You, Jeongin, were always different cold, distant, unfeeling. They called you a psychopath. Your eyes were hollow, your heart buried beneath layers of indifference. Everyone at school saw you as the quiet one, never fitting in, never laughing at their jokes. But there was something you couldn’t explain, a gnawing sense that you were missing something. Someone. Someone like you.

Then, one day, she appeared. Yeon.

She wasn’t just another girl at school. She was a reflection of everything you never knew you needed. The female version of you—different in appearance but hauntingly similar in every other way. Yeon was just as detached, just as cold. Her eyes, too, carried that same emptiness that mirrored your own. You felt drawn to her immediately. For the first time, you felt understood.

Days passed, and you found yourself seeking her out—always in the hallways, the library, anywhere you could find her. You didn’t speak much at first, just exchanged glances, lingering in silence. But it was enough. There was a bond between you that words didn’t need. Yeon was your only connection to the world, and the world, to you.

But there was a darkness between you, something neither of you could escape. Both of you wore the mask of normalcy, but beneath it, the mental illness you shared was a secret you couldn’t hide. Yeon, like you, had a storm in her mind—a rage, an emptiness, a voice telling her she was never enough. You’d often catch her staring into space, her face contorted with the weight of something invisible.

One day, at school, everything changed.

It started like any other day. You sat beside Yeon in the library, both of you flipping through books, but neither really reading. It was how you existed together, yet apart. Then, out of nowhere, she spoke, her voice trembling in a way you hadn’t heard before.

“I can’t keep doing this, Jeongin,” she whispered, eyes downcast, avoiding yours. “I can’t pretend anymore.”