“Beomjin, if you don’t know how to write one, I can teach you.”

The unexpected voice was Seungwoon’s. Junyoung stifled a laugh, glancing sideways. Seungwoon had approached and was now waving at Beomjin.

But Beomjin didn’t even look back. He disappeared down the corridor, leaving only silence in his wake. Seungwoon muttered awkwardly, “Well if I were him, I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

Junyoung let out a short sigh. Sensing her mood, Seungwoon cautiously asked, “Have you ever written a reflection letter?”

“No.”

“Me neither. I have no idea how to even start.”

Seungwoon tapped his lips with his pen and sighed. Junyoung glanced at him askew. His usually smooth forehead was now furrowed with lines.

That he was writing a reflection letter at all was, ultimately, her fault. She hadn’t asked him to intervene, so it wasn’t entirely fair—but still, it was her fault. Looking down, she murmured softly, as if talking to herself:

“I had no intention of defying the teacher. The idea that I harbour such feelings toward a teacher I deeply respect is itself hurtful to me. However, I fully acknowledge my mistake. If the teacher could find it in their heart to give me another chance, I would live each day with the mindset of a proper student and strive to become someone they can take pride in.”

The words flowed effortlessly, leaving Seungwoon’s jaw slightly agape. He stared at her in astonishment before stammering, “…You’ve never written one?”

“That’s how you should write yours. If I wrote that, it’d come off as sarcastic, but not if you do it.”

Junyoung turned to leave, but Seungwoon’s voice stopped her. “Junyoung.”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path, and continued before she could move around him. “Have I… done something to upset you?”

One of the gazes burning into the back of her head surely belonged to Hyesoo. But before that even registered, her mood was already twisting.

Seungwoon’s bright and pure face was clouded with worry and caution. It was as if he thought that if he had made a mistake, apologising and resolving it would fix everything. As if that alone could make everything okay.

He wanted to wipe away any discomfort in the simplest way possible.

That simplicity and confidence, born of never having been hurt, felt both enviable and beautiful—and yet, at the same time, like swallowing gritty sand, it irked her deeply. Junyoung’s lips tightened.

“No.”

“Then I….”

“Even without making a mistake, it’s possible someone might find you uncomfortable.”

Whenever he looked at her, everything she’d tried to ignore rose to the surface. The faded shirt, the frayed cuffs, the hair she’d washed hastily in the sink that morning, the possible traces of dust and sweat—everything.

Seungwoon had the power to make her feel utterly insignificant without even lifting a finger.

And yet, like an addict unable to resist, she couldn’t look away from him.

Leaving Seungwoon standing frozen like a statue, Junyoung walked away. The students peeking from the doorway quickly scattered. Only Hyesoo, leaning casually with her arms crossed, greeted her with a smile.

With a sly grin, Hyesoo brought a hand to her lips, pretending to whisper.
“What’s going on between you and Beomjin?”

“Do you like me?”

“What?!”

Hyesoo’s eyes widened in shock at the unexpected question. Junyoung, staring at her blankly despite the excessive disgust on her face, spat out her words as if chewing them.

“If not, then mind your own business.”

Returning to her seat and gripping her pen, Junyoung’s mind was in chaos, but fortunately, her hands moved on their own.

It didn’t matter what she wrote—she knew they’d ask her to rewrite it anyway. As she scribbled a string of formulaic sentences, she bit her lip. Her fevered mind throbbed once more.

***

After submitting her reflection letter, Junyoung hesitated before heading up the mountain. It was getting dark, but she could still make out shapes in the fading light.

She didn’t want to go home, and she thought about the exams she should be studying for, but the real reason she was heading to that house was Beomjin. She wanted to confront him about his cold attitude after helping her earlier.

She could imagine the reasons. It had to be one of two things: he wanted to preserve his isolated existence at school, unassociated with anyone, or…

He wanted to protect their secret.

Thinking about the latter made her lips pout and her cheeks puff up. The idea that someone with such a stern and stoic face might be thinking the same as her felt both ticklish and awkward.

“Would he even be capable of such delicate thoughts?”

Of course, that wasn’t her only reason for going. While she was there, she could study. The house, after all, was an ideal place to concentrate.

But what if he’s not there?

Panting as she climbed the incline, Junyoung glanced back. If it got any darker, descending without light would be impossible. She might have to spend the night again.

