Chapter 5

Pressed tightly against the gym building’s outer wall, I cautiously peeked around the back. Thankfully, no one was there. I let out a sigh of relief and headed toward the handcart where I had hidden my bag. If they’d found it there and didn’t take it, they would’ve just stuffed it back into the handcart. “...Huh.” I rummaged through the assorted items piled on the handcart. The deflated soccer ball and cleaning tools were still there—only my bag was gone. My flower-patterned Oilily zip-pocket backpack was missing. I dropped the broom I was holding in defeat. “Those punks... Did they take my bag?” My face stiffened in despair. I had only planned to slip a note into Seon-jae’s desk drawer and get out quickly, but now I was stuck in this mess. If I couldn’t find the bag today, I wouldn’t be able to wear my uniform to school tomorrow. And it wasn’t just about tomorrow—there was no guarantee I’d be able to recover the bag even if I came back tomorrow in the gym uniform again. All that was in the bag was a few notebooks, my wallet, and my school uniform—but that realization hit me like an exclamation mark slamming into my skull. Crap, without my wallet, I can’t even go home. My legs gave out, and I sank to the ground. Covering my face with both hands, I let out a groan. I’d run away because I was too scared of the group smoking together—and now I had to go looking for them. I didn’t even know their names or what class they were in. “My bag...” Sniffling, I scanned the vacant lot. Just in case, I checked every corner. Lifted milk crates, crouched to check beneath the handcart’s wheels. I even looked up into the sparsely planted trees and swept my eyes across the ground as if the bag could be buried somewhere. “It’s not here... It’s really not here...” The pre-bell signaling the end of lunch rang. My stomach growled loudly in protest. The fifth period was about to start, and I wasn’t even a student at this school, so I didn’t have a classroom to return to. I left the lot empty-handed. Since they’d smoked after lunch, there was a good chance they’d come back during break time, cleaning time, or dinner. I couldn’t go back without my bag, so I had to eat something first. This was practically a stakeout. I trudged out through the Jagam High School front gate. I found a snack shop while wandering near the school and went in. It was empty. “One tteok-ramyeon and one tuna gimbap, please.” “Alright!” There was an old TV on top of the fridge. A variety show I’d seen a long time ago was playing. It was a reality program showing trainees at an agency preparing for their debut. Seeing their fresh, innocent faces now felt unfamiliar. One of them had gotten into a dating scandal after being spotted eating grilled clams in Eulwang-ri with an actor who’d won a rookie award last year. Another had sparked outrage after berating a delivery guy for forgetting the complimentary dumplings with his order of palbokae and spicy fried chicken at a Chinese restaurant. While watching with my chin propped on my hand, the gimbap came out first. I grabbed an end piece just as the ramyeon followed. The shop owner set it on the table and gave me a once-over. “Didn’t the bell just ring? Isn’t it class time?” My breath, which I’d just blown out to cool the noodles, went right back into my mouth. I pressed my lips together and glanced up at the shop owner. “Oh, I, uh... I graduated from that school.” “Graduated?” “Yes. These are just my pajamas. I’m... retaking the college entrance exam.” “Oh dear. I see.” The shop owner turned with ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) a sympathetic look, then came back with a skewer of fish cake in a bowl of broth. My eyes went wide as he patted my shoulder and nodded. “For good luck.” “Huh? Oh, you didn’t have to—but thank you. I’ll do my best!” I’ll do my best to find my bag, save Seon-jae, and get back. I bowed and slurped up the noodles. I finished the ramyeon, ate the free fish cake, and was down to the last few pieces of gimbap when a horrifying realization cut through me. Wait... didn’t I not have my wallet? “...” I slowly set my chopsticks down. