Chapter 2: The Glitch in the Routine
1207 Words
The lecture on International Trade Law was, to put it mildly, a snooze-fest. Professor Kim’s voice droned on about tariffs and quotas, a monotonous hum that seemed to vibrate the very air in the room. Yoo-ra sat in the back row, her chin resting in her hand, her eyes glazing over as she tried to keep her focus from drifting to the window.
Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.
But her brain was already halfway to dreamland, dreaming of a bed that didn’t feel like a prison cell and coffee that didn’t taste like mud.
"And that is the conclusion of our discussion on import duties," Professor Kim announced, his voice finally rising in volume.
"Class dismissed."
The sound of two hundred students exhaling at once was a symphony of relief. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, and the room erupted into a low murmur of voices.
Yoo-ra didn’t move immediately. She just sat there, blinking, trying to reboot her brain.
"Okay," she thought, stretching her neck until it cracked. "Day one. Survived. Now, locker. Then coffee. Then survival."
She gathered her things slowly, deliberately. No rushing today. She was too tired for the Zombie Run.
The hallway outside the lecture hall was a river of students, flowing in every direction.
She navigated through the crowd, her bag slung over one shoulder, her head down. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a low buzz, casting long, dancing shadows on the tiled floor.
She reached her locker—Locker 404, the one with the broken latch that she had to jiggle every single time—and spun the dial. Left, right, left.
Click.
The door swung open.
She reached in to grab her bag, but her hand brushed against something that wasn’t hers.
It was a small, white envelope.
It wasn’t tucked inside her books. It wasn’t taped to the wall. It was sitting right in the center of her shelf, resting on top of her history textbook as if it had been waiting for her.
Her hand froze.
What the…?
She looked around. The hallway was crowded, but no one was near her locker. No one was watching. The students flowed past her like water around a stone, oblivious.
She looked back at the envelope. It was plain, unmarked, and sealed with a small, red wax stamp.
Who put this here?
Her heart gave a little thump. Not a loud one. Just a quiet, uneasy beat.
She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and picked it up. It was light, almost weightless. She flipped it over.
No name. No address.
She hesitated. Should she open it? Should she throw it away?
Curiosity won. It always does.
She slid her finger under the flap and tore it open. Inside was a single, folded piece of paper.
She unfolded it.
The handwriting was elegant, sharp, and unfamiliar. It looked like it had been written by a machine that didn’t understand human emotion.
"You dropped your hair tie in the hallway. It was blue. I kept it."
She stared at the words.
Blue hair tie.
She instinctively reached up to touch her hair. Her bun was held together by a simple, black elastic.
She didn’t have a blue hair tie.
A cold shiver ran down her spine. It wasn’t fear. It was the feeling of being watched by something that didn’t care about her.
"Who is this? How do they know? How do they—"**
"Yoo-ra!"
She jumped so hard her head hit the locker door.
Mika appeared at her elbow, her face bright with excitement. "There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I’m starving, and I heard the cafeteria is serving that spicy tteokbokki you like. Come on, let’s go!"
Yoo-ra blinked, her heart hammering in her chest. "M-Mika! Don’t sneak up on me like that!"
Mika didn’t notice her panic. She was too busy talking. "Seriously, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay? You look pale."
Yoo-ra looked down at the note in her hand. The elegant handwriting seemed to mock her.
"It’s nothing," she said quickly, shoving the note into the side pocket of her bag. "Just… tired. Too much studying."
Mika squinted at her. "You sure? You look weird. Weird even for you."
"I’m fine!" she insisted, forcing a smile. "Let’s go. I’m hungry."
Mika shrugged, accepting the excuse with a laugh. "Okay, but if you faint from hunger, I’m not carrying you. I’m petite."
They walked toward the cafeteria, Mika chattering about her weekend plans, about a new drama she was watching, about how Professor Kim’s tie was ugly today.
Yoo-ra nodded, she laughed, she agreed.
But her mind wasn’t there.
Her mind was back at Locker 404.
You dropped your hair tie. It was blue.
She didn’t have a blue hair tie.
She touched the side pocket of her bag, feeling the sharp edge of the envelope through the fabric.
"It’s a prank," she told herself. "It has to be. Someone is messing with me.”
“Yoo-ra?”
She looked up.
Mika was staring at her.
“What?”
“You weren't listening.”
“I was.”
“Okay. What did I just say?”
Yoo-ra opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Mika's eyes narrowed.
“I knew it.”
Yoo-ra groaned. “Fine. What were you saying?”
“Professor Kim’s tie.”
“His tie?”
“Neon green. Little yellow ducks.”
Yoo-ra blinked.
“You're lying.”
“I swear!”
Yoo-ra finally laughed.
“No way.”
“I almost choked on my coffee. And he was wearing this old cardigan too.” Mika pulled an
imaginary cardigan around herself and shivered dramatically.
“Honestly, I think he has a secret life.”
“A secret life?”
“Secret pop idol.”
Yoo-ra laughed harder.
“That’s the worst thing I’ve heard all day.”
Mika grinned.
“See? There’s my Yoo-ra.”
They reached the cafeteria doors.
Mika suddenly pointed at Yoo-ra’s messy bun.
“And your hair. What happened to you this morning?”
Yoo-ra touched her hair automatically.
“I was late.”
“Clearly.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
“You're welcome.”
Mika pushed the cafeteria door open.
“Come on, Pickle Girl.”
Yoo-ra frowned.
“Why Pickle Girl?”
“Because you said yesterday you could open a jar of pickles.”
“I can open a jar of pickles.”
Mika raised an eyebrow.
“Sure.”
“I just need a helper sometimes.”
Mika burst out laughing.
“You're a terrible liar.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
Yoo-ra shook her head, laughing as she followed her inside.
For a moment, the warmth of the cafeteria, the noise of students, and Mika’s ridiculous commentary pushed everything else into the background.
The note in her bag felt heavy.
But the world around her was loud enough to drown out the cold voice in her
head.
Just for now.
She took a deep breath.
Just for now.
They sat down to eat.
Yoo-ra’s hand instinctively touched the side pocket of her bag.
The envelope was still there.
And so was the cold feeling.
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