, everything she can remember. She leaves no details out.

Minji’s digging her fingernails into Yoobin’s wrist. “You’re kidding,” she breathes. “This all started… And it’s… And God is involved?” She furrows her brow. “No, that… That can’t be real, right?”

Delicately, Yoobin pulls Minji’s fingers off of her skin. “I don’t think so,” she says. “I think he’s just crazy. He clearly just wants to kill someone, and we’re just the targets.”

“You said Siyeon didn’t have…?” Gahyeon doesn’t finish her thought; she just stares, blankly, at Minji, and she puts her hand on the older girl’s.

Minji nods slowly. “She’d been dragged upstairs, to this room with a weird altar and the dog skeleton, and there were cuts down her face like this -” she draws two thin lines down her cheeks- “and there were bloodstains on her shirt-”

Gahyeon gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Just like Handong,” she whispers. “Remember? Handong had the bandages around her eyes, and the cuts…” She curls her fingers into her fist. “Oh, god, that’s horrible.”

Yoobin blanches. “So, it must be a ritual of some sort,” she says. “It’s on purpose.”

“He wanted to do that to Yoohyeon,” Minji says. “And he wants to do it to you .” She points at Yoobin. “There was a list, with our names on it, and he has it out for you particularly.”

Yoobin shivers. “Me, huh?” Curls her finger into her chest.

The older girl's eyes flutter shut. "It said- something like, Running is inevitable and Yoobin's death will be sweet ." She shakes her head, presses her hands to it. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Me either," Gahyeon whispers. She leans her head against Minji's shoulder.

Yoobin says nothing. She just stares at her hands and thinks. What makes her special? Why specifically her? She wasn't particularly close to Handong - if that were the case, it'd be Gahyeon he should want, not her. She's sort of a leader, but in reality, they're all having ideas and bouncing them off each other and no one knows what they're doing, anyway , and Minji will have the final say in whatever crazy plan they have. If anybody should be the target, it should be her, because her father's directly involved in the investigation.

Her eyes fall on the box of bullets lying on the floor. Two are poking out the top. She slides her gaze to the nightstand. Maybe…

She bends to pick the box up and estimates how many are in there. Ten? Eight? It's not a lot, but if luck is in their favor, it should be enough.

Except luck hasn't been in their favor much, if at all, these past few weeks.

Minji twists her head to look at Gahyeon, asks, "Have you heard from Tamako?"

The younger girl checks her phone and sighs. "Nope. She was online a bit ago, but she only posted a link to a weird, shady sunglasses website on her Twitter." She grimaces. "I think she's been hacked. Wouldn't that suck ?"

Yoobin closes her eyes and also the box. No, luck hasn't been on their side at all .

Perhaps there is some kind of divine intervention going on.

Minji laughs drily. "Sure would, wouldn't it," she mutters. "Alright." She gently nudges Gahyeon aside, stands unsteadily. "I'm going to take a shower and cry, I think. Maybe. Definitely the former. Would you two order dinner? As much as you want? Please?"

Neither girl gets a chance to respond; Minji's already staggering towards the bathroom, but not before tossing her hoodie onto the bed. Yoobin watches her go, her hand on the box. "Sounds good?" Gahyeon calls, as the door clicks shut. She tugs her blanket around her and slithers over to the other bed. "This is… fucked up." Rests her head on Yoobin.

"That's a good word for it," Yoobin says. She looks at the phone with dead eyes. "Are you hungry?"

The younger girl sighs. "Not really. I'm guessing you're not, either?"

Yoobin nods. "Leave it to Minji to be the only one with an appetite," she says, and she smiles, just a bit. "We'll just order her favorites. Can you get off my arm so I can make the call?"

