I got off the bus four minutes after the Jun siblings. I stared at the concrete stairs of the Hathor-exclusive subway station. I took the first step, gripping the metal handrail.
What if he's down there again... I stopped, unable to move my foot one step further.
"Why would it even affect me?" I answered myself without looking up.
I stopped in the middle of the platform, watching the electric sign. It showed two minutes until the train's arrival. Strange, considering it was already 7:13... Come to think of it, I had never seen a platform this empty, especially at an hour when thousands of students needed to get to the center.
Before I could sink into my thoughts, the train arrived, hitting me with a light breeze that barely ruffled my bangs. The feminine, velvety voice echoed through the speakers: "Please board before the doors close."
It sounded more like a suggestion than an actual path. The doors opened by chance right in front of me, as if they were waiting. I closed my eyes, taking a step forward. I heard the doors hiss shut instantly.
When I allowed my eyelids to open, I noticed it: the car was practically empty, save for the bald old man. It was nothing like that bus full of life and Ha-Jun's shouts. I chose a window seat.
The envelope in my backpack weighed as if it had its own gravitational field. Every time the train braked, I felt it shift, pulling me with it. I tried to distract myself by looking around, but my only traveling companion was still Mr. Manners. I looked down, waiting for the journey to end.
"It's a nice camera, don't you think?"
I looked up, arching an eyebrow at his question. "Yes, it is."
"A Leica M3 from 1954—a beautiful camera even today." He looked away from his newspaper. "You can imagine it in its prime." His gaze dropped back to the paper. "On Sundays, there's a 2-for-1 deal on film rolls; just learn some manners."
His words felt like a pathetic attempt at help, but my thoughts kept returning to Jhin. To his face when I snatched the jacket. To those eyes filled with something I didn't want to name. The old man, receiving no answer, raised his newspaper higher, his lips forming a small, wrinkled "o."
But my attention remained fixed on the envelope and my own thoughts. I hope I don't run into either of those two, I had thought. But with the envelope still in my backpack, even though I had already decided to return it, a small, treacherous part of me wondered if I should seek him out first. If I should apologize or just hand it back.
Hathor Station spat me out into a world of marble and money. I kept my gaze low, my eyelids barely enduring the brightness.
Pariz starts at 9:00, I remembered. I'll be able to see her at lunch.
I lifted my head and walked toward the main building. Not toward my classroom—toward my second sanctuary.
Hathor's darkroom was different from the one at home. Larger. Professional Omega D5 enlargers that cost more than a year's rent. Stainless steel trays that shone like mirrors. Undiluted Kodak D-76 chemicals—the kind my grandfather only used for his best work.
But it was also colder. Emptier. There were no photographs on the walls. Just me, the expensive chemicals, and magic without ghosts. My territory in enemy territory.
I took the roll I had finished yesterday out of my backpack. The Hathor fountain. The one Mary had shown me on the first day, where supposedly, if you tossed a coin, you'd find your purpose before graduation.
"Well," I whispered to the red silence of the room. "Let's put these luxury chemicals to use."
I prepared the three trays in order: developer, stop bath, fixer. The developer was at exactly 20°C. Perfect. Too cold and the image comes out flat. Too hot and the chemicals eat the details.
I slid the virgin photo paper under the enlarger. I adjusted the focus until the grains became sharp as crystals. Three seconds of exposure. No more. I took the paper with the wooden tongs and submerged it into the developer with a gentle motion, like someone placing a baby in a crib.
"Ninety seconds for your birth," I whispered, beginning the mental count.
The magic began almost immediately. First a shadow. Then a form. The base of the fountain emerging from the white like a solidifying ghost. The falling water. The details of the sculpture gaining definition.
"15... 16... 17..."
And then I saw it.
The texture.
That damn texture I had been chasing for weeks, the one that had slipped through my fingers time and again like water. There it was. Every drop of water suspended. Every reflection on the wet marble. The sunlight creating microscopic rainbows in the falling droplets.
It was perfect. So perfect that for a second, I forgot to breathe.
"45... 46... 47..."
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
The bangs on the door pierced through me like electric shocks. My heart raced. My hands tensed around the tongs.
"No one comes to the darkroom this early," I whispered, swallowing hard. "In fact, no one ever comes."
Mary, I thought immediately. She's here to kick me out.
"52... 53... 54..."
I couldn't stop the count. If I pulled the photo now, it would be underexposed. If I left it too long, the blacks would consume everything. I wiped my hands on a cloth with quick movements and walked toward the door, wishing I had a window in this trench. Or at least a way to see who it was without risking enemy fire.
Maybe it's Pariz. She knows I like photography. Or some other student.
"He-hello, good morning," I stammered, opening the door just a crack. I wasn't greeted by the cynical smile I expected. It was something worse. "Jhin!"
My hand moved to slam the door shut, but a large hand caught the edge, preventing it from closing.
"Are you a titan or what, big guy?!" I shouted as I yanked the door.
"Suri, please. Can we talk for a second?" said the owner of the unmovable hand.
A tall boy, sturdier and more built, as if he trained with weights every day. Skin tone more golden than Jhin's. Brown eyes and a tattoo on his neck of broken musical notes. He wasn't wearing the uniform. Was he not a student?
DM, I recognized. The rapper. Mom once broke a vase trying to copy his hand movements.
"61... 62..."
The count continued in my head like a relentless metronome. Seeing that my efforts to avoid them were useless, I stopped.
