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Chapter Text

Jung Taerin

Login as: Purple02

In a city where everything rushed, where notifications and deadlines creating people's tempers, Jung Taerin learned that surviving meant being practical. Slow motions were only for those who had time to feel; and she never had the chance.

To her, Seoul was a machine and she was one of its well-oiled screws. Her laughters were well-timed, her apologies well-placed even when it weren't genuine. She knew which subway door opened the nearest stairs, which teachers to smile at, which shortcuts to take. Pragmatism wasn't just her habit. It was her shield.

She didn't dream of standing out in a spotlight, she dreamed of living in simplicity. To her, life was a test of reaction speed: when things fell apart, fix them; when someone screamed, just laugh it off; when the world cornered you, then lie your way out.

And if you were ever foolish enough to call her heartless, she'd simply shrug. Because being kind didn't pay the rent. Because in her mind, even mercy needed strategy.

But there was one rule she had never learned to manage: when someone tried to own her, to chain her under the word of "mine." For Taerin, that was not a challenge to avoid.

It was a declaration of war.

Jung Taerin ★ by Park Juhyun

ENTP 7w8

Go Kyungjun

Login as: Red Punch

On the other side of the city, someone lived as if materialism were a form of inheritance, he breathe with them.

He grew up in a home where silence had a price tag and breakfast smelled like an imported yogurt. His mother's voice never rose above a whisper, but her presence filled every corner of the room like perfume that couldn't get scrubbed off.

"Eat more," she used to tell him, not out of care but a command. Because those who lived on the upper floors didn't just deserve more, they had to take more.

So Kyungjun learned to breathe in ownership. To collect things like compliments and apologies. To own what others begged for. To erase what didn't bow and anything that threatened to stain it, became an enemy.

He believed that power was oxygen. Without it, he would choke.

And so when someone so simple, so reckless or dared to stand in front of him without fear, he didn't see a person, he saw a contradiction. A crack in the rules he had been born to obey.

And when pragmatism met ownership, there could be no compromise. Only a loud cracks of collision.

Go Kyungjun ★ by Cha Woomin

ESTP 8w7

Chapter Text

The city was already in love before anyone admitted it. But what does love itself mean?

Your childhood teach love should be genuine and pure. Found on each step along your daily basis. Found under the glow of sunlight kisses the yellowish petals beneath your feet. Even the vegetation of your pavement looks plain, it got your attention thanks to a butterfly who kisses it. Which meant nature caught your attention, not by how loud the call, instead by how it shared an unintentional form of softness.

Love, back then, was a quiet miracle blooming between things too innocent to understand what they were actually meant.

Love was a feeling where it shouldn't be bought with way too much effort. Never in history have memorialized any gentle relations started by something forced. But what if nobody had the time to care about any morning gleam to start the day anymore? What if the city had rotten with something more promising than a delusional divine?

The city was no longer worships purity, it worships sensations, whether you accept or not. People wanted a real magic, something that make the emptiness of their flesh feel full. Something that pumped their young heartbeat to keep racing. Pacing. And never stop pollinating to invite more and more butterflies to come in.

Now that you weren't a flower who is naturally gifted by nectar, how could you pull a presence to even taste the honey of your lips?

The thing you had was only the glow of notifications under your grip. The rush of a stranger's text tasted like poetry smeared inside your bloodstream. That was all you need. Loud, addictive, impossible to escape. Even those who claimed not to care still scrolled, still wondering if maybe they, too, were missing out on some miracle between late-night flirts.

The nectar is digital now. The butterflies have usernames. Now, a genuine love wasn't really the point. It was the ritual of waiting for a reply, the warmth curling in your chest when a stranger typed "you there?" after all of your effort to know them.

Others said it was nothing but empty noise. But whether it was a scam or a miracle, everyone was talking about it. Even under that navy sky, between the vapor of midnight smoke and restless neon, someone is still questioning. His fingers twitch on the railing, cigarette trembling between them. A boy with too much pulse and too little patience ...

Someone who still abruptly tap his feet upon the cold floor like he was stepping into an explosion of spring. Go Kyungjun, he finally tapped open The Line Up.

