Murder on 2031 Gangbuk street... 

Naeun sighed, hearing the television's muffled, lamenting tone.

....Only one person was killed—he was male—does this have relation to the chain of murders occuring around this place?

Gangbuk was where Naeun lived. No, it was where she had lived. She had had a bad feeling, a hunch, that the chain murders happening around her past home had something to do with her. So She had moved to Busan about only a month ago; she didn't want to remember what had happened during the past year, but there was a nagging in the back of her mind, something not exactly definable, that reminded her of the most horrible things.

She sighed, clicking the TV off. She decided not to think about it; it would only pull into the depths of her imagination, turning it into something much greater than it was in reality.

She seemed to be cursed: cursed with a terrible fate that killed past boyfriends; even present ones. That had been the main reason behind her coming to Busan—she didn't want to kill anyone anymore. She knew what seemed like an accident really wasn't; only men were killed, and the worst thing about the murders was that they were all people that Naeun knew.

She'd gone to countless funerals between the time of the first killing of the chain murders and now. Eventually, she had stopped going altogether, feeling as if someone was watching her. There were always a bouquet of withering white roses on the victim's grave; it seemed specifically placed for her to see. 

“Stop it.”

She muttered, particularly to no one. Today was the first day of school for her in Busan, and she didn't want to be pinpointed as some weird psycho.

She sighed again, peering at her reflection in the mirror; the sight wasn't very pretty. She looked rather gaunt, with darkcircles hanging halfway down her face.

Well, not much could be done. She would just have to attend her first day of school like this.

- - - - - -

“...And please welcome her...”

The teacher smiled, gesturing to a seat beside a handsome boy, who smiled back at her stare. 

“My name's Chanyeol, what's yours?”

He smoothed the top of his hair, grinning sheepishly.

“Naeun.”

She didn't smile back, for fear crept into her mind; when he was so nice, she would only end up killing him. Curiosity killed the cat, she grimly repeated in her head.

“Uh, I don't mean to be clingy, or annoying, or anything like that, but would you like me to tour you around the school, at the end of class?”

The boy, Chanyeol, peered at her face hopefully, grinning sheepishly again. “I mean, our school's pretty big, so..” He added, trailing off. 

“I... can't.”

Naeun squeezed her eyes shut, so she couldn't see the hurt expression on the boy's face.

“Oh. Okay.”

Chanyeol frowned slightly, as if he thought she would definitely say yes. He turned, facing the teacher, now showing examples on how to find the roots of a polynomial function, and the blackboard. 

Naeun saw him scribble something, rather hurriedly, on a ripped piece of paper— then watched as the paper traveled towards her. What the heck is this boy doing, she wondered, amused; she couldn't help but smile at his attempted ‘secretive’ note passing, since his movements were so obvious that the teacher couldn't have missed it.

“Chanyeol.” Sure enough, the teacher, an irritated look on her face, calls Chanyeol, who was pulling an innocent act, up to the front of the room. “And bring the note that you were passing to the new student up, too.”

"What note?"

Chanyeol widens his eyes, peering at the teacher incredulously.

“I never passed a note in my life!”

He puts an ‘I'm innocent’ expression on, and the teacher gives up, rolling her eyes and staring up at the ceiling.

“No exceptions next time.”

“You know I'm your favorite student.”

Naeun gripped the tiny piece of paper, safely stowed in the back of her deepest pocket, trying to supress a huge grin from pasting onto her face.

Maybe, just maybe, she thought, she would give this boy a chance.

Again, the nagging feeling appeared in the back of her head, urging her to remember her resolve, but she compromised with her stubborn brain, finally convincing it that the chain murders had nothing to do with her—she was simply imagining the connections, the flowers: white roses were common in funerals, and someone poor could've bought them, even if they were withering.

* * * * * * *

“Uh, hey?"

Chanyeol waved a hand across her face—or, rather, flailed it—and smiled sweetly. Her face, he decided, was even cuter when she was off guard, sleeping.

“Earth to Naeun-sshi?”

She lurched up, looking around quizzically at her surroundings, finding all the desks completely bare and not a soul to be found—except for Chanyeol, that is. “Y- yeah?” She flinched away from the hand waving less than an inch from her face, hesitantly peering up after a moment.

“Are you awake now, Naeun-ah?”

He grinned yet again, melting her heart: even if it was only a tiny bit.

“I wasn't sleeping.”

“Sure. I even tested if you were conscious.”

She rolled her eyes, suppressing, more than ever, the desire to let the well-saved smile lift the corners of .

“Do you... uh...” Chanyeol gestured awkwardly toward the door—“by any chance, still want that tour?”

He audibly gasped as he caught a sight of how rapidly the sky was darkening, realizing that he had stayed for two extra hours watching Naeun without noticing any passing in time.

“What time is it?!” Naeun's face darkened, fear clouding over her eyes, taking over her face. She'd come to hate the night. It