My name is Bae Suzy and I was born in October. When my dad, Appa as I called him, describes how I came to this world, Jeongsan nights were unusually cool that summer, and the day I arrived the tree in front of our house burst with color reminiscent of late fall. He claims the leaves shone so brightly in the morning sun that it looked like our front yard was on fire. Appa also says that's part of the reason I'm obsessed with the forest. I'm not sure there's any connection, but I enjoy the comfort of that story - a reminder of a time when the world was safe and so was my family.

The most bewildering thing about safety - for me - is that it never crossed my mind before. My ex-NIS (National Intelligent Service), now financial manager appa often tells me I'm too trusting, all the while shaking his head like he's shocked that we're related. Which I, of course, remind him is 100% his fault, since I've lived my entire life in the same small town with the same friendly people, who pose about as much threat as a basket of sleeping kittens. Appa argues that I want to believe people are good and that while that's admirable, it's also not realistic. To which I asked him how it helps anyone to believe that people are bad. He claims that having a healthy sense of suspicion prepares you for every possible danger. But until now, it was all a theory. And if I am being honest, even yesterday, with Appa insisting there was an approaching threat to our family, I still wasn't convinced. Nope, there was absolutely nothing that indicates danger in my life until a few minutes ago, when I woke up in this old-fashion . . . medieval-looking . . . lounge?

I frown. A man I'm assuming is a guard stands against the wall next to me. He's staring forward, clearly ignoring me, as I consider the door. I push as hard as I can on the iron latch and even throw my shoulder into the dark wood, but it doesn't budge. I let out a breath from the effort and scan the room. There's a roaring fire in the fireplace and dark red velvet furniture that probably cost more than my house. But there are no windows and the door in front of me is the only exit.

"I know you can hear me," I say to the guard, who so far hasn't answered any of my questions. he's dressed all in black, with a leather belt and leather armbands that put to shame the Roman gladiator costume I wore last year for Halloween. I danced in front of him and even snapped my fingers in front of his face, but he's taller than me and his arms are more muscular than my legs.

He remains silent.

I try another tactic. "You know I'm a minor, right? That you can't keep me locked up in this . . .Uh, well, I'm assuming this is my new boarding school. But what kind of school locks up their students?" Appa told me this place would be different, but I have a hard time believing he meant I'd be trapped in a windowless room.

Suddenly I heard a key slide into the door and it swings outward. My shoulders drop and my hands unclench. Another guard, dressed in the way outfit as the first, gestures me to follow him. I don't waste a second. Unfortunately, the room guard comes, too, and walking between them, I feel almost as cramped as I did in that room.

The guard in front pulls a lit torch off the stone wall and I take inventory of my surroundings - the lack of electricity, the arched ceilings, the heavy wooden doors that has latches instead of door knobs. There's no way I am still in my hometown. This place looks like something out of a documentary I've watched in class about medieval Hanok buildings. However, I find it nearly impossible to believe Appa would sent me somewhere faraway from home and civilization, not to mention be able to pay for it. We almost never leave Jeongseon, much less the country.

As we continue to walk, I notice impressive hanging tapestries depicting knights, royal courts, and bloody battles. It is also dead quiet, no sounds of people talking or cars driving by.

The hall has a distinct chill, and I pull on the sleeves of my sweater over my fingers for warmth. I have no idea what happened to the coat, gloves, and scarf I wore onto the phone; they weren't in the room with me when I woke up. We pass under an archway and climb up a staircase with worn, uneven steps. I count two landings and three flights before we come to a stop in front of a door with iron rivets. The lead guard unlatches it and warm air exits.

The antiquated office reminds me of a somber scene in an old movie. The only light in the room comes from an abundance of candles set in bronze candelabras and in sconces on the stone walls. The windows are covered with heavy curtains and a fire blazes inside the fireplace, filling the air with the sent of woodsmoke.

A tall, thin woman stands behind an ancient desk. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a high ponytail. She's probably around Appa's age, but her seriousness makes her seem older.

She does a poor impression of a smile. "Welcome to S.K. Absconditi Academy. I'm Headmaster Kang. I trust your trip was agreeable?" Her voice and appearance command obedience.

"I don't remember my trip," I say, feeling uneasy under her gaze as I pull a piece of fuzz of my jeans. The rant I was working up downstairs feel inappropriate in this formal setting. "I was passed out on the plane and woke up on a couch in the . . . To be honest, I'm confused how -"

"Teacher's lounge," she says, and gestures for me to sit in an armchair in front of her desk. The frills of a white blouse spill out from the edges of her black blazer. The contradiction makes me wonder which one she is - uptight and trying to appear approachable, or soft and trying to look stern. "You were out for some time."

