Chapter 9: Disappearing Act

He closed the messenger app and reopened it. That wasn’t enough, so he even restarted his phone entirely. But the number 1 next to the message he’d sent to Jun-ho since Wednesday wouldn’t disappear. Min-hyeon flipped his phone over.

“What on earth is going on?”

Taking advantage of a moment stopped at a traffic light, Min-woo asked. Min-hyeon was in the middle of restarting his phone again—the one he’d just flipped over. This morning alone, during the short drive from home to school, he’d already repeated this at least five times. And it wasn’t just today—Min-woo had witnessed this same scene every day for the past several days.

“Hey, hyung. What does it mean when someone you’re supposed to meet the next day doesn’t contact you at all, and doesn’t even read your messages for days?”

“They’re probably busy.”

Even though Min-woo had asked first, his reply was lukewarm. Min-hyeon carefully conveyed his thoughts to Min-woo.

“No matter how busy you are, don’t you have time to check one message? He used to read them right away whenever I sent anything.”

“Then I guess he’s busy enough not to have time to check even one message.”

“Do you really think so?”

He hoped that was really the case. Min-hyeon repeatedly locked and unlocked his phone’s home screen meaninglessly.

“Why? Who are you talking about? That senior from before?”

“Yeah. We’re still not done with the group project, so we really need to meet again, but I can’t reach him.”

“I knew something was off about him from the start—no sense of responsibility. Not exactly setting a good example as a senior. People who look like that are all about their faces, you know.”

Min-woo clicked his tongue. Min-hyeon pretended not to hear. That was just Min-woo’s typical wariness toward strangers.

Min-woo had always been like that. Even when Min-hyeon first became close with Heon-jae, Min-woo had constantly found fault with him and disapproved. It wasn’t until nearly a year after Min-hyeon introduced them that Min-woo’s attitude toward Heon-jae slowly began to change. During that time, Min-woo seemed to be testing Heon-jae in his own way.

Now, Min-woo trusted Heon-jae enough that Min-hyeon could bring him home freely without prior permission—but getting to that point had required tearful effort on Heon-jae’s part. Truly, it was only possible because Heon-jae was who he was; under Min-woo’s pressure, there was no friend who could remain by his side.

In Min-hyeon’s view, Min-woo seemed to instinctively guard against any new person who came into his life. He’d try to find flaws, thoroughly verify a person’s character, and only allow those deemed “safe” to remain close.

‘Is this some kind of brother complex?’

Or maybe it was simply Min-woo’s overprotectiveness extending to his social relationships. Overprotective or brother complex—Min-hyeon understood Min-woo’s concern for him, but sometimes he wished his brother would give him a little more breathing room.

When Min-hyeon didn’t react much to his words, Min-woo changed the subject.

“So when’s the deadline for the project?”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Then there’s still some time. They’ll probably contact you at least once by then. But just in case, if you still haven’t heard from them by Friday, just finish it on your own and submit it. Do you have all the materials you need?”

“Of course I have the materials.”

What Min-hyeon was worried about—though it was natural—wasn’t whether he could submit the project, since the outline was already perfectly structured and all that remained was to flesh it out.

“Then there’s no problem at all. If they really don’t contact you and you end up doing it alone, just leave their name off the project entirely.”

“That’s ridiculous. We did it together.”

In fact, comparing the portions each of them had handled so far, Jun-ho had done considerably more.

“Finishing it together is what makes it ‘together’—if they dropped out halfway, it’s not together.”

Min-woo clicked his tongue again but didn’t add anything further.

Actually, though he hadn’t told Min-woo, Min-hyeon had expected that he’d definitely be able to meet Jun-ho today if he came to school. Because today was a day when their classes overlapped.

But Jun-ho didn’t come to class. Even during the lecture, Min-hyeon kept glancing around the classroom, checking to see if Jun-ho might have come in late. But until the class ended, he never showed up.

Not only that—he’d deliberately wandered around whenever he had a chance, but he couldn’t find Jun-ho anywhere on campus, in any of the places they’d previously crossed paths. At this point, strange thoughts kept creeping in. What if something had really happened to Jun-ho? His imagination ran only in ominous directions.

‘Should I call him?’

Min-hyeon found Jun-ho’s number in his phone contacts. He’d gotten it when they went to the exhibition together, but since they’d mostly used the messenger app to communicate, this would be his first time actually calling.

