The Fear Spreads

The next morning, the school tried to pretend nothing had happened.

Teachers stood at the front of classrooms with fixed smiles, rattling off lessons as though the disappearance of a student was no more serious than a missed assignment. But Ji-won could feel it in the air. The other students weren’t fooled.

Every scrape of a chair, every creak of the old wooden floors made heads snap toward the sound.

Song Mi-rae’s absence was a hole no one dared to speak about too loudly.

---

By the second period, whispers had already begun circulating through the hallways.

“I heard she was taken.”

“Don’t say it here. The Eyes will hear you.”

“No—it’s just a runaway case. Right? Right?”

Ji-won walked past the clusters of gossiping students, her chest tightening with each word. Soo-min stayed glued to her side, her hands stuffed in her pockets, eyes darting nervously around.

At their lockers, Ji-won noticed something strange. A scrap of paper tucked into the vents of her door. She pulled it free, heart pounding.

On it, scrawled in jagged handwriting, were the words:

You saw them. Didn’t you?

Ji-won froze. The letters swam before her eyes. Who had left it? Who knew?

Soo-min leaned over her shoulder, then quickly glanced around. “Who wrote that? What do you think—”

“Shh.” Ji-won crumpled the note into her fist, shoving it deep into her pocket. But her hands trembled.

Someone else knew.

---

At lunch, the tension finally cracked.

A group of students sat huddled in the corner of the cafeteria, their voices sharp with fear. Kang Min-jun, the athlete, slammed his fist onto the table. “Stop pretending nothing’s happening! Song Mi-rae didn’t just disappear—she was taken. We all know it.”

Across from him, Hwang Ji-hoon sneered, though his face was pale. “And what, you think a ghost did it? You’re all pathetic. She probably just ran away because she couldn’t handle the pressure.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” Min-jun snapped. “People have been seeing things. The Eyes—”

The cafeteria fell silent. Every student nearby turned to listen.

Ji-hoon’s jaw tightened. “You say that word again, and you’ll regret it.”

“Or what?” Min-jun growled, standing. His height and build cast a shadow over Ji-hoon, who instinctively leaned back in his seat.

Before the fight could erupt, Choi Hye-jin’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Stop. Both of you.”

Everyone turned. Hye-jin’s expression was steady, her gaze sharp. “Arguing won’t change anything. Whether you believe it or not, Mi-rae is gone. If we’re not careful, more of us will be too.”

Her words settled like a weight over the room.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the cafeteria buzzed again, softer this time, like the whispers of insects in the walls.

Ji-won forced herself to eat, though every bite tasted like dust.

---

That night, Ji-won and Soo-min sat in their dorm room with the lights on, neither willing to face the dark. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the scratching of Soo-min’s pencil as she doodled nervously on the edge of her notebook.

Finally, Soo-min spoke. “Do you think it’s true? That if you see them, you… vanish?”

Ji-won hesitated. “I don’t know.”

But deep inside, she did know. She had seen the Eyes. Soo-min had too. And now Mi-rae was gone.

Their room felt smaller, tighter, as if the walls themselves were listening.

Tap.

Both girls froze.

The sound came from the window.

Ji-won’s heart lurched. Slowly, she turned her head.

The curtains shifted slightly, though the window was shut tight.

Tap. Tap.

The sound was deliberate. Rhythmic. A knock, not an accident.

Soo-min’s face is drained of color. She grabbed Ji-won’s hand, her grip ice cold.