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. What was I thinking coming in here? Am I an idiot? I said I couldn’t go home without my wallet, and then decided to eat first because finding the bag might take time. I must’ve been possessed. Stupid. So stupid. I clutched my hands together under the table and glanced at the shop owner. He was writing something on an A4 sheet. A moment later, he slapped the pen down, walked outside, and taped the paper to the glass door. The paper was thin enough that I could see the writing from the back. NO TABS Our eyes met. “Ugh, students always say they forgot their wallet and promise to come back, but they never do. They never come back. Clowns.” “...I see.” I chugged some cold water. My throat was parched. I stirred the fish cake broth with my spoon. No tabs. The words swirled in the broth like a cursed spell. I shoved a hand into my pocket—just in case. All I found was my phone. My face crumpled. I left three pieces of gimbap on the plate and checked my contacts. I’d already ditched school, so who could I even ask for help? No one. Elbows on the table, I grabbed my bangs and clutched my forehead. Can’t I just go back now? I don’t need to be in the past anymore. I gave Seon-jae the note. Please, time—just send me back already. “Want more pickled radish?” I shook my head violently. “No!” “Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen, so call me when you’re ready to pay.” His gentle voice floated away. Pay? I couldn’t even pay. I forced a smile and looked back down at my phone. My fingers moved frantically. I needed a solution. Scrolling back up my messages, I saw a name: Used Market Seller. I tapped it. A string of messages from a few days ago appeared. [Hi, I want to buy the Jagam High PE uniform.] [Sure. Winter or summer version?] [Winter. Can I buy it tomorrow?] [Yes. I’m a student, so how about 6 p.m. at the McDonald’s near Jagam Intersection?] [Sounds good.] [Great. Message me tomorrow.] It was Seon-jae. God. No. No no no. I even disguised my voice when we met to avoid being recognized. I wore his PE uniform and acted like it wasn’t me. I even untied and retied my shoes to buy more time. But... he already figured it out. I’m pretty sure he did. I bit the skin on my thumb, my leg bouncing with nerves. I checked the time. 1:50 p.m. Fifth period will end soon. Sweat trickled down my hands. Would he lend me money if I just asked? But it’s a used marketplace—we all know there are no refunds. Our transaction was pretty peaceful, though... “Sigh...” I took a deep breath and opened the message box. My heart was pounding like mad. I channeled every ounce of energy into my fingertips. [There’s a defect in the gym uniform.] “Aaagh, whatever!” I hit send and tossed my phone onto the table. The snack shop owner kept peeking over from the kitchen, eyeing me sitting there with three untouched pieces of gimbap and an uneasy aura. This was a minefield. I was nervously picking at my nails when my phone vibrated. The sound dropped my heart into my stomach. I grabbed the phone and checked the reply. [What defect?] [I’m actually right in front of Jagam High. Let’s talk in person. Just in case, bring the 10,000 won with you.] My hands were soaked. Whether he came or not, this was going to be a problem. None of this would’ve happened if those bastards hadn’t taken my bag. But who could I blame? I should blame myself for hiding it behind the gym. Blame myself for running away even after seeing someone wearing it. The phone buzzed again, dragging across the table. I checked Seon-jae’s next message. [Break starts in 10 minutes. Where are you?] My heart pounded like a disco drumbeat. I scrubbed my sweaty palms against the gym pants. Then looked up at the wall menu. At the bottom, it said Jagam Snack. [Jagam Snack. Don’t forget the 10,000 won.] [Okay.] I set the phone down and gulped cold water. One glass wasn’t enough. I poured another. Seon-jae was coming. My heart wasn’t just racing—it was exploding. I’d sent that message with no plan. What was I even going to say when he got here? My mind was blank. I checked the menu again and totaled the prices: Tteok-ramyeon: 3,500 won. Tuna gimbap: 3,000 won. Total: 6,500 won. And then my inner self grabbed me by the collar. Why’d you get tteok-ramyeon? Why not just regular ramyeon? Why tuna gimbap? Why not plain gimbap? Why two items? Why not one?! My lips were dry. I took off the gym shirt. Luckily, I had my uniform shirt underneath. I shook out the gym shirt, folded it neatly, and set it next to me. Then I got up, grabbed an apron hanging