Spring, 2025.
I stared at the new notebook lying on the café table.
This small book would change someone’s life today—
just as another notebook had changed mine twenty-two years ago.
Across from me, the young student spoke with a trembling voice.
“Senior… the professor doesn’t take my bankbook.”
She swallowed hard before continuing.
“Instead… he tells me to send money ‘voluntarily.’ Every month.”
That one sentence
dragged the memories of 2003 back in an instant.
The days when my bankbook was taken from me.
The phone calls that struck at 2:11 a.m.
The winter night I searched through the mountains for his lover.
All the scenes I had sworn never to revisit.
I quietly opened my old notebook and showed her a page.
2003.11.23 – 02:11 A.M.
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Suicide implication + thesis instructions
The student froze.
“Did… this really happen?”
I nodded.
“In this era, the method is different, that’s all.
The monster always changes its shape to fit the times.”
She stared, speechless.
I slid the new notebook toward her.
“From now on, write everything down.
Every instruction, every transaction, every date and time.”
Then I added,
“Exploitation in 2025 is quieter. More sophisticated.
It turns students into ‘accomplices’ without them even realizing it.”
Carefully, she opened to the first page.
“How should I begin?”
“With the first moment you felt something was wrong,” I said firmly.
Her pen tip touched the paper, scraping softly.
I opened my old notebook again and looked at the final page.
Monsters grow back even when the soil changes.
Even when they change their names.
And the victims… always increase.
Today, the sixth story begins again.
And I already knew—
this story was far from over.
Spring, 2003.
He revealed his true nature soon after I enrolled.
A blue bankbook.
A seal he offered to “keep safe.”
A smile too subtle to refuse.
And in that moment,
I sensed it—
something had already begun to go wrong.
