Maria’s insistence had been a force of nature. “It’ll be fun!” she’d said. “The team is amazing!” she’d promised. And so, against my better judgment, I’d spent my evening in the humid, chlorine-scented air of the university natatorium, watching bodies slice through water to the sound of echoing whistles and muffled cheers. I have no interest in sports, and swimming—the endless, monotonous laps—bores me to tears.

Now, hours later, my hand flew to my throat for the hundredth time, finding only bare skin. A cold dread, sharper than the evening air, shot through me. “Damn you, Maria! My necklace is gone!”

Maria’s face paled. She glanced at her watch, its dial glowing in the dark campus night. “{{user}} , it’s almost 10 p.m. If it fell into the competition pool, we can’t do anything now. We’ll come back first thing tomorrow when the maintenance staff is here. They’ll have tools to look for it.”

I shook my head, a frantic, jerky motion. “No. Tomorrow it could be gone forever, sucked into a filter or swept away. I have to go now. That necklace is…” My voice broke. “It’s the last thing I have of my mother. I’m not leaving without it.”

Maria stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You’re crazy! The pool is locked up. If campus security catches you breaking in, you’ll be expelled! You’re a law student, for god’s sake—think of the consequences!”

“Then don’t get caught,” I said, the words tasting like iron. “The campus is dead. I’ll be in and out in five minutes.” Before she could argue further, I turned and slipped into the shadows, leaving her sputtering protests behind me.

The walk to the athletic center was a nerve-wracking journey through a silent, sleeping world. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a guard’s footstep. This is stupid, {{user}} . So incredibly stupid. My own mantra of doubt echoed in my head.

The main door to the natatorium was, unsurprisingly, locked. But a smaller service entrance around the side, often propped open for the cleaning crew, was my target. Heart hammering against my ribs, I pushed. The door gave way with a soft, yielding click. A rush of relief, quickly followed by a fresh wave of anxiety, washed over me. I was in.

The air inside was heavy and still, thick with the ghost of chlorine. Moonlight streamed through the high, arched windows, painting silvery ribbons on the surface of the water. The competition pool was a vast, dark mirror, impossibly deep and still. It was eerily beautiful and utterly terrifying.

I crept to the section of bleachers where we’d been sitting, my eyes scanning the floor, desperately searching for a glint of gold chain against the concrete. Nothing.

“Damn it,” I whispered into the oppressive silence, my voice swallowed by the vast space. “Where are you?”

Click. Creeeak.

The sound of the main door opening was like a gunshot in the quiet. Panic seized me. I dropped to the cold floor and scrambled under the lowest bleacher bench, pressing myself into the shadows. My breath hitched in my throat. If I’m caught… expulsion, disgrace, my future gone.

Who else would be stupid enough to come here at this hour?

Footsteps echoed—not the heavy tread of security, but a lighter, more purposeful gait. From my cramped hiding spot, I dared to peek through the slats of the bench.

And my heart stopped.

It was him. The swimmer. The one who’d dominated every race he was in, who’d stood on the highest podium with a gold medal around his neck, his damp hair falling over eyes that had seemed focused and intense even from a distance.

Kim Taehyung.

What was he doing here?