As I braid my hair in front of my vanity mirror, I'm shocked at how I spent I look - dried out, as Jisoo's mom calls it when you've cried so much that you don't have anything left in you. At home, I felt destroyed over a guy or a bad test, I'd go to Jisoo's house and she'd let me do my crying, and then we'd eat junk food and watch movies until we passed out on the couch. Here, with my crying done, I'm preparing to hunt down information about killers who might be trying to blot out my entire family. I'm not even sure to process that.

Sejeong knocks lightly on my bedroom door and I open it.

"I'm ready," I say, and she hands me my cloak.

I put it on and follow her into the common room, where Sehun is on the floor looking through the crack under our door.

"Is he waiting for the guard to pass?" I whisper.

"We'll barely have a second to spare. So keep up and stay silent," she whispers back.

I nod at Sejeong, letting her know that I get the gravity of the situation and won't screw up.

Sehun stands, counts seven seconds off on his fingers, and silently opens the door. We all got out and he closes it behind us without so much as a creak. And we're off - down the hall and into the stairwell. Sehun doesn't bother to listen at each floor like I did when I was alone. He must know where the guards will be.

We reach the bottom of the stairs and stop. The guards in the foyer is walking into the vine courtyard, and the instant the door closes behind him we run across the stone floor into the hallway near the teachers' lounge. We follow it all the way down to where it dead-ends at a door. The shadow cover is good here, the only sound it our breathing. However, is someone were to turn the corner there would be no place to hide.

Sejeong pulls out some kind of mutlitool that looks like a more complex version of the molded paper clips Lisa used in our last challenge. She gets on her knees to access the lock better and slips the tool into the keyhole as I stare down the hallway. Metal clinks and my heart thuds before my brain verifies that the sound is coming from us and not from a guard.

Not four seconds later, Sejeong pulls the door open. we slip through into total darkness. I put my hands up and my fingers graze the heavy curtain that covers the doorways here. This door leads outside? I hear the lock click back into place and I hold my breath.

Sehun pulls the curtain back by an inch, and in the dim moonlight I catch a silver of the outer wall that surrounds our school. Sejeong taps my wrist and we're moving again, through the curtain and along the tree-lined building. We pass two doors and stop at the third. Sejeong pulls out her lock-picking tool. I definitely don't remember any of these doors from inside floor plan. I'm not surprised that there are parts of this castle you can only access from the outside, but I do wonder how bad the punishment will be if we get caught sneaking into them.

Through the trees, I get a better look at the outer wall. It towers over our four-story hanok building. Trees line that outer perimeter and create a tall canopy, just like in our inner courtyards. I wonder how many people tried to climb their way out of here over the years. I'm sure there is some sort of trap at the top of that wall, and from that height, there's no way you wouldn't get seriously injured if you fell from it.

Sejeong stands up and opens the door an inch. She nods and we follow her through. And to my surprise, I find myself in a huge kitchen with an arched ceiling crossed with wooden beams. Shelves along the walls are filled with hundreds of jars of spices and stacked plates. Pots of every size hang from iron hooks, while rolling pins and serving platters are left out on a long table to be used for tomorrow's cooking. The kitchen has always been my favorite room in every house, and this one looks like it was plucked from a fairy tale.

The sound of a key sliding into a lock across the the room snaps me out of my awestruck moment. I run after Sehun and Sejeong to a door against the right wall. Sejeong lifts the latch and we practically dive into the dark room.

Sejeong eases our door closed just as we hear the outside one sing open. Sehun pushes us all flat against the wall. My shoulders are pressed between his and Sejeong's. It's significantly colder in here than outdoors, and I'm sure that if there were any light my breath would be visible. I inhale deeply to slow my heart and anchor my feet in a position where my weight won't shift.

The latch on the door lifts and I hold my breath, not daring to a millimeter. Dim light spills into the room, and so does an ominously long shadow of a very muscular guard. If he pushes the door open too far, he'll hit Sejeong, and if he comes in past the door, he'll see Sehun for sure.

He moves forward, his candle illuminating the room, and I find it nearly impossible to believe that he doesn't hear my heart. Light flickers off the shelves of cloth-covered ceramic pots. But just as quickly as it appeared, the light diminishes, and the door closes, casting us back into darkness.

Sejeong was not kidding when she said we'd barely have a second to spare. If she hadn't opened a single lock fats enough or if there had been a moment's delay somewhere, we would have been screwed.

