|| Philophobia || Baek Kyung

Chapter 3 - That little shit

Baek Kyung finally stood, shoving the untouched envelope off his desk so it slid to the floor with a dull thunk. His chest felt tight, like he was walking around with a weight chained to him, but for once, he didn’t try to push it down.

The hall outside was empty, silent in that eerie way early mornings could be. He didn’t expect to see anyone — which is why his steps slowed when a familiar voice drifted toward him.

“Baek Kyung?”

Dan-oh stood a few feet away, clutching a notebook to her chest. Her hair was slightly messy, like she’d been in a rush. She smiled — not the kind of smile people gave him because they wanted something, but one that was warm. Real.

It irritated him.
Because he didn’t deserve it.
Because he knew one day, it would vanish.

“You’re early,” she said.

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Dan-oh tilted her head, studying his face. “You should take care of yourself more.”

For a second, Baek Kyung almost laughed. If only she knew. But instead, he muttered, “Don’t waste your time worrying about me,” and walked past her before she could reply.

Only he didn’t make it more than a few steps before a shadow crossed his path. Haru. Silent as ever, leaning against the lockers like he’d been waiting for him. His eyes — unreadable, steady — lingered a little too long.

Baek Kyung met his gaze and felt something shift.
He didn’t like it.
Didn’t like the way it felt like Haru could see right through him.

Without a word, Haru stepped aside, letting him pass. But the weight of that stare followed Baek Kyung down the hall.

He didn’t know why.
But for the first time in a long time…
he felt like something was about to break.

---

Yeona stood frozen at the threshold of the guest room, her eyes locked on the bed like she’d just stumbled upon a crime scene.
And in a way, she had.

Her cat and dog were planted right in the middle of the crisp, white sheets, their faces the picture of innocence. Too perfect. Too calculated.

“I’m not falling for that look,” she muttered, arms crossed. “You hear me, you little brats?”

“Meow.”
“Bark.”

The synchronized protest only made her narrow her eyes further. “Now, now—don’t you dare woof at me—”

“Woof!”

“Shut up.”

“Meow.”

She ran a hand down her face. “Ugh—Wai—wait! Shrimp! Don’t you dare poop on the pillow cover!”

The horror hit her all at once. “Ugh, gross. I’m going to get a headache from dealing with you two. Maybe I should’ve just listened to Mom after all…”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her voice softened, her eyes falling to the floor. “Maybe before she left…”

For a moment, the usual sharpness in her tone faded. She sighed, the sound heavy, and almost too quiet for the room. No matter how much she pretended otherwise, even the smallest thing her mother had ever said—things she’d rolled her eyes at, things she’d brushed off as annoying—now made her chest ache.

She had gotten rid of everything. Tossed old clothes, books, photos—anything that carried a trace of her. Sold the house so she wouldn’t have to walk down halls that felt like ghosts were still following her. And yet… it didn’t work. The memories stayed. Burned in, stubborn as scars.

Her father had been nothing but a name on a page. She never knew him. All she’d learned was that her parents’ divorce was, somehow, his fault—and that he was a writer. But she’d made herself a promise. One day, she’d find him.
All she had was his name: Hwang Jo Yeon.
And a strange word attached to it: Sagak.

Now she stood in front of the school gates, the morning air sharp against her cheeks. She lifted her hand to push the doors open—only to realize she couldn’t move.

No. Not again.

Her heartbeat quickened, and without thinking, she ran. Bolted straight into the building, hoping to outrun the invisible strings pulling at her limbs.

She didn’t get far before she slammed into something—no, someone.

“Ow—” She stumbled back, rubbing her forehead.

“Woah, woah, slow down there, kid,” a familiar voice chuckled.

“I’m not a kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” Jinmichae said, smirking like the walking golden retriever he was. “You’re a grown-up girl… running through the corridor like a kid.”

She didn’t even slow down—just flipped him off over her shoulder. “I’m trying to run before I lose control over my body, you golden retriever!”

Jinmichae’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something more knowing. So… she knows about the Stage and Shadow, he thought, watching her disappear down the hall. Then he smirked again. Interesting.

Sagak.

By the time Yeona entered the main hall, the screaming had already started. Ugh. Gross.

Of course, it was A3. The light practically followed them in like they’d paid for a personal sunbeam subscription.

From left to right, they were walking personality types:
Lee Dohwa — waving and grinning like the president of the extrovert club.
Oh Nam-joo — casually talking to Dohwa, clearly an ambivert who liked keeping things balanced.
And finally, Baek Kyung — head down, thumbs scrolling, pure introvert energy.

Just like her.

She didn’t even try to hide her eye-roll as she pushed past them—literally—earning an amused smile from Dohwa and annoyed looks from Nam-joo and Baek Kyung.

Straight to the washroom.

“Damn these periods!!!” Yeona slammed her fist against the wall. In her head, the wall was Dan-oh’s face. To everyone else, she looked like a violent lunatic who just really loved punching things.

A few unlucky girls were trapped in the washroom with her—the AE girls.
Aeil, Aesam, and Aeri were currently huddled together like penguins in a blizzard.

“What is she doing??” Aeil whispered, not even trying to be subtle.

“Maybe her boyfriend broke up with her,” Aesam guessed, peeking over her friend’s shoulder like she was Sherlock Holmes and Yeona was a crime scene.

“Shut up, you idiots, what if she hears us?” Aeri hissed, voice rising in panic.

“Oh god, please save us from this mad huma—”

Sagak.

Yeona blinked—and suddenly, she was back in her classroom. The Stage must have shifted again.

Her teacher was droning on, but the soft, rhythmic sound of snoring from behind her was impossible to ignore. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the culprit, and—without thinking—hurled her pencil backwards in an attempt to wake them up.

Unfortunately, the pencil was sharper than she thought.
And it didn’t just wake the person up.
It hit them.
Right. On. The. Face.

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