Gahyeon sticks her lower lip out and grips Yoobin's elbow tighter. She rolls her eyes.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Freedom comes in the next day, surprisingly. One of the officers that interrogated Yoobin swings by to pick them up; Yoobin has to fake a need to use the bathroom in order to sneak the gun out of there. She hopes her hoodie is large enough to cover the bulge in her bra where she stuffed the thing. She also hopes it warms up quickly so no one questions her facial expressions.

"You good?" Minji hisses, once they're in the car. Despite being the tallest of the three of them, she's graciously offered to take the middle seat.

Yoobin just shrugs and clicks her seatbelt. Perhaps it's the clear distrust in the officer's eyes, or the air conditioner on full blast for some reason, or the anxiety lurking in the back of her head, but the ride from the police station back to the dorms seems to last so much longer than the inverse. She presses her head to the cool glass and watches the world go by. People walk their dogs down the street, talk on the phone, pose for photos, just like a regular Sunday.

She finds herself wondering if she'll ever have a regular Sunday again.

She expects to be happy to see the dorms again, in the daylight, in a way that they can return for good - or at least, the next three days, depending on whenever Tamako gets back to Gahyeon - but there's a weird, anxious sinking feeling, like she's looking at her grave. She touches her hand to her chest, feels the handle of the pistol. There's so much riding on this. On her. Or Gahyeon or Minji or whoever ends up with the gun when- no, if she kicks the bucket. And she won't. She can't start thinking like that, not now. Because then she will trip up, and then they will all be doomed.

The officer pulls into a parking spot right next to Yoobin's car, albeit with an intact windshield. "Oh," she says, involuntarily. "How'd that get fixed?"

"Yes, I believe Officer Kim paid for it," their driver says. He casts a glance over his shoulder. "He's very good to you three." He sounds skeptical; Yoobin decides she doesn't like him and keeps her mouth shut.

Gahyeon claps her hands. "That means we have a car," she says, and she clicks her seatbelt. "And we have a house again." She pushes her car door open, slips out.

"Thank you, Officer Park," Minji says. Yoobin just nods and steps out. Gahyeon is hopping up and down; she seems to be excited about the prospect of returning home, or getting out of clothes, or something.

They walk together, side by side, into the dorms. Yoobin hopes, as Minji is unlocking the door, that she'll feel something good about coming home again.

"Here we are," Minji says, flicking the light on.

Yoobin doesn't.

Even with the light on and sunshine shining through the windows, the common room feels dark and cold. It's too neat, too tidy. The cops covered their tracks - nothing is out of place - but it just feels wrong . Yoobin's grown used to the mess and now she feels like it's too clean, like the last traces of her friends have been wiped away. She shuffles into the common room and touches the coffee table. "Have you heard from Tamako yet?" she asks, without looking over at her friends.

Gahyeon whimpers, at the same time, "This just feels wrong ." Then, pause. "Oh, no. Someone she knows told me that she was hacked, and then Twitter locked her account, and she doesn't know when she'll get it back." Sighs, plaintively.

Minji walks further into the room. "Well, we're home,” she says, though she doesn’t sound too happy either. “That’s something.”

“Yeah,” Gahyeon mumbles, rather unconvincingly.

Yoobin says nothing, just stares at the black television screen in front of her. There’s a thin layer of dust already forming on it, even though it’s only been three days. Minji claps her hands. “Hey, it’s not too bad. It’s just… Weird. We just need to… Make the best of this.” She drops down on the middle of the couch.

Gahyeon shuffles over to join her, sits next to her. “Make the best of this,” she echoes. “It’s only for a couple more days, anyway.” She curls up, resting her head on the older girl’s shoulder. “C’mon, Yoobin. Sit with us.” She stretches her hand out towards Yoobin.

Yoobin sighs, not unpleasantly, and sits next to Minji. “This is nice,” she says, perching on the edge of the couch. “Just… Sitting like this.”

“Normal,” Minji says. She tilts her head back, rests it on the back of the couch.

