“Why have I never seen that bad sleep habit of yours? I feel like I’ve seen you sleeping nearly every day lately.”

Junyoung’s sharp questioning seemed to bother Beomjin as he glanced back at her. But seeing her glare with the whites of her eyes showing, he turned his head away without protest.

“I sometimes get like that when I have nightmares.”

“A nightmare? *You*, the mighty Kwon Beomjin, have nightmares? Is there anything in this world that actually scares you?”

“There is.”

Junyoung blinked, startled by his unexpectedly quick answer. Beomjin muttered quietly.

“That’s the reason I’m here.”

Her ears perked up at his words. It didn’t seem like something he was saying lightly. Beomjin rarely spoke about himself, and Junyoung was no different. It felt like an unspoken rule not to pry into each other’s personal lives.

But curiosity was growing within her—a desire to know more about Beomjin.

Just as she was about to speak, her words were cut short by Beomjin’s glance.

“You’re staying out all night, so why don’t you just go home? Why come back here again? You really love studying that much?”

Why indeed. What had made her crawl back here so eagerly?

Smirking to herself, Junyoung responded, “I do. I can’t help but love it.”

She avoided Beomjin’s sceptical gaze, feeling it bore into her like she was an alien species, and added quietly, “It’s the only thing I can control.”

The bustling air between them stilled instantly, replaced by a heavy silence. Beomjin’s sharp gaze lingered on her cheek, and Junyoung, feeling awkward, hastily stood up from the bed.

“Write your reflection letter. You have no idea how persistent that math teacher can be. He won’t let this slide.”

She heard the sound of Beomjin flopping onto the bed as if passing a baton the moment she went downstairs. Settling at the desk, Junyoung sat down, only for a low voice to drift down from above.

“So, did you write it alongside your buddy Na Seungwoon?”

Her prickly mood instantly flared. Raising her eyebrows, Junyoung looked up.

“Don’t start with me. What would I have to be ‘buddy-buddy’ with him about?”

A scoff echoed down, somewhere between mockery and dismissal. Clicking her tongue, Junyoung pulled out a book from her bag and looked back again.

“Don’t bring up Na Seungwoon in front of me anymore.”

Her voice dropped threateningly as if issuing a warning, but no response came. Junyoung frowned.

“Are you sleeping?”

“I already am.”

His voice, muffled by the blanket, sounded petulant. Snorting, Junyoung opened her book.

Thanks to the chaos stirred up by Kwon Beomjin, thoughts of Oh Hyesoo or her mother didn’t linger. She was able to lose herself in the pages.

***

The wooden stick she carried was as smooth and comfortable to grip as always. Junyoung yawned as she followed behind Beomjin, who was walking slightly ahead. She stretched her mouth wide in a second yawn, having stayed up late reviewing her backlog of English vocabulary.

Still half-asleep, she stopped when she noticed Beomjin halt in front of her.

“What’s wrong?”

“The streetlamp’s out.”

She looked up at his words. The long road ahead seemed darker than usual. The street lamps along the road were spaced far apart, and one of them had gone out.

“How far is it to your house?”

Walking carefully along the flat road, Beomjin asked. Junyoung chuckled lightly.

“I can make it on my own. What’s this? Feeling bad for choking me and now pretending to care?”

Though the darkness obscured it somewhat, Beomjin’s imposing figure with the stick in hand did look a bit intimidating. Clearing her throat, Junyoung spoke again.

“It’s not far. The road’s empty anyway. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“There’s someone on that road right now.”

“What? Where?”

At Beomjin’s words, Junyoung craned her neck to see over his shoulder. Focusing, she noticed something darker within the shadowed gap between the streetlamps. It seemed like a person standing still.

If the figure had been moving, walking in one direction or the other, she might not have paid them any mind. But the person stood frozen, not moving an inch.

Without Beomjin’s sharp night vision, Junyoung might not have noticed them until she was much closer. This road was desolate past 10 p.m., and by this hour—past 1 a.m.—it was eerily silent.

Junyoung had become used to walking home at this hour after visiting the abandoned house, but she had never encountered anyone before.

“Well, if you’re that worried, you can walk me to the next streetlamp.”

Muttering without taking her eyes off the unmoving shadow, Junyoung heard Beomjin chuckle softly and adjust his grip on the stick. Following closely behind his broad back, she started walking cautiously. Even as they drew closer, the shadow didn’t stir.

A strange tension made Junyoung hunch her shoulders. Suddenly, her hand slipped off the stick.

“…Mom?”

Beomjin, who had been glancing back at her, turned his head sharply, surprise flickering in his eyes. As if awakening from a long slumber, the shadow stumbled into motion. Junyoung darted forward as the figure stepped into the faint light of the next streetlamp.

