CHAPTER ONE,

PART Ⅶ

caught at dusk

I lean into the blanket that's covering my bottom half, turning away from the moonlight as it sprinkled through the high window. I can hear the wind flap through the thin windows but I only grip the fluffy blanket tighter, grimacing and groaning about the thought of waking up for another day.

Falling back asleep is more difficult. I can feel my cheek tickling from my long hair, the comfort of the feathery blanket sliding on my skin, and my heartbeat pounding in my neck. I gulp back the saliva that attempts to leave my lips, and finally part my eyes. I instantly get confused, because where the hell is the sunlight?

I spin the other way only to meet the moonlight shining directly in my face. I let out a grouchy moan, covering the focused light with my palm. This is why I hate being on the top bunk. I'm being attacked with light everytime I wake up, the bed is creaky and shaky anytime I move in my sleep, and even worse, I have to climb down the ladder. No, stop complaining. Everyone always says that your mood when you wake up reflects the rest of your day.

I take a deep sigh, heaving in some of the dust in the air and letting it roam out just as quickly. It's dark and my eyes haven't adjusted to it quite yet. I stare at my feet that are covered by the blanket, my brain going absolutely blank as I blink slowly. I'm abruptly zoning out until a yawn escapes my body. Right, what's the time?
I throw a glance at the wall clock hung above the door. I squint at it, trying not to be distracted by the frantic ticking.

2:33 am. 2:33 am?
That makes sense, now that I think about it. I was having some trouble sleeping, though I didn't have a nightmare this time, a dream, or anything, really. I'm still a bit sleepy as a consequence. I peer at the door. I wonder if I could go to the cafeteria for a snack, or maybe take a walk to tire myself out? Maybe that'll help.

I glance below me and at the bottom bunk. Eui's out like a light. She isn't snoring, but her rhythmic breathing is so loud that it might count. She's sleeping in a fetal position and hugging a pillow tightly to her chest, her ginger hair flailing in every direction possible. In fact—scratch that—she isn't out like a light. She's sleeping so deeply that not even a broken lightbulb compares to her.

I figure that it wouldn't make much of a difference if I jump down from the bed. The ladder makes too much noise, and then there's the chance of me falling down from not predicting the ledges behind me. Jumping is quicker, which is the route I'm looking for but I still debate it, my eyes flickering between the floor and the ladder.

Oh, whatever. Who's gonna hear me anyway?
I flip the blanket off of my legs, leaping off with my arm as my anchor. I land swiftly with my feet on the cold floor, and there's a soft thud under my heels. I wince from the noise and cautiously glance at Eui. Her breath hitches and so does mine. The air freezes for a few seconds before she starts breathing again, my mouth following suit.

"That was risky," I huff, jerking my head to the side.
I briskly leave the room, trying my best to open and close the door as quietly as possible. There's still some peaks of sound from the hinges but I try, very slowly, not to attract any attention.

Thank God, the largest hurdle is over. The lights on the ceiling congratulate me by illuminating my path. I release a sigh of relief, wondering where that rush of anxiety came from.
No, I know where it comes from. It's still here.

It's Tuesday. It's three days before I start my task. Or is it two? I don't know anymore. The days have always blurred together, but recently it's gotten worse for me. I think it's because I'm starting to forget about my sticky notes, but I don't know why. Am I too busy? Maybe that could be the case. One thing I know for sure is that I'm restless. No matter how much Jiwon has assured me otherwise, I still have a really bad feeling that's burying me into the ground.

Something isn't right here. Not even the cold and chilly wind of December that I once found relaxing could soothe me from this place. None of Jiwon's expressions lined up with her words, and I can't help but think that those weren't her words.
No, someone made her say that. She stuttered without even having the strength to say his name, and I've never seen her so scared. She wasn't this terrified with me, even when I threatened her life.

Who is Jaeyun, really?
What has he done to Jiwon to make her react like that? What has he done to make Jungwon and Heeseung look at him with murderous intent?

I close my eyes shut, trying to steady myself. The questions are flocking in again about questions that I can't answer and situations that I can't worry about.
'Calm down' are the two words that frantically appear in my mind, the red questions plastered in the foreground.
Calm down. Breathe. This isn't your probl—

A bloodcurdling scream echoes through the hallway, before getting muffled. Alarmed by the only loud noise in the silence, I spin around in the direction of the shriek for help. I swallow my pride and follow the sound up a flight of stairs.

