The rain hadn’t stopped for hours.

Pale moonlight filtered through the cracked window, scattering across the peeling wallpaper like broken glass. The room smelled of mildew and something faintly metallic — blood, maybe, though no one ever spoke of that.

A child sat curled in the corner. Legs drawn to his chest. Eyes wide open.

He didn’t cry.

He couldn’t.

Because he’d already done it.

Outside the door, faint footsteps echoed. Slow. Deliberate. Not the rushed panic of a parent. Not the heavy boots of police.

No — softer. Lighter. Familiar.

The boy raised his head.

The door creaked open, and another child stepped in — drenched in rain, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. A small cut trailed down his cheek like a tear.

They stared at each other in the quiet.

Then the boy in the doorway whispered:

> “It’s okay now. I’m here.”

The boy in the corner flinched, like the words burned.

But he didn’t speak. He only stared — like he was looking into a mirror, but the reflection was twisted… different.

The other boy knelt in front of him, smiling gently.

> “You won’t remember this later. I’ll make sure of it.”

He reached out — not with cruelty, but with something gentler.

Something desperate.

His fingers brushed the trembling boy’s cheek, and for a moment, the storm outside quieted.

> “When we meet again, I’ll remind you who you are.”

> “Even if I have to break you to do it.”

---

Somewhere in the future…

A name is whispered in a university hallway.

Seo Minjae.

And someone — watching from the shadows — smiles.

> "Found you."

---

Character introduction.

Seo Minjae (MC)

20 y/o, top psychology student, cold and eerily calm.

Emotionally detached, avoids friendships, and keeps to himself.

Suffers from sleep paralysis and memory blackouts he refuses to acknowledge.

Has a dark past sealed off by trauma… and he's about to learn he may not be the "victim" he thinks he is.

> "If I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen. That’s how I survive."

Kang Raon (ML)

21 y/o, charismatic, manipulative, and obsessed.

Brilliant but unhinged. Reads people like open books.

Claims to have known Minjae from years ago.

His smile is warm. His eyes say run.

> "You forgot me, Minjae… But I never stopped watching you."

______

______

This is my new novel . I hope u guys are gonna enjoy reading it.

I can assure u daily updates for this one.

The main themes which are included in this BL are :

Themes to expect:

Memory manipulation

Subtle horror vibes

Tension-filled dorm room scenes

Secrets hidden in files, photos, and forgotten childhood scars

Enemies-to-lovers… or stalker-to-lover? (👀)

Shifting dominance — who really has the upper hand?

Please read and support my other stories also. There are currently 3 ongoing Chat stories (BL) and One already completed novel also.

So please like, comment and support all u can.

Meet you in the next chapter .

Bie bie.

The sound of chalk scraping against the board was the only thing keeping Seo Minjae tethered to the room.

He blinked slowly, watching Professor Yoon’s hand move across the blackboard, scribbling theories of cognitive development in looping white script. Students around him typed or yawned or scrolled through their phones with feigned interest.

Minjae sat in the very last row, back straight, eyes blank.

Outside, the world blurred behind rain-soaked windows.

> Three hours of sleep.

No breakfast.

Headache, left temple—mild pulsing.

Heart rate stable.

He catalogued it all, as he always did. Observing his body from the outside like a researcher might.

> Keep it measured. Keep it routine. Stay normal.

“Mr. Seo,” the professor’s voice cut through the fog. “Can you name the psychologist who proposed the Zone of Proximal Development?”

Minjae’s eyes lifted slowly.

“Vygotsky,” he said, emotionless.

The professor nodded, and the class moved on.

But Minjae didn’t.

Because someone new was watching him.

At first, he thought he imagined it — that eerie sensation of being stared at. He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance across the room.

And locked eyes with a stranger.

He sat near the front — a transfer, maybe. Black hoodie, head tilted like a question mark, and a lazy half-smile playing on his lips. His eyes didn’t flinch when Minjae met his gaze.

They lingered.

Like he wanted to be caught staring.

> Why is he looking at me like that?

Minjae frowned faintly and looked away. But the feeling stayed with him — heavy, like someone had reached into his chest and twisted something he’d buried.

