My phone has been ringing all day.

Apparently, my old classmate doesn't want to give up. 

I will be lying if I say I am not baffled. After all, I used to keep a low profile in school and I didn't have many friends. 

Many simply wanted to befriend me because my dad owns a very successful entertainment company.

They didn't even do their basic research before approaching me. I mean, I've never been on good terms with my father, not back then and definitely not now, after what happened eight years ago.

It's a few minutes past 12 a.m. yet my old schoolmate who seriously can't take a hint is still calling me. 

I contemplate putting the poor person out of misery and pick up the phone to warn this Park Jimin that I will block the number if this doesn't stop now.

"Hello? You picked up!" 

Yeah obviously I did, you kept calling throughout the day.

 Although this incessant calling did help me during that dinner I had to attend as I had the perfect chance to bail out by faking an emergency. 

"I picked up to tell you that I will block your number and report you if you keep calling me. I am not Im Byeol."

"I don't believe you. I am positive you are Im Byeol." 

"Well, I don't have to prove anything to you." I huff indignantly. 

"You still stay up late, right? Do you stay up late to stargaze like before?"

 His reply catches my off-guard. It makes me suck in a surprised breath.

 How does this Jimin know this about me? I am a very private person so I seldom share anything with anyone, even my close friend back in Paris.

"How..." I sink my teeth on my lower lip, "I mean, how do you know–"

"Do you acknowledge now that you are indeed Im Byeol?" I can practically hear Jimin smiling at the other end.

"Who are you?"

Who is this guy? How does he know me so well?

"You really don't remember me?" The earlier smile from the voice is gone, a twinge of sadness seeping in making me feel guilty for some unfathomable reason.

"It doesn't matter. How have you been? Where have you been? You disappeared after graduation."

"You ask so many questions." A side of my mouth quirks up in a crooked grin, surprising even myself. 

"Yet you answer none." His tone is playful, making me want swat away the urge to chuckle.

"Why should I?"

"Because you are Im Byeol, from the Art department of Korean Arts High School and I am Park Jimin." 

"Why do you keep calling me Byeol?" Hearing my old name sours my mood instantly, "I told you I go by Lyra Lee."

"Yes, the famous artist from Paris. One of my friends really likes your art, I recently discovered this."

"I see you did your homework before bombarding me with your calls. Your friend has taste." I dryly drawl, making Jimin chuckle. His chuckle is infectious, tugging my lips upwards.

"Sorry for that. I forgot you're here in Seoul for work."

"Yes, stalker. I should really report you." Yet my stupid self is still talking to him. Strangely, I don't really feel the need to hang up.

"But I am your old schoolmate!" He insists, "We didn't talk much but..." 

"But?" I prod, frowning a little.

An old memory is dancing at the edges of my mind but I can't seem to catch it as it disappears just as abruptly as it sprang up.

 You can't blame me for not remembering him, for the last two years of high school were a dark period in my life, nightmares of which I still grapple with. 

Insomnia isn't the only reason I don't sleep because I know that the moment sleep claims me, nightmares will also plague me.

"Nothing." He dismissed his earlier statement, "So, you've been abroad this whole time?"

I heave a loud sigh before replying, "Yes." I didn't expect myself to, especially because he's a stranger but I think my brain has disconnected from my body.

"So Byeol... um, I mean...Lyra," he hesitates a little, "Do you listen to music?"

"Random question but yes, like any other sane human." 

"What about kpop? "

 His voice is just so sweet, and while I do not care for sweetness especially because I don't have a sweet tooth, his smooth and sweet voice sounds so angelic.

It'll be a shame if this guy really turns out to be a stalker but I dont think he is one- he's just an over-friendly person who likes to talk a lot.

Unlike me

Still, for the first time in my life I find myself finding that quality slightly endearing.

"No, I don't. My friend is obsessed with kpop but not me. I've been to enough Music Banks, concerts and showcases of idol groups to last for a lifetime of avoiding them." 

 I mutter the last part bitterly but it's surely audible to him.

"Oh." A mix of surprise and disappointment colors his tone.

 If he knows so much about me, doesn't he know that my father is the Im Daejoon, CEO of Star Entertainment?

All my high school batchmates knew this fact even though I tried to hide it for the first few months when I started high school.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a member of an idol group called BTS."