Chapter 1 – The Perfect Boy

The alarm went off at 6:00 a.m.

A short, decisive sound, programmed with obsessive precision. Not a minute early, not a minute late.

Jungkook opened his eyes without hesitation, as if he had never really been asleep.

His bed was perfectly made. The sheets were pulled tight, the blanket neatly folded at the foot of the mattress. The floor was spotless. No books out of place. Only order. Only silence.

Every day began the same way: a cold shower, a protein-rich breakfast, and an English-language podcast about artificial intelligence. Then, at 7:15, he left the dormitory carrying his black backpack and a hard-covered notebook marked only with a set of initials:

JJK.

On campus, everyone greeted him. Some with genuine enthusiasm, others with a kind of respectful awe.

“Hey, Jungkook!”

“Hi! Did you do Professor Park’s assignment?”

“Can I ask you a quick question about yesterday’s lecture?”

He always answered. Politely. Precisely. Never a word more than necessary.

His days were filled with classes, studying, note-taking, bitter coffee, and brief but meaningful moments with his small group of friends: Taehyung, the creative dreamer who wanted to quit everything and pursue theater; Jimin, empathetic and curious, always ready with a question; Namjoon, who lived among books and quotations; and Yoongi, quiet but sharp, always the first to understand and the last to speak.

They were the only people who could say they truly knew Jungkook.

Or at least, that’s what they thought.

That day, during a Neuropsychology lecture, Professor Park asked the students to present a research hypothesis.

Jungkook stood up confidently, without looking at his notes.

“I would like to study the social behavior of highly intelligent individuals who display signs of emotional masking. In particular, whether their desire for perfection is a response to unresolved trauma.”

Silence.

Someone whispered, “Wow.”

Professor Park nodded slowly.

“Interesting, Jeon. Very interesting.”

Jungkook sat down.

And for a brief moment—just one—his gaze drifted into the distance.

As if that answer had not been an academic idea at all, but a confession disguised as a theory.

10:47 p.m.

In the dormitory, the lights went out one by one.

Taehyung had sent him a meme. Jimin had called to ask how he was doing. Yoongi had barely replied to a message in the group chat.

Jungkook closed his laptop.

Then he pulled a second notebook from his backpack—an older one, with worn edges and a torn cover.

No one had ever seen it.

Not even his friends.

He opened it.

Inside there were no formulas, no lecture notes.

There were names.

Dates.

Events.

And lies.

A long list of people.

Beside each name was a small symbol.

A cross. A circle. A line. An X.

Jungkook smiled.

Not the smile from university posters.

A different one.

Subtler.

Truer.

The smile of someone who has a plan.

So... What do you think about this first chapter?

Chapter 2 – The Rules of the Game

12:03 a.m.

The campus was asleep.

Or at least, that was how it seemed.

Dark windows. Empty streets. Silence broken only by the muffled sound of a security vehicle somewhere in the distance.

No one would have imagined that among those buildings, a flawless student was moving through the shadows, a backpack slung over his shoulder and the same calm expression he always wore.

Jungkook walked lightly. He had no need to hide. He knew the guards’ schedules, which cameras were disabled, and which doors looked locked but weren’t really.

He crossed the west courtyard, ignored by the statue of the university’s founder, and slipped through the small side gate of the Experimental Psychology building.

No lock stood in his way.

An old, rusty key turned with a sharp click.

He climbed the stairs at an unhurried pace, as though he were doing nothing wrong.

And in his mind, he wasn’t.

On the second floor, he pushed the door open with his shoulder.

Inside, the room was exactly as he had left it.

A large board covered in notes, diagrams, and black-and-white photographs.

An entire wall plastered with index cards, articles, email excerpts, and old university documents.

At the center of the board, written in red, was the same question:

WHO IS REALLY LYING?

Jungkook switched on the desk lamp.

He pulled out the old notebook and opened it to a marked page.

A new line was waiting to be written.

He picked up a pen and wrote calmly:

Kang Sunhee – September 12 – “I wasn’t there that night.”

Then, beside it, he drew a small symbol:

X

He lifted his eyes toward the board.

The girl’s photograph was already there, pinned in the upper-left corner.

A thin red circle surrounded her face.

“Lie number seventeen…” he murmured.

Then he stepped back.

Crossed his arms.

And studied the connections between the names.

The arrows.

The codes.

The categories.

Slowly, the chaos was beginning to take shape.

But one piece was still missing.

One name.

One connection.

One mistake.

Jungkook sighed.

He took off his hoodie and let it fall onto a chair.

