The apartment was silent when Seina opened her eyes.
For a moment, she didn't quite know why she had woken up. The room remained dark, lit only by a thin line of city light slipping through the gap in the curtain. Outside, the distant sound of cars moving up and down avenues reached her muffled, as if it were coming from far away.
She turned her head and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table.
02:43.
She stared at the numbers for a few seconds, not really thinking about anything in particular. Her body was tired, heavy, but her mind wouldn't stop. The whole day replayed itself in disconnected fragments—the school hallway, the laughter, the unexpected touch, the words.
Strange.
She let out a slow breath and looked back at the ceiling, trying to close her eyes again. She couldn't. There was something different about that night, something hard to name but impossible to ignore. The apartment felt smaller, as if the walls had moved a few inches closer while she slept.
Seina sat up in bed, running a hand over her face.
The silence was so deep she could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Without warning, Thalya's image appeared in her mind. Her calm smile, the way she spoke gently even when everything seemed to be going wrong, the way she looked at her as if she could see something no one else did. It made her chest tighten in an uncomfortable way.
She glanced at the clock again.
02:44.
There was no point trying to sleep.
Seina got up, feeling the cold floor seep through the soles of her feet. She stood still in the middle of the room for a few seconds, as if waiting for some sign—anything that would tell her to go back to bed and pretend nothing was happening.
Nothing came.
She walked over to the backpack in the corner and opened it carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible. She grabbed a few clothes and a bottle of water. Her movements were quiet and automatic, as if she had made this decision long before that moment.
When she finished, she stood there looking at the open bag.
The thought came, simple but heavy.
If I stay here…
She didn't need to finish it.
She zipped it up.
As she stepped out of her room, she cast an almost instinctive glance toward the dark hallway. Her parents' bedroom door was still closed. For a moment, she listened, catching the faint sound of their breathing from inside.
They were asleep.
She moved into the living room. The dim streetlight partially lit the space, revealing the mess left behind by the recent move.
Boxes still stacked, objects out of place. Everything felt temporary—as if even the house hadn't decided yet whether this was truly their home.
Seina hesitated near the door.
Her eyes drifted to the kitchen, where her father's wallet lay on the counter.
She stood there for a few seconds, gripping the strap of her backpack.
"I'm sorry…" she murmured, almost soundlessly.
She picked up the wallet, opened it, and took a few bills without counting—just enough.
Then she placed it back exactly where it had been, as if that could somehow lessen the weight of what she was doing.
Her heart was beating faster now.
When she stopped in front of the apartment door, her hand hesitated over the handle.
One last thought crossed her mind.
Her parents.
Her mother trying to smile, even without knowing how to deal with her.
Her father driving in silence, as if any word might make things worse.
They were trying.
But even so…
It wasn't enough.
Seina opened the door and stepped out.
The hallway was empty. She closed the door quietly behind her, but the click of the lock sounded far too loud in the silence.
The elevator took longer than usual, and when it finally arrived, she stepped inside alone.
In the mirror, her reflection looked strange—slightly messy hair, tired eyes, a backpack over her shoulders. She looked like someone who wasn't just leaving, but abandoning something for good.
On the ground floor, the doorman was asleep with the television playing softly.
Seina passed by unnoticed. When the building door opened, the cold early-morning air touched her face, making her take a deep breath for the first time since she woke up.
The street was nearly empty.
A few parked cars, streetlights casting uneven patches of light on the pavement, the distant sound of a bus crossing a larger avenue.
She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and looked ahead.
She didn't know exactly where she was going.
But she knew she couldn't stay.
And that was enough.
So she started walking.
The next morning, Dr. Park Min-Seo checked the clock on her car dashboard.
10:47.
Seina's appointment was scheduled for 11:00, but something already felt off.
She had tried calling the family earlier, without success. The house phone rang until it dropped. The girl's phone remained off.
Still, there was something unsettling about the silence.
She parked in front of the building and stepped out, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.
The building was modern, clean, almost impersonal—exactly the kind of place many parents would consider suitable for a fresh start.
The elevator carried her up to the 12th floor in silence.
The hallway felt too empty.
When she stopped in front of apartment 1404, Min-Seo rang the doorbell. She waited. Rang it again.
Nothing.
She knocked, calling for Seina's parents.
No response.
That was when she noticed the handle slightly out of place.
The door wasn't properly closed.
A sudden unease ran through her.
She hesitated for a moment, but then pushed the door open carefully.
"Excuse me… I'm coming in."
The smell came before anything else.
Metallic.
Heavy.
Unmistakable.
Blood.
Her stomach tightened, and she brought a hand to her mouth.
The door met resistance as it opened, as if something was blocking it.
When she pushed harder, the father's body shifted, revealing itself on the floor.
Eyes open.
Still.
Shirt soaked through.
Min-Seo stepped back immediately, her breath caught in her throat, her body trembling.
She almost dropped her phone as she tried to dial emergency services.
She could barely explain the situation, her words coming out broken and disordered.
Following the instructions, she stepped out into the hallway, unable to take her eyes off the half-open door.
When the police arrived, they took control quickly. The area was sealed off, and the forensic team entered the apartment. Shortly after, they confirmed the second body in the kitchen.
The news, however, didn't take long to spread.
Even before any official conclusion was reached, the movement in the building had already drawn attention.
Residents whispered, curious glances appeared in windows, and it didn't take long for the police presence to attract something inevitable.
The press.
Outside, cameras were set up, microphones raised, voices began constructing a narrative before the facts were even clear.
Someone mentioned the daughter wasn't home.
Another said they had seen her leaving during the night.
That was enough.
Within minutes, it was no longer an investigation.
It was an accusation.
Hours later, at a small gas station along the highway between Gwangju and Mokpo, Seina sat on a worn plastic bench with a simple sandwich in her hands.
She ate slowly, more out of necessity than hunger.
The television above the counter was playing the local news.
The low volume was still enough.
"…double homicide case…"
The voice caught her attention.
Seina looked up at the screen.
The building appeared.
Police tape.
Officers.
And then the headline.
"DAUGHTER IS MAIN SUSPECT IN COUPLE'S MURDER IN SEOUL"
The sandwich slipped from her hand and fell to the ground.
For a moment, she couldn't react. Couldn't think.
Couldn't breathe properly.
The reporter kept talking, but the words no longer made sense in her head.
Everything felt distant, as if it were happening to someone else.
But it wasn't.
It was her.
Seina slowly stood up, her legs unsteady, and walked out of the station without saying a word.
The air outside felt colder, heavier.
The road stretched ahead of her, long and indifferent.
Now, she wasn't just someone who had run away from home.
To the rest of the world, she was already guilty.
And running only made it harder to deny.