I'm met with a sight that nobody should have to witness. There are handprints and splatters of crimson carelessly painted on the floor, and only one thought appears in my mind while staring at the unfortunate scene. I frown, dashing off towards the scent of iron in the air.
They're here.

I twist the knob of the bathroom that's at the corner of the winding hall. There's no blood–the door and the ground at this point is clean, almost squeaky, as if it was just cleaned up. The door is locked. The knob doesn't barge in farther than a 90 degree angle, so I knock on the door instead.
"Excuse me, how long are you going to take? I need to use a stall!"

"Sorry, I'll be right out! Just give me a minute."

If I wasn't vigilant, that would've sounded like an actual girl's voice. I have to give it to them though, that sounded pretty convincing. I have a mind to kick down the door and barge in, but I like the idea of a chase. There's a small window at the top of the tiled wall, so I assume they're going to break that glass to get out. I'll give them about ten seconds; ten seconds for them to break that glass and try to break outside.

I silently count to myself, only able to get to five before a loud shatter echoes through the door.
Damn it, I miscounted.

I have no other choice now. I kick the door, right under the keyhole. My entire body twists from the force I exert, and the door gives way with a deafening bang. Before I could even step past the doorway, the barrel of a gun is pressed against the ribs on my back.

I slowly look down at the body covered in their own fluids, staring closely at the thick vest they're wearing. A bulletproof vest was continually and ruthlessly shot in one area, wearing out the protection and going straight through the person's body. I grit my teeth at the sight of a notebook page taped across their chest, the edges at the bottom now soaked with blood.

The gun pressed against my skin cocks, and I can only read the thin English writing with bitterness laced on my tongue.

"Fooled ya."

I wait through the intense silence to see if the person behind me will pull the trigger. Both of our breaths are ragged and short because of the adrenaline, and I can't look anywhere else but the floor to respect the body in front of me. The stench of sickeningly sweet metal only continues to permeate through my senses, the blood flooding and seeping into the cracks of white tiles.

I don't dare to raise my hands in surrender. Not because I think I'll be a coward, but for the reason that any sudden movement I make will send a bullet straight through my ribs. I have to be careful.

"Kim–Sun–oo." The voice behind me enunciates mockingly, the honeyed layer of baritone immediately familiar. "You've been moving so cautiously, it's made it more difficult for us to hunt you down. Impressive."

"I don't care for your back-handed compliments," I hiss through my teeth out of anxiety. "What do you want?"

The male scoffs out of disbelief, his 'genuine' shock succeeding in angering me. "Waaah—for someone who's been running away from authorities and humans for almost all his life, you're pretty damn stupid. Think, Sun–oo. Think!"

The guy grabs my shoulder and spins me around, the gun still pointing at my chest. I want to spit in his face so badly, but I hold my intrusive urges back. I silently scan his face instead, wondering where I had seen it before. The high nose bridge and high cheekbones that are perfectly aligned, the thin lips, the neat and slicked hair....
Oh, that's right. He was in the shelter's weekly meeting just three days ago. I remember that face.

I didn't really care to identify him properly, but with him this close, his hands and gun stained in red, I feel like I have no other choice. Someone in this proximity has always been dangerous, even for an Anomaly. I know I won't die, but the tension and the environment around me is suffocating.

"What's up with you? Lost your voice or something?"

"Our Humanity Project. You're a part of it." I quickly respond, not hiding the volume of my words.
He waves the Glock 17 around in the air, confirming my correct guess. I glare at him, still unmoving from the space.
"Why, Jihyun?"

"Isn't it obvious? We want to get rid of things like you. I thought that would be a simple concept, even for you."

He's walking around the space confidently, assuming he has me cornered and confined. He thinks that he's done enough, as a human, to keep an Anomaly in place. Sounds ridiculous? Great, because it is.
Taking control of a situation is a double-sided sword. You can either end up with the control getting to your head, making dumb decisions that can get you killed because of foolishly placed arrogance, or you'd be a good leader, not just assuming that your teammates will have your back, but you would also go the extra mile to make sure that everything's taken care of.

