"Was she really that bad?" asked Hanul. I let out a sigh, "Well, she's not exactly Bong, but she wasn't awful either. Still, I find myself missing him."

Tugging at my cheek, she teased, "Aww, Bong would be so relieved to know his student misses him."

Brushing her hand away, I retorted, "I don’t miss him in that sense. It's just that this year is vital for our futures, particularly mine. I can't risk anything going astray. I realize it sounds hypocritical, given my history of skipping classes. But I am determined to excel this year."

Hanul gazed at me for a moment.

"And?" I queried, not able to form a better response.

"I reckon you're overthinking this. Just relax, everything will be okay," she advised.

"Yeah, sure, everything will be just fine. Unlike some, I have to ensure my success, or it’s the end of the road back home," I retorted.

"Oh please," she sighed, "you don't need to drag your family into every discussion about your future. Sometimes, you need to start living for yourself."

Her words stung a little. I knew she meant well, but I wished she'd try to understand my perspective. She's aware of my background and the pressure on me to excel. I confess I haven’t been striving as hard as I should, but beneath the hypocrisy, there's a burning desire to succeed, propelling me forward.

Halting in my tracks, I tugged at her arm, turning her towards me, and locked eyes with her. Her eyes sparkled, brimming with life and optimism, ready to infect anyone they met.

But then I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in her eyes, and it was the stark opposite.

"Listen, Hanul, we come from different worlds-."

"No, wait, I didn't mean it like-."

I held up my hand, interrupting her mid-sentence. She paused, taken aback. "Our lives are a world apart, y'know. I'm not living your life, so I'm not gonna pretend to know your challenges or struggles, 'cause there might be stuff you're dealing with that I haven't a clue about. But in my case, my family poured their heart and soul into making sure I graduated. They even put my younger sibling's future and education on hold for me. It's not that they loved me more or anything. They didn't play favourites. It was just because I was their best shot at escaping the mess we're in."

Hanul fell silent, and from the guilt written all over her face, I felt like a total jerk. I mean, I know she's just trying to be supportive, but sometimes it's tough when she doesn't get where I'm coming from. Didn't help that I ended up sounding like a whiny, hypocritical jerk.

Laying a hand on her shoulder, I tried to soften the blow. "Look, I know you're trying to help, and I'm grateful. It's just that the help I need isn't what you think it is."

She let a weak smile creep onto her face, "I'm sorry, I just can't stand seeing you stressed or upset." I returned her smile, but chose to stay silent. It was better than saying something that might make me feel even worse.

"But yeah, I do kinda miss Bong."

Her eyes sparked with interest, "See! I knew you liked him too much to stay away."

We continued our walk, reminiscing about Bong, and that time he awkwardly flirted with another lecturer. We were both in stitches. Then our conversation shifted to Samdae, until we reached the dorm apartments. Glancing at my beige smartwatch, it read three in the afternoon. In an hour, my shift at the pizza place, where I worked as a delivery guy, would start.

After bidding Hanul farewell, I headed inside my apartment. Clothes were strewn across the carpet floor, and I searched through my wardrobe for my red work top, bearing the logo of my employer, and my black pants hanging at the far end of the rail.

I slipped into the uniform without showering. Didn't want to risk being late and having Mr. Choi docking my pay. He's big on punctuality. Then I grabbed my satchel, which had the essentials: a pen and a notepad.

Outside the apartment, my work scooter was parked. Mr. Choi, being the careful guy he is, had a tracker installed in it. It monitored my whereabouts and at the end of each month, he cross-referenced the tracker's data with customer addresses or my home to make sure I was always on the right track.

So, I hopped onto my scooter heading towards his restaurant. Checking my watch again, I realized I'd be thirty minutes early if I left now. My shift started at four, but with rush hour traffic kicking in by five, I could lend a hand in the kitchen, maybe help set up and move stuff around.

I had never been early to work before. I was either just on time or a bit late, and when I was late, my pay got cut. Maybe today Mr. Choi would appreciate my extra efforts and consider me a model employee.

Okay, now I'm getting ahead of myself. But hey, isn't it always like this? You build up expectations, only to get let down. That's life for ya.

