"Seulgi, please tell us exactly what happened. Was there anything unusual near Jongin?" Still completely shocked, I stood trembling in the entrance area. My friends had gathered around me, their concerned voices overlapping in a storm of questions. Their faces reflected fear and confusion, but I couldn't gather a clear thought. I wanted to respond, but the words caught in my throat.

Giselle, one of my closest friends who knew me well enough to sense that I was on the verge of breaking down, raised her hand and spoke in a firm yet calm tone. "Let Seulgi breathe for a moment. She's obviously overwhelmed." She paused briefly and looked at me with compassion before continuing. "I think we should give her some time before we ask more questions. The police will have to talk to her anyway, and it would be better if she doesn't feel too pressured."

Her words seemed to soothe the group. Slowly, the tension began to dissolve, and many of those present stepped back to give me space. Only Wendy, Joy, and Giselle stayed close by, their gazes full of concern and empathy.

A few moments later, a policewoman approached us. She was strikingly beautiful, exuding professionalism and calmness at the same time. Her long black hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her eyes scrutinized me attentively yet kindly. "You're Seulgi, right? The one who found the victim?" Her voice was calm and matter-of-fact, yet it carried a comforting tone.

I managed only a weak nod. The images replaying in my mind robbed me of my words.

"Good," she continued, pulling out a notebook and a pen. "I'm Bae Joohyun, and I'm leading the investigation in this case. Could you please describe to me exactly what happened?"

Taking a deep breath, I tried to collect myself, even though my heart was pounding with fear and pain. In a trembling voice, I began to speak. "My friends and I... we were worried because Jongin suddenly stopped responding to our messages and didn't show up for our planned meeting. That was completely uncharacteristic of him." I paused, the lump in my throat growing thicker. "So we decided to search for him. We split up, and I went to the second floor to check the practice rooms."

My voice began to break as the memory overwhelmed me. "When I opened the sixth door..." I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I forced myself to continue. "There he was... lying in a pool of blood." My breath caught. "I rushed to him and tried to feel for his pulse, but... he was already dead." My voice finally broke, and I quietly sobbed. "Then I called the police and the others."

Joohyun, who had patiently listened, was diligently taking notes. She appeared unfazed, yet filled with compassion. "Thank you for your information," she finally said gently. "How long had it been since you last heard from the victim?"

Wendy, sensing my uncertainty, spoke up for me. "It was about two days. That's very unusual for Jongin. He was always reliable and kept in touch regularly."

Joohyun nodded seriously, thanked us again, and then took her leave with one last kind glance at me.

I took a deep breath, but the weight on my chest seemed unrelenting. The events of the day had completely drained me. In a weak voice, I turned to my friends. "I think I should go home now. This is just too much for me at the moment."

Wendy, Joy, and Giselle exchanged worried glances but said nothing against it. Instead, they silently accompanied me to the door. There, they stopped, and I felt their gazes on me as I slowly made my way outside. Before I reached the street, I turned around one last time and saw them waving at me, their faces filled with compassion.

As I closed the front door behind me, I sank exhausted against the wall. My legs felt like lead, and my heart still pounded in my chest, as if it couldn't calm down. The silence of my empty apartment felt overwhelming. It reminded me of how final everything was. Jongin was dead. This terrible fact just wouldn't sink in. I wished I were dreaming and would wake up at any moment.

But I wasn't. The reality was merciless.

I finally let the tears I had been holding back flow freely. A desperate sob escaped my throat, and I buried my face in my hands. Everything crashed over me like a tidal wave. The images of Jongin's lifeless body, the blood spreading around him—it was too much.

I didn't know how long I sat there crying, but eventually, I heard the faint vibrating of my phone on the coffee table. Hesitantly, I stood up, wiped my tears, and looked at the screen. It was a message from Wendy.

Wendy: We're thinking of you, Seulgi. If you need anything, no matter what, just let us know.

A small part of me was grateful that I wasn't alone, even though I felt that way in that moment. I wanted to reply, but my fingers trembled. What could I say? That I felt like the world was falling apart? That I had no idea how to deal with this pain?

Instead, I put the phone down and collapsed onto the couch. Exhaustion overwhelmed me with such force that I had to close my eyes. Maybe, I thought, sleep would free me from this reality for a few hours.

But hardly had I closed my eyes when I was startled awake by a strange noise. It was a faint knocking—or was it scratching? Confused, I sat up. Was it coming from the door? Or perhaps from one of the windows?

With my heart racing, I stood up and slowly walked to the front door. I listened, but there was nothing. Maybe it was just my imagination. The day had taken too much out of me, and my mind was playing tricks.

But then I heard it again. A very faint, almost imperceptible scratching, this time clearer. It was coming from the door. I took a deep breath, forced myself to stay calm, and cautiously reached for the doorknob. Slowly, I opened the door a crack.

The cold evening air rushed in, but there was no one there. The hallway was empty, only the faint light from the hallway lamps reflecting on the floor. Confused, I took a step forward and looked around.

Just as I decided to close the door again, my gaze fell to the floor. A small, inconspicuous note lay there, as if it had been slipped under the door.

My heart skipped a beat.

Hesitantly, I picked up the note. The letters were hastily and unevenly written, as if the writer had been in a hurry or was nervous.

I held the note in my trembling hands, unable to believe what I was reading:

You're the next one. Be careful, Seulgi