"I was locked up down there," I say, expecting shock, but it doesn't show. I turn and look behind me. Both guards are still with us, one on either side of the now-closed door. Whether they're protecting her or preventing me from leaving in unclear. Maybe both.

Kang nods as though she understands my unspoken question. "Guards aren't permitted to speak to students; they only speak to faculty and staff. Now, considering the lateness of the hour, I think we should dispense with the small talk, don't you?" She looks at a dark metal clock on the wall that resembles a small Gothic tower with exposed gears.

It reads 1:30, and judging by her "lateness of the hour" comment and the empty hallways, I'm guessing it's a.m., not p.m. "Wait a minute . . . that can't be right." I look between her and the clock like someone is playing a joke on me. It was after midnight when Appa dropped me at the airport. And about two hours after that when I feel asleep. "Have I been out for a full day? How is that possible? And why didn't I wake up when I was being brought in here? Or when the plane landed?"

"I understand that you're disoriented, an unfortunate side effect of getting you here smoothly -"

"Side effect?" My stomach knots up as I narrow the possibilities as to why I was asleep for twenty-four hours. "Did . . . did someone drug me?" My voice has risen in pitch, and I fight off a sense of panic.

I file back through the sequence of events before I passed out. The last thing I clearly remember was having a lemonade on the plane. Appa must have told me a million times not to eat or drink anything that wasn't given to me by someone I trust, but refusing a drink from a flight attendant is like refusing something I ordered in a restaurant.

I look up at Kang for some indication of what's going on, but her expression is blank. She definitely isn't acting like the suggestion of a possible drugging is outrageous.

I stand up. My instinct is to run. Except I don't have a clue where I am, other than a vague sense that I'm in a rural area, judging by the lack of noise. "Ms. Kang, can I use the phone? I'm not sure this is . . . I just need it for a minute." I scan her desk, but there doesn't seem to be one.

"Unfortunately, no, you may not."

"I'm sure this is a great school, but -"

She puts up her hand to stop me, like she understands me perfectly but is unwillingly to indulge my concerns at present. "Before you leave this office or communicate with anyone, you must understand and agree to the rules." She pauses. "Also, I'll ask that you call me Headmaster Kang. We pride ourselves on tradition here."

I stare at her, at a loss for words, something my best friend, Jisoo, will verify has only happened once before.

Kang gestures for me to sit down. "Now, I suggest you to relax and pay close attention. Some of what you want to know, I'm about to explain to you."

I hesitate to sit. Appa told me this school would challenge me in strange ways, and even though I find it all wicked suspicious, I trust him. He wouldn't put me in danger. In fact, that's the whole reason I'm here - to keep me out of it. I lean back in the leather armchair, tucking one of my feet under me.

Kang raises an eyebrow as she takes note of my slouched posture. She stares down at me and lifts her chin almost like she would lift me up if she could will it through her thought. "Your sudden arrival was unforeseen. It's not our policy to admit new students midyear - midsemester, no less." She looks at me expectantly.

"Thanks for making an exception . . . ," I say, invoking my manners even though the words feel stiff in my mouth. I don't like the way she says admit, like this is a long-term thing. Appa told me it would only be for a few weeks, just until he could clear up the break-in at Uncle Jin's. Then I'd return to my house in sleepy Jeongseon and everything would go back to the way it was.

Kang opens a black fabric journal marked with a satin ribbon and scans the page. "Before I tell you about Absconditi Academy and its student body, there are three rules that are absolutely nonnegotiable. They must be obeyed at all times and they apply not only to students, but to faculty as well." She folds her hands over her papers. "The first is that you do not speak, write, or in any other way communicate about your life outside these walls. Not what town you lived in, not who you're related to. Not your last name or the names of people you know. I understand that you're particularly gregarious, and I just want to make myself extra clear that if you break this rule, you not only put yourself in danger, but also your family in danger."

I squint at her. "How would I put my family in danger here? This place is supposed to be the opposite of danger-"

"I also understand that you've been quite sheltered," Kang says, flat out ignoring my question and giving me a disapproving stare. "But time will correct that."

I don't respond because I'm not sure what she's referring to and I'm not sure I want to know. Maybe she's right about the disorientation, or maybe it's this conversation that makes me feel like I'm upside down.

