Whispers Of The Unseen

Chapter 33 - Minji's POV: Seize Me, Resist Me

In the midst of tidying up my classroom, a knock disrupts the stillness, and as I open the door, there stands Mr. Lennox. I maintain my formal demeanor presence, refusing to be undermined. "Mr. Lennox," I acknowledge him, bending down to gather the debris scattered around – the remnants of a careless student's presence. Though I must confess, my feelings about this place remain a complex mix of emotions.

But his words redirect my focus. His speech draws my attention, and I stand upright, attentive to his accusation. He presents a piece of paper, and I approach cautiously. The image captures my interest – a photograph taken from an elevated angle, as if someone was peering from a window. The majority of the frame is filled with white space, like a curtain obstructing the view. Yet amidst the white, the distinct outline of my dark, flowing hair and arms is visible. There's another figure in front of me, partially obscured. I narrow my eyes, studying the image closely.

"What is the intent behind this, Mr. Lennox?" I query, my tone direct and unyielding. He raises an eyebrow, attempting to match my assertiveness, but I remain steadfast. "Perhaps you should be answering that question, Ms. Kim," he retorts.

I stifle a scoff, allowing my internal irritation to simmer silently beneath my composed demeanor. "And what exactly is the implication here?" I inquire, my voice steady and unwavering. He releases the photograph, a symbolic gesture that amplifies the gravity of the situation. "Concerns have been raised within the staff, insinuating a connection beyond that of a mere acquaintance between you and a student," he states. I suppress a smirk, allowing the corners of my lips to twitch with derision. "Is that so?" I remark, the sarcasm not lost on me.

His words are stern, a testament to the seriousness of the matter. "Ms. Kim, this is not a matter to be taken lightly," he asserts. As he steps closer, I do the same, closing the gap between us. "Do you think I'm oblivious to that fact?" I retort, my tone firm and assertive. I take a moment to relax my stance, not showing weakness but rather indicating that I'm willing to discuss the situation rationally.

"I'm simply taken aback, Mr. Lennox," I continue. "You ought to know me better than this." He shakes his head, his expression unyielding. "No, Ms. Kim, I truly don't," he counters bluntly. "You're rarely seen in the staff room, often secluded here." I curse inwardly, my tendency to isolate myself now casting a shadow on my reputation. "Beyond that," I argue, "we're both professionals, dedicated to maintaining discipline and order. So, why would I jeopardize all that?" I challenge him.

He blinks, perhaps caught off guard by my defense. "I don't know," he concedes, leaning forward to place a piece of paper on my desk. "These were found strewn along the lockers. Fortunately, most students had already left when they were discovered." A lump forms in my throat as I swallow, realizing the extent of the situation. He takes a deep breath, standing by the door. "Regardless of your involvement," he declares, "we will get to the bottom of this situation."

With that, he exits, leaving me alone to grapple with the aftermath of his visit. I grit my teeth, conceding that Haerin's assessment of Mr. Lennox was on point – he was indeed a jerk.

I retrieve the piece of paper, glaring at it with disdain before finally discarding it. "Couldn't even manage a clear shot," I grumble, my frustration evident. Retrieving my phone, I use Face ID to unlock it, revealing the image of Luna on my lock screen. With practiced efficiency, I navigate to Haerin's contact and dial her number. As the call connects, her voice purrs through the line, "Hello, professor," she coos, and I don't waste time, my tone carrying a touch of reprimand. "You never cease to amaze, Haerin."

There's an audible surprise in her voice as she responds, "Eh? You're calling me late at night just to berate me?" I can't help but smirk, glancing out the window. "It's only 5 pm," I correct her, and she lets out a playful yawn. "I was napping," she offers. I take a moment to collect myself, my anger from the earlier encounter now somewhat softened by her voice. I inhale deeply, exhaling slowly. "We have an issue," I begin, the gravity of the situation evident in my tone. Her eagerness comes through in her response, "What's wrong? I bet I can handle it."