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 spiralling 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, shaped with an intricate design and 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. 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, going on about how her older brothers had bought it for her 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 smile could light up a room. Whose eyes reminded people of gemstones.

I went home that day. I snapped the necklace off and threw it inside my closet. I wanted to destroy the diary, but I couldn’t. It was so beautiful. I opened it to that first page and started crying. I 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. I remember now—I hadn’t destroyed the diary. I hadn’t thrown it away. But I hadn’t written in it again either. I hid it away, a silent reminder of everything I wasn’t.

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 17
– 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 a.m. 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. I feel it. A presence in the dark.

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 trip on something. The ground rushes up too fast, and when I look up, I’m no longer in my apartment building.

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. “Ara… I have questions,” I gasp, desperate.

He doesn’t move. It’s like he’s not real—like a statue frozen in time. The only sign of life is the way his hair stirs in 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 tone is flat. “You have[one]consequence for failing this mission:[DEATH].”

My breath catches.

“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. Until then, you,[Nari Choi]will not be able to die.”

A year. A year to change someone else’s heart. I try to understand, but the weight of it is overwhelming.

“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.”

“But what if I make things worse?”

“Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH].”

The words hang in the air. Heavy. I don’t want to die, but I need to know if there’s a way out.

“What if I just… don’t do anything? I’ll have a year to live, right?”

Ara doesn’t stop. “Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]. Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]…”

His voice becomes a drumbeat in my mind. He steps forward—and shoves me.

The rooftop disappears beneath my feet.

I fall.

My body hits the ground, but this time I don’t black out. Pain blooms across my side, sharp and jarring, but I’m alive. Dazed. Breathless.

I open my eyes. I’m lying in the alley near my home, cold pavement beneath me. I try to move, but everything aches. My hands tremble.

Ara stands above me, distant, his mask staring down.

Then—

Rain begins to fall. Heavy, cold.

The pain dulls. My breath steadies.

But the words linger in my head:

"Consequence for failing this mission is[DEATH]."