“Pyapyat!”
“…….”
“Pyapyapyapyat!”
“I’m reporting it.”
“W-wait a second!”
Haru quickly grabbed Sihyeon, who had been about to stand up without hesitation. As Haru tugged down on his clothes, Sihyeon crouched in front of him. Tilting the umbrella toward Haru, another pyat sound rang out.
Sihyeon’s gaze rolled toward the small creature. No matter how he looked at it, the thing crying pyapyat didn’t seem like an ordinary animal. It had a horn on its head, and though small, it even had wings—how could this possibly be considered normal?
“Pyapyat!”
As if refuting his thoughts, the tiny creature flapped its wings. The movement was weak. Blue eyes lingered briefly on the small wings before dropping to Haru.
“Let’s just report it, hyung.”
“But….”
“Why aren’t you coming out?”
“Ah….”
As if things weren’t bad enough, Haeun poked his head out as well. Haru let out a sigh. For now, only Haru—hidden behind Sihyeon—would be visible, but if Haeun came any closer, he’d definitely be able to see the strange creature in Haru’s arms. Sure enough, after taking a few more steps forward, Haeun spotted the small creature and his eyes lit up.
“What’s this?”
“Ah, if you hold it like that—!”
Haeun suddenly reached out and scooped up the creature from Haru’s arms. That was when the little thing, angered, flew off.
“Pyapyapyapyat!”
Crying out as if in protest, it flew into the room. With wings too small to carry it far, it soon plopped down—right in front of Hamin, who had just gotten out of bed after all the noise. Hamin stared at the creature with a baffled expression.
“Pii, pii—.”
“…What is that.”
At the pitiful cry, Hamin asked flatly. Before anyone knew it, everyone in Room 207 had laid eyes on the unidentified creature.
Leaving Haru’s faint groan behind, Sihyeon walked in and picked up the fluttering creature. It was barely larger than his palm—awkward to even hold.
“What is it?”
“Something to report.”
“Hey…!”
At the blunt reply, Haru reached out. Seeing his troubled expression, Sihyeon felt like some kind of villain who’d just snatched away a child’s toy. With a reluctant look, he wiped the moisture off the creature and glanced at the fidgeting Haru.
“Sihyeon, I….”
“No.”
“…I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“You’re going to say you want to keep it, or ask me not to report it, right? Do you even know what that thing is?”
Haru might deny it, but to Sihyeon, the thing clearly looked strange—no matter how he saw it, it was obviously an Irregular. At the firm tone, Haru drooped, lowering his head. On top of being soaked by the rain, he looked utterly pitiful.
“If we report it… where would it go?”
“To the faculty office, probably.”
“…Then won’t it get taken to some kind of lab?”
“If it’s an unidentified organism, that could happen.”
“…….”
There was a clear difference in tone between them. Haru bit his lip tightly. Only then did Sihyeon realize his mistake, his eyes shifting. Sensing where things were heading, Haeun stepped in to support Haru.
“It looks like it got caught in the rain anyway, so can’t we just let it stay for today? It’s already late. Haru-hyung seems attached too. Yeah?”
As if.
Even though that was what he thought, the words didn’t come out easily. As Haeun said, roll call was already over. Even if they went to the faculty office now, there was no guarantee a teacher would be there. If they went only to find it closed, it’d just be a wasted trip. As Sihyeon hesitated, the reply came from elsewhere.
“I’m against it.”
“Why?”
“It’s been crying nonstop. If it keeps that up, how are we supposed to sleep?”
“…I’ll try to make it sleep.”
“Anyone would think you’ve done that before.”
“Lee Hamin.”
If you’re going to talk, just say it properly. At the rough tone, Sihyeon frowned, and Hamin let out a sigh. In the tense atmosphere, the creature in Sihyeon’s arms suddenly flew up again.
“Pyat!”
With what seemed like a proud cry, it landed on top of Hamin’s head. Pyat, pyat. It flapped its wings a couple of times, as if declaring it liked that spot.
“What the—.”
“Pyat?”
“…….”
As Hamin raised his hand roughly, the small creature tilted its head. The oddly innocent sound made his large hand pause for a moment. Then, slowly, he grabbed it.
“Pyapyapyapya.”
“…….”
“Pii….”
Caught in Hamin’s hand, the creature cried out a few times, then lowered its head when it got no response, letting out a pitiful whine. Pii— pii—. It rubbed its head against the hand holding it. A sigh, like surrender, followed shortly after.
