3시 2분, 302호 1화 · toon

3시 2분, 302호 1화

Night. haeun sits hunched on the wooden step of the dark apartment entrance in her mustard-yellow hoodie, knees pulled up, gripping a frying pan upright in both hands like a weapon, staring hard at the closed gray metal front door. Her phone lies glowing on her knee, the only light, casting cold blue on her face. The brass chain is fastened. Keep a simple background of the plain upper part of the door and wall at the top.

Close-up of haeun's face lit cold blue from below by her phone screen, eyes bloodshot and wide, jaw clenched with stubborn determination, a strand of black bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat. Dark entrance behind her. Keep a simple dark wall background at the upper right.

Extreme close-up of the black digital door lock panel on the gray metal door in darkness, its keypad glowing a faint ghostly blue, the brass chain hanging taut beside it. Cold silence, deep shadows.

Side view of haeun leaning forward off the step toward the closed front door, frying pan raised to shoulder height, a drop of sweat sliding down her temple, breath held. The door stays shut, chain fastened. Keep a simple background of the bare beige wall at the upper left.

Close-up of haeun's hand with the red string bracelet holding her phone, the phone vibrating with motion lines, its screen flaring bright blue in the dark. Keep a simple dark tiled floor background at the top.

haeun stares down at her phone, face drained pale, mouth slightly open, frying pan sagging in her other hand. Behind her the gray front door is completely closed with the chain still fastened. Keep a simple background of the dark door surface at the upper left.

From behind, haeun appears small and alone on the step, frozen, facing the tall gray metal door that is firmly shut, brass chain hanging still, door lock glowing faint blue. The ceiling light is off; only her phone glow lights the floor tiles. Oppressive stillness.

Sunny afternoon in a narrow Seoul back alley. An old three-story red-brick villa with rusted window grilles and tangled power lines; a small blue moving truck at the gate. haeun in her mustard-yellow hoodie carries a cardboard box toward the entrance, looking up at the building with hopeful eyes. Keep a simple pale blue sky at the top.

Daytime third-floor hallway with green linoleum. The short stout landlord in a purple floral vest holds out a door lock card, brass keys jangling on her wrist, smiling with crescent eyes. haeun holds a cardboard box and leans in with a curious, slightly suspicious look. Keep a simple background of the pale peeling wall at the top.

Close-up of the landlord's round rosy face, her crescent-eyed smile frozen a beat too long, stiff and unnatural, the fluorescent light above flickering and casting a faint shadow across one eye.

The landlord walks briskly down the concrete stairs without looking back, keys swinging on her wrist. haeun stands at the top by the door of 302, holding her box, watching her go with a baffled frown. Keep a simple background of the stairwell wall at the upper right.

Evening in the small studio cluttered with unpacked boxes. haeun sits cross-legged on the floor eating instant noodles from the pot lid, scrolling her phone with a dry, self-mocking half-smile. Warm dim lamp light. Keep a simple background of the cream wallpaper at the upper left.

Morning sunlight through thin beige curtains. haeun lies in bed under the gray duvet, hair messy, squinting at her phone held close to her face, eyebrows knitted in irritated confusion. Keep a simple background of the sunlit wall at the upper right.

Daytime at the entrance. haeun has just placed a small black security camera on top of the white shoe cabinet, aimed at the front door, and points at it with a smug, triumphant grin, one hand on her hip. Keep a simple background of the plain ceiling and wall at the top.

Night, dark entrance. haeun lunges at the white shoe cabinet and snatches the small black security camera off it with both hands, the frying pan clattering on the tiles beside her, her face frantic and lit by her phone glow. Keep a simple background of the dark wall at the upper left.

The dark studio at night. haeun sits hunched in a desk chair at the white desk, the open laptop the only light, its blue glow outlining her silhouette and the stacked boxes. Her white-socked feet are pulled up onto the chair.

Over haeun's shoulder, the laptop screen shows grainy black-and-white security footage of the apartment entrance: a figure in an oversized hoodie with shoulder-length black hair stands at the front door, calmly unhooking the brass chain. The step where someone should be sitting is empty.

Extreme close-up of haeun's wide, trembling eyes, the grainy laptop footage reflected in her pupils, cold blue light on her skin. Keep a simple dark background at the upper right.

The laptop screen fills the frame with grainy black-and-white security footage: haeun in her hoodie stands by the open front door and has turned to look straight into the camera, smiling a wide blank smile, eyes unfocused and empty. Static lines run across the image.

haeun has shoved her desk chair back from the laptop, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other gripping the armrest, body pressed into the backrest in terror. The laptop glows on the desk. Keep a simple background of the dark cream wall at the top.

haeun freezes mid-breath in her chair, head snapping toward the short dark passage leading to the front door, a thin line of hallway fluorescent light glowing under the door. Keep a simple background of the dark passage wall at the upper left.

The flickering fluorescent hallway. dojin, tall and lanky in a black beanie and green convenience-store vest, stands outside 302 holding a plastic bag of instant noodles, face sleepy and annoyed. The door is opened only a crack on its brass chain, with haeun's pale face peeking through the gap. Keep a simple background of the peeling wall at the upper right.

Seen from the hallway side, haeun's face presses close to the narrow gap of the chained door, eyes glassy and desperate, hand gripping the door edge with the red string bracelet visible. Keep a simple background of the gray door surface at the upper left.

Close-up of dojin's long stubbled face going suddenly still, his sleepy hooded eyes narrowing and sharpening, the fluorescent tube above flickering so half his face falls into shadow.

dojin looks away from the chained door toward the floor, voice low, the plastic bag hanging limp in his hand. Through the door gap haeun stares at him, stunned. Keep a simple background of the pale hallway wall at the top.

dojin stands at the top of the concrete staircase, pointing down into the pitch-dark stairwell with his thumb while glancing back over his shoulder toward the door of 302. The fluorescent light flickers above. Keep a simple background of the stairwell wall at the upper left.

Extreme close-up looking down at haeun's feet standing on the beige entrance tiles: her white ankle socks are spotlessly clean, not a speck of dust, her toes curled tight in fear. Dim cold light.

haeun stands alone in the dark entrance facing the closed gray front door, the chain fastened again, her back rigid, frying pan dangling from one hand. The door lock panel lights up blue as if someone outside is pressing its keys. Keep a simple background of the dark wall at the upper right.

Distorted fisheye view through a door peephole into the flickering hallway: haeun in the same mustard-yellow hoodie stands pressed close to the door, barefoot with feet blackened by stair dust, tear tracks on her pale cheeks, staring straight into the peephole with pleading, furious eyes, one hand flat on the door. The dark staircase curves away behind her. Keep a simple background of the curved hallway ceiling at the top.

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새로 이사 온 집의 도어락 기록에 매일 새벽 3시, 아무도 모르는 번호로 문이 열린 흔적이 남아 있다.

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