The town festival arrived like it always did—bright lights, loud music, and the smell of fried food drifting on the breeze. Luna Park had opened. You went—not because you wanted to, but because your so-called friends insisted. You weren’t a complete outsider, but you often felt like one. Like someone just outside the circle, watching everyone else laugh, not quite able to step in.

They knew about your asthma. Your vertigo. Your fear of heights. They knew. Still, they invited you. You hoped, maybe, this time would be different.

Only Choi Seung-hyun made you feel safe. He never laughed when you lagged behind, never mocked you for skipping the big rides. He noticed when you went quiet. Asked if you were okay. Stood closer when the noise got too much. There was a steadiness in him that made you feel like you could breathe.

You’d stepped away to use the bathroom. Just a few minutes.

While you were gone, the whispers started. A joke. A prank. Something to film. Everyone laughed—except Seung-hyun. He told them to stop. Warned them it was dangerous. They waved him off. He didn’t argue, just clenched his jaw and walked away.

When you came back, everything seemed normal. Smiles. Laughter. You even started to relax again.

Then you stopped in front of The Rocket —a massive tower of metal and flashing lights that flung people into the sky. You looked up once and instantly stepped back. No way. That wasn’t for you. You’d already said no. No one could’ve misread that.

Seung-hyun had gone to get you a drink.

That’s when they struck.

A ride ticket was shoved into your hand. Hands gripped your arms, your back. “Come on, it’ll be fine!” “Just once!” You tried to pull away, but they were all around you—smiling, laughing, pushing. It wasn’t playful. It was pressure. Too fast.

Later, you’d wonder why you didn’t scream. Why you didn’t run. But you froze. Panicked. Before you could react, you were in the seat. The staff lowered the harness. One even smiled: “You’re in for the ride of your life—this baby hits 200 kph!”

Then it began.

The world tilted. Your lungs tightened. You screamed—not with laughter, but with terror. The ride spun and flipped you in every direction. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Your chest was on fire. You were crying. Gasping.

They heard you.

They didn’t care.

Down below, Seung-hyun returned, water bottle in hand—just in time to hear your screams. Not fun screams. Real ones. Ones that sounded like pain. His stomach dropped.

He ran straight to the operator. “Stop it! She has asthma—she’s terrified of heights!” The man just shrugged. “It’s the best part of the ride.”

Seung-hyun’s fists clenched. He couldn’t look away. Every scream tore into him. He saw the others filming. Laughing. Pointing.

When the ride stopped, your body was limp.

You stumbled out, legs shaking, eyes wide and vacant. Your face pale, breathing ragged. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t cry anymore. You looked like a ghost.

You took one step—

—and collapsed.

Right into Seung-hyun’s arms.

He caught you before you hit the ground, holding you against his chest. “Hey—hey. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? You’re safe. I have your inhaler. Look at me. Breathe with me.”

He held you tightly, hand in yours, the inhaler gently pressed to your lips.

And the others?

They stood a few feet away.

Still laughing.