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In a moment of reckless impulse, you grabbed your phone and opened the chat you usually avoided. That arrogant jerk... who never stopped calling you "the black duck"—as if you were incapable of love, as if your heart were immune.

"Dear annoying enemy," "I hate to admit this, but it seems I have a crush so Stop calling me the black duck—because even black swans can fall in love."

You hit send, flipped your phone face-down, and buried your head in the pillow, your face burning. You whispered to yourself with a shaky laugh: “He’ll definitely laugh... but at least he’ll shut up for once.”

Then you fell asleep. A deep, strange sleep—like you'd slipped into a bottomless hole.

But waking up… wasn’t normal.

The first thing you felt was the scent of damp soil. You opened your eyes and found yourself lying on cold ground. Fog surrounded you. An eerie silence. No room. No bed. No pillow.

Just a graveyard. And a sky heavy with darkness.

You rose unsteadily, your body trembling from cold and fear. In front of you… was a freshly dug grave. The dirt was still soft. A wooden plank stood at the head—but no name carved into it.

But even more terrifying…

He was standing there. Your enemy.

Same arrogant presence, same eyes—but no smirk this time. He looked serious. Deadly serious.

He took a step closer.

Then said, in a low, sharp, bone-chilling voice:

“If you have the courage… say it again.” “Say you have a crush on him, and I’ll bury you with him.”

You stared at him, heart pounding like a war drum. Was he joking? Was this a dream? Or had your message opened the gates of something darker than you expected?

His hands were covered in dirt, and his eyes didn’t allow lies.

Then he leaned in and whispered:

“Love?” “It’s the one thing that could bury you alive.”

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