"If you ask me who on this campus is most likely to commit murder, I'd have only one person in mind."
"And who would that be?"
"You."
Kim Miran has two goals in life: One, to get through her final year as a Criminology major and graduate successfull...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Something twitches at the back of Yoongi’s mind when one of Taehyung’s classmates saunters into the hall, complaining about the defective vending machine located down the corridor. But his alarm spikes when he realizes that Miran has left her bag and phone behind. His instincts jarred by the coincidence, he shuffles on his feet nervously until he feels the urge to do something about it.
“I’m going to go check up on her,” Yoongi informs Taehyung, who nods dismissively, too engrossed in gathering all his paintings and sculptures without knocking them askew. Yoongi doesn’t care if he seems overbearing, but it is late. Miran is a potential target. And the killer still hasn’t been caught.
He sprints down two steps at a time, his head swivelling in all directions as he tries to gauge where Miran could have gone. The vending machine is out of service, and there is only one other location close enough to satisfy her craving for coffee. Not thinking twice, Yoongi darts in the direction of his destination, barely even flinching as the wind hits him full in the face, the grounds around him dark and vacant.
But when he heads down the path leading to the cafeteria, his blood chills, his breathing erratic as his gaze lands on an unmoving figure slumped on the ground. The shadows cast by the awnings of the overgrown bushes obscure the identity of the person, but it becomes all too easy to recognize when an object lying beside the figure rustles in the wind. A velvet shawl. Oh god.
“Miran!” he shouts, covering the distance quickly as he throws himself over the prostrate body. Sure enough, his girlfriend is sprawled limply on the cobbled trail, her face ashen, her skin cold to the touch. A dark blotch stains her gown, and he realizes she is bleeding from her lower abdomen, likely the result of a knife wound. His heart lurching, Yoongi cradles her in his arms, all his worst fears manifesting, and he desperately tries to ascertain if she is still breathing.
“Miran, stay with me! Come on!” He strains his ears, his own body taut with tension when he feels it: the slow but steady sound of her heartbeat. Her breathing is shallow, but the subtle rise and fall of her chest is all the assurance he needs. “Oh thank god!”
Angling her neck so it rests on his forearm, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, dialling the number he needs. “Taehyung! I need you to come down to the cafeteria right now. Miran’s hurt.”
"What the fuck-"
“And call the ambulance while you’re at it!” He doesn’t let Taehyung answer before allowing the device to slide out of his grasp, focusing all his attention on the woman bleeding out in his arms. It is a cold night, and yet, beads of sweat line her forehead, her hair plastered to it. “Come on, wildcat, breathe for me.” Miran doesn’t stir, her eyes scrunched shut and a pallid tint coating her skin.
Yoongi loses count of the minutes that tick by, his thoughts an incoherent jumble of disjointed syllables. The sound of approaching footsteps accompanied by wailing sirens finally induces him to snap his head around, a breathless Taehyung coming into view as he falls to his knees beside him.