"The second rule forbids you to leave the campus," Kang continues. "This institution is located deep in a forest and secluded from provinces and coasts that are rigged with traps. Going beyond the perimeter walls is not only unwise, but extremely dangerous."

I sit up. Now, this is the kind of school perk Appa sold me on - tree obstacle courses, complex puzzles, knife-throwing tricks. If this place turns out to be as Robin Hood adventures as it is creepy, I guess I can forgive him for the long-distance travel, and her for the possible drugging. "What kind of traps? Has anyone ever made it through them?"

"No. Never," she says as though she's answered this question countless times and it never stops being exhausting. My eyes drift momentarily above her head to the grey-and-navy crest on the wall, under which I read the Latin phrase Historia Est Magistra Vitae. Before I can figure out the meaning, Kang starts talking again.

"The third rule is that if you harm another student, we adhere to an eye-for-an-eye punishment system. All sparring must be confined to the classroom under faculty supervision."

The momentary excitement I had over the y-trapped forest disappears, and I feel my expression drop into a frown. Appa said that sending me here was only a precaution, that he needed to be with Uncle Jin for a few weeks, that he couldn't watch us both at the same time. He told me to trust him. I just assumed he was being overly protective like usual. But if there's danger here, then the whole thing reeks. A tiny knot forms in my stomach, not the type that overwhelms you in the moment, but the type that lurks and grows in the dark, quiet moments when you're by yourself.

I look again from the blotted-out windows to the guarded door. "Isn't that a given . . . the no-hurting people bit?"

"There has been an unusual number of fatalities here in recent years. So no, it's not given," she says like it's nothing more important than school lunches.

My throat suddenly goes dry. "What do you mean, fatalities? How intense are the classes here? What exactly are people dying from?"

Kang looks at me like I'm a lost puppy that she has no intention of petting. "We do not offer basic studies like other preparatory schools; what we offer is a great deal more. The Academy builds on your skill sets and on your individual strengths. For instance, knife throwing is not simply about precision. It is a skill that is practiced while in motion and under duress. And deception is honed so that you may both read it in others and deploy it as second nature. Instead of languages, we offer an accents class and a cultural norms elective to allow you to better move between countries. It's a privilege to attend this school, not a right. Our professors are of the highest caliber and our students are hand-picked from all over the world. There are eighteen professors in residence, and you, Suzy, make our one hundredth student. Every spot in this school is coveted and every student here knows that." Her tone sounds like a warning, like I will be out on my of I make a wrong move. "You'll need to underego a psychological and physical examination before we decide which classes will best suit you." She leans back in the chair, the candles in the candelabra on her desk casting shadows across her face.

Absconditi Academy - definitely Latin. My brain whirls into motion. Absconditi stems from absconditum, meaning "hidden" or "secret." So it's either Hidden Academy or Academy of the Hidden. I can feel my brows scrunching up as I try to take it all in. I'm not sure if I'm excited or terrified to be in a secret school with a bunch of knife-throwing deception experts with accent control.

The candles in the room flicker as though to emphasize Kang's long pause, and when he speaks I once again get the uncanny feeling that she's able to read thoughts: "The Academy is true to its name. As far as the world's concerned, we don't exist. Not even your parents, who may or may not have been students here, know its location."

Well, at least Appa was telling the truth when he said he couldn't tell me exactly where I'd be going. Is it possible my countryside man of a father went to this school? It's suspicious that he didn't mention it, but he also never talks about his childhood, so it's not entirely impossible.

"As you may have noticed, there's no electricity here. There's also no internet access and thus no communication with the outside world whatsoever," Kang continues. "Parental visits are organized through the school and approved at our choice. Understood?"

I stare at her. That explains the lack of a phone and her refusal when I asked to make a call. But this is extreme isolation makes me think one of two things that is going on here. Either this is going to be the most intense survival training of my life or the threat to our family was significantly worse than the break-in Appa claimed it was and he wanted me far away while he dealt with whatever really happened. My heart beats a little faster at the thought; I don't want to believe he would keep something that important from me.

"Understood," I say cautiously.

"And you agree to the rules?"

"What choice do -" I clear  my throat. "I do."

"Very well," says Kang, and releases her breath like she's pleased to be moving on. "As I said, you've come to us late at seventeen. Most students start at fifteen, with the occasional admittance at sixteen You'll a have to make a cooperative effort to adjust quickly, although I've been assured you have the skills not only to keep up with the other students, but to excel here." Her look tells she isn't sure she agrees. "Still, keep your head down. Watch and learn from the others. Keep your socializing to a minimum. Be on time and be polite. And above all, so not disrupt."

