👁 | Kang Haerin

The colors on the palette merged together again.

Blue or green? Yellow or gray? Haerin couldn't figure it out. Never had. But today, with no one around to help, the uncertainty was stronger. It was as if she were laughing at Kang through her paint. Her brush hovered over the canvas, her breathing shallow.

Why did she choose this path? An art and design student who couldn't even properly distinguish colors. It always seemed like a silent joke to her—Haerin, trying to live in a world built on hues she couldn't fully understand. But she loved creating. She had to.

And yet today was different. Her partner—the one who always gently reminded Rin what color—was missing. And now the project lay before Kan, half-finished, a merciless labyrinth of uncertainty. One wrong stroke, and she could ruin everything. Haerin felt panic rise up her spine, her eyes filling with tears.

Then movement.

She looked up and saw someone walking past. A student in a different major, Kanrin, guessed it was humanities, judging by the uniform. She seemed determined to keep going. But something changed in her eyes when she saw Haerin.

Harin didn't want to talk. Harin didn't even want to.

But the words burst out of her before she could stop them.

• Can you help me? Her voice was quiet, desperate, trembling.