Sehun's shoulder pulls away from mine as the outside door closes and locks. I let out my breath like I'm a deflating balloon. To my left, Sejeong strikes a match and lights a candle.

Sehun heads for what looks like an oversized wooden closet, with four square doors and one tall, narrow one. My heart thuds. The cold temperature . . . Oh, please, no. I shake my head, like maybe I can convince Sehun by telepathy not to open the tall compartment. Next to the closet is a long table, and I feel my eyes bulging as I take in two sets of what look like bloody clothes and shoes and a stack of antique hospital tools.

Sehun undoes the hooked latch on the tall compartment. My brain screams at me to close my eyes, but I can't manage to look away. And just as I feared, the X guard is standing upright inside, frozen white with his eyes half open. I take two bumbling steps back and cover my mouth with my hand.

Sejeong brings the candle to his face, accentuating his frozen features.

"No bruises or cut," Sehun says in a hushed voice, and inspects the guard's hands. "His knuckles don't have any marks, so there wasn't much of a struggle. Maybe he was outnumbered?"

"Nothing to suggest he took a hit to the face, either," Sejeong whispers, and leans in to get a closer look at the gash across his neck.

"That's strange," she says. "The cut isn't a clean line. I couldn't tell in the hallway when he was covered in blood."

"What does that mean?" I ask. "Did someone use a serrated blade?"

"No," she says, and frowns. "The wound isn't uniform enough for that, either."

Sehun leans closer and his eyes widen. For the first time ever, he looks rattled. "Glass, Jeong. I would bet anything that it was glass - sharp enough to cut deeply and easily, jagged enough to make a much sloppier cut."

My chest tightens, and his reaction suddenly makes perfect sense. "The broken glass from my room. Do you think . . . ," I say, and my voice trails off.

"Yes. Someone must have gotten a piece of it before Sohee could dispose of it," Sejeong says, nodding.

"Wait . . . I don't know if this is a big deal," I say, "but Jimin had a cut on his palm in poisons class. I remember thinking that it wasn't there in fencing the day before, which was the day I was actually looking for cuts because of the blood message on my floor."

"Sehun, look into Jimin's schedule and see if you can find a reason for that cut." Sejeong says. "See if he had any classes between fencing and poisons that involve fighting. Or if there was another occasion where he might have gotten a cut."

Sehun nods, but he's still studying the guard with a look of concern.

"We should check his back," Sejeong says. "If you two can tip him forward, I'll take a look."

The both turn to me, and it takes every last bits of my self-control not to tell them that it's never going to happen. But there's no time for me to be squeamish, so I force myself forward. Sehun already has one hand on the guard's right shoulder and one hand on his chest to support his weight.

I reach my hand into the metal-lined icebox and tentatively touch the guard's left arm, which is hard and covered in frost crystals the way old ice cream containers are.

"You ready?" Sehun asks.

I gulp. "Yeah."

I press my other hand to the guard's chest and Sehun tips him forward. I stumble under his weight and regain my balance, helping Sehun bring him to a horizonatal position. We crouch on the floor, supporting his stiff body.

Sejeong takes a good look at the back of the guard's head and runs her hand over it, presumable feeling for bumps that might have knocked him unconcious. "Nothing," she says, and runs the candle over his back. She stops near his left shoulder blade.

"Huh," she says, and we both look at her. "He's got a tattoo, but there's some bad scarring on top of it. . ."

I lean forward, getting a better look at the scar, and shudder. It appears to be from a burn.

"Can you tell what it is?" Sehun asks.

Sejeong brings the candle near his skin and bends closer. For a few seconds she goes silent and concentrates, moving the candle around to get different angles.

The she stands up and bite her lower lip. "Go ahead and put him back," she says, and I start lifting him before she finishes her sentence. We stand him upright and tuck him back into the metal box. Sehun grabs the icebox door and latches it.

I wipe my now-wet fingers on my pants and wish I could run full-speed toward a shower. Not that there are any here. I'll have to wait until tomorrow morning and ask Sohee to bring up hot water for a bath. I shake out my hands in front of me like somehow that makes a difference.

Sejeong's eyes seem far away, locked in concentration.

"Jeong?" Sehun asks. "You know I hate it when you leave me in suspense like this."