The fluorescent lights flickered briefly.

A fly buzzed lazily against the windowpane.

Then...

He heard a sound.

A footstep?

No.

A door?

Maybe.

He spun around.

And waited.

Silence.

Nothing.

Or so it seemed.

Because Jimin was there.

Hidden a few meters away, crouched behind a broken locker in the hallway.

His heart was pounding too hard, too loudly.

He had followed Jungkook only to clear his mind.

Only to understand.

But he had not been prepared for this.

He had not been prepared to watch his best friend become someone else.

An analyst.

A hunter.

A puppeteer.

His hand trembled.

He had recorded everything on his phone, almost without thinking.

But now he no longer knew whether it was evidence...

Or a burden.

And most of all, he still didn’t know the one thing that mattered most:

Who was the next person on the list?

Chapter 3 – The Watching Eye

7:28 a.m.

The campus cafeteria was wrapped in the strange stillness that belonged only to early mornings. The usual noise was there—spoons clinking against ceramic cups, quiet conversations drifting from table to table, the hum of vending machines in the background—but everything felt distant to Jimin.

He sat alone in the corner, staring at a bowl of rice that had long since gone cold.

Sleep had never really come.

Every time he closed his eyes, the images returned.

The hidden room.

The wall covered with photographs.

The notebook.

The symbols.

And above all, Jungkook's smile.

Not the one everyone knew. Not the polite smile he offered professors and classmates. Not the friendly smile he used around his friends.

A different one.

A smile that suggested secrets.

A smile that belonged to someone carrying a plan.

Jimin rubbed his eyes, hoping exhaustion was making him imagine things. But deep down he knew it wasn't.

What he had seen the previous night had been real.

"Wow, you look terrible."

The familiar voice startled him.

Taehyung dropped into the chair across from him, balancing a tray overloaded with pancakes, fruit, and enough food for three people.

Jimin forced a weak laugh.

"Good morning to you too."

Taehyung studied him for a moment.

"No, seriously. You look like someone who spent the whole night arguing with strangers on the internet."

"I'm fine," Jimin replied.

The lie came out naturally.

Too naturally.

For a second, he remembered the notebook.

Different kinds of lies.

Different ways people hid the truth.

Maybe everyone lied more often than they realized.

Taehyung seemed unconvinced, but he didn't push further.

Instead, he started talking about an upcoming theater project, filling the silence while Jimin nodded absentmindedly.

His thoughts were somewhere else.

They were with Jungkook.

Always with Jungkook.

---

9:15 a.m. – Room 302.

The seminar on Cognitive Behavior had already begun when Jimin entered.

Students filled the seats, notebooks open, laptops glowing beneath fluorescent lights.

And there he was.

Jungkook.

Exactly where he always sat.

Second row.

Perfect posture.

Perfect notes.

Perfect focus.

At first glance, nothing seemed unusual.

No one would ever suspect that only a few hours earlier he had been standing in a secret room filled with evidence, photographs, and unanswered questions.

Jimin stopped in the doorway.

For a brief moment, Jungkook looked up.

Their eyes met.

Something cold passed between them.

Not hostility.

Recognition.

Jungkook gave him a small nod.

Then came the smile.

The familiar smile everyone trusted.

But now Jimin could see beyond it.

He knew there was another version hidden underneath.

And that realization frightened him more than he wanted to admit.

---

5:41 p.m. – Central Library

Jimin had locked himself inside a private study room, phone switched to airplane mode.

The video recording sat open on his screen.

He watched it again.

And again.

And again.

Each time he noticed something new.

A photograph.

A symbol.

A name.

A date.

Eventually, he opened the university database and searched for Kang Sunhee.

The results appeared immediately.

Third-year student.

Applied Psychology.

Excellent academic record.

No disciplinary issues.

Nothing suspicious.

Yet something felt wrong.

Jimin continued searching.

Minutes later, an old university newsletter appeared among the archived records.

A small article caught his attention.

> “Incident in the Experimental Psychology Laboratory – Student Undergoes Therapy Following Collapse During Simulation.”

The student’s name?

Kang Sunhee.

The date?

September 12.

His pulse quickened.

The exact same date written inside Jungkook's notebook.

The exact same date she had denied.

"I wasn't there that night."

Lie Number Seventeen.

Jimin leaned back slowly.

For the first time, a possibility entered his mind.

A possibility he had been avoiding.

What if Jungkook wasn't obsessed?

What if he wasn't paranoid?

What if everyone else had simply stopped looking?

And what if the person everyone considered perfect was actually the only one willing to uncover the truth?