“…Fine, whatever.”
Do whatever you want.
Giving up on kicking it out, Hamin set the creature down and climbed back onto his bed.
Piiii, piiii.
Placed on the floor, the creature cried as if it had lost its parents. Sihyeon picked it up again and took out a towel as his arm kept getting damp.
Shake, shake—he dried its wet fur, and it cried happily in response. A conflicted sigh slipped from his lips. For now, it seemed impossible to send it away.
“…Just for today.”
Reluctantly granting permission, Sihyeon watched as Haru nodded and carefully took the creature. For some reason, the sight made his resolve waver. Haru’s earlier question—about whether it might get taken to a lab—echoed in his ears.
“Pyat!”
In the darkened room where everyone had gone to bed, the small creature cried, as if proving it was there with them. Every now and then, it let out soft cries.
And when morning came, Sihyeon rose from bed looking utterly exhausted.
8:10.
Far past breakfast time.
Ruffling his hair irritably, Sihyeon woke the others in Room 207. One by one, they got up—but aside from Hamin, all of them looked pale as ghosts.
“…Are you going to report it?”
Barely awake, that was the first thing Haru asked. Sihyeon shook his head and instead showed him his phone screen. The time—8:12—was displayed prominently.
“This isn’t the time for that. We overslept.”
The creature had cried all night, making it impossible to sleep. It was only thanks to the dorm’s soundproofing that they weren’t disturbed by neighbors barging in angrily.
So much for making it sleep. Except for Hamin—who could drop into deep sleep the moment his head hit the pillow—everyone had slept poorly and was now at risk of being late. Sihyeon rubbed his hollow eyes. Haru clearly hadn’t slept either, but judging by how he was acting, he really wanted to keep it.
As Sihyeon swallowed a sigh, Haru glanced at him before approaching the creature. The one that had cried all night now slept quietly, as if it were nocturnal. Carefully leaning down, Haru gently stroked its head with his fingertip.
“I’ll be back, Pia.”
“…What?”
“…Huh?”
“What did you just say…?”
“Ah….”
At Sihyeon’s question, Haru scratched his cheek. His usually pale skin flushed faintly red—he looked shy.
“It kept going ‘pii’ or ‘pya,’ so… Pia….”
“…Don’t tell me that’s its name?”
“…Yeah.”
Nodding, Haru gave a small, sheepish smile as if asking whether it was okay. Sihyeon let out a hollow laugh.
The person smiling so innocently like some countryside youth was an Assassin-class. And yet here he was, naming a suspicious creature he’d just met yesterday—and even smiling, something Sihyeon himself had only seen from him after more than a month….
“…….”
What exactly was he feeling inferior about right now?
After a moment of silence, Sihyeon frowned slightly, scrunching his nose. He had no idea what to do with this pure-hearted eighteen-year-old.
“You might end up sending it away soon—why bother giving it a name?”
“Wow, Sihyeon, you’re a total dream-crusher.”
“…….”
When he stated the obvious, Haeun suddenly cut in with a heavy remark. With a bright smile, he said something not-so-nice, then comforted the dejected Haru.
“He’s always like that, hyung,” he said, patting him.
Sihyeon was the one dumbfounded.
What did I even do?
The moment you give something a name, whether you like it or not, you grow attached. If you’re going to part ways anyway, you should be trying not to get attached in the first place—so why pour your feelings into it?
Thinking it wouldn’t matter even if he said it, Sihyeon shook his head and adjusted his tie. Meanwhile, Haeun approached the newly named creature.
“Hi, Pia!”
To Sihyeon, it looked almost like provocation.
Would he even be able to report it properly?
At this rate, if he said he’d report the little thing, would they all burst into tears? The thought made him uneasy, though he brushed it off as unlikely. Then his eyes caught Hamin staring at the creature with a strange expression.
“What’s with you?”
“What?”
“You’re looking at it like it’s your ex.”
“Are you insane?”
Sihyeon stared at Hamin, who, true to being Kang Haeun’s friend, had no idea how to phrase things tactfully. If it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true—why get mad?
“If it’s not true, just say so. Why are you getting mad? Anyway, help me later when we send it away. Hyung and Kang Haeun seem like they want to keep it, but we don’t even know what it is.”
“…….”
“Lee Hamin?”
“…Yeah.”
