The Girl in Room 504
I hadn't set an alarm for the first day of school. The clock's origin was unknown, crudely engraved with something like "○○ High Alumni 100th Reunion Commemoration." My eyes just opened on their own. The light seeping through the window cracks was still faint. Around six in the morning.
I stared at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. It was the first day. The uniform hung by the window just as I'd left it. The one I'd hand-washed yesterday had dried overnight. Not completely, but wearable. I picked up the shirt and sniffed it. The soap scent lingered.
I washed up with cold water and slowly dressed in the uniform, getting ready to head out. I checked the mirror. A few wrinkles. Ironing was out of the question. Still, it was clean enough.
'Eh, this'll do.' I grabbed my shabby bag and opened the front door. Checked the lock. Secure. The walk to school felt unfamiliar yet not. This alley, this main road, this crosswalk. I'd walked the same paths in my original world.
Alone back then, too. Memories of heading to school early in the empty morning. Uncomfortable uniform, empty stomach, no desire to go. Not much different from now. Just one thing had changed. Back then, I was scared. Now, I was just lazy.
Out on the main road, women heading to work bustled by energetically even at this early hour. Among them, uniformed schoolgirls. A few boys scattered here and there. The girls strode confidently. Most boys kept their heads slightly down, walking a bit apart from the groups. I just went at my own pace.
When the school gate came into view, I paused for a second. The building was identical. The same school from my original world. Same sign, same walls, same zelkova tree by the gate. But it was different. The students gathered at the entrance were arranged differently. Girls clustered in groups of three or five, chatting away. Boys slipped in quietly, alone or in pairs.
'Right, this is that world.' I passed through the gate.
***
I'd been assigned to 2nd Year Class 4. A few students were already in the classroom when I pushed open the door. Three or four girls chatting together turned to look at me. Their gazes lingered. I ignored them and found an empty seat. Middle row by the window. Set my bag down and stared out. Students trickled in one by one. As the room filled, the whispers grew.
"Who's that guy? Was he in our class?"
"Never seen him before."
"No way, look at that skin."
I pretended not to hear. I'd gotten looks like that in my original world, too. The kind women gave pretty girls. It still felt strangely off that those expressions were aimed at me now. Then the back door opened. I glanced over without thinking. Our eyes met. A girl with brown hair tied back. Tall. Solid shoulders. Uniformed, but that silhouette was familiar. The face from the alley. I almost raised my hand on reflex. She reacted first. Her eyes widened briefly, then settled calmly. A light nod. Then she walked to a far seat on the opposite side.
'...What?' I lowered my hand. She's in my class, huh. That was it.
***
Kang Isul sat down, trying her best to act natural. Only she knew her heart had skipped a beat. He was in her class. That boy from the alley a few days ago. The one with the calm eyes who'd said thanks. The one who'd hidden his trembling hands behind his expression. Kang Isul set her bag down and took a slow breath. It's fine. Just classmates. As long as they didn't talk much. But why was her heart floating like this? She fixed her gaze on the teacher's desk. Focus there. Just look there.
The homeroom teacher arrived two minutes before roll call. Young. Way younger than expected. Early twenties, maybe twenty-four. She wrote her name on the board, and the chalk slipped from her hand. It clattered to the floor, echoing in the room. Soft laughs rippled around. Teacher Park Jisu picked it up, face flushed.
"S-sorry. Let me try again."
She finally finished writing and called roll. Skipped someone midway, called another twice by mistake. I watched quietly. Clumsy, but not bad. She wasn't faking it—she was genuinely nervous. Roll call ended, and she spoke.
"Since it's the first day, we'll mostly do orientation stuff. Oh, and one student is absent... Bae Si-ah. Can't reach her, so I'll handle it later."
The teacher rifled through papers and looked toward the temporary class president.
"Kang Isul, could you hand out the notices and parent letters today?"
"Yes, Teacher."
Kang Isul stood as roll call wrapped up. Right away, three of the six boys in class headed my way almost in sync.
"Hey, you were in our class the whole time? No way, I had no idea."
"How do you take care of your skin? Seriously curious."
"What cosmetics do you use?"
I looked at their faces for a second. Boys from this world. One had makeup on, others clearly put effort into skincare. Reminded me of girls from my original world.
"Don't really do much."
"How? With skin like that?"
"Just naturally like this."
They glanced at each other.
"What skin lotion?"
"Just wash my face."
"Just washing? And it looks like that?"
Shocked faces.
"At least toner, right? You use toner?"
I thought for a moment.
"What's toner?"
Silence fell. One boy gaped at me.
"...You don't know toner?"
"Nope."
"No way."
The one next to him clutched his forehead.
"He's saying he doesn't know toner. You hear that?"
"Heard it. Can't process it."
I had no intention of explaining. I didn't know. For real. In my original world, washing and drying was it for me. During my kitchen duty days, I skipped even that some mornings rushing breakfast. The boys launched into explaining what toner was and how to use it. Pretty enthusiastic. I just listened. Not really sinking in. Over there, Kang Isul was passing out parent letters, circulating the room. Smiling naturally, making eye contact with each one. Watching her, that alley expression overlapped. The firm stance with my arm twisted. The resolute, clear voice. Different from now. But the same person.
'Eh, some people are like that.' I looked away.
***
The day slipped by in a haze. Orientation wasn't long. New school rules, textbook lists, emergency contacts. Teacher Park Jisu stuttered twice more and once read papers upside down before the class caught it. No real lessons. Just sitting through it. During breaks, girls glanced my way. They'd approach but pull back if the boys were still hanging around. Rinse and repeat. I stared out the window or zoned out. Probably less boring than group training in the army.
Final roll call ended, kids started packing. I stood to go when someone approached. Kang Isul. Holding a document envelope. A bit awkward expression.
"Hey."
"Yeah."
She averted her eyes briefly, then met mine.
"Teacher asked me. Bae Si-ah absent today—your place is closest to hers. No contact either."
She held out the envelope.
"These are the first-day notices and parent letters. Could you drop by on your way home? Check why she didn't come, too."
I took it. No big deal. Just swing by.
"Got it."
"Thanks. Address is on the back."
As she turned, I spoke first.
"Thanks for the other day."
She stopped.
"The alley."
"...Oh."
Kang Isul let out a short laugh. Awkward, but trying to brush it off.
"Nah, just happened to pass by."
"Still."
She couldn't continue, nodded once, and headed back to her seat. I stuffed the envelope in my bag and left the classroom.
Kang Isul watched Han Gyeowol's back disappear down the hall, adjusting her bag strap. Strange feeling. Hard to explain. Not uncomfortable. Burdensome, yeah. But not in a bad way. She shook her head sharply. Just classmates. That's it.
***
As requested by Kang Isul, I headed to Bae Si-ah's place on the way home, following the address on the envelope. It was an apartment in an ordinary complex. Stains on the outer walls, elevator buttons worn. Checked the unit on the back—504—and climbed the stairs. I rang the doorbell. No response. Rang again. Nothing. Knocked.
"Hello? From school. Here with notices."
Silence. I stood there a moment. My ex, Yoo Sea-ah, flashed in my mind—the suicide attempt. Those two days with no contact. The third-floor villa I'd gone to. Nah, no way. I tried the handle. It turned with eerie ease. I pushed the door open and stepped in.
The entryway was quiet. Lights off. Faint light leaked from the living room. One step, two. As I entered the living room, I froze.
Someone sat on the floor. In front of the sofa. A girl in a white shirt. Red streaks already smeared above her wrists. Knife in hand, not yet drawn again.
One second stretched long. I drew a breath. And opened my mouth.