But she doesn't respond. She just starts to pace around the small room like she's having a conversation with herself.

I can tell by Sehun's face that patience is not his strong suit. It actually makes me feel a little better, though, about all those times Sejeong has gone silent on me.

After what feels like forever, Sejeong stops and faces us. "What if we got it wrong?" she asks.

"Got what wrong?" Sehun replies, exasperated.

"The guard," she says, and waves her hand at the compartment where his body is. "What if when he told Suzy 'You're next,' it wasn't a threat?"

I look at her sideways. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that he took a huge risk by speaking to you," she says. "I told you at the time that guards never breaks that rule. So why would he threaten you verbally when there are so many nonverbal alternatives?"

"Sejeong, what kind of tattoo did he have?" Sehun says.

But Sejeong only lifts her hand and silences her brother.

"Don't forget that he reported me to Kang and Yoo the night I found Taehyung's body," I say.

"Right. And Yoo told you that the guard went about his schedule differently that night, which we all agree is strange," she says.

I stare at her, trying to follow her logic.

"Sejeong," Sehun says more insistently.

She doesn't look at him but stay focused on me. "We already suspect that whoever killed Taehyung was actually trying to kill Jungkook and frame you, another Eagle, for the crime - a perfect crime, since it would have eliminated two Eagles at once." She nods toward the freezer. "This guard had an Eagle Family tattoo on him. He took a different route that night, sure, but somehow wound up at your room the same time you did. Then he gives you a message and winds up dead the same night, in front of your room."

I take a step back and my heart starts to pound. "Sohee thought highly of him," I say in a hushed voice.

"Only another piece of evidence to prove my point," Sejeong says. "Think about it - this guard had no choice but to report you the night of the murder because you saw him. But what if you were supposed to see him?" Sejeong says. "What if he was trying to get a message to you that night, only you closed the door too quickly?"

I fidget with my hands. "Omo . . . you're saying that he wasn't threatening me at all, he was warning me? Keeping track of me?"

"Protecting you," she says. "And if that's the case, which I very much think it is, then there is every likelihood that's how he died." It's as if her words have punched me in the gut.

"You're saying someone may have been coming to slit my throat?" I can't wrap my wind around the idea that it's extremely possible that guard died for me. I feel sick and sad all at once.

"Yes," Sejeong says, and by her heavy tone I can tell she feels the gravity of it, too.

Sehun rubs his forehead.

"But why?" I ask. "Why would the guard decide to protect me?"

"I think she's suggesting that he was likely connected to one of the faculty members, otherwise he would never have taken the risk to speak to you. That someone told him to look you for you," Sehun says, and I can hear the worry in his voice. "Which means whatever pieces we're missing in this whole mess, whatever is going on here, probably goes beyond the students."

For a moment we just look at each other, the heaviness of that conclusion sinking in.

"I was hanging out with Taehyung the night before he was murdered," Sejeong says, and her voice is soft. "He thought the Tigers' network in the school was expanding that soon there would be no safe place for the Eagles or any Family that opposed the Tigers. Well . . . maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it means that someone, some faculty member, has decided to fight back against the Tigers through the school." I can hear the approval in her voice.

"You were hanging out with Taehyung the night before his murder?" Sehun says in such a strange way that I look at him. "And he was giving you intel about the Tigers?"

"Yes, and yes," she answers, and even though it's dim, I can tell she's blushing. She avoids looking at her brother directly.

As I stare at her, the dots suddenly connect. Holy . If Sejeong was hanging out with Taehyung at night, it must have been after I went to sleep, because she was in her room at curfew. That means she stuck out. And they would have to have been close if he was telling her secrets, much closer than Sehun realized. Was Sejeong dating Taehyung? By the look on Sehun's face, he's thinking the same thing.

I suddenly feel terrible. I was freaking out because I got his blood on me while searching under that bed, and I was talking about him as a dead body. And all the while, Sejeong had lost someone she cared about. Maybe a lot.

Sehun and Sejeong stare at each other.

I speak to cut the awkward tension between them. But why, Sejeong?" I ask. "Why are the Tigers after me, of all people, first trying to pin Taehyung's death on me, then Jennie, then sending someone to slit my throat? And likewise, why is someone protecting me?"

"Right," she says. "That's the question. And if we don't find out the answer fast, I think we're going to regret it."

Sehun stays silent, still staring at his sister.