Hwa-rin was discharged from the hospital at 10:00 p.m.
A baggy coat hung past her hips. Loose pants hid her frame.
A black mask hid her face, a cap pulled low over her eyes. She had asked a nurse to bring them.
Outside, reporters crowded the entrance, cameras raised, voices buzzing, sharp with anticipation.
They waited for Kim Ha-eun.
While their eyes stayed fixed on the front doors, Hwa-rin slipped past them.
A shoulder brushed against hers.
"Sorry," a reporter muttered, already turning away.
He took two steps. Then paused.
He glanced back.
"...She kind of looked like Kim Ha-eun."
Another reporter scoffed. "Please. Even if the world ends, she'd never forget her flashy dresses and heavy makeup."
The voices faded behind her.
Hwa-rin kept walking.
She pulled the red phone from her pocket.
She unlocked the phone and opened the map app.
One location was pinned. Home.
She stared at it for a moment.
Just a few blocks.
She started walking.
Tall gates loomed before her, black iron shining under the streetlights. A gatekeeper stepped forward, bowing slightly. She simply nodded.
So this was her house.
The driveway was silent. Her shoes clicked softly as she walked inside.
The hall was empty.
Ha-eun's parents must be asleep.
She climbed the stairs, then stopped.
But where is my room?
Hwa-rin spotted a maid walking down the hallway.
"Hey," she called out. "Can you lead me to my room?"
The maid looked at her with confusion clearly painted on her face.
"Uh… this way, my lady," she hurriedly replied.
After passing a few rooms, they reached a door.
"This is your room," the maid said stiffly. "I'll be leaving now, my lady."
She bowed and stepped back, leaving quietly.
Hwa-rin pushed the door open.
The room was dark.
She fumbled along the wall, her fingers brushing the surface until she found the switch.
A click. Light flooded the room.
.
She flinched, then frowned at the room.
Every surface screamed the same man.
Posters covered the walls, some framed, some taped unevenly. A full-body cardboard cutout stood in the corner, towering over the room, his gaze fixed as if watching her every move.
Shelves were crowded with merchandise—keychains, figurines, photo cards, even a mug with his face on it.
He was the same man from the phone's lock screen.
…He was Tae Yang.
The bed was impossible to miss: sheets, pillows, and blankets all printed with Tae Yang's images, perfectly matching the posters above.
She blinked once.
"She was really a big fan," Hwa-rin muttered.
I have to sleep here tonight.
She thought in horror.
Hwa-rin walked to the wardrobe and slid it open.
She could literally see the clothes shining inside.
Every piece was lavish and overly bright. Not a single thing looked normal.
Hwa-rin immediately closed it.
She stared at them for a moment, then sighed.
Forget it. My clothes are fine.
She turned back to the bed—and stopped.
Now, how was she suppose to sleep on that?
She sighed and pulled out the chair beneath the desk.
This would be better than that.
She leaned forward onto the desk and closed her eyes.
But she felt many eyes crawling on her.
Especially.
She opened her eyes.
The cardboard cutout stood at her side. Tae Yang's gaze fixed straight at her.
She stood up, turned the cutout around, and threw a blanket over it for good measure.
That's better. Today was a tiring day.
She yawned, then leaned onto the desk again, closing her eyes.
Hope it's just a nightmare.
-----
"Have you heard the news?" Min-jae asked.
"What news?" Tae-yang replied, lounging on the sofa.
He held a magazine loosely in one hand, legs crossed, posture precise, almost sculpted. The soft glow from the floor lamp highlighted the sharp lines of his face.
"About Kim Ha-eun."
Tae-yang didn't glance up. "What's there to hear about?"
Min-jae frowned. "I'm your friend. I'm just warning you—the ghost has awakened again to haunt you." He said dramatically, raising his hands for emphasis.
Tae-yang sipped his coffee, unbothered. "None of my business."
"Tae, come on," Min-jae said, trying to force a reaction. "There is a good news too." He smirked, hoping for some curiosity.
Tae-yang flipped the magazine page elegantly, his attention entirely elsewhere.
Nevertheless Min-jae continued. "They said she lost her memory. Isn't that good news? You may not have to hear from her anymore. You want to see the video where she wakes up all confused?"
"Just go back now. It's late,"
Min-jae rolled his eyes, standing and heading toward the door. He paused and glanced back. "Are you coming tomorrow to university?"
"Probably. I don't have any schedule," Tae-yang said, setting the magazine down, leaning slightly into the sofa's armrest.
"That's good. Let's enjoy after the studies."
"I am still busy after the studies."
"Do you even relax at all" Min-jae asked with a scrunched expression.
"I do."
"Sleeping for just four hours doesn't count," Min-jae muttered with a sigh. "Anyway, I'm off."
As Min-jae left, the apartment was quiet again.
Tae-yang continued with his magazine.
When suddenly his phone buzzed. A small notification floated on the screen:
"Baekryeon MMA Centre has uploaded a new video."
He picked up the phone, confused.
"When did I follow this account?" he muttered.