So, it's half past seven and Mr Choi still hasn't given me a raise. I walk in and the first thing out of his mouth is, "Why are you so early?" I tell him that I wrapped up my classes for the day, had nothing much going on, so I thought, why not give a hand in the kitchen. But he tries to send me away, saying I'm too early and should come back at sharp 4.

Well, that just didn't sit right with me. I didn't want to wait outside the restaurant till it's exactly 4, like some sort of timed exam. I had to practically plead with him, using all my less-than-stellar persuasion skills to let me stick around before my shift started. He finally agreed, but with the condition that I wouldn't be paid for the early hours. There went my dreams of getting paid early.

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Despite this, I did help out in the kitchen. You see, Mrs Choi, Mr Choi's wife, she's a lovely lady. I didn't quite like the idea of someone her age doing all the heavy lifting and the grueling work, even if she's been at it for twelve years. Back where I'm from, we don't let our elders work past a certain age and Mrs Choi, she passed that age long ago.

This little restaurant isn't just run by the elderly couple, their daughter Sumi also chips in during the evenings, taking orders and such. They also have a few other hired hands.

At 4 on the dot, the first order comes in. For the next half-hour, the phone doesn't stop ringing, even while I'm out delivering the first order, just three miles away. Sumi steps in just as I get back from my first delivery to collect the second order.

I greet her with a smile as I see her packing an order at the reception.

"Busy day so far?" I ask.

She returns the smile, "Not too busy, considering you're handling most of the grunt work."

She's always quick to dish out compliments. It helps, especially when things get a bit hectic here. She's got my back whenever I'm up against Mr Choi over a botched order or an unhappy customer.

She reminds me a lot of Mrs Choi. But her dad clearly favors her more since he only seems to listen to her. Mrs Choi often grumbles about this. It's a small, happy family. Watching them sometimes makes me miss my own family. My single mom, my sister, and little brother.

"Nah, I can't take all the credit, you've just come straight from work, must be tough juggling two jobs," I say.

"At first, it was," she replies, wrapping up the order. "But you get used to it quickly. I've been doing this for a while now, so I've adapted."

She hands a small bag wrapped in plastic to a customer, they both nod in thanks and the customer leaves.

"Well, I, for one, really appreciate you being here. It helps out a lot, especially with Mr Choi." I say, placing the empty pizza bag on the table and taking off my helmet. My hair shines from the sweat.

"Also, it keeps him off my back."

Sumi giggles, "You're welcome."

She disappears into the kitchen and returns with five stacks of pizza. I whistle at the sight. I doubt all of this would fit in one bag. As she slaps the order receipt on the tabletop, I snatch it quickly. Looks like I'll be making a long trip. Thirteen miles to be precise. I groan inwardly. This was going to take some time. Who orders pizza from thirteen miles away?

As if she read my thoughts, Sumi says, "Don't worry, take as much time as you need. I'll call my boyfriend to help out with the other orders."

I feel relieved. At least I won't have Mr Choi pressuring me to rush back. The guy can be really strict about keeping the customers happy, often to an extreme.

I bow in gratitude. Could've just said a simple thank you, but sometimes I like to be a little extra, you know, just to get my point across.

"Sumi, I owe you one," I said, and before she could respond, I was out the door, heading towards the mopeds lining the street. I hopped on, kick-started the engine, reveled in its distinctive, uneven rumble and tore away from the scene.

The traffic was a mess, which was to be expected. It was that time of the day when everyone was wrapping up at the office and heading home. Still, I couldn't afford to let it slow me down. I bobbed and weaved through the sea of vehicles, got cursed out a couple of times in Korean — some words I understood, others I just hoped weren't too nasty.

Doing my best to keep my eyes on the road, I avoided getting too close to other cars. Last thing I needed was to damage someone's vehicle and land myself in a world of trouble.

Coming up to the last traffic signal before my stop, a sleek, black Mercedes with tinted windows caught my eye. Oddly enough, the road had thinned out at this point. The usual thrum of activity was replaced by a quiet stillness, with only a few pedestrians milling about.

Don't get me wrong, I've ridden down deserted roads at three in the morning, but the solitude I was feeling now was different. It was like something — or someone — was watching me, sizing me up like prey.

