Chapter -4

The Girl Who Doesn’t Blink

The first attack came quietly.

A small, intentional shove down a back stairwell after night class.

Wrong timing.

No witnesses.

But Lia didn’t fall.

Her attacker was fast. Masked. Precise. Not a student.

Which meant this wasn’t a random incident.

He struck without a word.

She ducked. Pivoted.

And drove her knee into his chest like she'd been trained in a world far darker than any classroom.

The man staggered, stunned by her strength.

She didn’t let him recover.

Three moves later, he was unconscious, slumped behind the stairwell door.

Lia adjusted her uniform and walked back to her dorm without a scratch.

Minji was waiting with instant noodles and face masks.

> “You’re late. Were you with tall, dark, and possessive?”

> “Stairs were slippery,” Lia lied smoothly.

Minji laughed.

> “You sound like you murdered someone and came straight home.”

> “Would you still feed me if I did?”

> “Depends. Did you get blood on your clothes?”

Lia smiled faintly.

> “No.”

> “Then eat.”

Across the city, Ji-Hwan poured himself a drink.

> “She handled the test well,” the voice on the phone said.

> “Of course she did,” Ji-Hwan replied. “She wasn’t born to run. She was made to conquer.”

He set the glass down.

> “Send another. Smarter this time. I want to see if she blinks.”

Meanwhile, Kael stood outside the café where Lia worked part-time.

He hadn’t gone in.

He just... watched.

She was smiling at customers. Her hands were gentle. Her voice was soft.

But something felt off.

Like she was acting from muscle memory.

Like she didn’t feel anything.

That night, Lia left her shift and walked into the alley behind the café.

She stopped.

> “You can come out now.”

Kael stepped from the shadows.

> “How did you know I was there?”

> “You always circle before you strike.”

> “And you always walk toward danger like it owes you something.”

She tilted her head, examining him.

> “You’re bleeding,” she said.

He looked down. His knuckles were scraped.

Earlier that night, he’d beaten a man who whispered something about Lia in a bar.

Kael didn’t even remember what he’d said.

Only the rage.

> “Was it for me?” she asked softly.

> “I don’t like people speaking your name.”

Lia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

> “You don’t even know who I am.”

> “Maybe that’s why I can’t stop.”

Back on campus, Yoon Haneul sat at his desk, staring at a paused video frame.

Security footage.

He had hacked into the back stairwell cameras after Lia’s unusual delay.

There—just three seconds of it.

She wasn’t just fast.

She was trained. Calculated. Cold.

> What are you…?

Later that night, Lia sat at her window again. The city was quiet. Her tea untouched.

She opened the drawer beside her bed.

Inside, neatly hidden, was a black envelope.

Unmarked.

She opened it.

Inside was a photo—blurry, taken from a distance—but the man in it was unmistakable.

Kael.

Standing outside the café.

Watching her.

Behind the photo, a note:

> “He won’t survive you twice.”

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry.

She simply lit the photo on fire and watched it burn.

Then whispered softly to the night:

> “Try touching him again. I’ll show you what I really am.”

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