For some reason, he seemed out of it today. Even at Sihyeon’s request, Hamin just stared blankly. Noticing something off, Sihyeon followed his gaze.
It naturally landed on the small creature.
Then he slowly scanned the two already captivated by it… before shifting to the boy in front of him, who would soon be the same.
In less than half a day, three out of four people in Room 207 had been charmed.
If it really was an Irregular, Sihyeon couldn’t shake the thought that its ability might be charm.
Just in case, Sihyeon warned them not to tell anyone about Pia—though he’d suggested not calling it that, the name had already stuck among everyone in Room 207 except him. As they entered the classroom, Haru kept glancing back at the door they’d already passed.
That lingering gaze made Sihyeon uneasy. If Haru really made up his mind and started crying about keeping it, Sihyeon knew he’d end up giving in.
Trying to focus in class, half the lesson went into his head while the other half slipped out the other ear. Every so often, he found himself imagining Haru crying while holding Pia, lost in thought. Eventually, his mind drifted back to the creature in the dorm.
It had been soaked in the rain, drooping—yet the moment it saw people, it cried as if happy. Even if its identity was unknown, at least from what he’d seen so far, it was clearly a weak creature that needed protection.
Fine. He could agree with that much.
But agreeing that they should be the ones to protect it was another matter entirely.
Raising something required responsibility. If they took it in this haphazard way, something was bound to go wrong. And they didn’t even know what kind of creature it was—where would they even find information about it?
No matter how he thought about it, reporting it was the right choice.
Having reached that conclusion, Sihyeon glanced at Haru, who kept looking at the door. Even if Haru wanted to keep it, if he emphasized how dangerous it could be to raise something without any information, he might be persuaded.
An ideal plan.
However, as the saying goes, no parent wins against their child—Sihyeon’s argument with Haru didn’t end as easily as he’d hoped.
“Why are you being so stubborn, hyung?”
“I just don’t think going to a lab guarantees it’ll be safe….”
“And raising it ourselves guarantees safety?”
“At least we can check Pia’s condition ourselves.”
“Ha….”
The last time Sihyeon remembered Haru being this assertive was during the Mark incident. But now, he was passionately arguing to keep a mysterious creature. Haru was just as desperate as Sihyeon was stubborn.
So much for persuasion. Haru had no intention of backing down until he was certain Pia would be safe.
And that was something Sihyeon couldn’t guarantee.
In fact, no one could.
“…….”
By the time they returned to the dorm after finishing their day, still unable to reach an agreement, silence settled between them. In the quiet, Hamin nudged Haeun’s side with his elbow. With a yelp, Haeun rubbed his side, then glanced around awkwardly before speaking.
“So, Sihyeon wants to report it, and Haru-hyung will only report it if there’s a guarantee Pia will be safe afterward? And since that’s unlikely, you want to keep it?”
“…Yeah.”
Hearing it laid out like that made Sihyeon feel like a bit of a jerk. He’d considered various situations when making his argument, but summarized like this, he just sounded like someone who didn’t care what happened to Pia.
Which, technically, wasn’t entirely wrong—so he couldn’t really argue.
“Then how about asking a teacher? Like, what happens if you find an unidentified creature.”
“You think we should proudly announce we’re keeping one?”
“Then what do we do?!”
“That’s for you guys to figure out.”
After shooting down Haeun’s suggestion without offering a solution, Hamin reached the dorm and slipped inside as if escaping the situation. One by one, they followed.
Haru immediately climbed onto his bed—to check on Pia.
How did he end up so whipped?
Frowning, Sihyeon watched him, wondering who he took after. But then Haru, who had just climbed up, suddenly looked around frantically.
Eyes wide, he turned his head back and forth in a hurry. Sihyeon tilted his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“…It’s not here.”
“What?”
At the incomplete statement, Sihyeon asked again. Haru lifted the blanket, then climbed down from the bed.
Then he started searching the room like a man possessed—opening the closet, stepping out onto the terrace, checking under the bed. After frantically searching for a while, Haru approached Sihyeon.
Grabbing tightly onto his clothes, Haru looked at him. From his actions alone, it was obvious what had happened.
Sihyeon’s lips parted slightly.
Haru tightened his grip.
“…Pia’s gone.”
At the quiet words, silence fell.
They had spent hours arguing about what to do with Pia.
And now, when they finally returned to the dorm, the small creature that should have been there had vanished without a trace.
