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Chapter 45: Let the Game Begin, Ju-kyoung
Ju-kyoung sent Soo-hoo a message.
Soo-hoo: "Mission accomplished."
She added a cute emoji.
Soo-hoo smiled faintly. Kangsu, who was about to sit, caught the quick smile and narrowed her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Why are you smiling?"
Soo-hoo's brows furrowed. "I'm not."
Kangsu tilted her head. "You're not?"
He ignored her and continued pressing his phone.
The bell finally rang—it was time to go home. Everyone hurried out. As Ju-kyoung lifted her bag, she noticed a small paper stuck to it.
She frowned, looking around. The classroom was empty.
> "I know your secret."
Her hands froze. Her breath caught, and it felt like her blood had turned to ice.
Then she noticed another line below it:
> "Turn."
She flipped the paper around.
> "Don't forget to bring my helmet tomorrow. Oh—and that part about your secret? I just saw it on this paper and didn't have any more sheets, so I used it."
Ju-kyoung exhaled deeply, realizing it was Seo-jin. Her heart was still racing, sweat prickling her forehead.
"I really need to give him his helmet," she muttered under her breath.
The moment she got home, she tore through her entire room searching.
"Where's the helmet?" she groaned, frustration bubbling.
"Can it walk away on its own?" She sighed and flopped on her bed, exhausted.
Then she remembered—the night she'd gone to see Soo-hoo. She had worn the helmet and tossed it somewhere afterward. She jumped out of bed and searched the floor again, but it was nowhere.
By the time the clock hit nine, her room was a disaster zone.
Then her eyes widened as a memory flashed.
> "Ju-young! If you do anything to that helmet, I'll kill you with my bare hands!"
She sprinted out of the room. "Ju-young!" she shouted down the stairs.
Her brother, sitting comfortably on the couch and glued to his phone, heard her yelling his name—but simply turned the volume up.
"Hey!" she yelled again when she reached him. "Where's my helmet?"
He blinked lazily. "Which helmet?"
"Don't play dumb with me—the one I borrowed from someone!"
"Oh, that helmet," he murmured, dropping his phone.
Ju-kyoung raised a brow. "You stole my helmet! You can't just take something without asking!"
She didn't need to say much—her glare said everything. Ju-young gulped.
"I thought you didn't need it," he mumbled. "It was just lying there on the ground, looking lonely. So…I picked it up to sell it to someone who could take care of i—"
Before he could finish, Ju-kyoung's hand gripped his shoulder tightly.
"You did what?"
"Do you want to break my shoulder?" he complained, wincing.
Her voice was low but sharp. "You heard my question."
He hesitated. "…I sold it."
Ju-kyoung wanted to faint—or move to another country—but neither option seemed possible. Her face drained of color.
"You better get me that helmet tomorrow morning," she said quietly. Whenever Ju-kyoung's anger hit its limit, her voice went dangerously calm.
"I can't," Ju-young replied hesitantly.
Her gaze hardened. "What do you mean you can't?"
"The price of the helmet is through the roof! I didn't know it was that expensive. I just needed quick cash—I didn't even realize it was a branded helmet."
"Branded?" she repeated, her jaw dropping.
He nodded. "What should we do now?"
"We?" she scoffed. "I want to see that helmet tomorrow." She turned and stormed upstairs.
Ju-kyoung dropped onto her bed, pressing her hands over her face.
"Is it too late to transfer schools?" she groaned. "What should I do?"
Her phone chimed.
"Ding."
She unlocked it, but the message made her blood run cold.
It was a video—an old clip of her in her previous school. The day her classmates bullied her. The day her crush had thrown her handmade cookies on the ground.
Her hands trembled. Tears blurred her vision.
Then came another message—a side-by-side photo of her old, bare-faced self and her current, makeup-wearing one.
> Unknown sender: The difference is quite admirable. You really did a good job, Ju-kyoung.
She froze.
"How do you know my name? Who are you?" she typed, panic setting in.
> Unknown sender: Who I am isn't your concern. But I promise to make your life a living nightmare.
First thing tomorrow morning, a new group will be created for the entire school. The next morning the—
Ju-kyoung frowned and quickly typed, "The what?"
> Unknown sender: I'm the one who asks the questions here, not you. Oh—and what fun is it if I tell you what happens next?
Then they went offline.
Ju-kyoung sat frozen on her bed. She always knew her secret might come out one day—but not like this. Not so cruelly.
Somewhere, in a dark room, someone sat before a computer screen.
On the monitor were Ju-kyoung's photos—her no-makeup face beside her current one, old videos, and humiliating memories.
The person leaned back, eyes glinting under the dim light.
> "Let the game begin, Ju-kyoung," the voice whispered. "I promise to make it fun… and worth your while."
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