So what? It’s better than home.

Thinking of home brought back the problem that had been circling in her mind all day: her mother and Hyesoo.

Hyesoo’s father owned a small plastics factory in the neighbouring town. While it wasn’t grand, Hyesoo wore the best clothes in the area and went on outings in her father’s large sedan on weekends.

Her annual birthday parties, attended by her closest friends, were said to feature food straight out of a TV show. Many boys and girls admired her, and Hyesoo accepted their praise as if it were only natural.

At least until Nasseungwon came along.

Hyesoo disliked Junyoung, but she hadn’t gone out of her way to crush her—at least not until Junyoung got closer to Nasseungwon.

…I’ll have to ask Mom at some point.

There was too much to think about. Pressing her fingers against her temples to soothe the ache, Junyoung’s lips curved slightly.

The storage-like house stood alone. There was no light, but the lock wasn’t fastened.

As always, sleeping again. Doesn’t he ever get tired of it?

Shaking her head, she grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. As she stepped inside and set down her bag, she turned and bumped into a chair. Startled, she glanced up at the ceiling, but no sound came from above.

He’d better hit his head on the ceiling out of fright. It’d serve him right for brushing me off like that.

Suppressing a laugh, she carefully climbed the stairs. She moved slowly to avoid making noise. At the top, she stretched her neck to peek. There was a dark figure sprawled on the bed.

Smirking, Junyoung took a deep breath and slammed her hands onto the bed with all her strength.

“Hey, Beom… Ack!”

It happened in an instant. Before she knew it, she was yanked onto the bed and pinned on her back. A large hand gripped her neck.

The strength was overwhelming—she couldn’t resist. Her airway closed, and terror set in. But just as quickly, the hand released her.

Coughing and twisting her body, Junyoung struggled to catch her breath. The hand that had just gripped her neck now shook her shoulders.

“Yoon Junyoung, are you okay?”

“You… cough, what the hell are you doing, you lunatic?!”

Her voice barely came out, as if her throat was still constricted. The lingering pressure around her neck made her eyes well up with tears, which spilt over. Beomjin, still hovering above her, spoke in a flustered tone.

“You sneaked in quietly, and I thought you were some kind of intruder… Why’d you do something so out of character and make me tense?”

“And when you get tense, you strangle people? I could’ve died!”

Still flustered, Junyoung didn’t even think to push Beomjin away and instead rubbed her neck. Her raspy voice lashed out, and Beomjin sighed softly before responding.

“Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Just get me some water.”

She barely finished saying *water* before Beomjin was already dashing down the stairs. Halfway propped up, Junyoung had to shout with her hoarse voice again.

“I told you to turn the lights on!”

He never listens.

As soon as she saw the house light up, Junyoung flopped back onto the bed. Her neck still stung. Taking a few deep breaths, she watched as Beomjin bolted back upstairs like lightning, holding out a full cup of water.

She shot him a glare, and his sharp eyes drooped slightly, softening. For a moment, she almost laughed, remembering the same eyes that had glared so fiercely at the math teacher earlier. Even now, it wasn’t the time for that.

Biting down hard to suppress a smile, Junyoung snatched the cup from him.

“Forget worrying about falling down the stairs. I could’ve died from suffocation instead.”

“Sorry. But don’t pull stunts like that again.”

Noticing her raspy voice, Beomjin furrowed his brow and added with a stern tone. Junyoung’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re the one who strangled me, and I’m the one who can’t play tricks? That’s rich.”

“I’m not like you.”

“Oh? And what’s so different?”

After snapping back at her raised voice, Beomjin seemed to realise his mistake and turned his head awkwardly. He rubbed his chin and, after a pause, slowly answered, his eyes darting around.

“Maybe… good reflexes?”

Without thinking, Junyoung kicked him in the side. A dull thud echoed, but it was like kicking a cushion—he didn’t budge. On the contrary, her own foot felt like it had hit a rock, and she had to cradle her aching toes.

Grinding her teeth, Junyoung glared at him as he coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. Seeing his large, thick hands—capable of covering his entire face—only reignited her anger.

Taking a sip of water to soothe her throat, she stared daggers at the back of his head before curtly asking:

“Why did you do it earlier?”

“When?”

“The basketball.”

The hand fidgeting at the nape of his neck froze. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and muttered:

“I’ve got bad sleep habits.”

You’re a terrible liar.