The rest of the day slips through my fingers, a haze of confusion and exhaustion. My gaze is glued to the floor, avoiding the stares of the others, their thoughts weighing heavily on me. I’m grateful Ha-yoon fills the silence during our breaks, talking aimlessly about nothing and everything. It’s the only thing that keeps my mind from spiraling further into the abyss.

When we get home, Ha-yoon refuses to leave my side, trailing behind me like a shadow. She chattered the whole day away, but it felt like white noise, her words fading in and out. She didn’t leave until the sun dipped below the horizon, but I could feel her worry – palpable and suffocating. I know she’s concerned about what happened today, and part of me is grateful she’s here. But the other part of me just wants space, wants to process everything, the mess of feelings swirling inside me: the boys, Ara, the damn map, and Ha-yoon herself.

By the time night falls, I’ve barely made any sense of it. I’ve spent the day trying to piece together some sort of plan, but I feel like I’m fumbling in the dark. Do-yun seems like the safest choice, at least for now. He left a good impression on Ha-yoon, but beyond that, I know nothing about him. What does he like? What makes him tick? I need more.

Breathe, I tell myself. Ara didn’t set a deadline. You still have time.

I drag myself to my closet, desperate for a distraction. I find an old diary wedged in the back, covered in gemstones and dust. It’s the kind of thing I would have killed for back then. The pink cover gleamed with promise, and I remember the months I saved up just to buy it. I slide my fingers over the lock, almost tenderly, the memories flooding back.

Inside, I find the key, it's shaped with an intricate design with a pink gem—wrapped in a string like a forgotten necklace. I hold it for a moment, wondering if I’m ready to look back. Then I slide the key into the lock and open the diary, my the first entry stares back at me.

Dear diary,
I’ve never written a diary before, but I thought I’d give it a try. My name is Nari, I’m 11 years old, I have a little brother, and a best friend—her name is Ha-yoon. I had another fight with my parents and didn’t want to tell Ha-yoon. I usually do, but today’s fight was different. My parents said I need to work harder to be like Ha-yoon, but Ha-yoon said she likes me how I am. Why should I change? It’ll pass soon, and they’ll go back to ignoring me. I’ll try to write more often,
Nari Choi, 12/07/20XX

I remember going to Ha-yoon’s house the next day, she sat me on her bed and showed me her new diary, the same one I had. I wanted to laugh at the coincidence, but as I was about to tell her, I saw her smile, she was hugging the diary and laughing, as she went on about how her older brothers had bought her the diary because they thought the big pink gemstone in the middle looked like her eyes. My thoughts jumped back to the argument with my parents, be more like Ha-yoon, they said, but how could I ever measure up to her? Bright, beautiful Ha-yoon—whose eyes aren't dull and shadowed, whose smile could light up a room. Whose eyes reminded people of gemstones.

I went home that day, I snapped the key's necklace off my neck and threw it inside my closet. I was intent on destroying the diary, but I couldn’t. It was so beautiful. I'd opened the diary to the first page where I’d written my entry the day before, and I started crying. I'd recovered the key and buried it at the back of my closet.

I stroke the spots where the pen smudged so long ago and flip the page. 

Empty lines stare back at me, and I remember now, I hadn’t destroyed the diary, I hadn’t thrown it away, and I hadn’t written in it ever again. But I'd hidden it from view, a reminder of everything I wasn’t. It wasn’t long before I forgot about it. 

I find myself back at my desk now, the diary open in front of me, a ghost of the past whispering from every word. I take a pen and write, letting the ink spill like a confession:

Do-Yun, aged 18
 - likes Detective Kim.

I leave space for the others, trying to silence the noise in my head. The diary feels heavy, full of things I can’t quite understand.

I lock it again, then slip the key around my neck. 

When my parents finally come home, I wait until the house settles into an eerie silence before slipping into my jumper and shoes. I don’t know why I’m going, but something pulls me.

I don’t remember where I was yesterday, but I take the same path to the convenience store in hopes of finding it. I walk for hours, and when I check my phone, it’s almost 1 am. No use.

I return home defeated, empty. How could Ara just leave me like that? I don’t even know what’s happening anymore. What do I do about Ha-yoon and the boys? I don’t understand.

I step into the lift, but as soon as the doors close, the lights flicker, dim, and then—nothing. The lift jerks to a halt, and the corridor outside is swallowed by shadows. My heart races as I step out, and it’s like something is watching me.

I feel it. A presence in the darkness.

A figure stands at the far end of the hall. A white mask. Its smile too wide, too twisted. It seems to glow in the dark.

A chill runs down my spine.

"Ara…" My voice is barely a whisper. I stumble toward him, my legs unsteady. I don’t want to lose him again.

But I trip on something. The ground comes up too fast, and I’m falling. When I look up, the world tilts, and I’m staring at the city far below.