A chill went down my spine, goosebumps popping up on my arms. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Without even thinking, my eyes were drawn back to the Mercedes. I couldn't see who was inside due to the dark tint and the poor lighting, but I found myself unable to look away.

The window rolled down to reveal a middle-aged man wearing dark sunglasses. I couldn't see his eyes, let alone his face. All I could see was the top half of his sunglasses, leaving me to wonder about the rest of him.

We locked eyes, or so it felt, and a silent standoff ensued. The longer I looked, the more entranced I felt, like I'd fallen under some sort of spell. My mind filled with swirling, abstract shapes, dancing in black and white. It was hypnotic. I didn't want to look away, but the honking of the car behind me snapped me back to reality.

Shaking off the surreal encounter, I cleared my head and sped off. The Mercedes remained stationary for a moment longer before signaling right and driving off. As it turned, the windows rolled back up, leaving me alone once again.

I smacked my cheeks, trying to clear my head. The entire incident was weird, and it was best to leave it at that. After all, these pizzas weren't going to deliver themselves. Whatever happened, it could wait until I got home.

Just a few minutes had passed when I found myself leaving the city temporarily behind for a small forest clearing that led to a gated entrance. I pulled up by the security office, waiting, half-expecting someone to investigate the drone of my bike's engine. When no one showed up, I switched off the engine, unstrapped my helmet, and placed it gently on the seat.

I made my way to the petite office hoping to find a security guard, but it was empty. A few files lay scattered on the floor. I picked them up, arranging them neatly on the desk – I didn't have to, but I thought whoever was supposed to be here might appreciate the gesture. Glancing around, I found nothing but the streetlights breaking the darkness, casting long shadows on the deserted road.

Raising my voice, I called out, "Hello? Anyone there mate?” The only response was the sporadic song of crickets in the overhead trees and the whisper of the wind. The outskirts were noticeably cooler than the city, a relief for my overheated body, but the isolation felt somehow menacing.

An diabolical idea then sprang into my head. I began searching for a button, ideally red, or something that stood out. It took a while – I wasn't familiar with this place – but eventually, I found it hidden beneath the table. I pushed it, and the gates slid open electronically.

I was well aware that I was trespassing, invading someone else's property without permission. But I hoped that perhaps the guard was somewhere inside the estate. I donned my helmet and proceeded into the compound. It was a short ride, and before long, I was parking my bike on the gravel porch in front of the house.

The house itself looked like a Victorian mansion, an odd sight in Korea where anything Western is exorbitantly priced. It was clear the owner must be incredibly wealthy. Opting to keep my helmet on, I grabbed the pizza boxes and knocked gently on the mansion's dark brown door. It had an intricate wolf emblem inside a thick circle etched into the wood, and a polished brass doorknob that served as a makeshift mirror reflecting my visage.

A noise from behind startled me. I spun around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The trees stood still, the breeze had died down, and an eerie stillness had taken over. The twin lamps flanking the door illuminated the mansion's front porch but failed to penetrate the encroaching darkness.

I told myself it was probably just a nocturnal animal scrounging for a snack, trying to stave off the fear gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. But a nagging thought kept asking, what if it wasn't?

I glanced around again. Everything was as before – silent and motionless. Yet the growing sense of unease was undeniable, prickling at my skin, triggering a chemical reaction that sent my hairs on end.

Disturbing thoughts began to surface as I connected the dots. The absence of guards at the gate, the silence of the mansion, the unanswered door – all pointed to a disturbing reality. I knocked again, harder this time, unable to maintain my façade of indifference.

The rustling sound returned, closer this time, and undeniably not a squirrel. Fear, they say, can freeze you in your tracks. When it becomes overwhelming, it takes on a physical form, gripping you in its cold, invisible clasp. It often requires significant willpower or a sharp dose of pain to break free. I didn't have much of either.

As the entity behind me drew closer, I could feel the icy tendrils of terror creeping up my spine. The animalistic instinct within me warned not to turn around. So, I stood there, immobilised by fear. That was until a sharp, heavy blow hit the back of my head, and everything went black. My last thought, oddly, was wondering why my helmet hadn't cushioned the blow.