Gahyeon seems smaller than ever. “ Almost ,” she says. “I have a question.” Pops her head up so she’s looking directly at Minji. “Can I sleep in you guys’ room tonight? I just… Don’t feel safe, on my own anymore.” She rubs her arms, like she’s hugging herself.

“I don’t see why not,” Yoobin says. “We have an extra bed now.”

Minji nods. “I’d be more comfortable if we all shared a room, anyway. I kinda got used to it in the hotel.” She seems to be about to say more, but her stomach cuts her off with a loud growl. “Oops. I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“When are you not hungry?” Gahyeon teases, poking her stomach. “Oh, I had an idea.” She grins. “Maybe we should order out. Celebrate, or something, that we’re home, that we made it this far.”

Yoobin frowns. “Shouldn’t we be saving our money?” she says, cocking an eyebrow.

Minji waves her hand. “I think we can afford one meal, Yoobin,” she says. She’s already fishing her phone out of her pocket. Yoobin can tell that she’s got no choice; she smiles softly and lets them do what they wish.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Gahyeon picks up some clothing from her room and dumps it in a corner of Yoobin’s. The food doesn’t get there for a bit, and they feast on food from the youngest’s favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. At least, Gahyeon and Minji do; Yoobin’s got no appetite. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and she knows her friends are worried, but she can’t bring herself to eat more than a small bowl of rice. Stress has gotten the better of her. A cold feeling has sunken into her gut.

She volunteers to clean the dishes, just like she used to do. There's a certain comfort to cleaning out the plastic containers, running the soapy water over the plates, but it's over too soon. There's not enough. She wipes off a fork and pauses, staring at the sink. It's too quiet. There's too few dishes. This isn't right .

She presses her hands to her face and takes a deep breath. She needs a moment, but she doesn't think she can get it in here. The walls of the dorm press on her ribs and constrict her lungs; the unnatural silence weighs heavy in her ears. She had thought that coming home would empower her, make her willing to fight, and it has, sort of. A bit. A little. It's just made everything hurt more, in the end.

She can hear the shower running at the other end of the hall - Gahyeon, probably, as she's the one who complained about her clothing the most. So Minji's in the room.

Yoobin glances at the entryway, feels for the gun in her pocket. She shouldn't leave the room by herself. She doesn't know what's out there. But she's the most equipped to defend herself right now, and if she spends another minute trapped in this room, she'll vomit.

So she sneaks out towards the door, eases it open, and slips into the night.

It's pretty cool - a gentle breeze brushes against her skin. She steps onto the railing and wraps her hands around it, not flinching even when the dew settles into her palms. She stands there, breathing in the scent of wet pavement and the city, and just stares. Her thoughts have slowed to a crawl.

Dead. They're dead. Four of your friends are dead.

She squeezes the railing. Tears threaten to fall; she no longer holds back. She dips her head, closes her eyes, cries . And everything comes tumbling out at once - all that pent up fear and anger and grief spills out and down her cheeks. She slumps, burying her face in her hands. It's cathartic, it's overwhelming, it's just what she needed.

She sinks, almost to her knees. Fuck, she hasn't cried like this in… Years, maybe. She's come close in the last week, but Siyeon was there then and Siyeon kept her steady and calm and now Siyeon's not, Siyeon died right in front of her , and then she's on her knees, her head pressed against the bars of the railing, and she's not really crying anymore, just shivering. She feels cold - not physically, but spiritually, emotionally.

This isn't her fault. She knows that, except it is . Except they could have gone and saved
Handong. Except she and Siyeon didn't need to go chase him down. Except she didn't even need to leave the house at all. Her head is spinning - except, except, except - and she feels like she's drowning in a string of bad decisions-

Metal crashes out in the parking lot. Her head snaps up, clear in an instant. Her hand flies to her pocket. She blinks the tears from her eyes and stares.