---

After class, Minjae packed his bag slowly. He didn’t like being among the crowd when everyone rushed out. Too many bodies. Too much noise. He waited until the last person left before standing.

“Hey.”

The voice came from the aisle. Calm. Confident. And far too close.

Minjae turned, stiffening.

It was him.

Up close, the stranger was taller than expected. Pale skin, wet strands of black hair still dripping from the rain. His hands were in his hoodie pockets. And his eyes — up close — were darker than black.

“You’re Seo Minjae,” he said.

Minjae didn’t answer. He slung his bag over one shoulder and began walking past him.

“I’ve seen you before,” the stranger added, falling into step beside him.

Minjae stopped. Just briefly. “That’s unlikely.”

The boy only smiled wider. “Is it?”

His tone wasn’t mocking. Just… patient. Like he was indulging a game the other person didn’t realize they were playing.

“Do you always follow strangers after class?” Minjae asked coolly.

“Only the ones I’ve missed.”

Minjae’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled slightly around the strap of his bag.

He didn't like this. He didn’t like the way this boy moved — silent but present. Or how he stared like he already knew him. It made Minjae's skin crawl in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Look,” he said, trying to walk again, “I don’t know who you are—”

“I’m Kang Raon,” the boy said smoothly, stepping in front of him and offering a hand. “Transfer student. Psychology major. And probably the only person in this school who can match your grades.”

Minjae didn’t take the hand.

Raon didn’t seem offended. He just tilted his head again, studying Minjae with a peculiar kind of focus.

“I read your research paper on false memory syndrome,” Raon said. “The one Professor Yoon had published in last year’s journal. It was… interesting.”

Minjae blinked.

Most students barely knew he existed — and those who did only whispered about the fact he kept to himself, rarely spoke, and lived off black coffee and library hours.

“How did you—” he started, then stopped. No. No, don’t ask. Don’t engage.

Raon’s smile widened slightly, as if reading the restraint in his expression.

“I like people who try to forget,” he said quietly. “They’re always the most fun to remind.”

Minjae’s body stiffened.

For a second, he felt it — a pulse in the back of his skull. A flicker. A flash of something he didn’t understand.

A mirror.

A child’s eyes.

Rain.

Then it was gone.

“Stay away from me,” Minjae said flatly.

Raon didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like people who pretend they know me.”

Raon laughed softly, not cruelly — more like he was genuinely amused. Then he leaned in, just enough to lower his voice.

“But I do know you, Minjae. I always have.”

Then he stepped back, hands still in his pockets, and walked away as if they hadn’t spoken at all.

---

That night, Minjae didn’t sleep.

He lay awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his chest tight for reasons he didn’t want to admit.

> “I’ve seen you before.”

Why did that voice echo in his head like a bell tolling from the past?

He hadn’t seen Raon before. He would remember. He remembered everything. That was his curse. His talent.

So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that Raon wasn’t lying?

He sat up and grabbed his journal from the drawer. Not a diary — he didn’t believe in emotional purging. This was clinical. Every day, every detail recorded. Names. Events. Time stamps.

He flipped back through the pages from years past. Just to be sure.

No Kang Raon.

No strange boys.

No storm.

No blood.

No—

He slammed the book shut, breath hitching.

He didn’t remember anything like that.

Because nothing had happened.

Because if it had, he would—

He paused.

Was his hand shaking?

No. No, that wasn’t possible.

He rubbed his temples and stood, moving to the small dorm sink. Splashed cold water on his face.

He looked up into the mirror—

—and for a split second, the reflection wasn’t his.

A child. Wide eyes. Rain. Blood on the cheek.

He stumbled back, knocking over the towel rack.

The vision was gone.

His own pale face stared back, drenched in water, eyes wide and afraid.

---

Elsewhere…

Raon lay on his dorm bed, legs crossed, arms behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

The lights were off.

The only glow came from a laptop screen next to him — open to a folder titled “Project M.”

Inside were photos.

Minjae, walking to class.

Minjae, sitting in the library.

Minjae, sleeping by his dorm window — unaware of the camera flash reflecting faintly off the glass.

