The message is still there on my phone, sitting like a splinter I haven't pulled out.

Unknown Number: Careful who you think she is. Not everything she told you was true.

No name. No previous thread. Just that one line, clean and cold. I lock the phone. Then unlock it again. Still there. Still saying too much and too little all at once.

I've read it more times than I want to admit. And yet every time I look at it, my chest tightens like I've just seen it for the first time. It's not the words themselves that unsettled me. It's the voice I imagined behind them—the quiet cruelty, the certainty. Not like someone guessing or gossiping. More like someone who knows her. Knows Haeri.

And that? That bothers me.

My room is a mess, like always. It's dark except for my desk lamp—low, golden light spilling over notes from a half-finished marketing case study. Textbooks shoved against the wall, half-crumpled hoodies draped over the back of my chair, an energy drink can standing like a forgotten trophy. But the glow of my monitor throws light across the room like something surgical—like I'm about to dissect a secret.

I sit down at my desk and pull my laptop closer. The blue glow of the screen spills across my hands as I start typing in the number.

It's not exactly legal, what I'm doing—but it's nothing wild either. I wouldn't even know how to start this if it weren't for Seungjae—an old friend from Korea who used to help people dig up contact info when we were in high school. He'd taught me the basics for fun. How to do soft lookups, what tools are sketchy, how to use free databases.

I pull up one of the sites he used to swear by. Just a website that cross-checks burner numbers and spam reports. Paste the number. Hit search.

Nothing.

Then another site for reverse lookups. I plug the digits in. Nothing. No name. No service provider. No warning label. No scam report. A dead end.

I try a few more sites—the ones Seungjae once showed me back when I was trying to figure out if my first ex had been lying about where she lived. Those were different days. Petty ones. Childish, almost.

Still. The tools worked then.

They don't work now.

It could be a burner. Could be one of those fake routing apps, or something even more temporary.

I try another site. This one claims to have premium data, but the moment I hit the search button, a paywall pops up asking for a subscription.

I hover the cursor over the "subscribe" button for half a second. Then stop.

No. Too risky. Not worth putting my name into a database I don't trust just to chase down a message that might've come from anyone.

I go through my message logs. Search for the last four digits of the number—see if it matches any weird calls. Nope. Nothing. The digits don't belong to any of her friends I know. I even go through our old group chats, just in case. Still nothing.

I lean back in my chair. Run my hand through my hair, eyes on the ceiling.

It wasn't her. That much I'm sure of. The tone's all wrong. Haeri's lies—when she does lie—come wrapped in velvet. Not thorns.

And that only leaves one conclusion.

Someone who knows her doesn't want me near her.

Someone jealous? But jealous about what exactly? She and I have nothing...yet.

An ex? I never heard her or her friends mention, though it's possible.

That thought makes something cold settle in my chest. Not fear. Just... this low flicker of protectiveness I hadn't realized I had.

The message's still there. That voice in the dark.

I reach for my phone again—and this time, I don't hesitate. I scroll down to Seungjae hyung, thumb hovering over the call icon. It's late here—past midnight. Which means it's...

I glance at the clock. 4:17 AM in Seoul. He's going to murder me.

Still, I press the call button. It rings three times.

"Hyung," I mutter into the speaker. "You awake?"

"Does it look like I'm awake, you punk?" His voice is hoarse. Grumpy. "It's 4 AM. What, did you break your leg or fall in love?"

"...The second one, maybe."

Silence.

Then: "Daebak. Hold on, let me sit up."

"First, I need your help. After that, we'll see." I lean back in my chair, eyes closing for a second. "Remember those number tracing tricks you showed me the last time?"

"Ya!" he probably wants to protest, but doesn't. He sighs, "Okay, you mean when you thought Areum was cheating on you and you tried to find her cousin's number?"

"That was one time."

"One time, my ass. You went full spy mode."

I ignore that. "I tried the same methods tonight. Got nothing."

"Spam?"

"No," I say quietly. "It's... something else. Just a message. But I need to know who sent it."

He's silent for a beat, then sighs. "Alright. Send me the number. I'll see what I can dig up on my end."

I shoot it over right away. No message content. Just the number.

While he works, there's a pause. Then:

"Yujin, gwaenchana?" he asks, voice softer. "This is about someone?"

I don't answer directly. Just say, "You ever get warned about someone you care about? Out of nowhere?"

He snorts. "All the time. My mom does it every time I bring a girl home."

I huff a quiet laugh. "I'm serious."

He picks up on the shift. "So it is a girl."

I should've expected that.

He whistles. "Jinjja!?! Never thought I'd see the day."

"What?"

"You—Kang Yujin—the rich kid heartthrob with the face that made half our high school turn into simps, finally falling for someone? I thought your parents chased off every girl within a ten-mile radius."

"They didn't chase all of them," I say under my breath.

"Oh right, I forgot about toxic Areum and emotionless Bora."

I roll my eyes. "Bora wasn't emotionless. We just... didn't work."

"Because you weren't in love with her," he says bluntly. "You dated her because she liked you. That's not the same."

Silence again.

"You like this one differently," he adds, quieter now. "Don't you."

I swallow. "Yeah."

"Like... serious?"

My voice comes out softer than I expect. "Like I've never felt this before."

Something in me clenches as I say it.

"I don't know what it is, hyung," I admit. "It's not just attraction. It's... I want to know everything about her. The parts she hides. The parts she's ashamed of. Even the ones that might hurt."

He doesn't laugh this time. Doesn't tease.

Instead, he says, "Then trust that. Not some ghost number from someone too cowardly to say who they are."

I blink.

"If this girl makes you feel like that, you owe it to yourself to try," he continues. "Even if it gets messy. Even if she's not perfect."

"She's definitely not," I say quietly.

"Good. Neither are you."

"Woa. Thanks."

He chuckles. "You know what I mean. Don't screw this up because someone threw a vague warning your way. That message? Could've come from an ex. A jealous friend. A complete psycho. You trust your gut. Not theirs."

I rest my elbow on the desk, pressing my fingers to my temple. "I was about to say I'm not giving up anyway," I murmur. "But... thanks. That was weirdly profound for you."

"I have my moments."

There's a pause. Then I hear him typing something.

"I'll keep looking into the number," he adds. "But if I find nothing, let it go, yeah?"

"I know."

"Good. Now let me go back to sleep before I fly to Canada and slap you."

I grin faintly. "Night, hyung."

"Night, lover boy."

He hangs up.

I sit there for a long moment after, surrounded by the soft hum of my desk lamp and the quiet of the room, thick, like the air before rain. Outside, the city's gone still. A few blinking lights from apartment windows. The low sound of a car passing three floors below.

I glance toward my backpack, half-zipped with clothes spilling out. The trip's tomorrow. Fall Break. A few days away from all this—classes, routine, shadows lurking in text messages.

But not away from her.

We're all going—her, me, a few others. If whoever sent that message is among them...

Well, I'll find out. Quietly. I won't dig. I'll just watch. Listen. People slip when they think they're safe. And some secrets unravel if you pull on the right thread.

But Haeri—Haeri's different.

I don't care how many half-truths she's told me. She doesn't owe me all of herself. Not yet. Not ever, unless she wants to. And when she's ready—I'll be here.

Whatever secrets she has...
I want to be the one she tells them to.