Tuu, tuu—the monotonous dial tone rang out. Min-hyeon’s heart pounded. For some reason, a phone call felt several times more daunting than meeting him in person.

What should I say first? Of course, I should start with a greeting.

But despite Min-hyeon’s nervous efforts to organize what to say to Jun-ho in his head, a cold voice informed him that the customer could not be reached.

He left a message in the messenger chat—still showing no sign of being read—asking if something was wrong and expressing his worry, when his phone vibrated violently.

Min-hyeon’s hopes, which had swelled rapidly with anticipation, deflated just as quickly. The call was from Min-woo.

“Yeah, hyung.”

— There’s an accident up ahead and traffic is completely backed up. Nothing’s moving at all. It’s going to take a while, so don’t go outside—stay in the school and wait until I call you again.

“I don’t have anywhere to go anyway.”

— Okay. I’ll call you again about five minutes before I arrive.

“Don’t you have at least a rough idea of when you’ll get here?”

— I won’t know until this jam clears up. Once I get past this stretch, it’ll be quick.

“Got it. Drive carefully.”

He didn’t want to go to the student center, which would be crowded at this hour, or the library, where there would definitely be no seats available.

After a moment’s thought, Min-hyeon headed toward the main building. It was a bit far to come up from the lecture building side, so he didn’t visit often—but there was one spot that was perfect for waiting for Min-woo, who had no definite arrival time.

Min-hyeon bought a triangle kimbap and a banana milk from the campus convenience store and headed to the bench behind the main building. Swinging the convenience store plastic bag as he walked, his mind was filled with Jun-ho—who hadn’t been in contact for days and had skipped class.

As he got closer to the main building, fewer people were around. The main building, which housed the president’s office, had no student classrooms. So regular students rarely had reason to come this way. Perhaps that was why the bench behind the main building was always quiet.

Moreover, the bench itself was completely hidden by the main building, invisible from the front. You had to pass through a narrow path that looked like a side alley beside the main building to get there—if Min-hyeon himself hadn’t discovered this place by chance, he probably would have graduated without ever knowing such a bench existed behind the main building.

Swinging the convenience store bag, he passed through the side alley beside the main building—but today, for some reason, there were already people there. Two of them, in fact. He’d spent quite a bit of time here waiting for Min-woo, but this was the first time he’d ever seen anyone else.

And one of the two was someone Min-hyeon knew very well—the very person he’d been thinking about all day.

“Oh! Hyung!”

Spotting Jun-ho, Min-hyeon ran over to him. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be injured anywhere on the outside. His face looked paler and more tired than usual, but at least he didn’t appear to be so ill that he couldn’t move, or like he’d had an accident and collapsed somewhere.

“Hyung, what on earth happened? I was so worried because I couldn’t reach you. Why didn’t you come to class today? Didn’t you see my messages? I sent quite a few. And I, earlier I called you too…”

But Jun-ho, whom he’d expected to greet him with a happy smile, didn’t answer—he just looked down at Min-hyeon with indifferent eyes, silent. There wasn’t a trace of emotion in the gaze Jun-ho directed at him. Caught off guard by Jun-ho’s completely unexpected reaction, Min-hyeon hesitated, unable to easily speak to him again.

“What’s this now?”

The man standing with Jun-ho took a step closer to Min-hyeon. He was about Jun-ho’s height, maybe slightly shorter. His build was more solid than Jun-ho’s, and dressed entirely in black from head to toe, he exuded an instinctive sense of intimidation.

Min-hyeon involuntarily flinched and stepped back. The way the man’s eyes scanned him from head to toe felt inexplicably terrifying. It was like being a mouse before a snake. The man’s eyeballs glistened strangely as he looked down at Min-hyeon.

“Kwon Hae-soo.”

Jun-ho called the man in a low voice. Hae-soo’s gaze, which had been licking over Min-hyeon thoroughly, immediately turned to Jun-ho. The look in Hae-soo’s eyes as he looked up at Jun-ho was completely different from when he’d looked at Min-hyeon.

“Let’s move.”

Hae-soo obeyed Jun-ho’s words. Without asking why or where they were going, he silently followed behind Jun-ho.

Min-hyeon stood there, dazed and lost. The sound of their footsteps faded into the distance.