Chapter Text
It was 9:49 a.m on a Sunday. I’m still laying on my bed, half-awake, and struggling to focus. The morning sunlight poured through my window, but it did little to shake off the exhaustion weighing on my mind.
My phone buzzed beside me.
I glanced at the screen and saw Rei's name.
Rei
Hey, I know this sounds a little crazy…
Jiwon
What?
Rei
I’m with Hyunseo rn and there’s a painting of you in this
gallery
I’M KIND OF SCARED BCS ITS THE SAME
OUTFIT U WORE LAST TIME
Jiwon
Rei.. you are imagining things.
Rei
I SWEAR I’M NOT
*Rei sent a photo*
Black tank top. Dark hair. A side profile captured in the middle of a bite. As I stared at it, a familiar face caught my attention. My face.
Every detail was there—the shape of my nose, the curve of my lips, even the way my hair fell over my cheek.
It was detailed.
Too detailed.
Why am I there? Why is there a painting of me eating?
I sneaked out with Rei and Yujin last week to eat. I don’t even remember posting any photos?
Okay, this is crazy. I’m sure this is one of Rei’s pranks. AI is getting too advanced these days.
Jiwon
What the hell. Is this one of your pranks?
Rei
NOO0OO0 JIWON
BELIEVE ME OMG
Jiwon
Ok?? Who painted it?
Rei
There’s no full name. But there’s a sign beside it!
Rei sent a photo.
In the bottom-right corner, a small sign, were the name and two letters.
"eat something"
J.W.
I read them again.
J.W.
The initials meant nothing to me. I don't know anyone with the initials J.W.
This is just a coincidence, I told myself. But for some reason, a chill ran down my spine.
Jiwon
Seriously, Rei. I don't want to play these stupid games.
Rei
Well.. suit yourself I guess…
Here’s the location though if you want to
see it!
*Rei sent a location*
I left Rei on read as I opened the link she sent.
“Oh? It's kind of near,” I muttered to myself as I opened the location Rei had sent. I stared at the address for a moment.
It was surprisingly close.
Still, it wasn't like I was actually going to go there. I wasn't that nosy. Besides, I had classes to worry about and assignments piling up on my desk. The last thing I needed was to waste my time chasing some weird painting that was probably just a coincidence.
---
3:03 p.m., Sunday
The afternoon sun streamed through my bedroom window, casting long shadows across the floor. I was lying on my bed, absentmindedly scrolling through my phone, when my mother's voice echoed from downstairs.
"Jiwon! Are you ready for your tennis practice?"
I glanced at the clock. 3:03 p.m.
I had spent the entire morning trying to forget about the painting.
The initials.
J.W.
Yet somehow, the memory kept finding its way back into my thoughts.
"Coming!" I called back, forcing myself to sit up.
Maybe a few hours on the court would finally get my mind off it.
The drive to Olympic Park was short, but it felt suffocating. Why was it always something?
If it wasn't my grades, it was tennis. If it wasn't tennis, it was my attitude, my friends, or the way I spent my time.
Mom always seemed to find something to criticize.
I stared out the window, tuning out her voice as the familiar streets of Jamsil-dong passed by.
The sooner I got to practice, the sooner I could have some peace and quiet.
I stepped out of the car and adjusted my skirt. I was dressed in a white tennis skirt and a navy sleeveless top, my dark hair tied back into a high ponytail to keep it out of my face.
The moment I arrived, I was greeted by my coach, Kim Gaeul.
She’s pretty nice. She has a really, really good figure. As expected from a professional athlete. I always caught myself staring.
“Hey unnie! What’s the drill today?” I asked, as I adjusted my red wilson tennis bag that I would gladly light a fire on if I had the chance.
“We are working on your backhand and baseline rallies,” she replied. “I noticed from your recent matches that you’ve been relying too much on your forehand lately.”
“Do we have too?” I groaned dramatically.
“Yes. Now go to the outdoor courts and warm up before I make you run laps instead,” she said, pointing her racket toward the courts.
I immediately straightened up. “Okay, okay. I'm going.”
“That's what I thought.”
Muttering complaints under my breath, I headed toward the courts.
The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow. I set my bag on the fence and a cool breeze swept across the outdoor courts, carrying with it the familiar sounds of tennis balls in the distance.
As I started to stretch, I tilted my head back and stared up at the sky, my hands resting on my hips. I took a deep breath, savoring the cool evening air.
My mind felt quieter.
For a moment, all I could hear was the rustling of leaves and distant sounds of tennis balls hitting rackets.
Then two letters suddenly flashed across my mind.
J.W.
The uneasy feeling I'd managed to push aside all day came rushing back. My stomach churned.
God, I'm going to throw up.
I quickly covered my mouth and swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw up.
Thank God.
At least I hadn't thrown up in the middle of the court.
“I'll feed the first ball to your backhand. Run around the cone, get back into position, then hit another backhand. Got it?” Coach Gaeul called from the other side of the court.
“Yeah. Copy!” I replied.
The first ball came flying toward my backhand. I completely missed it.
The ball bounced past me and hit the fence.
“What?” Coach Gaeul shouted. “That was an easy one, Jiwon! Focus!”
I winced. “Sorry”
My face burned with embarrassment. Why am I acting like a complete beginner?
Another one came flying toward me.
I swung.
Clank.
The ball clipped on to the frame of my racket and flew off in another direction.
“Jiwon.” Coach Gaeul called out, lowering her racket. “That was a shank. You know that right?”
“Sorry, coach..” I groaned while massaging my temple.
I missed it.
Shank.
Straight to the net.
Too long.
Too wide.
Fuck.
What’s wrong with me?
Sweat clung to my navy training top, and a few loose strands had escaped my ponytail during practice.
I lowered my racket and bent over, resting my hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath.
Click
What?
I froze. For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating.
Then, I heard it again.
Click
That’s the sound of a camera? I straightened up and slowly turned toward the fence behind me.
Beyond the court was a parking lot. Most of the cars had already left because it was night time. Leaving only a handful scattered beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.
There was no one there.
“Am I hallucinating things now? Shit, get yourself together,” I muttered to myself.
“Jiwon, are you alright?” Coach Gaeul shouted across the court. “We can end the training here. I feel like you need a break.”
“I’m fine, unnie” I forced a smile and waved it off.
The lie came out too quickly.
Because the moment I looked back. I could’ve sworn I saw something move between the cars.
Training is hell. Click
I missed another backhand. Click
I want this to be over. Click
Can I stop now? Click
My grip tightened around my racket.
Who the hell was taking pictures of me?
Training ended early.
Thankfully, Coach Gaeul didn’t mention my terrible performance while talking to my mom. She sympathised with me.
After all, professionals like her aren’t born overnight. They’re built under pressure and expectations.
Still, that didn’t make me feel better.
I sat on the nearby bench and searched for my phone.
Jiwon
Rei. I don’t want to be in your stupid pranks anymore.
Stop it, or I’m not coming to your piano recital.
Rei
What are you talking about?
I’m at Hyunseo’s house.
*Rei sent a photo*
I opened the image. Rei took a selfie with Leeseo in front of a TV. Bags of snacks scattered around. The clock beside the TV being the exact time it was sent, 7:07 PM.
She is really at Leeseo’s house.
Then who was that?
Or am I hallucinating?
Jiwon
Okay. Sorry.
See you at school.
The drive back to our house was quiet.
For the first time all day, I was relieved. I rested my head against the window and watched the city lights blur past. Then a familiar building caught my eye.
It was the gallery Rei had sent.
Visiting it wouldn't hurt.
Right?