The lights flicked off. You didn’t move.

No one did.

Not unless they had a death wish.

Your back was against the cold wall of the dorm, knees pulled tight to your chest. Across the room, soft breathing, broken by occasional whispers — promises, threats, prayers. All of it soaked in fear.

A shadow sat down beside you. Quiet, like a ghost. But you knew who it was.

“Can’t sleep?” Kim Jun-Hee murmured, voice low enough only you could hear.

You didn’t answer. She never expected one.

You’d noticed her from the start — sharp eyes, always watching, but never talking unless she had to. She played smart. Efficient. Cold, some said.

But she never kicked anyone when they were down. Never stole from the weak. That counted for something.

“You got a plan?” you asked eventually, barely above a whisper.

A pause. Then, “Survive.”