Part 7

The late afternoon sun bathed the university campus in a golden glow, casting long shadows over the walkways and buildings. The sprawling green lawn, dotted with students lounging or rushing to their next destination, stretched out in front of Longtai. Towering trees lined the pathways, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The air carried the faint scent of freshly cut grass and the distant aroma of coffee from the campus café.

Longtai adjusted the strap of his camera bag and brought his camera up to his eye. Through the lens, the world seemed quieter, more focused. He panned slowly, capturing the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves, creating patterns on the ground. A group of students laughing under a tree caught his attention, their joy frozen in a single frame. He moved further along, focusing on the symmetry of the architecture, the contrast between the aged brick buildings and the modern glass ones.

For Longtai, the campus was a living canvas, each corner offering a new story to capture. Behind the lens, he felt at ease, as though the outside world faded and left only him and the moment he was trying to preserve.

He crouched near the edge of the lawn, adjusting the focus to capture the intricate details of a flower bed near the library steps. Lost in his own world, he barely noticed the faint echo of approaching footsteps. It wasn't until his camera shifted to frame the pathway that a familiar figure appeared in his viewfinder.

Yok.

He was walking casually, dressed in his usual black sleeveless shirt, a slight sheen of sweat on his arms from the warmth of the afternoon. His bright smile practically glowed, standing out even more against his dark attire. He waved cheerfully to someone in the distance-only to realize it was Longtai behind the camera.

Without thinking, Longtai snapped the shutter. The click startled him, and he quickly lowered the camera, his heart racing as Yok started heading toward him.

"Longtai!" Yok called, weaving through the few students scattered around.

Longtai stood awkwardly, gripping his camera tightly. He wasn't used to people interrupting his photography-let alone someone like Yok, whose energy was both unsettling and strangely comforting.

"What are you doing out here?" Yok asked as he reached him, his smile never fading.

"I, uh..." Longtai glanced at his camera, shifting on his feet. "I was just... taking pictures. For class."

"For class, huh?" Yok leaned closer, peering at the camera in Longtai's hands. "Let me guess. One of those 'capture the essence of life' assignments?"

Longtai let out a soft, awkward laugh, unsure how to respond. "Something like that."

"Well," Yok said, straightening up, "did you get any good shots?"

"I... think so," Longtai mumbled, brushing his fingers over the camera's buttons.

Yok tilted his head, studying Longtai for a moment. "You really don't talk much, do you?"

Longtai felt his cheeks warm. "Not really."

"That's okay," Yok said with a grin. "You don't have to. Your camera does all the talking, right?"

Longtai blinked, caught off guard by the comment. "I guess you could say that."

Yok laughed, the sound light and easy. "So, did you get my good side just now, or do I have to pose for you?"

Longtai's eyes widened slightly. "I... I didn't mean to-"

"I'm kidding!" Yok said, waving a hand. "But seriously, if you're gonna take pictures of me, at least let me know so I can strike a pose. Maybe flex a little. Show off the arms, you know?"

Longtai couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "You don't need to pose. You're already..." He stopped himself, realizing how that sounded.

"Already what?" Yok teased, leaning closer with a mischievous grin.

Longtai looked away, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing. Just... natural, I guess."

Yok straightened, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Well, thanks. I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me so far."

Longtai's grip on his camera tightened as he struggled to find a response. Yok, as usual, seemed completely at ease, his presence like a steady current that Longtai couldn't help but drift along with.

"You should show me your photos sometime," Yok said, breaking the silence.

"I don't think they're that good," Longtai replied quickly, shaking his head.

"I'll be the judge of that," Yok said with a wink. "But only if you promise to take more of me. You know, for... research purposes."

Longtai laughed softly, surprising even himself. "I'll think about it."

"Good." Yok gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Alright, I've gotta run, but don't stay out here too long. The sun's brutal today."

Longtai watched as Yok walked away, his usual bright energy lighting up the path ahead. For a moment, he hesitated, then lifted his camera again. He adjusted the focus, framed Yok in the golden afternoon light, and clicked the shutter.

Yok didn't look back, but Longtai swore he caught the faintest hint of a knowing smile on his face.

--

Yok leaned back in the worn-out chair in the living room, lazily chewing on the end of a pencil as his notebook rested haphazardly on his lap. The faded fabric of the chair creaked softly as he shifted, but he barely noticed, his mind wandering far from the half-finished sketch on the page. His pen hung loosely between his fingers, forgotten, while his eyes stared at the faint lines he'd scrawled earlier-lines that now felt meaningless.

