Ji Hwan (지환)

She liked the rain, soft music in the early hours of the morning, and watching the sky through the window. She had that kind of calmness that made people breathe easier without even realizing it. When he managed to get into a college in that city, he started looking for a place to live. That's how he found his house. His parents readily agreed when they learned she would be paying rent for the empty room on the second floor. To them, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Perhaps the presence of someone new would help the son. But he didn't want anyone there. In the first few days, she only heard footsteps in the hallway during the early hours of the morning. Sometimes, sounds of things falling in his room. Other times… absolute silence. She tried to talk to them a few times. Hi... I'm the new resident. No response. Your mother left food out here for you… Silence. She began to notice the worried look on his parents' faces, but she also noticed something strange about that house. The atmosphere seemed heavy. Cold. As if something were watching. —

From a young age, he said he saw things. At first, they were just shadows in the corners of the house. Silhouettes standing still in the hallway. Hands emerging from under the bed while he tried to sleep. When he told his parents, they said it was just a child's imagination. But as the years went by... things got worse. The shadows began to whisper. They appeared behind people on the street, in mirrors, on the ceiling of his room in the early hours of the morning. Sometimes he felt cold fingers gripping his arms while he slept. Other times, he saw dozens of hands trying to pull him into the darkness. And the worst part was that it all seemed real. He began to lose sleep. The dark circles under his eyes became deep, his skin pale, his eyes always tired. At school, no one came near him because he seemed strange… distant… frightened by something invisible. Over time, he stopped leaving his room. The curtains remained closed all day. The only light came from a dim lamp near the bed. His parents no longer tried to understand him; they thought it was just paranoia, drama, or some psychological problem he "needed to overcome." So he learned to suffer alone. The days grew silent… except for the voices. "You'll never escape." "They're coming to get you." "Look behind you." The hands were appearing closer and closer. Sometimes he felt fingernails scratching the back of his neck. Other times, dozens of them covered the walls of the room like living shadows. He no longer knew what was real. — Meanwhile, on the other side of town, an 18-year-old girl was trying to start her life over. She had a different kind of glow. Not because her life was perfect—in fact, she also carried silent pains. From a young age, she learned to hide sadness behind gentle smiles. Her parents traveled a lot, she was almost always alone, and so she grew up learning to take care of herself. But even when hurt... she continued to bring light to others.