I swallowed hard as I read over the letter for the third time. It was left unsigned, a detail that troubled me. The sender crafted the message to appear innocent enough, nothing directly threatening or hostile, but my gut still twisted unpleasantly. Keeping their name unknown was certainly intentional, and my fear began morphing into anger.

My eyes skirted over the word 'yours,' again, grimacing at the connotation it held. Who in the world would use such familiar language yet omit their name? How dare someone sneak into my room, leave an unsettling note, and hide their identity? They were trying to start a game with me, but I had no intention of playing.

Part of me wanted to believe that Jimin was pulling some sort of prank, but I knew him well enough to rule out that possibility. This wasn't something he would do, so I remained completely lost on who was behind it.

Someone, whether it was a person who really knew me or a stranger playing a sick joke, had been in my dorm. They'd snuck in while I was at the show, though I was positive I'd locked the door.

My small room suddenly felt even tinier, the walls of the space mirroring the walls of my throat as they caved in, tight and constricting.

It took hours before my mind quieted enough to allow for slumber, and it seemed that as soon as my eyes closed, they were promptly snapping back open to the shrill sound of my alarm. Groaning, I forced myself to roll out of bed and get ready for the day.

Determined not to let the unsettling letter ruin my mood, I kept myself busy as I got dressed, packed my bag, and grabbed a protein bar on my way out of the dorm.

As I walked at a brisk pace from the dorms to the main dance building, munching down my sorry excuse of a breakfast, all thoughts of the note were drowned out by the unrelenting nerves that flooded my chest. I was filled to the brim with anxiety, but I refused to let it show on my face as I walked down the hallway.

The quick taps of my shoes hitting the stone floor echoed throughout the narrow hall, bouncing off the towering ceiling until eventually, I reached the door with the right number on it. With an inhale, I turned the knob and stepped into the room, heart stammering along with my feet as a dozen heads snapped toward me.

"You're late," a stern voice said from the back. I glanced up, meeting the eyes of a short woman with brown hair pulled into a tight bun. I could tell from the way she spoke that she was the professor, but otherwise, there were no indicators of her being very old. Her skin was porcelain and her body was lean and toned.

"It won't happen again," I managed to speak clearly, hellbent on keeping up a confident appearance. I may have been a nervous wreck inside, but I was fully aware of the competitive nature of the university. Any sign of weakness or fear would surely not help me in gaining the respect I hoped to earn.

The professor eyed me before gesturing for me to join the rest of the students who sat in chairs lined against the back wall. I did as she asked, my eyes lighting up as I spotted Jimin with an empty chair beside him. Returning his smile, I quickly sat on the free seat, ignoring the analytical gazes of the other students.

"Alright, I'm assuming you all read your syllabus that I posted online," began the professor, looking at each of us with a raised brow. "This class is designed to improve your skills in contemporary ballet. We will combine classical ballet moves with more modern, contemporary elements. For the first couple of weeks, we will be spending each class period covering a new technique to make sure everyone has the basics down perfectly. I don't care how many years you may have been practicing contemporary already. There are always bad habits that need to be broken and retrained."

Glancing in the large, floor-to-ceiling mirror that covered the wall across the room, I saw that most of the students were unfazed. Each of them wore a neutral expression, as determined to hide their nerves as I was.

"Even Jungkook had a few issues that I spotted last night," she continued, looking toward one of the males. "Although, you did a great job. Very impressive for a sophomore."

At the familiar name, my eyes snapped back to the mirror, landing on the guy who was lowering his head in a slight bow. As he raised his face back up, his eyes met mine through the reflection and my heart fluttered like a bird desperate to flee its cage.

The raven-haired boy named Jungkook looked away. A phantom of a smirk played at the edge of his lips, and my brows knit together.

"After we get your techniques down, we will focus on the main project for this class," the professor continued. "Each of you will be paired up with a partner, and you will spend the semester preparing a dance for the winter showcase. To not only perform but also create the dance will help each of you learn the art of contemporary ballet on a deeper level.

"Now, before you all start complaining, I do know this class is not meant for choreography majors, so most of you may have no experience in designing your own routine. Luckily for you all, Hoseok here is a choreography student and he will be assisting us this semester."

I perked up at yet another familiar name, and as the professor stepped aside, my gaze fell on the ghost who'd somehow remained invisible up until then.