“Mom!”

Her shout wasn’t one of relief or joy but rather something close to reproach. It was sharp and scolding. Beomjin instinctively hid the stick behind his back and studied the woman who appeared before them.

Her hair was messily tied, and she wore a black dress. Her emaciated face bore sunken, hollow eyes.

She could have been considered beautiful with her tall frame and distinct features. But the weary, desolate air that enveloped her and the eerie intensity of her wide eyes dispelled any such impression.

“What are you doing here? Go home. Let’s go home.”

Junyoung grabbed the woman’s arm, her voice flustered as she tried to lead her away. In response, the woman’s long arm swung violently, slapping Junyoung’s cheek with terrifying speed. Beomjin’s stick clattered to the ground as he saw it happen.

The woman let out a strange, guttural sound, striking Junyoung’s face again without hesitation. Without even managing a scream, Junyoung crumpled to the ground. Her mother, eyes wild and frantic, aimed another blow at her daughter’s head.

Beomjin didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, shielding Junyoung with his back.

The mother’s hands were unrelenting. She flailed wildly, not targeting anything specific but rather lashing out in a frenzied attempt to destroy whatever was in front of her.

Taking the blows on his back and shoulders, Beomjin winced, his brows knitting together. He could feel Junyoung trembling violently in his arms.
He wasn’t used to this kind of violence. The people he knew were typically well-versed in exactly where and how to strike to incapacitate someone. The violence they wielded was clean, without excess. It didn’t take long—either you passed out or you made your opponent pass out. There was no middle ground.

Even when caught up in the brawls of clueless sixteen-year-olds flailing punches, it was never like this. This was more akin to the desperate flailing of the weak.

As he braced himself to endure a few more hits, a loud slap landed on his ear and neck, making a sharp *crack*. Startled by the sound, Junyoung lifted her head, her wide eyes full of distress. Then her gaze sharpened, and her expression turned furious.

“Move.”

“What?”

“Move, Kwon Beomjin.”

Pushing him aside, Junyoung jumped to her feet. The woman’s hand came flying toward her again, but this time, it didn’t land. Junyoung grabbed the woman’s frail wrist with deliberate force, her flushed face twisted in anger as her voice rang icy and fierce.

“Tell me. Is this because I didn’t come home?”

The woman let out a garbled noise, twisting her body, but Junyoung held her wrist in an iron grip as if she might snap it. Her voice was laced with bitterness, freezing the air around them.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to mimic other moms’ so-called family discipline just because your daughter stayed out all night. Since when has family discipline been a thing in our house? I don’t remember anything except raising myself. The only rules I follow are the ones I set for myself. The only ethics I have are the ones I chose.”

“Nu! Nu!”

“Don’t even try to justify it. Just hit me, like you always do. Stop pretending to be a normal mom. Stop acting like you care—it’s disgusting!”

Tears that had welled up at the edge of Junyoung’s chin finally spilt over, falling in heavy drops. Shoving the woman’s wrist away, Junyoung turned and bolted.

Kneeling on the ground, Beomjin rubbed his stinging neck before slowly standing. He let out a sigh as he saw Junyoung stumbling in the dark as she ran. His gaze shifted back to the woman. The wild, dark eyes that had been glaring at Junyoung were now fixed on him.

She was like a brittle branch in the dead of winter, so fragile that she might crumble into black dust at the slightest touch. While it didn’t seem like she was about to lash out at him the way she had at Junyoung, her eyes still glimmered with hostility.

She didn’t hit him, nor did she follow after Junyoung. Her mere presence, standing still in front of him, suggested she wanted something else. Beomjin was good at interpreting primal communication. Keeping his eyes on the woman, he slowly lowered his head.

“I’m Kwon Beomjin. I’m in the same class as Yoon Junyoung.”

The woman didn’t move, just as she hadn’t when he first saw her. The only sound was her uneven, animal-like breathing. In a low voice, Beomjin added:

“You don’t have to believe me, but there’s no reason to worry. Yoon Junyoung wouldn’t do anything to cause trouble. She’s got nothing in her head but studying.”

Whether it was his conciliatory tone or the content of his words, something seemed to reach her. After a tense moment, the woman took a step back. She turned her body slowly and began walking in the direction Junyoung had run.

As she disappeared down the path, Beomjin exhaled a long breath through his teeth. The tension draining from him made his shoulders sag.

His body burned in the places where he had been struck. Yet his mind had no capacity to register or address the pain.

Everything was in chaos. He felt as if he had been caught in a whirlwind.