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Teachers raised eyebrows when he volunteered answers. Classmates rolled their eyes when he highlighted every word in his notes.
But Gamin always believed that if he tried hard enough, maybe, just maybe, he’d get it right like everyone else. Why did he keep trying if he knew he would fail anyway? However, like everyone else, he also had his purpose, and this was his passion. Deep down, he believed that if he worked hard enough, maybe one day he would achieve the results just like others had.
Tonight, instead of going straight home after the class, he made a detour.
He heard a new edition of mathematics books was just being published by his favorite author. Or if he can even call it that. He heard it from a student, of a student, of another student, of some motivational tutor. It was the book to have if you were serious about math.
He had all 8th edition, and this is the last one that he still had not gotten. Although he had not finished the first one, that wasn't the point. He needed to be ready for the day he finally would.
"Is this the place?" he mumbled, squinting at the dusty shop sign. It was. He grinned and walked in.
"Did you find what you're looking for?" the shopkeeper asked pleasantly.
"Yes," Gamin beamed, holding up the math book. Then he paused. "Wait—"
He darted to the pen aisle. How could he forget the pens? New book, new pen, obviously. Gamin was looking thoroughly, checking each one meticulously.
A few minutes later, he returned with ten identical black pens.
"One math book and... ten black pens?" the lady asked.
"7B black pens," Gamin corrected proudly.
"Okay... do you have a membership card?"
“Not yet, can I make one?”
The lady nodded.
Sure, Gamin has more than a dozen member cards for bookshops across Seoul, but this one is new. Who knew when he would come back here again?
“Do you live here, students?”
“No, a bit far.”
“It is a bit waste then, not many come here”
“Eh, I am sure it will be useful.”
Plus, the member card will never not be in good hands.
“Sure, kid, if you say so,” the woman said while packing the book.
As Gamin stepped out of the bookstore, he spotted a small bench and immediately sat down, unwrapping his pens like it was Christmas morning.
“Oh, nice, this one’s smooth,” he muttered, testing them one by one like a proud pen connoisseur.
However, it was not a long time for him to be fascinated, as suddenly his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.
“Gamin, where are you?”
“Are you coming for dinner?”
“Why have you not answered me?”
“Do you even know what time it is?!”
The endless stream of notifications jolted him into reality.
“Ah, shoot!”
He scrambled to shove everything back into his bag and fired off a quick text:
“On the way, Mom! Sorry, sorry!!”
As he speed-walked toward the bus stop, a group of students emerged from a nearby building. Some were with their group of friends, and some were walking alone by themselves, fixated on their phones or books. Something about the way they laughed and walked made his heart flutter a little. Not romantically, of course, just... he admired them, if that was even the right word for it.
He has tried studying in places like this before. A lot and lot of cram schools. You named it all. None of it worked. He was not going to admit it, but sometimes there's this thought, maybe it wasn’t the place, maybe it was just him.
Was he like them? Or was he just pretending?
He studied so hard, but the grades never seemed to catch up. Maybe he wasn’t smart enough. Maybe he just didn’t know how to study, even after trying everything.
Still, seeing other students gave him hope. Some looked like they were there because their parents forced them. But others, you could see it in their eyes. The fire. The flame. Their undying love for studying.
He got so caught up in watching them that he didn’t realize he was blocking someone’s path.
“Move.”
A sharp, cold voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Oh, I am sorry, I did not mean to,” Gamin said, moving aside, but somehow their eyes met.
Gamin’s enthusiastic eyes met with that stoic, dead one.
Those eyes.
“You-,” Gamin paused, “Your eyes have this flame in you.”
That boy’s face was impassive than ever.
“I am not interested.”
Even Gamin was aware of his choice of words once he realized how weird he sounded.
“I did not mean to sound like a cult, I am just saying that your eyes- I mean, you must like to study, right?”
That boy did not sigh out loud, but somehow his face interpreted how exactly he would have done it at that moment. As if he were so done with the world around him. He managed to take a few steps away when Gamin, a never-ending excitement, overcame him, and he started to ask him questions.
“Where do you live? I am not from here, so these roads seem a bit confusing. Can you show me a way?”
Gamin cannot even hold the conversation long as the boy, as casual as ever, took out his earbud and stuffed it in his ear mid-sentence.
“Oh,” Gamin was startled by his action, but he understood, some people were not that friendly.
However, when he saw the boy get on the bus, he also immediately understood. Oh, he wanted to show me the way and quickly rode the bus with him.
On the way, the boy also did not talk much. When he sat next to him, the boy’s eyes raised again, but he ignored him just as fast. He probably thinks I’m annoying, Gamin thought, shrinking into his seat a little. He had a habit of talking too much when nervous and when excited. Which, unfortunately, was most of the time.
Once a few stops had passed, and finally, he reached what seemed to be the fifth stop. The boy finally stood up and pressed the button. Once the bus stopped, the nonchalant boy stepped down from the bus, and Gamin also followed him.
“Oh, do you know where I live, though? I never told you”
“…”
None of them spoke for a while as only their gaze met.
“Why are you following me?” the boy said, pulling out his earbud.