He was in the corner, hidden beneath a cloak of shadows. Sitting on a chair, his long and slender legs, clad in dark jogger pants, stretched out in front of him. The long-sleeved black shirt he wore clung tightly to his biceps as he kept his arms crossed. His deep auburn hair fell in waves, parted to reveal his forehead, but long enough to nearly cover the two dark irises that were staring back at me. What demanded my attention most, however, was the intricate obsidian mask that covered his face, veiling everything from his chin, his mouth, all the way up over his nose, only dipping to follow the curves underneath his eyes.

Though he had successfully avoided attention up until that instant, once he'd been pointed out, it was impossible to ignore the demanding weight of his gaze. Now that I'd seen him, I felt this strange, chilling sensation, like he had some invisible reach which made his presence ever-known.

The man under the mask slowly lifted one hand, raising it just enough to give a curt, two-fingered wave of acknowledgment. His cold eyes scanned over each of us calculatingly, and the skin on my arms broke out in goosebumps when they stopped on me again.

So he's the one who choreographed that dance last night.

I glanced up at the mirror, taking in the other students' expressions. None of them seemed surprised, but nearly all of them were shifting in their seats. Even Jimin appeared unsettled, despite no sign of confusion like I was experiencing.

Is it normal for someone to wear a mask so casually to class?

After a few more minutes of introductions and expectations for the course, the professor had everyone stand up. She paced back and forth in front of us, tapping her chin as she observed us from head to toe.

"You," she spoke, pointing at Jimin who stood beside me, "stand next to her." She gestured to a short-haired blonde, and Jimin threw me a parting glance before walking over to the girl.

The professor nodded in satisfaction. She continued shuffling each of us, ordering students around until she was pleased with who they stood next to.

When it came to my turn, she didn't think twice. "You, go to Jungkook," she ordered easily, already moving on to the next student.

I did as she asked, walking over to stand beside the dancer who'd captivated my attention so fully the night before. I could feel his eyes on me, and despite my better judgment, I turned to face him.

"Hello," I greeted, keeping my voice even.

"You were in the crowd last night," he stated, lips stretching into an easy smirk.

I raised an eyebrow.

"And you were on the stage last night," I responded. "But how do you even recognize me? You were dancing, how could you have picked up on one face among a huge crowd?"

"Not your face," he replied quietly, amusement twirling in his eyes. He lifted a hand and caught a strand of my hair between his fingers. "Your hair. It caught my attention."

Trying to fight down the angry blush that was sure to stain my cheeks, I glanced down at his hand and caught his wrist, pulling it away from me.

"The color?" I asked, scanning his face as he nodded.

"It's like red wine," he pondered, tilting his head while continuing to admire my locks. He clicked his tongue, "No, more like a rose."

I smiled in amusement. "That's fitting."

"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning a little. He finally dropped his hand away from me, moving his attention back to my face.

"It's the meaning of my name. Jangmi."

"Rose," he mused. Jungkook held his hand out, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Jangmi. I'll do my best to be a good dance partner for you."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Jungkook," I replied, shaking his hand. "I think I'm the one who has to work hard to be a good partner. You were amazing at the performance last night. I just hope I can keep up with you."

"You'll be fine, don't worry. I'll help you out wherever you need it. We're a team now," he winked, and I felt myself smiling, though I was still hesitant inside.

It finally hit me that I would be dancing for several months with an attractive, extremely talented dancer. Hopefully, he'd be the push I needed to step up and improve my skills. I wanted to be at the same level as him, and I was ready to work as hard as necessary for that to happen.

As Jungkook continued to talk to me, my gaze traveled up, breath catching in my throat as I found the man under the mask already staring back at me. He was standing, leaning against the wall, arms still crossed as he observed at a distance. I waited for him to look away, but he didn't, those striking orbs locking in on mine. Somehow I knew even without seeing most of his face that he was challenging me, daring me to not look away. His stare was powerful and domineering, like his eyes alone could bring someone into submission, but I refused to back down.

Jungkook stopped what he was talking about and I could hear him make some comment about Hoseok, but still, my gaze didn't shift away. What was only a few seconds felt like hours that dragged, but Stubbornness, my old and familiar friend, never did let me give up.

Finally, just when I felt myself wearing down, the masked man's cheekbones lifted ever so slightly, the narrowing of his eyes nearly unnoticeable.

He was smirking.

Then he looked away, and instead of feeling victorious, I knew I'd been defeated. I was wrong about what his goal had been. By staring back, I'd given him exactly what he wanted.

• • •

A/N: hope you enjoyed this! I know the chapters may be shorter than what you're used to from me, but I'm trying to stay ahead of writing so I can update consistently for you guys. The story may be a little slow for now, but we'll be meeting more characters soon. See you in the next one!