https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vmk2YxzlNg4

I tuck a white linen shirt into a pair of black leggings that I found mysteriously laid out for me when I returned from my bath. I stare at myself in my vanity mirror. The only thing I recognize is my long flowy hair. The rest of me looks like I've been dressed up as a pirate for the Renaissance. If Jisoo saw me, she would laugh for a year. I just wish I had my phone to take a picture.

There's a knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in!" I say, and the door opens.

Sejeong's dressed in the same clothes as me, only the pirate gear doesn't diminish her grace. Her hair is in a ponytail. If anything, she looks more regal than she did last night. "We'll be late if we don't go soon. And I'm never late."

"I'm usually late," I say in a friendly tone. "Maybe you'll be a good influence on me."

She frowns.

"Do you know where these clothes came from?" I gesture toward my black-laced boots. "When I got back fro the bathroom, they were on the trunk at the foot of my bed."

Her frown deepens. "The maid."

"The maid?" I pause. "You're kidding." Appa never ever hired a housekeeper and now I have a maid? This school must have cost him his savings. The not that formed in my stomach last night tightens. Something about appa's decision and this entire situation feels off.

She stands a little straighter, which I didn't imagine was possible with her already perfect posture. "Not in the least."

Aish. She's stiffer than my 90-year-old physics teacher. "Well, any chance you know what happened to my clothes?" I ask. "Also, the things I brought with me from -" I remember rule number one - "home. I can't find my luggage anywhere."

"Personal items are forbidden on campus. Headmaster Kang keeps them locked up."

"Even my toiletries and my -"

"Everything."

I grumble. I already miss my pillowcase covered trees that was part of the bed set I lusted after for months. And the scarf Jisoo knitted last winter that has become a staple of my wardrobe even though it's lopsided - all the familiar little bits and pieces from my life are locked up somewhere I can't get them.

"About that - the forbidden part. What's the deal with all the secrecy?" I ask.

Sejeong looks at me suspiciously. "Why would you ask me that?"

I definitely wasn't expecting her to dish on all the inner workings of this place, considering the severity of Kang's rules, but I also wasn't expecting such a defensive answer. Now she'd piqued my interest. I smile the disarming smile that's always worked well for me. "I was just hoping you could explain it to me."

"Don't be absurd." She lifts her chin and turns around in one fluid motion. I wouldn't be surprised if she practiced that dramatic exit, waiting for someone to frustrate her so she could use it.

I follow her into the sitting room. She opens a tall armoire and pulls out two floor-length black coat with hoods (similar to the Harry Potter ones!) and hands one to me. 

I examine the velvet-lined wool with interest. There are gloves in the pocket. "Is this a cape?"

"It's a cloak," she corrects me, "and the quality is impeccable."

At just about heart level on the left-hand side of the cloak is the crest I saw in Kang's office. It's embroidered with gold and navy thread. "'Historia Est Magistra Vitae,'" I read out loud. I'm great with Latin root words (I totally am not, so thanks Google!) - it's one of the things I picked up when I became fascinated with name origins - but I'm awful with grammar. "History, Teacher, Life?"

"History Is the Teacher of Life - Absconditi Academy's motto," Sejeong says, and sighs like she's resigning herself to something monotonous. "The navy means authority and carries the sense of elegance and sophistication. The gold means wisdom and glamour. The oak tree symbolizes great age and strength. The torch represents the truth and intelligence. And the sphinx signifies omniscience and secrecy." Sejeong opens our arched door before the last word leaves and walks out of the suite without pause.

I follow her and close the door behind us, thinking about the crest as I put on the cloak. The stone hallway is brighter than last night, but the air is still cold, giving it an all-around gloomy feel.

That was a serious rundown of symbols Sejeong just gave me, not some generalized school motto. I bit my lip. It's strange that someone chose those colors, which strike me as contradictory. Also, I don't know much about crests, but I do know that the sphinx is most commonly associated with Egyptian and Greek cultures. "So back to this secrecy thing -"

"No."

I take a better look at Sejeong. I wonder what would happen if she ever met appa. I bet they would stare each other down, never saying more than two words to each other. I guarantee she's the type of girl who likes to pretend she never farts and if one did slip out she would pass out from from overwhelm. I laugh.

Sejeong turns to me sharply. "What?"

For a second, I consider telling her. "Look, we're here together, right? In this, well, this castle? I guess, for at least the next few weeks until we go home for holidays -" And home forever.

She huffs. "I'm not going home for any holidays."

I search her face for a hint of emotion but find none. I would be devastated if I wasn't with my family for the holidays. "Just the same, we might as well make the best of it. Don't you think?"

Sejeong turns away from me and down a stone corridor with a series of narrow arched windows cut into it. The stone is so thick that you easily use the windowsills as seats. I can picture archers perching in them once upon a time, raining arrows down on enemy invaders.