Raon smiled to himself, whispered into the dark:

> “You’re starting to remember, aren’t you?”

> “Good.”

____

____

To be continued...

Seo Minjae’s POV

The next morning, the rain had stopped, but a cold drizzle still hung in the air.

Minjae moved through campus like a ghost — eyes lowered, headphones in, barely noticing the crowds rushing past him. His mind was a battlefield of fragments and shadows. The stranger’s words echoed, as relentless as the persistent drizzle.

“I’ve seen you before.”

“I do know you.”

“You’re starting to remember.”

He tried to shove them away but failed. Like a splinter lodged beneath the skin, it throbbed constantly.

“Minjae!” a voice called.

He stopped. It was Jisoo — his only friend on campus. Bright, warm, always talking, and annoyingly persistent.

“You’re skipping breakfast again. You’re going to crash.” She caught up to him, holding out a paper cup. “Coffee. Black. Like you.”

He accepted it silently. The bitter warmth grounded him for a moment.

“Who was that guy yesterday?” Jisoo asked casually.

Minjae tensed. “What guy?”

“The transfer student. Kang Raon. You seemed… tense around him.”

He downed the coffee in one gulp and sighed. “I don’t know him.”

“Uh-huh. But he knows you.”

That made Minjae flinch. “That’s impossible.”

Jisoo smiled, ignoring his resistance. “Be careful, Minjae. People like that don’t just show up by accident.”

He wanted to say, You don’t understand. But the words stuck in his throat.

---

Kang Raon’s POV

He watched Minjae from a distance — the way the boy moved, precise and controlled. Like a panther stalking unseen prey. His neat black hair slightly damp from the drizzle, collar raised to hide his throat, eyes flickering like fractured glass beneath the hood.

Perfect.

Raon had done his homework. Minjae was brilliant — too brilliant, maybe. A prodigy haunted by pieces he tried to shove deep underground. That was why Minjae was vulnerable. That was why he was interesting.

Raon slid a hand into his pocket, feeling the thin metal of his keycard and the folded note beneath it.

“Project M — Phase 1 complete.”

He smiled. The game had begun.

Raon’s phone buzzed silently. A message from an unknown number:

> “Target observed. Does not suspect. Proceed.”

He typed back:

> “Patience. I want him broken before he knows I’m the one breaking him.”

Raon turned his gaze back to Minjae. His heart beat faster — not from fear, but anticipation.

---

Seo Minjae’s POV

Later that day, Minjae found himself sitting alone in the library, the faint scent of old books and cold air conditioning wrapping around him.

He tried to focus on his notes, but the scribbled lines blurred as his mind wandered back to last night’s vision. The boy in the mirror — the rain, the blood. The whispered promise to “remind you who you are.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

You don’t remember because it didn’t happen.

You’re safe now.

But the unease wouldn’t leave him.

His phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number:

> “We all have shadows, Minjae. Some are darker than others.”

He froze.

The text was unsigned.

His heart hammered.

Who was watching him?

---

Kang Raon’s POV

Raon leaned back in his chair, the dim light casting shadows across his sharp features.

He remembered the first time he saw Minjae — standing alone in the pouring rain at the library’s entrance, face pale and eyes distant. Something about him tugged at Raon’s own broken edges.

They were mirrors — shattered and dangerous.

Raon reached into his bag and pulled out a small photo album — worn, dog-eared, and filled with faded pictures of two boys.

One was smiling, bright and alive.

The other was Minjae, but younger. Vulnerable.

Raon’s fingers traced the edges carefully.

“I promised,” he whispered, “I’d remind you.”

He closed the album and packed it away, heart pounding with a dangerous hope.

---

Seo Minjae’s POV

That evening, Minjae tried to sleep, but shadows haunted his room.

His phone buzzed again:

> “You’re not as forgotten as you think.”

His fingers trembled as he typed back:

> “Who are you?”

No reply.

His eyes fixed on the ceiling, mind racing.

What did Raon want from him? And why did it feel like the boy already owned pieces of his soul?

As sleep finally claimed him, a single thought echoed in the dark:

I’m starting to remember.

---

To be continued...