Beastly Beauty ✓

02. The Ghost

I swallowed hard as I read over the letter for the third time. It was left unsigned, a detail that troubled me. The sender crafted the message to appear innocent enough, nothing directly threatening or hostile, but my gut still twisted unpleasantly. Keeping their name unknown was certainly intentional, and my fear began morphing into anger.

My eyes skirted over the word 'yours,' again, grimacing at the connotation it held. Who in the world would use such familiar language yet omit their name? How dare someone sneak into my room, leave an unsettling note, and hide their identity? They were trying to start a game with me, but I had no intention of playing.

Part of me wanted to believe that Jimin was pulling some sort of prank, but I knew him well enough to rule out that possibility. This wasn't something he would do, so I remained completely lost on who was behind it.

Someone, whether it was a person who really knew me or a stranger playing a sick joke, had been in my dorm. They'd snuck in while I was at the show, though I was positive I'd locked the door.

My small room suddenly felt even tinier, the walls of the space mirroring the walls of my throat as they caved in, tight and constricting.

It took hours before my mind quieted enough to allow for slumber, and it seemed that as soon as my eyes closed, they were promptly snapping back open to the shrill sound of my alarm. Groaning, I forced myself to roll out of bed and get ready for the day.

Determined not to let the unsettling letter ruin my mood, I kept myself busy as I got dressed, packed my bag, and grabbed a protein bar on my way out of the dorm.

As I walked at a brisk pace from the dorms to the main dance building, munching down my sorry excuse of a breakfast, all thoughts of the note were drowned out by the unrelenting nerves that flooded my chest. I was filled to the brim with anxiety, but I refused to let it show on my face as I walked down the hallway.

The quick taps of my shoes hitting the stone floor echoed throughout the narrow hall, bouncing off the towering ceiling until eventually, I reached the door with the right number on it. With an inhale, I turned the knob and stepped into the room, heart stammering along with my feet as a dozen heads snapped toward me.

"You're late," a stern voice said from the back. I glanced up, meeting the eyes of a short woman with brown hair pulled into a tight bun. I could tell from the way she spoke that she was the professor, but otherwise, there were no indicators of her being very old. Her skin was porcelain and her body was lean and toned.

"It won't happen again," I managed to speak clearly, hellbent on keeping up a confident appearance. I may have been a nervous wreck inside, but I was fully aware of the competitive nature of the university. Any sign of weakness or fear would surely not help me in gaining the respect I hoped to earn.

The professor eyed me before gesturing for me to join the rest of the students who sat in chairs lined against the back wall. I did as she asked, my eyes lighting up as I spotted Jimin with an empty chair beside him. Returning his smile, I quickly sat on the free seat, ignoring the analytical gazes of the other students.