January 2019.

I've just finished sealing the last cardboard box in my room. I've been here for 6 months since I first entered university. The landlady seems regretful as she will have to find another tenant, which is not really easy at this time of the year. I am exhausted too, having to pack and move all of my stuff to another place and do all the decorations again. Had it not been for my safety, I would've stayed.

A month ago, I was attacked. A week before that, I always sensed someone was eyeing me. Closely observing my actions. On my way home, on the bus to my university, on my way to my student's house. My father insisted that I move out of the room I am staying, considering that it took many long and dimly lit lanes to finally reach the place. Yet I had no other choice: I need to inform the landlady one month in advance before moving out. And that night came.

I was returning home after my part-time job. It was dark, which is why I hastily run to some houses in the neighborhood which has lighting on their premises. I didn't know whether it was my hurry or someone's force that I stumbled over the plant pots on the pavement. I felt the pain stemming from my knees when a soft voice rose: "Are you okay?"

For a moment, I was embarrassed for my overthinking: Here I am, beside the clear light in a neighbor's front yard, just a few meters away from a grocery store full of passers-by; she was a woman anyway. Yet before letting me feel any remorse, she reached out her one hand, revealing a piece of wooden stick under her clenched fist. A sharp sound came from my nape. I felt dizzy. The lights on the pavement transformed from clear to dimly lit, until a veil of pitch-black covered my eyes.

I woke up in the hospital. Someone called my dad, maybe it was the nurses or the passers-by. He came and took care of me for a few days. He asked the house owner for the footage, in hope of identifying the attacker. He showed me the clip and asked if I could think of any suspect. To my surprise, after hitting me in the head, the woman, in her black hoodie, stood for a while, then pulled out my phone and called someone. After that, she tossed the phone into my pocket and fled the scene. No phone or money is taken away. A few minutes passed before an ambulance arrived to take me to the hospital.

That was all about the attacker. Her face? Her figure? Her reasons? I couldn't figure out any of them. However, there is one thing that no one, except myself, knows: The attacker tossed a letter into my pocket.

...

When I move to a new place, I have to find another student to continue my part-time job as a tutor. This time I paid an amount in advance so that the tutoring center introduced a house not too far from the crowded streets. I was going to accede to the staff's suggestions when I caught sight of a familiar address among the options in the paper.

...

Upon my arrival to the student's house, I pull out that piece of newspaper cut-out letter from the attacker. I open the folded paper, it reads:

Who are you?