I’m back on the rooftop.

Ara stands there, rigid as ever, his cold smile unchanging. His white hair glows eerily in the moonlight. I scramble to my feet, pain shooting up my knee. “Ara… I have questions,” I gasp, desperate.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move. It’s like he’s not even real, like a statue frozen in time. The only sign that he’s alive is the way his hair shivers with the wind.

“What do you mean by death? Are you saying I’m going to die? How am I supposed to make the boys fall in love with Ha-yoon? That’s impossible!”

His voice is cold, detached. “[Nari Choi]you have been chosen for the mission[Correct the flow of the story: The main character has strayed from the path due to a- system error!]You must make the main characters fall in love with the Heroine of the world[Ha-yoon]”

“I know that! But how am I supposed to do that?”

“You must figure that out yourself[Nari Choi]” I can feel the frustration boiling in my chest. “And the consequence? Death? Am I going to die if I fail?”

Ara’s response is robotic. “You have[one]consequence for failing this mission[DEATH]” 

I can’t breathe.“What accounts for failure? How is that measured?”

“If[Ha-yoon]has not fallen in love and chosen[one]of the main characters by her birthday next year, it will be considered failure. And until then, you,[Nari Choi]will not be able to die”

A year. A year to make her fall in love with one of them. I try to wrap my mind around it, but the weight of it is suffocating.

“Are you going to kill me then? If I don’t succeed?”

Ara claps, “Yes! That is correct[Nari Choi]”

“What if I refuse? What if I don’t do anything?”

“You can’t, the mission has already been accepted” Ara’s voice holds no emotions, but somehow the words come off as hostile.

“But what if I refuse to get involved? What if I make things worse? What if I do nothing?”

A cold wind blows, and the atmosphere shifts.

“Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]”

The words hang in the air, suffocating, relentless.

I try to bluff. I don’t want to die, but I need to know if there’s a way out, a loophole. “What if I just… don’t do anything?”

Ara’s response is the same, over and over again. “Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]”

The words become a mantra, an echo in my mind. His hand reaches for me, and before I can react, I’m being shoved backwards. I lose my footing and fall backwards, just like yesterday, except today I don’t pass out mid-fall.

My head hits the ground hard. I black out for a moment, but when I open my eyes, pain floods my senses.

The world is spinning, and the ground is damp. I cough, and warm blood trickles from my mouth. Did I fail already? Is this death?

I spot Ara standing on the edge above me, so far away, not far enough “Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]”

The world tilts. Metal poles fall towards me. I try to move out of the way, but I’m too slow

Pain blossoms white-hot as my side is split open by a jagged metal pole. It spears straight through me, punching into the concrete below. My lungs stutter. Blood fills my mouth.

I’m stuck—impaled, bleeding out, heartbeat slowing. I can't even scream anymore. My body spasms, fingers twitching helplessly.

I want to pass out. But I don't.

The pain doesn’t fade—it builds.

My skin starts to tingle. Then blister.

Then burn.

I try to lift my head, and that’s when I see the flames—my sleeves are on fire, licking up my arms like hungry mouths. I can smell it—charred fabric, melted plastic, bubbling flesh. The air is thick with smoke. My throat is raw from silent screams.

I try to roll away, but the pole pins me in place.

I claw at my skin, but it melts under my nails. My face is burning. My scalp is on fire. Everything is heat. Red, endless, searing heat.

Then, just when I think my nerves can’t take any more—

Splash.

Relief floods me as I drop into something cold. The flames vanish instantly, replaced by dark, endless water. The cold is sharp—biting—but bearable.

Until I try to breathe.

Water crashes into my lungs like broken glass. My body convulses. I can’t rise. I can’t scream. I thrash blindly, but the surface is gone—just pressure on all sides, crushing me. My vision darkens.

Min Joon. He’ll be devastated. I can’t leave him—not like this.

I kick. Fight. Swim in any direction. But I can’t tell which way is up. I’m still drowning.

Until I’m not.

The pain stops. I’m standing on the rooftop ledge again.

My room flickers in the distance—then vanishes like a mirage. I take a step forward. Two steps, I’m almost there.

I fall.

The cycle repeats.

Over and over. There’s no escape. Only death—reshaped and served in infinite forms. My mind begins to fray, unravelling between each loop. I’m starting to forget the first death.

Was there even a first?

I force my body to move. Crawl.

My hands are burning. My lungs are screaming. My body bleeds, burns, drowns, suffocates—but I keep going.

I have to.

For Min Joon. For Ha-Yoon. For me.

I keep crawling through the nightmare, dragging what’s left of myself forward, toward my room.

And somewhere in the falling, somewhere between flame and water and blood—

I start to forget what it felt like to be alive.

I keep crawling, although I can barely remember why. I should stop; every time I move, I fall. But with every step, I get closer to my brother, and that's reason enough to keep moving.