Whispers in the Hallway

The morning bell rang, sharp and metallic, dragging Ji-won out of a restless sleep. She sat up, sweat clinging to her skin, her heart still racing from the memory of those glowing eyes.

But when she looked at the window, the forest stood quiet and ordinary in the daylight. No eyes. No tapping. Nothing but a faint mist curling between the trees.

“Ji-won, you look awful,” Soo-min said, yawning as she stretched. Her hair stuck out in every direction. “Bad dreams?”

Ji-won hesitated. Should she tell her? The words pressed against her lips, but something inside warned her to stay silent. If she told Soo-min she’d seen the Eyes, what if it made it real?

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ji-won muttered instead.

---

The students shuffled into the assembly hall for the principal’s welcome speech. Ji-won barely heard his words about discipline and excellence. Her gaze wandered over the sea of faces—some excited, some bored, some as uneasy as she felt.

That’s when her eyes met Kang Min-jun. He was sitting near the front, broad-shouldered and confident, but his expression wasn’t relaxed like the others. He kept glancing toward the windows, as if he, too, was waiting for something to appear in the dark.

Ji-won quickly looked away.

When the assembly ended, the hall erupted with chatter. Ji-won and Soo-min were making their way toward the cafeteria when a voice stopped them.

“Hey. You two.”

A girl with sharp eyes and neatly tied hair stood leaning against the wall. Choi Hye-jin, Ji-won remembered from the introductions. She had a reputation for being quiet and observant, the kind of person who saw things others overlooked.

“You’re in 3-12, right?” Hye-jin asked.

Ji-won nodded cautiously. “Why?”

Hye-jin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Be careful at night. That room… it faces the forest.”

Before Ji-won could ask what she meant, Hye-jin walked away, her shoes clicking softly against the floor.

Soo-min snorted. “Okay, dramatic much? What’s wrong with facing the forest? It’s just trees.”

But Ji-won wasn’t so sure.

---

At lunch, the cafeteria buzzed with energy. Students traded snacks and gossiped about everything from the difficult teachers to the rumors they’d heard about Wolha School. Ji-won picked at her food, her mind still tangled with the memory of those eyes.

Across the table, a boy with glasses—Kim Jae-hwan, the bookworm—was telling a group of students about the school’s history.

“They say Wolha was built on the ruins of an older village,” he explained, his voice low but steady. “The villagers disappeared one winter without explanation. When workers tried to rebuild, they heard strange noises at night. Some refused to keep working. But eventually, the school was built anyway.”

“Creepy,” someone muttered.

“Just stories,” another said, rolling his eyes.

But Jae-hwan leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “It’s not just stories. There are records in the town archives. Disappearances, going back decades. Always near the forest. Always students.”

A hush fell over the table. Even the loudest ones didn’t laugh.

Soo-min quickly changed the subject, but Ji-won’s appetite vanished completely.

---

That evening, as the students returned to their dorms, the hallways felt different. The buzz of the day had drained away, leaving behind a heavy silence. The portraits lining the walls seemed to stare even harder.

Ji-won stopped at one—the painted face of a headmaster from decades ago. His eyes were dull brown, yet somehow, under the dim light, they looked as though they glowed faintly. Watching.

Her throat went dry. She forced herself to look away and hurried after Soo-min.

Inside their room, Soo-min was already sprawled on her bed, humming a tune as she unpacked snacks from home. “Want some?” she asked, holding up a bag of chips.

Ji-won shook her head. She moved toward the window almost against her will, peeking out into the night.

The forest was nothing but a black mass beyond the glass. She held her breath, waiting.

Nothing.

Relief washed over her. Maybe last night really had been her imagination. Maybe—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ji-won froze. The sound was faint, but unmistakable.

Her gaze shot to the window.

This time, the glowing eyes were closer.

Burning. Unblinking. Fixed on her.

Her breath hitched, and before she could scream, a hand grabbed her wrist.

She spun around—Soo-min. Her face pale, her eyes wide.

“You see them too?” Soo-min whispered.