Jun’s shirt stuck to his skin, red and heavy. He didn’t move. Nurses lifted him onto a stretcher, shouting his name, dragging him through the chaos.

Nayeon pressed her hands to her mouth, her knees wobbling. She stared at him as if willing him to wake. Yohan’s fists dug into the floor; his breaths came fast and shallow. No one said anything. No one could.

The wail of sirens pierced the air. Police voices barked questions, but the words washed over everyone like noise.

Miss Jihye came running, her heels scraping the floor. She froze behind the glass, staring at Jun’s still form. Her fingers trembled against the pane. One, two, three taps—then she pressed her face close, blinking against the sterile lights.

Everything felt impossibly still, except the pounding in her chest.