There's nothing there, but she doesn't relax. She just squints, scanning the parking lot like a hunter scanning for prey, pushes herself back to her feet slowly and gently. Her heart has leapt into her throat, and she wants to reach out and call, but she feels like that's a bad idea, so she doesn't.

There . A shadow, standing by her car. It's round, hunchbacked. And it's definitely real. She's not hallucinating that. She can't be.

It moves, back a bit, so it's more in shadow.

She draws the gun halfway before she realizes how stupid she's being. Because it's probably just someone going to the wrong car - white cars are remarkably common, after all, because it can't be him, right, how would he have gotten here?

The smart thing to do would be walk away.

She slides the gun in her pocket again and does just that.

The door closes in front of her; she swears she heard someone laugh. It's probably her imagination. She should sleep.

"Yoobin?" Minji asks, and she jumps. "What- Where did you go?"

Yoobin swallows and turns around slowly. "Just- I was on the porch," she says. Her voice is thick with mucus and tears. "I needed- I just needed a break."

The older girl nods. "Yes, I understand…" She crosses the room, stretching her hand out. "I just… When I couldn't find you, I couldn't help but worry…"

Yoobin carefully takes her hand, runs her thumb across the back. "I know. Sorry. I just couldn't be in here anymore." She wonders if she should say anything about the shadow.

"None of us can." Minji sighs and squeezes. "I don't think we can stay here long. I know… I don't think Gahyeon knew I could hear her, I mean. Just for our sake, I texted my grandma - she's out in the country - and she won't get back to us till tomorrow but it's at least a start, right ? Better than sitting here, waiting and hoping he's not going to find us."

Yoobin nods. "Oh, yes. That's a good plan. If… Well, if I still talked to them outside of holidays, I would've volunteered-"

Minji puts her other hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. We have enough options, don't we?" She sounds so trusting and warm, especially compared to their fights of the day before. Yoobin worries she'll cry all over again.

"We should go to bed," she says. "It's getting late." She drops her friend's hand, pushes past her towards the hallway.

Minji tilts her head. "You don't want to shower or anything?" she asks, chasing after her.

Yoobin shrugs. "I can do that in the morning. I just want to sleep." She tiptoes down the hallway, towards their room - Gahyeon's already asleep within, judging from the gentle breathing - and eases up into her bunk. But sleep does not come so easy to her tonight, even when Minji shuts the door. Yoobin spends god-knows-how-long tossing and turning.

When she finally falls asleep, she dreams of nothing at all, and she wakes up with shadows in the corner of her eyes.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

"We're out of milk," Minji says the next morning. She's just dumped what little remained down the sink - the scent's reached the table.

Yoobin stares at her cup of cold black coffee and wonders if it's worth trying to drink. It's probably not. She takes a sip anyway, grimaces.

"That's a problem," Gahyeon says. She picks at one of the threads of her fluffy pyjamas. "How are we supposed to get more?"

Minji shrugs. "We all go together, I suppose. I'm not leaving anyone alone - and, well, I don't really want to go alone, either."

Yoobin pushes her coffee into the center of the table to abandon it. "So, should we go now then?" she asks, half through a yawn. "Or do we want to go later?"

Gahyeon leans her head in her hand. "I'm pretty hungry now," she mumbles. "But I think I can last on, like, a bag of chips. Besides, we're not planning on staying here long anyway, right?"

The eldest girl tosses the empty milk jug into the recycling bin, misses, and shrugs. "I don't think so. Any updates?"

"Nope. You know what Twitter's like."

Yoobin lifts her hand. "If we don't know how long we'll be here, then the best move would be to go as soon as possible. Just to be safe.” She grimaces down at her coffee. “And I need actual food.”

Minji wrinkles her nose. “Yes, that didn’t look good at all.” She nods. “Alright, this… Sounds good to everyone, then?” A soft, tired, sort of smile flickers across her face. “We can go now?”

“Let me get actual clothes on first,” Gahyeon says, rising to her feet. She bites back half of a yawn. “And maybe a snack.”

