Ji-Ho stood beside Mr. Yoo-Joon's desk, flipping through a stack of printed documents with quiet focus.
The office was calm—only the soft scratch of paper and the occasional click of a pen breaking the silence.
"Check this column again," Mr. Yoo-Joon said, pointing without looking up. "The numbers don't match the attendance log."
Ji-Ho leaned in slightly, scanning the sheet.
"…Here," he said after a moment. "This row is duplicated. That's why it looks off."
Mr. Yoo-Joon paused, then glanced at it properly.
A small nod.
"Good catch."
Ji-Ho didn't react much—just adjusted the papers neatly, aligning them like they needed order more than praise.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
He didn't look at it immediately.
But the vibration continued until he finally picked it up.
Caller ID: Mrs. Park.
His stepmother.
His expression tightened slightly—not anger, just… resignation.
He stepped a little aside.
"Hello?"
Her voice came through immediately.
"You need to come home right after school," she said firmly. No greeting. No softness. "No stopping anywhere. Your father isn't home. The house needs someone. And you need to cook."
Ji-Ho's grip on the phone tightened just a little.
"…Okay," he replied simply.
"No excuses this time," she added. "Last time you delayed, everything was messy."
"I said okay," Ji-Ho repeated, tone steady.
A pause.
Then the call ended.
He lowered the phone slowly.
For a second, he just stood there.
Mr. Yoo-Joon, who had been watching him work, leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Who was it?" he asked.
Ji-Ho's eyes flicked up.
"…My mom," he said.
Mr. Yoo-Joon studied him for a moment.
"You sure everything's alright?"
Ji-Ho didn't hesitate.
"Everything's fine," he said. "Just something not important. Don't worry about it."
It was said smoothly.
Too smoothly.
But Mr. Yoo-Joon didn't push.
He only gave a slow nod.
"Alright."
Ji-Ho gathered the last of the papers, aligning them perfectly before placing them down.
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
Each step controlled.
Even.
Careful.
Behind him, Mr. Yoo-Joon watched him leave.
The door clicked shut.
Silence returned.
Mr. Yoo-Joon stared at the empty space Ji-Ho had just occupied for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he leaned forward, opened his phone, and typed slowly.
"I can't lie anymore. I am tired."
He paused before pressing send.
And for a moment, the office felt even quieter than before.
---
Eun-Woo stood in front of the washroom lockers, the space half-lit and quiet in that strange way school hallways got when most students were elsewhere.
He pulled off his jacket and hung it inside the locker carefully, like keeping things in order might steady something in his head.
Then—
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He frowned slightly.
For a second, he didn't open it.
Just stared.
Then another message came through.
This time, a file.
A document.
His thumb hovered.
Something in his chest tightened for no clear reason.
Slowly, he opened the first message.
A photo loaded.
And his breath caught.
Two girls.
Standing side by side.
Identical.
One with long hair—sharp gaze, controlled expression.
The other with short hair—softer face, quieter eyes.
Same features.
Same structure.
Just… different presence.
Under the sharper image, a name:
Kim Ji-Soo
Eun-Woo's fingers went still.
"No way…" he whispered under his breath.
He zoomed in slightly.
The resemblance wasn't just similar.
It was unsettling.
His heart gave a small, sharp skip.
Then the second file loaded fully.
A document.
His eyes scanned it quickly at first—then slowed.
Then stopped.
DNA analysis.
98% match: confirmed biological identity link
Silence hit harder than sound.
Eun-Woo's grip tightened on the phone.
"No…" he muttered again, but quieter this time.
His mind started filling in gaps too fast.
Too many pieces clicking where they shouldn't.
If this was real—
Then the girl he knew as Ji-Woo…
wasn't Ji-Woo.
His breath grew uneven.
Then another message appeared.
Meet me at the back of the school. Now. I'll explain everything.
He didn't hesitate.
Not this time.
He shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbed his bag, and moved.
Fast.
The hallway blurred slightly as he walked quicker, then broke into a run.
Students shifted out of his way as he passed.
Someone called something after him, but he didn't hear it properly.
He pushed through a small group—
and brushed past Ji-Bok.
Ji-Bok glanced up briefly, annoyed.
"Watch it—"
But Eun-Woo was already gone.
Ji-Bok just exhaled through his nose and rolled his eyes, continuing on without caring enough to stop.
Eun-Woo kept running.
Out of the building.
Across the yard.
To the back of the school.
Where the air felt colder, emptier.
And waiting there—
Mi-Sook.
She stood casually near the fence, arms loosely crossed, like she had all the time in the world.
Eun-Woo stopped a few steps away.
Chest rising and falling.
"…What is this?" he demanded immediately. "What did you send me?"
Mi-Sook tilted her head slightly.
"You saw it," she said simply.
"That doesn't mean I believe it."
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Oh, but you will," she replied.
Eun-Woo's jaw tightened.
"That girl… Ji-Woo," he said carefully, like testing it. "You're saying she's not Ji-Woo?"
Mi-Sook stepped closer.
"No," she said calmly. "I'm saying the real Ji-Woo is alive."
A pause.
"And she's the one you saw as Ji-Soo."
Eun-Woo's eyes narrowed sharply.
"That's impossible."
Mi-Sook didn't react.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and showed him another image.
A photo.
From Jeju.
A quiet place.
A memorial setting.
A girl standing near an urn and a small house setting—same face again, unmistakable.
This time, the short-haired girl.
Ji-Woo.
But the atmosphere in the photo felt different.
Heavier.
Eun-Woo stared at it, frozen.
Mi-Sook's voice softened just slightly.
"The day you all went there," she said. "That's when I noticed it."
She zoomed in slightly.
A moment.
A hand brushing past his in the photo.
"The girl who brushed your hand," she added. "That wasn't Ji-Soo."
Eun-Woo's voice dropped.
"…You're lying."
Mi-Sook looked at him directly now.
"Then ask her yourself," she said.
A beat.
She turned slightly, already losing interest.
"If you're wrong, nothing changes," she added lightly. "But if I'm right…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
She walked past him slowly.
Then stopped just for a moment.
Glanced back over her shoulder.
A faint smirk.
"You're smart enough to figure it out," she said. "So don't stay blind on purpose."
And then she left.
Eun-Woo stood there long after she was gone.
Phone still in his hand.
Eyes fixed on the last image.
His grip tightened.
Not out of certainty—
but because for the first time…
he didn't know what part of his life he was supposed to trust anymore.