by the fridge, and tied it on. It was blue, with the soju brand Chamisul printed on the chest in white. The snack shop owner stared at me strangely, watching me go from gym uniform to apron. Sir, you’re about to witness much weirder things. I sat back down and drank more water. Tried to regulate my breath. Even during the first session of the college entrance exam, I wasn’t this nervous. Sweat beaded in my palms again. I was biting my thumbnail and jiggling my leg when—ding—the bell above the door rang. My leg froze mid-shake. I glanced sideways. It was Seon-jae. No need to look around. I was the only customer. Wearing slippers, Seon-jae pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. I covered my mouth with one hand and tilted my head to the side to avoid showing my face. “What’s wrong with the gym uniform?” “Oh, this.” I handed over the neatly folded shirt. “There’s a student's name written on the back.” “I asked back then if you checked the photo.” “...You did?” “Yeah.” Seon-jae held the shirt back out. I avoided his gaze and didn’t take it, so he gave it a little shake like he was urging me. I had no choice but to take it and place it beside me again. The shop owner, leaning against the kitchen counter, was watching me—not eating, not paying, and now joined by the guy I apparently messaged about a defective uniform. “Can I go? Break’s only 10 minutes.” “Huh? Oh, wait, don’t go yet.” “Why? Seems like there’s no defect.” “I still have something to say...” I glanced at the kitchen. The owner was stirring a paper cup full of steaming coffee with a mix packet, watching me. “You want a refund?” “Sorry?” At Seon-jae’s question, the shop owner’s face whipped around. “Then I should give the pants back, too.” The pants—meaning, the ones I was wearing. I looked down at my legs. If I take them off, I’ll be in my underwear. That’s not happening. “Could we just... refund for the top?” Seon-jae sat up straighter, crossed his arms, and stared at me. Then he pulled 5,000 won from his pocket and set it on the table. He looked like he just wanted to resolve the situation and go. “Ah, wait, wait!” I reached out, stopping him as he tried to leave again. He looked back, clearly annoyed. My heart was pounding, I was anxious, and it felt like something was stuck in my chest. “Fifteen hundred won...” “What? You want 1,500 more?” I slowly shook my head. Seon-jae’s face twisted with displeasure. I wanted to cry. A wave of shame jabbed at my thighs. “I mean... more than that...” My lips drooped into a pout. Looking up at him with tearful eyes, I pleaded. Just give me 6,500 won and go, Seon-jae. I’m the one who’ll empty her bank account in the future buying your merch and albums. I’ll repay it tenfold. Seon-jae let out a short, incredulous laugh and looked down at me. Ding, the bell above the door chimed as it closed behind us, and I found myself standing side-by-side with Seon-jae outside Jagam Snack. The start-of-class bell rang right as we stepped out. “Thank you... for the refund...” I bowed low to Seon-jae and took the first step forward. My face twisted as I fought the urge to stomp the ground in frustration. Just moments ago, the snack shop owner—who had been watching Seon-jae and me closely—had shouted, “Five thousand won plus fifteen hundred is sixty-five hundred! That’s exactly how much that girl ate!” The entire scheme was laid bare. I waved my hands frantically in denial while Seon-jae looked toward my spotless, empty table, save for three leftover pieces of gimbap. He stared at me with a stunned expression. I couldn’t even explain myself—my lips just flapped silently before I blurted out in a near-whimper, “A Jagam High student stole my bag.” Seon-jae checked the time on his wristwatch, sighed, took back his five thousand won, and paid the full amount with his card. Isn’t this what people call a trial? It has to be. “Hey, you forgot this!” I turned around, thinking someone else was being called, but the shop owner was flapping the gym shirt around like a flag. Seon-jae was still standing beside him, hands in his pockets, quietly watching me. “I already sold that back to him!” I shouted, and then I ran. Not home. Not school. Back behind the gym, to the empty lot behind Jagam High. What a cursed day. The final bell rang, ending the last class of the day. Sixth period was over—cleaning time now. I stood