She walks back off towards their room, leaving Minji and Yoobin alone in the kitchen. The elder girl has started to put away the clean dishes. “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asks, collecting the silverware in her hand.

Yoobin chuckles drily. “Sort of,” she says. She picks up her coffee cup, carries it towards the sink.

The shadow. She should tell Minji about the shadow.

Minji talks the cup from her and dumps it down the drink. “Me either, honestly. I’ve been trying and trying but I just can’t stay asleep for more than an hour or two at a shot. I just want to get out of here, y’know? And be safe.”

Yoobin gets the distinct feeling that she’s not really involved in this conversation anymore. “Grandma hasn’t texted me back yet,” Minji’s saying, “so I’ll call her when we get back, but she’s not the best with technology.” She presses her hand to her cheek, sighs. “But it’ll be fine, right? It’ll be fine. She may not even be awake yet.” Steps away from the sink, presumably to go get ready herself.

The shadow can wait. Minji seems to be on the verge of a breakdown, and more stress would just compound things.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

Minji offers to drive, and Yoobin lets her - she’s in no state to drive, what with her practically tripping over her own feet. Even so, she doesn’t let her exhaustion cloud her completely. Before they go, she counts out five bullets and loads the gun. Just in case.

Not that she thinks anything’s going to happen, of course. But you can’t be too safe.

The shadow is lurking in the back of her mind. She stuffs the gun in her pocket and doesn’t let Minji see it.

“So, where should we go?” Gahyeon asks. She’s defaulted to the middle seat in the back; her head pokes in between the two seats. “Grocery store, corner store, farmer’s market? We have options.”

She’s trying to make a joke. Yoobin smiles a bit.

Minji adjusts the rearview mirror. “We aren’t driving all the way to the farmer’s market for half a gallon of milk,” she says. “Corner store’s probably the best bet.” She clicks her seatbelt and turns the key in the ignition. “Any objections?”

Yoobin shakes her head. “Sounds alright to me,” she says. Minji’s hand is moving towards the radio; Yoobin pushes it away. “That’s probably still broken. I don’t think your dad fixed that one.”

Minji purses her lips and hits the button anyway. A huge crackle of static blasts through, making Gahyeon squeak. It’s impossible to make out anything remotely close to words. Yoobin turns it off again and cocks her eyebrow. “See?” she says.

Minji shrugs. “It was worth a shot ,” she says. She tries to smile.

The car lurches forward. Yoobin tilts her head against the window. For the first time in a while, she sees a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. It’s beautiful. She smiles.

“Uh- Hm,” Minji says, sliding way too far into the street before the car finally stops. “That’s- The brakes are acting up.”

“Glad we’re not going to the farmer’s market, then,” Gahyeon says. She’s leaning forward on the center console.

The smile drops from Yoobin’s face. “That’s a new problem. It wasn’t like that before.” She looks at the steering wheel. “Let’s… Maybe we should walk.”

Minji shakes her head. Her knuckles are white. “No, this is fine,” she says. “I’ve- I’m sure it’s just a fluke.” She eases out onto the road, crawling by at ten below the speed limit.

Yoobin bites her tongue. “Last night, when I went out, there was someone by the car,” she says.

“What?” Minji asks.

“You went out?” Gahyeon says.

The car sails through a red light, but it’s obvious Minji is pushing the brakes down all the way. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.

“Because at the time I didn’t think it meant anything?” Yoobin waves her hand. “But I should have, and we shouldn’t be in this car-”

Gahyeon points, accidentally smacking Yoobin in the process. “Look out!” she shrieks. A red car is barreling towards them.

Minji swerves; they narrowly avoid impact. “The brake line,” Yoobin whispers. “They cut the brake line.”

“ Who ?” Gahyeon asks. “Why-”

Minji kicks the brake pedal over and over and over, but nothing happens. “You know exactly who,” she says. Her voice shakes.