"What do you want?"
DM pointed to Jhin with his thumb; Jhin seemed unable to lift his gaze from the floor. He only looked at me through the reflection on the polished marble.
"We want to apologize," DM said. "We believe that, by accident, you might have something that belongs to Jhin."
"Something of his?" I muttered with a bad taste in my mouth. "I don't have anything of yours."
Jhin looked up. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before returning to the floor.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out clumsy, rushed. "For everything. For how I treated you in the library, in the cafeteria. I was an idiot. A complete idiot. I'm so sorry."
I stood there with my mouth slightly open. I had mentally rehearsed all the things I would scream at them if they came back. But now my mouth was dry in the face of their white flag.
"78... 79... 80..."
The photo was still in the developer.
"A white envelope," DM said softly, mimicking the shape with his hands. "It fell out of his pocket. Do you know anything?"
I looked down. My jaw tightened. "A white envelope..."
DM arched an eyebrow.
"85... 86... 87..."
I turned around before answering further and closed the door with a soft click. I heard his sigh. He knocked again.
"Suri, come on, open up. This attitude isn't necessary. We can talk about it."
His voice bounced off the red walls of the darkroom. It cut and paused at key points, as if he were holding himself back.
"90... 91... 92..."
Ninety seconds. The optimal time had passed. Every additional second was burning the whites, darkening the shadows.
"Suri!" he shouted. "I'm sorry."
I heard his ring tap the wood of the door, as if he were resting his hand against it carefully. I looked toward the tray with the developer. The photo was still there, floating, getting darker with every passing second. I looked at my backpack in the corner.
"I have time," I whispered.
I turned the knob, expecting a violent reception. But the eyes of both of them, shining with the light from the hallway, told me otherwise. I walked to my backpack without a word. I pulled the envelope out of the side pocket.
"Here, it's yours." I held out the envelope, maintaining as much distance as possible. "I didn't open it. The glue can confirm that."
Jhin took it as if it were made of glass. His fingers brushed mine for an instant. I felt his Lotus ring for the last time, cold against my skin. The relief on his face was immense. His eyes filled with tears that he didn't let fall.
"Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."
"You're right. That's why I'm sorry."
He looked up, as if my words surprised him.
"I... I know I shouldn't have taken it," I continued. "And I know I was horrible to you. I called you a spoiled brat when you were only trying to help me. I... I'm the one who should be on my knees asking for forgiveness, begging for mercy."
He looked at the floor, his lips holding back his response until it became impossible to contain.
"Hahaha, you sound just like J-Min and K-Sey." He wiped away a tear. "I'm not an emperor, you don't have to say that."
His laughter sparked something in me. "Don't laugh. Don't make me regret my apology," I grumbled.
"Forgive me, I can't help it," he continued, wiping another tear.
My jaw tightened, painting my face pink. "Stupid idol," I replied.
"Thank you." He stopped, with a small smile, while clutching the envelope. "Really."
With a tilt of my head, I avoided his smile, unable to contain my own.
"Well," Jhin said, tucking the envelope away carefully. "We'll let you work. We have to get going."
I nodded. Jhin turned around, but DM stayed for a second longer.
"Don't expect everything to be normal now," he said with a smirk. "Not just any girl ends up in the eye of NEON7 and lives normally." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Here. It's my number. If another one of my younger brothers bothers you, don't hesitate to let me know."
He reached out and patted my head, messing up my hair. "Who do you think—" I was about to snap before I saw his smile.
"I'm sure this will be a new beginning for everyone. Just don't go too crazy, kids."
I stood there frozen. No one outside my family had ever treated me like that.
"Okay," I muttered, taking the paper.
DM nodded and left.
I closed the darkroom door. The click resonated like a period. I leaned against the cold wood, my heart still beating fast. Then I remembered.
"112... 113... 114..."
"The photo," I whispered, running toward the trays.
One hundred and fourteen seconds. Twenty-four seconds too many. The image would be ruined. The chemicals would have eaten all the subtlety, all the detail. I dipped the tongs into the developer and pulled the paper out with a quick motion. I moved it to the stop bath, then the fixer. Thirty seconds in each. At least I had to do these right.
Finally, I hung it from the line with a clip.
"What a shame, so much potential lost for an apology," I said, sighing.
Ten minutes passed before I turned on the white light. When I did, I unhooked the image upside down, turning it to see the disastrous result.
"Perfect... image?" I whispered, incredulous.
The Hathor fountain was there. Every drop of water frozen in its fall. Every reflection captured with a clarity that took my breath away. The microscopic rainbows shining in the suspended droplets like liquid jewels. It was as if the universe had decided to gift me this moment. As if the chemicals had conspired in my favor. As if Grandpa were there, watching over my process.
In my surprise, my grip lost the little strength it had left.
And then the sound.
Splash.
It landed in the puddle of developer I had spilled without realizing during my rush. The black liquid received it like a welcoming hug.
"Oh no..."
I knelt down, plunging my hands into the puddle. I took the paper between my fingers, shaking it in a desperate attempt to save it. But it was too late. The developer was eating the image before my eyes. The perfect texture dissolving like sugar in water. The water droplets of the fountain bleeding into the liquid until they became formless gray smudges. The rainbows disappearing into nothingness.
"What a sick joke is this?!" I screamed, making all of Hathor vibrate.
End of Volume 1