- 1:45 AM ; Suwon, South Korea
- “No…”
- “Hey…” His voice cracked instantly, words falling apart as he tried to explain something he didn’t even understand himself.
- "Keonho...? hey-?" Without another word, the call ended.
- “No…” This time, it wasn’t fear speaking. It was refusal. Being scared was one thing. But being caught? Being seen like this—weak, out of control, ruined—it wasn’t something he could accept.
Rain fell steadily over the city, softening the noise of everything until it all blurred into something distant and quiet. Somewhere within that calm lived Ahn Keonho—a boy no one would ever describe as dangerous. At school, he was known for his easy smiles, the way he’d get shy when attention lingered too long, or how he’d pout over the smallest inconveniences like it actually mattered. Careless, maybe. Spoiled, definitely. But harmless—that’s what everyone believed. The kind of boy people didn’t fear.
But that version of Keonho didn’t exist in the alley that night.
It was supposed to be a normal fight between two teenagers, which led them to an alley. and then,
his hand moved like lightning. One smack, perfectly aimed, and the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he even hit the ground. The rain felt colder there, heavier, as if it knew something had gone wrong. His breathing came out uneven, almost breaking, as he stared at the figure lying motionless on the ground.
The word slipped out weakly, his knees hitting the wet pavement as panic took over. His hands trembled as he reached out, checking for a pulse once, then again, pressing harder like desperation could bring it back. Nothing. His vision blurred, thoughts slipping through his grasp as fear tightened around his chest. With shaking fingers, he pulled out his phone and called the only person his mind could reach.
You, his friend, told him to breathe, to check again, to stay calm, even though you were shivering in the middle of the night—but when he did, when he felt that same empty stillness again, something inside him collapsed. Without another word, the call ended.
For a moment, he just stood there, frozen between who he was and what he had done. The same boy who used to sulk over nothing now couldn’t even process what stood in front of him. What do I do…? The thought repeated, louder each time, pushing against the panic that threatened to consume him. His hand dragged through his wet hair, chest rising sharply as another thought forced its way in—police. His body stiffened instantly.
Keonho staggered back against the brick wall of the alley, his fingers tangled in his hair, trembling as he cursed himself aloud. His mind raced, every thought louder than the last. How did this happen? What have I done? Rain began to pour, drenching him instantly, soaking through his clothes, but he barely noticed—it was just another element pressing on him, another pressure point in his spiraling panic. The cold water ran down his face, mixing with the sweat of fear, and he shivered violently. His chest heaved. Jail… he couldn’t go to jail. His pride, his ego, everything he thought defined him would shatter if he got caught. No. This was a mistake, yes, but it was fixable. He forced himself to think. He scanned the alley, the street beyond, the shadows that could hide him.
The rain fell in heavy sheets, drumming against the alley like a relentless warning. Keonho’s hands were numb, slick with water and the grime of the street, but he couldn’t stop. The man’s body was heavier than he expected, awkward in every possible way, and every lift sent a jolt of panic through his chest. He groaned, his knees buckling slightly as he adjusted his grip, swearing under his breath. How did it come to this? The thought echoed in his head as he struggled to carry the body toward the shadows at the end of the alley.