They drive past the corner store. Gahyeon whimpers.

“Okay,” Minji says. “This is not fine. This is not okay .” The car skips over a pothole. “What are we supposed to do? We- We have to get out of the car but we can’t stop-” The panic is rising in her voice.

Yoobin digs her fingers into the seat. They’re careening straight for the intersection. “I don’t know,” she says. They’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to-

Someone’s seatbelt clicks; Yoobin whirls around to see Gahyeon pulling at the lock on her door. “I dunno about you guys, but I’m gonna jump.” She’s shaking like a leaf. “Better chance doing that than- the intersection-”

She kicks her door open. Doesn’t move. Stares.

The wind whistles through the car.

“Are you crazy?” Minji says. “Jump? From a moving car?”

The light turns yellow, then red. Yoobin moves on instinct, undoes her seatbelt. “It’s that or get crushed in traffic,” she says. “We can lose the car. We can’t lose our lives.”

Minji shakes her head. “I-I don’t know,” she says, without tearing her eyes from the street just in front of them.

“On three?” Gahyeon says. Yoobin grabs her door handle and nods. “One, two-”

She leaps on two, slams into the ground right in front of a small crowd of people. Instinctively, she curls her hands in front of her face. Concrete bites into her forehead and wrists and arms and stings, stings, stings, but it hurts significantly less than death would. She coughs, staggers to her feet, touches her pocket to make sure the gun is still there.

“Are you crazy?” someone is saying. “What are you-” They reach for her arm.

“There’s another one!” a woman shouts. Yoobin turns around just in time to see Gahyeon bounce onto the sidewalk. She sits up, blood trickling down her face, spits a piece of tooth out. Yoobin shoves the person grabbing her aside and sprints towards her friend.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

Gahyeon shakes her head, pulls herself up using Yoobin’s arm. “Where’s Minji?” she asks, just in time to hear the distinctive crunch of glass and metal hitting a building. Someone screams. Yoobin’s legs turn to jelly.

“She didn’t jump,” she says, and she clings to Gahyeon’s arm to keep her next to her.

Gahyeon presses a hand to her mouth. “N-No, she-” she stammers, fighting to get away from the older girl.

Yoobin swallows. Her head is spinning from impact. That’s the least of their worries right now. “We have to get back to the dorm,” she says, and she’s not sure why - perhaps it’s a panic reaction, perhaps it’s just her gut talking, perhaps it’s a death wish - but it feels right . “Now, Gahyeon.”

Her friend whimpers. “B-But Minji-”

“Are you okay?” a stranger asks, and there’s a hand on Yoobin’s shoulder. She jerks her head around. “Here, let me call the police-”

Yoobin pushes them away with more force than she means to. “There’s no time,” she hisses.

And then she breaks into a run. She’s going to end this, one way or the other, and the first step is getting back to the dorm.

 

[ec.li.ps.e]

chapter 19: i wanna make my murder look like a *******
She didn't jump.

Gahyeon is standing in the middle of the street, blood trickling down her face in a thin line, ears ringing, and staring at the wrecked car in front of her, and Minji is nowhere to be found.

"Oh, my god," she whispers, more to herself than anyone else; she's barely even aware that she's said the words out loud. She stumbles forward - people grab at her, to try and pull her back, probably, but she just shakes them off and continues towards the accident. She knows that Minji's dead, but she doesn't know, she won't know until she sees.

"Kid," a man says, grabbing her shoulders. She's snapped back to reality in an instant. "Hey. What do you think you're doing?"

Gahyeon lifts a shaking hand in front of her, tries to push her way forward. "My friend's in there," she says.

The man nods, looping his arm around her and tugging her to the side. “Yeah, I’m sure she is, kiddo,” he says. “It’s okay, someone’s coming, don’t worry.” He guides her to the sidewalk. His voice is soft and gentle. “Where’d your other friend go? The brunette?”