“Huh? Oh, I thought... I thought you were showing me the way,” Gamin stammered, blinking. “Wait, you weren’t?”
“…I am not”
“Oh, then…,” Gamin trailed off.
“I never said anything,” the boy repeated.
“The bus…,” Gamin said, and he turned at the same time the bus sped up onto the road. “Already… left…,”
The boy seemed more fed up than anything else.
The boy’s unmoving face somehow became even more still…if that was even possible to begin.
He sighed and got on his way.
Gamin acknowledged that maybe he was not up to conversation and did not want to disturb him again. He tried to open his phone and see the maps to his location, but unfortunately for him, his phone battery was dead.
Stranded out of nowhere, he had no choice but to speak with that deadpan guy again.
“Hey,” Gamin called out, jogging forward, only to stop short at the scene ahead.
Two men had cornered the boy. One wore a faded blue jacket, jittery fingers dipping into his pocket. The other had a green shirt under a black hoodie, his arms crossed like a bored bouncer.
“Are you…” Blue Jacket pointed at the boy. “Normally we just drop it off, you know,” he said, pulling something out. Like a small box of medicine. Too dark to make out what it is supposed to be.
“Come on,” Green Shirt urged. “Take it.”
Before the boy could respond, a third figure appeared, massive, silent, like he’d been standing there the whole time. His presence swallowed the alley in stillness.
“Hey,” the Big One grunted. “I said the receiver is a girl.”
The two men squinted at the boy under the poor lighting, then flinched back as if shocked.
“Damn, we messed up,” Blue Jacket muttered.
The boy sighed, shoulders visibly slumping.
“Move,” he said quietly.
“What?” Blue Jacket frowned.
“Move. You’re in my way.”
“You’ve got a death wish, talking like that,” the man in the green shirt snapped.
“Hey, quit staring,” another man in a blue jacket growled. “Or I’ll smash that head in.”
Gamin could feel the tension rising like static. Maybe he should step in… These men weren’t friends.
“I said…, move.” The boy’s voice cut through again. He held something small at his side. A pen?
That’s when the Big One finally stepped forward.
“Move,” he said. Not to the boy but to the others.
They backed off, grumbling.
“Hey-“
The boy passed through without a glance, his footsteps fading.
The big man looked over at them. “You don’t even know who you’re messing with,” he muttered. “He was about to attack you.”
Gamin stared and then he blinked. That boy had read the whole situation before anyone even reacted. Is he that calculated?
Meanwhile, Gamin just… stood there. And now… all three men were staring right at him.
One of them squinted. “What’s your problem?”
“Oh! Uh, me?” Gamin pointed at himself like an idiot, then took a sudden sidestep, but more like a crab scuttling sideways than a person walking straight. “No problem. Nope. Nothing at all.”
The men didn’t look convinced.
“You—” the big guy called him over.
“OkayyI’llbegoingnowthanks!” Gamin squeaked and picked up his pace.
He power-walked past them like his life depended on it, not daring to look back. Once he was safely out of their shadow, he broke into a jog to catch up with the boy.
But somehow, maybe it was just his imagination, but the boy’s steps seemed to quicken, like he was actively trying to get away.
“…Wait—hey!” Gamin called out again, panting slightly. “Wait—wa—”
Still tense. still moving quickly. Shoulders are stiff. He was unaware of him.
Gamin scowled. Was he alright?
Only a flickering streetlight illuminated the dim path ahead. The boy's body was engulfed by the shadows, and Gamin had to accelerate to keep up.
He reached out and gently grabbed the boy's shoulder, saying, "Hey—"
He wasn't prepared for a ballpoint pen to suddenly stab him in the eye. Well almost. He flinched hard as his hand managed to grab the tip just in time.
"W-Whoa! Hey, it’s me! Gamin yelped.
The boy's gaze expanded. When he saw Gamin's face, his breathing became labored, and his entire arm began to shake.
His voice was shaky as he began, "W-why are you—"
Gamin blinked. Was he that afraid?
The boy's hand, still shaking violently, was finally visible to him in the dim light. He must have been walking so quickly for that reason. He believed that one of those men had returned to get him.
Gamin lowered his voice. "Hey. Are you alright? You were kind of out of it when I tried to call you.”
Although the boy remained silent, his hand still shaking as both of them held the pen.
Then— CRACK.
Between Gamin's fingers, the pen broke in two.
Both of them froze.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Blurting, Gamin held the shattered pieces in his hand and showed them to that boy as if they would undo everything. "Is this your favorite pen? I just—uh—it was still in your hand and—pressure—muscle—accident—I wasn't trying to break it."
The boy merely gazed at him.
Then, slowly, his expression returned to its usual blankness.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
“Oh no—my phone died. I am not joking. Look!” Gamin held it up, the screen lifeless. “No battery. Can I borrow yours? I just need to call my mom.”
He nearly forgot he’d chased this person for a reason.
Despite his sigh, the boy handed him his phone.
"I'm grateful. It will be a brief call. Thank you!" Gamin called his mother and faced him back to add, "I swear."
The boy listened in silence for the next few minutes as Gamin stumbled through directions, repeating landmarks and growing more animated. It felt weird, asking a total stranger for help, but oddly comforting, too.
