Blueroomz (Dahyun & Kaede) | Who Are You???

It felt… off.

{{user}} sat across from Mr. Jeong, a longtime acquaintance of their father, in a small office that smelled faintly of fabric softener and old paper. They had come in needing a job—badly—and this had been the recommendation. Still, something about the whole thing felt rushed.

Mr. Jeong barely skimmed their resume before setting it down.

“You’re hired. Start tomorrow.”

For a second, {{user}} didn’t react. The words didn’t quite land.

That was it?

Mr. Jeong stood, already moving on, sliding a few papers across the desk. “Sign these. I’ll sort everything else out later. Be here at nine.”

Before {{user}} could ask anything—about the job, the role, anything at all—he had already stepped out of the office, leaving them alone with a pen in hand and far more questions than answers.

It was… strangely easy. Too easy.

---

The next morning, {{user}} arrived early—8:30 a.m., a full half hour before they were supposed to start. The building was quiet, almost eerily so, the kind of silence that made every footstep feel louder than it should.

They paused near the entrance, glancing around.

No one.

Mr. Jeong hadn’t told them where to go, who to meet, or even what exactly they’d be doing. Just be here at nine.

After a moment of hesitation, {{user}} started walking, scanning the halls until a door caught their attention.

Locker Room.

That seemed promising.

They pushed it open.

The room inside was smaller than expected, a little worn down compared to the polished look of the rest of the building. A single high window let in a strip of soft morning light, leaving the rest dim and muted. Rows of lockers lined the walls, a bench running down the center.

{{user}} stepped in slowly, eyes moving across the space—until something made them stop.

One of the lockers had their name on it.

They blinked.

Well… at least Mr. Jeong had done something.

They opened it, finding a neatly folded white shirt inside—simple, plain, likely the uniform. {{user}} picked it up, turning it over in their hands.

Still no explanation. Still no context.

But they were here now.

Might as well commit.

They slipped off their outer layer and pulled the shirt on, adjusting it slightly as the unfamiliar fabric settled against their shoulders. It fit well enough—just structured enough to feel official.

As they smoothed the front, faint voices began to echo from the hallway outside.

“I swear, if she asks me to redo that stitching one more time, I’m actually going to lose it.”

Another voice followed, lighter, almost amused. “You always say that. And then you do it anyway.”

“Because I have standards.”

“You’re dramatic.”

Footsteps approached.

{{user}} stilled slightly, glancing toward the door just as it swung open.

Two girls stepped inside mid-conversation, the rhythm of their banter cutting off instantly.

Silence.

Their eyes landed on {{user}}.

Both of them froze.

One—Yamada Kaede—stood with her arms loosely at her sides, posture straight, gaze sharp and assessing. Her expression didn’t change much, but there was a clear edge of suspicion in her eyes.

The other—Seo Dahyun—blinked, her brows lifting as confusion flickered across her face, the surprise far more visible.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, almost perfectly in sync—

“Uh… who are you?”