"This building takes some time to learn," says Sejeong, completely ignoring my comment. "It zigzags, but the thing to remember is that the outside is a rectangle. So it follow the outer wall, you can always find your way again."

It's like I'm having a conversation with the supermarket man, Anh, who hums incessantly and barely listens to anyone. Instead of answering whatever question you asked, he responds with whatever he's currently thinking about. Jisoo and I treat him like a fortune cookie. If he tells us the artichokes are running rampant or that potato sprouts look like zombie fingers, we figure trouble's happening, but if he goes on about a new ice cream shipment, it's going to be an amazing day.

"And if you find yourself outside in a courtyard or garden, you're somewhere in the center of the rectangle," Sejeong continues in a monotone, like she's reading out of a brochure. "The entire structure is three stories tall, except for one tower that's four stories."

"Kang's office," I say, happy to recall a silver of information about this place.

"Yes," she says, and takes a quick questioning look at me. "You can orient yourself by that tower. Think of it as north and the girls' dormitory as east. Directly across from us, on the west side of the building is the boys' dormitory."

I count the doors and the turns as we go, a crack in the stone, a step that's steeper than the others, committing them to memory. I was the kid everyone followed around at carnivals because it only took me one go-around before I knew where everything was. Appa says it's from obsessively learning every inch of the forest near our home, which are a bazillion times harder to map than a building or a fair.

Sejeong reaches the end of the hallway, goes down three steps and turns left. "I suspect the class schedule here is going to be different from what you're used to. While some classes are back to back, most are not because many of the courses involve physical exertion. Our heaviest days are Monday through Friday, with a lighter schedule on the weekend. But the professors have the right to call an impromptu challenge whenever they want." She pushes a flyaway hair back into place. "Now we're entering the north side of the building, which has classrooms and faculty offices." She points to the wall. "And the south side has common rooms - the dining hall, library, weapons room, and so on."

I stop abruptly. "Wait a minute. What kind of weapons rooms?"

She stops, too. "We have a fair extensive sword collection. And the bows and knives are some of the best."

I can feel myself smiling. I've never used a real sword. Appa always made me practice with a wooden one, which I did often that I broke a fair share of them. And a room full of knives? Sign me up.

"But the poisons aren't what they could be," Sejeong continues, almost to herself. "There's no point in talking about it now, though, because we won't get to that side of the building until lunchtime."

My smile disappears. "Poisons?"

"I hear they're expanding the curriculum next term, so it may improve." Her delivery is matter-of-fact.

As far as I can tell, the only reasons to teach poisons are because you plan to use them or because you think someone might use them on you - neither of which sits well with me. "Why exactly are we learning about poisons?"

She looks at me like I can't be serious. "You're excited by knives but wonder why there's a poisons class? If this is some kind of carefree, innocent act, you can do better than that."

I stare at her. "Using knives, arrows, and swords is a skill. Poisons are strictly about hurting people."

"Right. And knives are for cuddling," she says flatly, and starts walking again. "You have an appointment right now with the head of assessment. His office is just down this hall."

I grab her wrist, but she smoothly undoes my grip before I get a good hold. She glares at me, the first real sign of life I've seen in her. "Don't ever do that."

"Touch your arm? Sorry. But stop the tour for a sec. I'm serious. What's with the poisons and the archaic eye-for-an-eye rule?" My off feeling is escalating and I'm getting the distinct sense that there is something about this place I should know and don't. "And what about the student deaths Kang mentioned? I know I can't ask who the students are and all, but can you explain at least a little? Should I be nervous right now?"

For a second she looks confused. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth. Why would our parents send us to an isolated school where all the rules have some imminent-danger theme?" I don't like the disorientation of not knowing where I am, but not as much as I can't stand the idea that appa withheld information from me.

"There's less danger here than anywhere else," Sejeong says like I've offended her last sensibility.

"Not from where I'm standing."

She leans toward me and levels her voice. "I told you to stop playing this innocent game."

"It's no game." I hesitate. My instinct is to double down. "I'm sorry you're annoyed, but since my dad isn't here to grill -"

"Lower your voice." Her tone is commanding and fiery. She looks behind her down the empty hall and pushes me back with surprising force into the stairwell we just came out of. "Maybe this isn't an act. Maybe you really don't know. But stupidity isn't the answer." Her voice is barely above a whisper and is flat-out accusatory.

"Why would you think my questions are an act? What on earth would I gain from it?"

"My answer's still a no," she hisses. "By referencing your father, and only your father, you just told me that it's likely your mother is dead. Now I know something about you, combined with the fact you were clearly raised in the northern part of Korea, based on your vernacular and the clothing you arrived in last night. I'd say a rural area rather than an urban one. Your features suggest you're originally from Gwangju, which narrows to only a handful of Families you could be related to. Should I go on?"

I stare at her. Who, or what, is this girl? "Families? What families?"