I would laugh, except it's not funny. She just described the fake version of me.

"You'll have meetings with our analyst, Dr. Yoo," she adds, "who will help you assimilate. Now I think it's best if you rest for the evening. Dr. Yoo will begin your evaluation in the morning." She gestures toward the two guards. "These gentlemen will you to your room. Sejeong, your roommate, will act as your guide for your first week. She's been instructed to brief you on the basics, and I have full confidence that she will be thorough. She's one of our best students."

"How do you spell Sejeong?" I ask, my thoughts turning to one way I can get information without asking for it.

Kang hesitates and gives me a strange look. I would tell her that own name means "river" and "strong/tough," but there's clearly no point.

"S-E-J-E-O-N-G," Kang says, then closes the journal and stands up.

I stand up, too. I want to ask more questions, but it's obvious from her expression that she has no interest in continuing our conversation.

"Thanks, Headmaster Kang. Sleep well."

She gives a nod and I head for the door. The guard with the torch lifts the latch and I follow him into the hallway. He towers over me, and I'm five foot six. And once again, the guards orchestrate it so that I'm walking between them.

The only sound is my boots on the floor. Their footsteps are conspicuously quiet as we make our way down a flight of stairs and into a hallway lined with arched wooden doors marked by wrought-iron accents. There are no numbers or names to identify them. The guard in front of me stops and knocks on the third door on the right. Only a second passes before there's the muffled sound of a metal latch and the door swings open.

The girl behind it had bangs and mid-length brown hair. She has dark brown eyes and thin pinkish lips. She scans me head to toe and her eyebrows furrow, reminiscent of Kang's sour pucker.

Even though she's in nothing more than a white nightgown, my boots, shabby and mud-stained from my usual outdoor antics, and my oversized sweater suddenly make me feel undressed.

"Sejeong, right?" I say, stepping in and breaking the silence with a smile. "I hear we're roommates. I'm Suzy." I reach out my hand to shake hers, but she doesn't take it. Instead she does a quick curtsy. A surprised laugh escapes before I can stop it. Her gaze hardens and she latches the door behind me with a rough click.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. Really. You curtsy just caught me off guard. Can we start over?" I can hear my best friend, Jisoo, scolding me for my poorly timed laughs.

"It's forgotten," she says like she's being forced to be polite to me.

The suite of rooms she shows me only reinforced my initial impression that we're in an old hanok (tbh, I don't think hanoks are made of stone and wood or medievals ... well, let's continue my imgaination) buildings. And now that I'm not locked in, I can better appreciate the medieval decor. The stone walls have candle scones that look like they could be thousand years old. There is a large fireplace, a grey velvet couch, and a breakfast table in front of an arched window that's entire covered by heavy navy curtains. The grey and navy remind me of the colors of the crest in Kang's office. "Dang," I whisper.

"Your bedroom's there," Sejeong says flatly, gesturing to my right. Her face shows no emotion.

I follow her line of sight to a door that's a narrower version of the one I just came through.

Sejeong, I think. It's a name popular back in the days, and had something to do with one of the dynasties. I'm pretty sure it's Korean in origin, and if Kang's spelling was right, it means "angel." The tricky part is that each spelling signals a slight variance in meaning . . . "So, um, did you know your name means 'angel'?" I turn back to her, but she's gone. I stare at the closed door opposite of mine. A lock slides into place on the other side of the wood. I didn't even hear her walk away. She's no Jisoo, that's certain. Who I'm sure by now is at my house, demanding to know where her best friend is and why I'm not returning her texts. I wish Appa had given me time to explain things to her.

I push open my bedroom door - temporary bedroom door. A candle's lit on my beside table next to a pitcher and drinking glass, and there's a basin of water on my dresser that I presume is for washing up. A white nightgown identical to Sejeong's lies across the end of my bed - which has a canopy made of woos and a craved headboard. Unfortunately, though, my luggage is nowhere to be seen, and I'm too exhausted to try to sort it out I pull off my boots and my jeans, dropping them on the floor in a pile, and sit down on the bed.

I grab the bottom of my sweater to pull it over my head  but change my mind and tuck my legs under the blankets. I blow out the beside candle and fall backward into the mound of fluff. Only then does my chest tighten with homesickness.

I let out air and stare at the wooden canopy above me. I can make it a couple of weeks anywhere, I assure myself. I made it through soccer camp last summer in a field that stank of rotten fish - I'll make it through this.

First chapter is now up! Back to our OG ship, Sehun and Suzy!

Thank you all for reading!