up from where I’d been sitting against the wall and brushed myself off. From the handcart, I grabbed a broom and dustpan. I felt like a character in a game who’d just entered an item shop and purchased basic weapons. Just made a new ID, starting as a default character with nothing—entering rooms filled with overpowered users in pay-to-win gear, causing chaos, getting kicked. I tucked my shirt into the gym pants and started walking. I planned to use the cleaning time to wander the halls and peek into classrooms. If the bag hadn’t been thrown away, it had to be somewhere—maybe on a desk or chair. If not, I’d have to dig through the restroom trash. If that failed, I’d have no choice but to track down that blond-haired punk. I stepped into the hallway. Students filled it, laughing and chatting. I hugged the broom to my side and walked slowly, scanning the classrooms from rows one through four. I checked every class from 1st Year Class 1 to Class 10—nothing. Now it was time to check the second year. Using the dustpan as a shield to hide my face, I kept walking. Hugging the windows, I peeked into each classroom. And then I stopped. I could’ve sworn I just saw it. I turned around, pressed my forehead to the glass, and looked again. That. That’s it. That’s definitely my bag. What the hell—is this public execution?! Why is it hanging there like that? I couldn’t bring myself to open the window. I pressed my face to the glass and scanned the area around the bag. Just beneath it, at the desk, was a blond-haired student. So it was you. I turned and checked the classroom number—2nd Year, Class 4. The classroom was packed. If it were like lunchtime earlier with fewer people, I could’ve just walked in and grabbed it while playing dumb. But with so many eyes, I couldn’t move. I stood there like I was inspecting a product on display in a shop window, hands on the glass, staring at the bag. “Hey now! Don’t leave fingerprints on the glass! I worked my butt off cleaning this—it’s Mr. Taksoo’s class, you know.” A hand suddenly shot out and smacked mine off the window with a sharp slap slap. Startled, I turned my head and opened my eyes wide. Baek In-hyeok was looking even more startled than I, frowning as his brows furrowed. “‘Run away with Seon-jae on your back,’ was it?” “Gah!” I yanked the dustpan up to cover my face. But then someone walking by bumped into my side and knocked the broom loose—my body spun, my head turned, and the dustpan moved, revealing my face to Baek In-hyeok. I glanced at him. One corner of his mouth curled up, irritatingly smug. “You try to hide yourself in the weirdest ways, you know that? But it’s all completely useless.” “Wh-Who...” “You do know saying ‘Who are you?’ would be weirder, right? You already revealed your username.” “Huh? That was... I...” “If you’re going to pretend you’re someone else, don’t look at me like that. That death glare of yours? Unforgettable.” He talks like a freight train. I lowered the dustpan and glared at him, since I couldn’t win in a verbal match. “See? That same expression again.” He pointed to my narrow, glaring eyes. Then he sprayed glass cleaner on the window covered in my fingerprints and scrubbed it hard with a newspaper. “You planning to move into our school permanently?” “It’s not like I want to be here.” “Is it because Seon-jae’s here?” I hesitated, then decided I could be honest about this part. “Someone stole my bag.” “Your bag?” He pointed a finger at the wall where it hung. To be more specific, I lifted my hand—but as my finger clicked against the window, Baek In-hyeok aimed the spray nozzle at my temple and shouted, “Freeze.” Are you serious? If I put two fingers on the glass, would you treat that like chambering a round? When I pulled my finger away, Baek In-hyeok grumbled and cleaned the smudge again. I remembered—he used to be in charge of cleaning at the dorm. Even after practice, he’d wipe down the floors with wet wipes. The other members joked about his obsessive tidiness. Now I understand why. He sprayed glass cleaner on someone’s temple over a smudge. How could anyone live in the same room as him? I shook my head. “Is that your bag? It’s been up there since the start of the fifth period.” “I left it behind the gym, but it vanished.” “The gym? The vacant lot? You went there? Didn’t get pickpocketed, did you?” His rapid-fire questions