“My other friend?” she echoes, and she wriggles free from him. There’s blood smeared on his shirt, but she can’t feel the wounds it’s coming from. “You mean Yoobin?”

He squints at her. “I mean, yeah, sure, if that’s her name.” Folds his arms. “She is your friend, right?”

She hops up on her toes and scans the growing crowd around the accident, but Yoobin’s nowhere to be seen. “Where-” She steps away from the stranger and begins to push through the people. “Yoobin? Yoobin!”

“Kid! It’s okay!” The man lunges forward, closes his fingers around her wrist.

Gahyeon yelps and pulls away from him. “No!” she says. “No, no, I need- I need to find Yoobin-” Her breath is shallow in her chest. She feels like she’s in a fishbowl. She moves practically on autopilot, shoving people aside as she hurries in the direction she think. her friend would go.

Yoobin wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back to the apartment, right? If he’s there, right?

The worst part is that Gahyeon can’t be sure anymore. She wipes her face and starts running on legs that feel like jelly. “Yoobin!” she calls. “Yoobin, wait!”

Up the road, a figure that’s probably Yoobin stops, turns around. “There you are!” she calls, bending over to catch her breath. “Come on, we have to-”

“No no no no no no ,” Gahyeon says, so fast that it’s practically one word. “We are not - We can’t - Are you crazy?” She grabs Yoobin’s wrist. She’s shaking. “If he cut the brake line, then he’s there! And-”

Yoobin presses a finger to her lips. “Shh! Not so loud!” Tries to pull her hand out of Gahyeon’s vice-like grip. “Gahyeon. Think for a second.”

The younger girl cocks an eyebrow. “ Me think? Yoobin, we’re- we can’t go back there. We need to get to the police-”

“The police can’t help us from here.” Yoobin sighs. “Because he’ll just run again - he ran before, he’ll run now. But we -” she gestures between the two of them- “can’t anymore. We tried to flee and look where it got us.” She looks down the road, towards where the crash site is.

Gahyeon furrows her brow. “I thought you didn’t want to kill him,” she says. “That’s what we agreed on, right? We don’t want to kill him.”

Yoobin drops her gaze. One of her hands is on her pocket. “You’re right. I don’t.” Her fingers slip in the pocket. “But I don’t think we have a choice anymore.”

“There’s always a choice,” Gahyeon says. She steps back, crosses her arms. “There has to be. We don’t need to kill him.”

She taps her chin, trying to think. Her brain is sluggish from the fall; she can worry about a potential concussion later. She takes a few steps forward. Yoobin lags behind her. “What’s your plan?” she asks. It’s the type of question that feels like it should be loaded, but she sounds genuinely curious.

Gahyeon stops, sighs, fishes her phone out of her pocket. There’s a fat new crack right down the middle. “Well…” She unlocks her phone and checks Twitter optimistically, but there’s nothing there, to no one's shock. It still hurts a bit. “I… I don’t know. I wish…” She tilts her head. “Maybe, if we could trap him, then we could call the police and he would have nowhere to run…”

To be completely honest, she’s total spitballing here. She’s got no idea what they might do to facilitate that. But Yoobin seems to like it; her eyes widen. “That’s it!” she says suddenly. “You’re right !”

“I am?” Gahyeon squeaks. “Okay, how?”

Yoobin paces ahead of her now. She doesn’t seem to have heard. “If we get back to the dorm, then make him think we’re there, we can hide with a neighbor until the police arrive…” she mutters, talking more to herself than her friend. “Right, we just have to time it properly. And then means we need to get back as soon as possible.”

Gahyeon looks over her shoulder; there’s flashing lights now, suggesting the imminent arrival of the police. She swallows. “What does that mean?” she asks.

Yoobin glances back at her. Her eyes are hard, impassive. “It means we need to start running,” she says, immediately before doing just that. Gahyeon has to scramble to keep up.