POV: Rora

The clock on the corridor wall ticked closer to 10:13 AM. The mid-morning break had just begun, filling the central hallways with a dense, moving sea of students heading toward the lockers and the cafeteria.

"Two minutes until the steam valve vents," I whispered, keeping my eyes locked straight ahead as Da-eun and I moved toward the side exit of the science wing.

The heavy glass exit door was just twenty feet away. Outside, the cold alleyway was completely silent, masked from the main campus traffic. According to the plan, we were supposed to push through the door together, wait for the thick thermal whiteout to blind the cloned camera feed, and make a synchronized dash toward the utility shed.

But as I reached for the metal push-bar of the door, the rhythm of the footsteps behind me suddenly stopped.

I snapped my head around. Da-eun wasn't next to me.

Thirty feet back down the crowded hallway, a heavy rolling metal security gate—the kind used to close off the specialized laboratory wings during prep hours—had suddenly dropped with a deafening, mechanical clank. A panicked murmur rippled through the nearby students as the gate locked firmly into its floor tracks, completely sealing off the eastern corridor.

Through the thick diamond-mesh wire of the gate, I saw Da-eun. She was trapped on the other side, her hands pressed against the metal lattice.

A severe-looking faculty member stood near the wall control panel, a set of master keys jingling in his hand. "Prep zone is closed for the next two periods. All students redirect to the main staircase."

My heart plummeted into my stomach. I looked out the glass door—the first wisps of white, hot steam were just beginning to hiss out of the industrial valve, clouding the western alleyway in a thick, billowing fog. The blind spot was active right now, but Da-eun was completely cut off, trapped deep inside the locked wing under the watchful eye of the faculty monitor.

If I went out alone, I wouldn't have her to block the sightline or help lift the heavy iron latch. If I stayed, the two-minute window would close, the steam would dissipate, and the tracker in the sedan would be back on high alert.

POV: Da-eun

The cold steel of the security gate vibrated under my palms as I pressed my weight against it. Through the cross-hatched metal mesh, I could see Rora standing frozen by the exit door, her eyes wide as she looked back at me.

Outside the glass, the first thick billows of white steam were already blooming against the brick wall. Our two-minute countdown had started, and I was on the wrong side of a reinforced structural barrier.

"Hey! Back away from the gate," the faculty monitor called out, his keys jingling sharply as he stepped toward me, his clipboard raised. "I just said this wing is restricted until third period. Head back to the main hall."

If I panicked or tried to argue, I would draw a crowd. If I drew a crowd, the tracker's mirrored feed would flag the anomaly in student traffic density.

I forced my hands to drop to my sides, letting out a long, heavy sigh that looked exactly like a frustrated teenager who had just realized she left her homework on the wrong side of the building.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Choi," I said, putting on my best apologetic, slightly scattered voice. "I left my chemistry lab workbook in locker 114 right down there. The lab supervisor told us we'd get a zero if it wasn't turned in by the end of the break. Can I please just run and grab it? It'll take literally ten seconds."

He frowned, looking down at his clipboard and then back at the heavy gate. "The automation cycle already locked the floor pins, Student Council policy dictates—"

"Please?" I interrupted gently, wide-eyed, shifting my backpack as if I were about to cry from academic stress. "Rora’s waiting for me out there to study. If I fail this unit, my parents are going to ground me until graduation."

Mr. Choi looked past me toward the crowded main hallway, then sighed, muttering something about irresponsible teenagers under his breath. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the master override proximity card. "Ten seconds, Da-eun. If you aren't back before the secondary chime, I'm writing you up for a detention."

He swiped the card against the wall terminal. The heavy mechanical lock disengaged with a loud, pneumatic hiss, and the metal gate began its slow, grinding ascent.

I didn't wait for it to clear the frame. The moment the gap was wide enough, I ducked low, sliding underneath the rising metal bar, and sprinted straight toward Rora and the fog-filled glass door.

With the iron hatch finally groaned open, the freezing, stagnant air of Sub-Level B rushed up to meet us. The dark steps down looked like a one-way trip, and the steam outside was already thinning faster than expected.

Da-eun stared into the black void, her boot hovering over the first step. But then she froze, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the iron lid.

“If you aren't back before the secondary chime, I'm writing you up for a detention.” Mr. Choi’s words echoed sharply in her mind. A detention meant an official disciplinary log. An official log meant an automated notification sent straight to In-ah’s precinct email. And if In-ah—or worse, the Kim family network monitors—saw Da-eun getting flagged for lurking around the restricted science wing during a highly coordinated thermal anomaly, the entire domino line would fall.

Their perfect alibi from last night would be completely shredded.

"Rora, stop," Da-eun gasped, pulling her foot back onto the gravel. "We can't do it. Not right now."

"What? The steam is clearing!" Rora whispered frantically, checking the fading mist. "We have five seconds!"

"If I get a detention, In-ah finds out. If In-ah investigates why I was here, the Kims look at this exact camera feed," Da-eun said, her voice sharp with sudden, terrifying clarity. "The tracker isn't our only problem. If we lose our cover as normal students, we lose everything."

The realization hit Rora like a physical blow. The risk was too high. They were playing a long game, and a single detention would blow their entire operation before they even touched the past.

"Drop it," Rora commanded.

Together, using every ounce of their remaining strength, they slammed the heavy iron hatch back down into its concrete frame. The rusted metal settled with a dull thump, and Da-eun quickly kicked a layer of loose gravel and dead leaves back over the seam, hiding the broken lock.

They turned on their heels and sprinted back toward the heavy glass doors of the science wing.

They burst through the entrance just as the secondary warning chime echoed through the PA system. The heavy metal rolling gate was still hovering three feet off the ground, Mr. Choi standing right beside the wall panel with his stopwatch in hand.

Da-eun slid under the gate, landing on her feet and breathing heavily, just as Rora stepped in right behind her, pretending to check her hair in the hallway mirror.

Mr. Choi looked down at his watch, then up at Da-eun, a stern look on his face. "Nine seconds. You're lucky, Da-eun. Get to your class."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi," Da-eun panted, offering a weak, exhausted smile as the metal gate finally ground shut behind them, locking the secrets of Sector-04 away for another day.

CHAPTER ENDS