left me blinking. I didn’t even know where to start, so I chose not to answer at all. “You in this class?” “Yeah.” “Then could you get my bag for me?” “You want me to ‘run away with your bag’? I’m saving that move for Seon-jae.” “......” I stared at him blankly, then looked down at what I was holding—a dustpan and a broom. In his hands were a glass cleaner and a rolled-up newspaper. I mentally calculated who had the stronger attack stats. The start-of-class bell rang. I snapped my head up to look at him. “Please, just grab it, quick—” At that moment, someone entered the classroom through the front door. It was Seon-jae. He strode toward the back of the room, reached up, and pulled the bag off the hook. Without a word, he walked out the back door with the bag in hand. My head followed his movements. He stepped into the hallway and stood facing me at a short distance. His blank expression was trained on me. I froze. What now? I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My lips pressed together tightly. Then Seon-jae tossed the bag to me. I watched the arc of the throw and reached out. In PE class, I was awful at offense, but decent at defense—and somehow, either I caught it well or Seon-jae threw it perfectly, because the bag landed squarely in my arms. I hugged it and looked up at him. “Uh... Th-thanks.” Students rushed past us, heading to class now that the bell had rung. Seon-jae’s gaze shifted past my shoulder, toward Baek In-hyeok. “You’re in Class 5.” He said it without emotion, then turned and walked off. I stared at his retreating in a daze. Sunlight streamed through the hallway windows, lighting up his path like a spotlight. Baek In-hyeok passed by and muttered, “You’re totally into him,” as he went into his class. And there it was, gone—the fleeting emotion. I glanced at the classroom he entered, and my lips curled into a scowl. Didn’t you say you were in Class 4? Why are you going into Class 5? Bang bang! Someone knocked on a door behind me. The class had started. I bolted down the hallway. Self-study time. While Eun-hee was copying wrong answers into her notebook, I was furiously scribbling on stationery, as if I were writing some kind of chain letter. A warning from the future. Maybe the sound of my pen was too loud. I lifted the nib off the paper and looked around. “Too noisy?” I asked quietly. Eun-hee shook her head and gestured with her chin toward the front. I followed her gaze—and locked eyes with the teacher standing at the chalkboard. “So we finally make eye contact.” “...Sorry?” “I’ve been watching you for a while now. Me.” “......” The teacher, arms crossed, began walking toward my desk. Why is he coming this way? I casually slipped my textbook over the stationery. He stopped right in front of my desk and yanked out the corner of the paper that had stuck out. Please no. Not that one. I looked up at him desperately. But he began reading aloud the very words I’d written: “This letter is from the future. You must believe what’s written here and act accordingly. If you don’t believe it, great misfortune will come upon you. Please believe this letter and may luck be with you.” “......” The class burst into giggles. I lowered my head in shame to avoid the teacher’s piercing glare. Thankfully, the letter wasn’t confiscated. Unfortunately, it came with a knuckle to the head. A solid one. Judging by the pain, I was pretty sure he used his knuckle joints for maximum impact. “I'm Sol. Do you think that kind of letter brings good luck? Huh? Right now, if you don’t study, you’ll face real misfortune.” I muttered under my breath and looked down. “If you struggle with insomnia, try watching a documentary on the mysteries of the universe. You’ll fall asleep without sleeping pills.” That final sentence on the page caught my eye. How can there be only one misfortune in a person’s life? Misfortune happens in moments, in hours—not as a blanket fate. The only misfortunes we can predict are the ones we’ve already lived through. And in my timeline, the worst misfortune is Seon-jae’s death. That’s why I have to stop it. I have to save Seon-jae. That’s how I survive. I gently folded the finished letter. As soon as the dismissal bell rang, I’d grab my bag and head to Seon-jae’s school. Even if he got annoyed, even if he didn’t want me there, I had no choice. This was the only way I knew how.