Her eyes widen and her hands clench. "You're loud and you're reckless and there is absolutely no chance I'm giving you information. Good play, but you've lost." Her words are biting.

"Wait -"

"I'm done with this conversation," she says. "I can't believe Headmaster Kang matched us as roommates." She walks away from me at full speed.

Damn. I'm striking out here. Charm doesn't work; being pushy doesn't work. I raise my hands in surrender. "Look, I'm really not trying to piss you off. Honest. My best friend always says I push too hard that sometimes I push people right over a cliff. I get that you don't trust me. I'll do my best to chill out and stop attacking you with questions. But I'm not playing you and I don't know what I've 'lost.'"

Before she can respond, the doors around us creak open. Students pour into the hallway, all wearing the same clothes and cloaks we are. Did a class just end? I didn't even hear a bell. Where I'm used to shouts and laughter and pushing between classes, there are only hushed conversations and deliberate movements.

Sejeong weaves in and out of the creepily quiet students. The glances I get are so subtle that if I weren't looking for them I would assume the other students didn't even notice me. There's none of the openmouthed new-kid ogling that goes on at my school.

I shiver. There's something unsettling about this place, making me further question Appa's decision to send me here. It feels like a test, a way for him to prove the point he's always trying to make about me being too trusting. I can almost her him saying: "Look, look at this place and tell me I'm not wrong - people always had something to hide." The strange part is, even though we had our disagreements when it came to trusting people, underneath it all I got the sense that he was secretly proud that I looked for the best in everyone. Maybe I was wrong.

"Sejeong," says a guy walking toward us, and I snap out of my thoughts. He looks remarkably life her, other than his height. Where she's two inches shorter than me, he's four inches taller. But they both have the same regal presence and the same pointed expression. "I'm surprised," he continues. "I would have thought you'd be at the assessment office by now." He winks at her.

Judging by his comment, it occurs to me she must have told him I was here early this morning. Either that, or they somehow knew I was coming, which worries me more. There's no phone or Internet here for communicating, so the only way they could have known was if this was arranged days ahead of time, days before I knew myself.

"Extenuating circumstances." Sejeong looks at me like I'm unidentifiable school lunch. "Sehun, this is Suzy, my new roommate. Suzy, Sehun."

"Sejeong with a roommate. Who would have thought this day would ever come?" He looks directly at me and I involuntarily take a step backward. There's something about his gaze that makes me feel instantly exposed, as though he shines an unforgiving light on the scar I was hoping no one would notice. Where Sejeong's cold, he appears warm, and yet there's nothing welcoming about this welcome.

"You didn't have a roommate before me?" I ask. Kang did say there were only a hundred students and this school is huge, so it's not surprising there might be singles. But it does seem like a lonely choice in this grey place.

"We're not all suited for it," Sejeong says, and it feels like a warning as much as an explanation.

"I imagine Sejeong's taking good care of you?" Sehun says before I can respond. The more he speaks, the more I notice the similarities he shares with Sejeong - the way they move their eyebrows, their strong cheekbones, and even the curve of their hairline.

"She's an excellent tour guide," I say. "But so far I'm a terrible tour-ee. I'm mostly badgering her with questions." I pause, piecing together what little I know about him. "Does your name mean . . . 'devil'?" (I don't know if 'Sehun' means 'devil,' but this story is fiction).

His smile widens but looks forced. "Exactly. I'm surprised Sejeong was talking about me; it's unlike her."

You can say that again. "She wasn't. It's just that Sejeong's name means angel and now your name means devil. Putting you two together as shoulder angels, I assumed so. I mean, you two are brother and sister, right?" I don't feel the same thrill I usually do when I do this. Instead, I get the sense that I've said something terribly wrong.

Sehun looks at Sejeong and not at me. "You told her we're siblings?"

Well, that confirms that I'm right.

Sejeong lifts her chin. "Obviously not."

They look at each other for a few long seconds. They don't say a word, but even I can tell they're communicating in some way by the intensity of the looks they share.

Sehun shifts his gaze back to me. "I have time this afternoon. Maybe I could join your tour or even take over for Sejeong if she needs a break."

My instinct is to say no, apologize to Sejeong, and promise I'll stop talking if she just won't pass me off to him.

Thankfully, Sejeong shakes her head. "You know she's my responsibility," she says, and I'm grateful - not that being called someone's responsibility is a compliment.

"Well, then, I guess I'll just see you both at lunch. Oh, and Sejeong . . ." He holds up a small braid made of pine needles.

Sejeong checks the now-empty pocket of her cloak while Sehun smiles victoriously. "Five, four," she says with a hint of annoyance. "You win."

Sehun gives us both a small bow as he slips back into the river of students, who behave more like spies than high schoolers. Up close his intensity is almost overwhelming, but as he walks away I find that it's equally hard not to watch him. I'm not sure if I'm intrigued or intimidated.