He ended the call, turning back to the boy.
“Um… my mom said she’s not familiar with this road either, so she’ll call back in a bit. Can I, uh… keep your phone until then?”
Gamin braced himself for rejection, flashing a sheepish smile.
The boy just sighed again, then walked toward the apartment complex nearby.
“Wait—hey! I didn’t mean for you to go—” Gamin called out as his phone was still with him. Did he get that frustrated that he just left Gamin with his phone like that?
However, contrary to Gamin’s exaggerated version, that boy instead chose to sit down calmly on the edge of the apartment’s small balcony space. A communal spot, like a lobby corner.
“Is this your home?” Gamin asked, pointing up at the wide apartment building.
The boy gave a quiet hum in response.
"Then you are helping me, right?" Gamin asked for assurance.
Gamin hesitated for a second before sitting beside him.
It was not long before the boy pulled out a notebook and started reading.
“You like studying?” Gamin asked. “I saw you come out of Gamon earlier. What school are you from?”
The boy’s deadpan face shifted, not quite annoyed, but visibly reacting.
Gamin mentally gave himself a high-five. That’s like two emotions in one day! He somehow has a gut feeling that not many could pull that off.
“I saw you take out your pen in front of those guys,” Gamin continued. “Why are you doing that? Do you usually… hmm” Stabbing people with a pen? Where did you even get the idea of doing that? That part was left out, of course.
Gamin did not know where to start without being a busybody, so he just took out his newest pen collection and handed it out to him.
“Sorry for breaking yours earlier. You can take mine, I heard from this magazine report, many excellent students use this type of pen.”
“…”
“…”
They both stay silent for a moment, and Gamin is even in doubt to shove the pen back in the bag.
“Why should I take your pen?”
“Just-just take it,” Gamin purposely shoved the remaining pen in his bag and watched that eyebrow furrow further.
“Oh, right, I am Gamin. I study at… You know that one place…?”
Gamin had a hunch that the boy did not understand, but he continued anyway.
“I picked that school because I thought it’d be easy to stand out.”
He let out a sigh.
“But turns out, everyone’s just as serious about studying. I’ve tried everything—tutors, Gamon, notes—and still nothing’s working…”
He glanced at the boy and was surprised to see that he was listening. Gamin had fully expected him to just ignore him and dive into his notes.
"Whoa, you’ve got such nice notes."
No response. But the boy seemed calmer than earlier.
He glanced at that boy’s neck and saw a scratch mark on his neck. Although Gamin was clueless about a lot of things, he knew this one was too sensitive to ask on the first day of meeting.
“What’s your name?”
Nothing.
Gamin hurried on, “It’s okay, you don’t have to say. I saved my number here on your phone—look—Gamin. If I ever have a study question, I can ask, right?”
Gamin’s grin stretched wider as he dug into his bag, fishing out a notebook like it was treasure.
“And I will also write down your number so I can call you next!”
He flipped his notebook to jot down the number.
“Is that… your math notebook?” the boy finally asked, and Gamin was almost shocked out of his mind when he heard a voice not of his own.
Gamin nearly dislocated his neck turning toward him. "Yes?"
"Your notes?"
Gamin nodded.
"Math notes?"
More nodding. Vigorously.
"Ah…"
Gamin blinked. The tone wasn’t judgmental—just surprised. Still, his smile faltered slightly as he glanced down.
Page after page, filled wall to wall with dense sentences, summaries, motivational quotes, even a doodle of a calculator with a smiley face. Not a single number in sight. He scratched the back of his neck.
The boy didn’t reply immediately. He just stared at the notebook, his expression unreadable.
And then, without a word, he reached into his bag. He handed it over with a quiet look, like saying: ‘Here. Just take it.’
Gamin was so grateful he almost shed a tear on the spot.
“Are you… Sure?”
Gamin blinked fast and rubbed his nose, trying not to look too emotional, and that boy just nodded.
“Thank you…?” Gamin hesitated, notebook still in hand, then glanced at him again, lips parting, like he wanted to ask something more but bit it back.
Perhaps he wanted to fish out that boy's name again,
Then—HONK.
A car pulled up nearby.
“Oh, my mom’s here. I will go first.” He gave the phone back and took a few steps before he heard a voice saying.
“...Sieun.”
“Huh?” It was so soft, he almost missed it at first.
“My name is Sieun.”
Gamin’s face lit up, his grin stretching from ear to ear. Sieun blinked, his expression flickering, like he almost regretted speaking.
“Thank you, Sieun; I will make sure to study your note well and give it back to you.”
He had already opened the car door before suddenly turning and adding, “I will also call you back often, so be prepared, okay? “
“You don’t have to— “
The car door closed right across Sieun's dumbfounded face, and Gamin sat inside.
“Who’s that? Did you make a new friend?” his mom asked.
“Yes!” Gamin said, smiling, “I will be meeting with him again soon.”
“That’s nice to hear, son,” his mom said as the car swerved onto the highway.
Gamin looked down at his wallet, fingers brushing the corner of the newly minted membership card.
A grin tugged at his lips. He knew it wasn’t a waste after all.