Why'd I say 'leader'?
It's simple, actually. Jihyun is moving too stupidly to be alone in this.

"The authorities have been running around to catch you for multiple years, and we managed to do it within a couple of months. It's like they can't do their job properly."

"Why me?" I ask, though I'm not prepared for the answer. He glances at me, arms interlocked under his chest while he sneers.

"You really have no idea? Damn." He flashes a smile of insincerity, the sight of it making my blood boil even further. I remain silent, clenching a fist until my nails pierce into my skin.
"You're the most sought-out Anomaly right now. Your abilities aren't in the government's database, so they put out a Red Notice for you. All of those years of fighting the people after you? They were all sent for you specifically."

He stopped talking further, his eyes wandering up and down as he searches my expression. He strides closer, forcefully pinning me against the door I kicked down. There's a banging sound as he presses his forearm just below my neck, but he isn't choking me. His smile widens and there's an icy, savage glow in his eyes.
"Funny enough, Jiwon's been put on a Red Notice too. It's such a waste, she looks so innocent and pretty, but we had to get rid of any distractions for the mission. Maybe she'll surrender when she's had everything taken from her," he hypothesizes, counting on his fingers. "Let's see. So far, her dead–by–suicide sister, the fake boyfriend, the missing locket..."

"What did you do?" My eyes widen, and my breath quickens as I push him off.
His body slams against the corner, and he lets out a pained groan, moving to pick out a knife from his utility belt. I'm in front of him before he even gets the chance to pull it out. I pin my elbow right onto his throat.
"What the fuck did you do to the locket?" I lash out, not caring about how he's suffocating under the force of my strength. "I'll kill you if you don't tell me. Say something!"

"You're too late, it's already been taken in as evidence," he squeaks. "It's already been sent to the authorities."

The blood from my palm drips slowly onto his shoulder, but I feel no pain from it. My anger, the flaming impatience, the lingering headache from the stench, it's all overwhelming me to the point where I don't care if he gets killed by my hand. I don't care about the coughs of blood that paint my clothing, the chilling noises as he struggles to breathe, not even about the way that he desperately claws into my arm. If I can kill Jihyun right here, I wouldn't have to worry about him.

But what if Heeseung and Jungwon have to clean up after my mess? What if there's even more humans here that work under the project? I could probably fight them all off, but I'd ruin the false peace of the shelter. I'd just be called a killer. I'd have no way of getting back Jiwon's necklace.
Jiwon. What would Jiwon think?
What would really happen to her if I killed this guy? It's too much of a risk.

"Damn it."
I remove my grasp off of Jihyun, just as his face turns pale. He immediately leans over, gasping, coughing wildly as he brings a hand to his neck. I shoot him a flat glare, my jaw tightened. As soon as he catches his breath, he starts laughing, his face still hidden by his hair.

"You have nowhere to go. If you leave your room, we'll monitor you. If you kill someone, we'll know. Many more of us are around. More than you're aware of." He enunciates hauntingly. "Are you sure you can trust everyone?"

Are you sure you can trust everyone?

"Clean up your mess," I nod towards the dead body behind us. "You shouldn't care about who I trust. Your species kills itself out faster than any of you can put your hands on me."

I leave the bloody bathroom, the adrenaline replacing itself with a trembling fear. I assume that he let me leave, only because he's too winded to fight back or even stand upright.
When I'm far enough, I end up sitting on the stairs, evaluating the damage done to my left hand. The sleeve of my blue sweater is ripped, sticky and dark with gashes in my skin. I can feel it pulsating and the blood is only getting absorbed further, resulting in a heavy, stained sleeve. I sigh shakily, now rethinking the information I was given.

"Shit," I curse softly, burying my head into my arms.

It's ironic. No matter how much I try to convince myself that I don't want to be involved, no matter how much I don't want to care, it's like I have no choice. No matter how much I try to run, I trip and fall down with a fatal injury.

But this time, fine. You want to give me an apple and blindfold me, Fate? I'll bite it, just this once. If it's rotten–if it's an apple of temptation, I'll take accountability. If it's a silver apple, ripe and flavorful, I won't take it for granted.
It's my problem now, and I will get that necklace back, no matter what it takes.