The school had no fire drills.
No earthquake drills.
Only emotional drills — sudden tests to see who could still feel too much.
At exactly 10:47 a.m., the alarm rang.
🔔 One long tone.
Students froze.
They knew what that meant.
---
A teacher walked in with two surveillance officers.
Their uniforms were dark gray, almost black. No name tags. No smiles.
> "This is a scheduled behavior scan," the teacher announced. "Remain seated. Look straight ahead."
One of the officers stood behind Ji-Woo.
The other walked slowly, silently, eyes scanning.
Every cough. Every glance. Every tremble.
---
Suddenly, a beep.
> "You. Stand up."
The officer pointed at a girl sitting near the window. She had been smiling at a boy two rows ahead.
Just for a second. A genuine smile.
That was enough.
> "Emotional anomaly: 3.2 seconds of eye contact with dilation. Category: risk."
She stood, face pale.
The boy didn't look back at her.
The classroom door closed behind her like a verdict.
---
After they left, the teacher smiled faintly.
> "This is for your safety. Love leads to chaos. Be thankful for the order you live in."
Ji-Woo stared at the board.
His hands were flat on the desk. Motionless.
But under the surface, his mind screamed.
> Order is the name they give to fear.
---
That afternoon, a new class was announced:
> "Neutral Emotional Literacy — Group C begins tomorrow."
Min-Ho and Ji-Woo were both on the list.
Coincidence? Maybe not.
---
At the end of the day, Ji-Woo opened his locker.
Inside, taped to the back wall, was a small folded note.
No name. No handwriting he recognized.
Just one sentence:
> "They're watching you again. Don't let it slip."
His hands tightened around the paper.
Behind him, someone passed by — quiet footsteps, then gone.
He didn't turn around.
He didn't have to.
> It was Min-Ho.
---
Ji-Woo exhaled slowly and let the note fall to the floor.
> If this was war, then they were both fighting with silence.