He wasn't paying attention to the notebook or the drawing at all. His thoughts had drifted elsewhere, circling back to Longtai. The image of him sitting quietly, his brows furrowed in intense concentration as he adjusted his camera, lingered in Yok's mind. It wasn't just the way Longtai looked-though there was something captivating in his stillness-it was the way he seemed to dissolve into the background, unnoticed yet quietly observing everything.

Yok couldn't explain it, but something about Longtai pulled at him, like a faint melody he couldn't quite place. He had always been drawn to energy, rebellion, and boldness-the loud ones, the daring ones, the people who made the world pay attention. And yet here he was, caught up in the orbit of someone so different. Shy, reserved, and guarded, Longtai was an enigma Yok found himself wanting to unravel.

Maybe it was the fragility, he thought, tapping the pencil lightly against the notebook. Or the way Longtai seemed to carry some invisible weight on his shoulders, his quiet presence almost begging not to be noticed. Or maybe it was something else entirely-the way Longtai's nervous energy felt oddly comforting, grounding even.

Yok sighed and turned his attention back to the notebook, trying to focus. He pressed the pencil to the page, but his hand stilled. No matter how hard he tried, every thought, every line, every shape seemed to lead back to him.

Before Yok could figure out what he was doing, Gram plopped down beside him with all the subtlety of a landslide, jostling the chair and nearly sending Yok's notebook flying.

"Jesus, Gram!" Yok snapped, shooting him an annoyed look. "Do you even understand the concept of personal space?"

Gram, completely unbothered, grinned and leaned back, holding up his phone like a trophy. "Relax, man. You looked like you were about to fall into a coma. I'm here to save you."

Yok rolled his eyes, shoving his pencil into his notebook's spiral binding. "Save me from what? Thinking?"

"Exactly. You were starting to look way too serious for your own good," Gram said, still grinning as he shoved his phone in Yok's face.

Yok swatted it away, his irritation melting into mild curiosity. "What's so important you had to interrupt my existential crisis?"

Gram smirked and wiggled his phone again. "Oh, you'll thank me for this one. Just wait."

Yo, check this out!" Gram said excitedly, practically shoving his phone in Yok's face. "It's blowing up, man. Your painting? It's gone viral!"

Yok's eyebrows raised in mild surprise, and he took the phone from Gram to look at the post. It was their latest anonymous upload, showing the wall art Yok had spray-painted on the politician's mansion the other night. The bold colors, the striking imagery, and the message it conveyed had clearly caught people's attention.

The comments started pouring in:

*-This is incredible! People need to wake up to the corruption happening right under their noses. Props to the artist!*

*-Whoever did this has guts! We need more people standing up to these fat cats bleeding the country dry!*

*-Powerful stuff. It's not just art, it's a statement. Keep exposing them!*

But then there was one negative comment:

*-Vandalism is vandalism. This doesn't solve anything, it just makes the place look trashy.*

Yok rolled his eyes at the last one but couldn't help but smirk at the others. Gram, however, was buzzing with excitement, practically bouncing in his seat as he continued, "See? Everyone's sharing it. It's blowing up, dude. People are talking about it everywhere!"

Yok handed the phone back and leaned back into his chair, his arms crossed, thinking about what they had done. He wasn't a stranger to this kind of rush-the adrenaline that came with sneaking around, painting walls, breaking rules-but this wasn't just about causing chaos or making a scene. It was about something bigger.

"Yeah, but we've got to stay careful," Yok muttered, glancing at Gram. "We keep this anonymous for a reason. If they ever figure out who's behind all this, we're screwed."

Gram nodded, still grinning, but a bit more serious now. "Of course. We've been careful so far. No names, no faces. The account's locked down tight. Even if someone tries to trace it, they're not finding anything."

Yok knew Gram was right. They'd been smart about it-posting anonymously, keeping their faces hidden behind masks or bandanas, never leaving fingerprints behind. Gram had created the anonymous account months ago, and it had quickly become a platform to expose the corrupt politicians and wealthy elites who preyed on the poor and exploited the system for their own gain. Their work was more than just graffiti or vandalism-it was a way to shine a light on those who used their money and power to crush the people beneath them.

--

Longtai sat in class, his eyes fixed on the faint glow of his phone screen, his mind miles away from the monotone voice of the professor. His fingers moved with purpose, navigating to the anonymous art account he had been obsessing over for weeks: *SilentShadows_Anon*. The account had become his secret escape, a window into a world of raw, unfiltered expression.

