Chapter 6

The early morning air was damp, the streets still half-asleep under the dim glow of streetlights. A shopkeeper, making his way to open his store, walked briskly along the empty road when his eyes caught something unusual.

A girl.

She lay motionless on the cold pavement, her torn clothes barely covering her bruised body. Dirt clung to her pale skin, and deep scratches marred her arms and legs. Her face, once filled with warmth and confidence, was now lifeless—like a discarded doll that had lost its purpose.

The shopkeeper hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. His heart pounded as he realized she wasn't dead, just unconscious.

Within minutes, the wail of police sirens cut through the silent morning. A team of officers—two women among them—hurriedly approached.

"She needs medical attention," one of them muttered, crouching beside the girl.

Another officer nodded, already reaching for their radio. "Call an ambulance."

The city around them remained oblivious, but for Ara Jeon, that moment marked the night her world shattered.

Ara jolted awake.

Her breath came in sharp gasps, sweat dampening her forehead as she clutched her bedsheet. Another nightmare. The same one. The one she couldn't escape.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe. I have to be strong.

That was what she told herself every time. But deep down, she knew—no matter how much she tried, her body still flinched at an unexpected touch.

Dragging herself out of bed, Ara moved through her morning routine in silence. The mirror reflected a young woman with tired eyes, her once radiant expression replaced by a careful, guarded look.

Today was another day at university.

And today, she might see her again.

Arianna Park.

Their past was woven together in ways neither of them could erase. In high school, they had walked the same path—rivals in the modeling world, constantly at odds but pushing each other forward. But when Ara disappeared, Arianna kept going. She continued her education, climbed higher in the fashion industry, and entered university at twenty, majoring in fashion design.

But Ara... Ara lost a year.

The incident forced her to abandon everything. While others moved forward, she was left behind, trapped in the wreckage of a past she couldn't rewrite. At twenty-one, she finally stepped into university, but this time, not in fashion. She had chosen Art.

A different path. A different life.

But the past had a way of catching up.

And she wasn't sure if she was ready to face it.

The University campus was alive with chatter, students bustling between classes, carrying stacks of books, or hurrying to their next lecture. The towering glass windows reflected the bright autumn sun, but for Ara Jeon, the warmth barely reached her.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and walked toward her lecture hall, blending into the crowd. Art faculty. A world different from the one she used to belong to. No more runway walks, no more flashing cameras, no more competition. Just colors, canvases, and silence—things that didn't demand perfection.

Her first class passed in a blur, the professor's voice distant, drowned out by her own thoughts. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the lecture, Ara gathered her things and made her way out into the wide, open corridor.

And then—

She bumped into someone.

A small gasp left her lips as she stumbled slightly, gripping her bag to steady herself. But before she could apologize, a familiar voice cut through the air, smooth and amused.

"Oh?"

Ara froze.

Looking up, she met the cool gaze of Arianna Park.

The tall, elegant figure in front of her was impossible to mistake. Arianna stood with effortless confidence, her sharp eyes gleaming with something unreadable. Beside her, two of her friends—both equally polished, equally judgmental—looked Ara up and down, their smirks growing.

"Well, well," Arianna mused, tilting her head slightly. "Look who's finally back. I was beginning to think you'd disappeared forever."

Ara's fingers curled into her sleeves. Not now. Not here.

Arianna stepped closer, her voice dropping slightly, just enough to make sure Ara—and anyone nearby—could hear. "I heard you changed your major. No more fashion, huh? Guess some things are too much to handle."

A soft chuckle came from one of Arianna's friends. "Makes sense. After what happened... I mean, how could she still show her face?"

The words were sharp, digging into the wounds Ara had spent so long trying to close.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, her nails pressing into her palms.

Arianna studied her for a moment before letting out a light laugh. "But I suppose it's good that you're back. Even if it's… like this. Poor thing."

That was it.

Ara lifted her chin, her voice firm despite the storm brewing inside her.

"Are you pitying me, Arianna?"

The laughter around them stopped.

Arianna raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering for a split second. Her friends exchanged glances, sensing the sudden shift in the air.

Ara took a step forward. "Because if you are, don't bother. I don't need it." Her voice was steady now, her brown eyes burning with something fierce. "I don't need your pity. I never did."

A tense silence settled between them.

For the first time, Arianna found herself at a loss for words.