Each post was a punch to the gut, a bold statement against the injustices no one dared to speak about. Longtai found himself scrolling to one of the newer uploads-a haunting piece sprayed across the burned husk of an old textile factory. The image arrested him: skeletal hands clawing out of the charred wreckage, clutching torn, blood-streaked bills. Above it, dripping black letters screamed:

"Fires feed the rich, but burn the poor."

Longtai stared at it, his throat tightening. He didn't need the caption to know the story. That factory had been a lifeline for so many families until it was gutted by flames. The whispers of corruption that followed-the insurance payout, the untouched executives-painted a clear picture of betrayal. The graffiti wasn't just art; it was a eulogy, a cry for justice in a world that ignored the voiceless.

He imagined photographing it, framing the tragedy through his lens. The way the skeletal hands reached out for help, the way the wreckage loomed like a graveyard-it was the kind of image that could haunt and inspire all at once. His thoughts shifted to Yok, his mind weaving unbidden connections. Yok had the same boldness as this artist, a fearless vibrancy that left an impression on everything it touched.

"Hey, Longtai."

The sudden voice startled him, snapping him out of his reverie. Lain, one of his project partners, leaned in, her dark curls brushing against her cheek as she tried to see his screen. "What are you looking at?"

Longtai hesitated, shifting his phone slightly, but it was too late. Kai, the other member of their group, leaned over with a grin, catching a glimpse.

"Whoa! You're into *SilentShadows_Anon* too?" Kai exclaimed, his voice cutting through the low classroom murmur. His excitement drew curious glances from a few other students, but he didn't care. "This guy's a genius! Everyone's talking about him."

Lain tilted her head, intrigued. "SilentShadows?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the image on Longtai's screen. She studied the skeletal hands, the stark message. "This is... intense," she said, her voice quieter. "Kind of dangerous too, don't you think? Stuff like this could get him into serious trouble."

"That's what makes it art," Kai shot back, grinning. "It's risky, raw, and it pisses people off. That's the whole point. This guy's like a vigilante with spray cans."

Lain crossed her arms, her expression skeptical. "Yeah, but what happens when he pisses off the wrong people? You know how these things go. People with power don't just ignore stuff like this."

Longtai stayed silent, his gaze returning to the image on his phone. He admired Lian's pragmatism and Kai's rebellious energy, but for him, it wasn't about the risk or the fame. It was about the story. The artist had found a way to speak for those who couldn't, to immortalize pain and injustice in a way that couldn't be ignored.

"So what do you think, Longtai?" Kai asked suddenly, turning to him with an expectant look. "You're the photography guy. What's your take? Genius or crazy?"

Longtai hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of his phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but firm. "It's... honest," he said. "It doesn't just make you look-it makes you feel. Like... like it's telling a truth people try to bury."

Kai's grin widened, and he clapped Longtai on the shoulder. "See? That's what I'm talking about! This guy gets it."

Lain studied Longtai for a moment, her expression softening. "Okay, I'll admit, it's powerful. But I still think it's dangerous." She glanced at the image again. "Whoever SilentShadows is, they're walking a fine line."

Kai leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "You know what we should do? We should go check it out. The burned factory isn't far from here. Imagine photographing that in person-capturing the graffiti, the ruins, the whole story. It'd be perfect for our project."

Longtai's heart skipped at the suggestion, his mind already racing with possibilities. Before he could protest, Lian chimed in.

"It's not a bad idea," she said thoughtfully. "We could frame it as a study on how art reflects societal issues. The factory's history, the graffiti's message-it ties together."

Kai nudged Longtai with a smirk. "What do you say, man? You're the one with the camera. You in?"

Longtai looked at them, caught between the thrill of the idea and the nervousness gnawing at his chest. He glanced back at his phone, at the skeletal hands and the dripping words, and felt the pull of the story once more.

"...Yeah," he said softly, almost to himself. "Let's do it."

Kai fist-pumped, and Lian gave a small, approving nod. As the conversation shifted to logistics, Longtai couldn't help but feel the weight of excitement and apprehension pressing against him. The burned factory was more than a destination-it was the start of something. Something he wasn't sure he was ready for, but couldn't turn away from either.

~

Author's Note :

"Hey everyone! It's been a while. I got caught up with other projects, to be honest, totally forgot about this one sorry. But I've really missed working on this one, and I'm excited to dive back in and continue where I left off. Thanks for your patience-can't wait to share more soon!"

Love Yoon ~