"Wow, wow, wow. You guys already use that? The dating app thing? That's anonymous, right?" Last week, Baek Eunha one of the most updated girl blared her voice under the recess of their class. "Tell me the review."

"Oh, me! Me! Me!" Heo Yeol the class clown jumped, lifting his hand. "It's so damn good being incognito! I use it to disguise as a cute e-girl!"

"You're damn psycho!" Im Eunchan and the other sniggered in disbelieve. "How many guys you've been tricked?"

"Mmmm." Heo Yeol place his finger on his chin. "Seven? There's so many guys searching for Discord kitten, bro! They're easy to hook!"

Behind the clatter of lunchtime, chatter and trays banging carelessly on cafeteria tables, the same person who hid on the earlier balcony also once sat quietly with his usual stoic expression. Even his closest goons had the nerve to bother him along the cafeteria.

"Oi, Kyungjun." Shin Seungbin, sporting his obnoxious military blonde buzzcut, leaned in with a cheeky grin. "Heard 'bout that anonymous dating app everyone's losing their minds over?"

With a mouth full of grilled meat, the one who got called didn't even blink. "Yeah. Heard of it, not interested tho." His voice was flat, almost bored, like he had loathe by the things of this app, that app. The viral anonymous platform which the center of mouth all over the school. Except for him particulary.

Kim Jinha, all curls and mischief, groaned dramatically. "Bro, come on! Live a little, it's blowing up! Think about it, all those girls out there ... just waiting to be discovered."

Go Kyungjun shot him a glare, jaw tense. "Use your brain for once, even if your IQ's running on empty. Dating apps is a bullshit! Especially when it's anonymous. How can someone trust a scammer you're talking to? That's next-level stupidity. You're talking to a stranger who could be anyone, a bot, a catfish, a forty-year-old uncle. You think that's romantic?"

Both of Seungbin and Jinha silenced for a moment of processing his long reaction. Eyes exchanged a deviant glints with wriggled brows before three seconds of a brust of their laugh. "Who said anything about romance?" Seungbin's jaw clacked. "It's about the chase, man. The thrill."

"Thrill, my ass," Kyungjun muttered, pushing his tray away. "You're both crazy if you think I'd go near that garbage."

Crazy. Yeah, maybe he was the craziest of them all.

Because ever since Friday night, he had been on the damn app. Signed up like a fool. Chose a stupid nickname, Red Punch. All just for fun and curiosity, he told himself. Just to see what the hype was about.

A legend said curiosity kills the cat. Because it wasn't just fun. It was something else entirely.

He kept telling himself to delete it. Every time he opened the app, he would had roll his eyes, scoffed, felt that familiar annoyance crawl under his skin by the cringy purple-pastel user interface and the icon of two heart locked onto each other. As if a symbol of human could get chained with a hilarious anonymous love for the eternity.

He kept switched. Accepted one anonymous offer, then get bored, accept again, then turned off to switch. And then ... there was her.

It started slow. A message here, a question there. But it took barely two days for their chat to light up with something deeper, something that crackled and burned. Her words made him smile before he could stop himself. Made him laugh out loud at midnight, pressing his phone against his chest like an idiot.

He didn't even know her name, but her thoughts, the way she typed, the rhythm of her replies, it all felt like something familiar and electrifying. Like he knew her from another life.

[💘 The Line Up | you got a notification from: Purple02]

His heart jumped. Ridiculous, wasn't it? How a line of text could stir so much chaos inside him. Now, on a quiet Sunday midnight, his room dim except for the soft glow of his phone, the screen lit up.

[Purple02 | 00:10 AM]

- I'm boreeeedd😣😣😣

- Tommorow already monday and I have to go to schoool, rrraahhh

- Sorry, I'm only active on midnight. Let's continue our yesterday convo🤣

Thanks to the message, those words, it had his heart racing in a way he never expected. He couldn't help but find it ... adorable? Adorable?

[Red Punch | 00:11 AM]

- Only active on midnight?

- Are you a vampire or something?

He tried to joke, to keep his cool, but the heat was spreading through his body.

- Sure, let's continue where we left off.

- You wanted to tell me a TMI, right? Go on, show me what you've got.

[Purple02 | 00:11 AM]

- Oh, right? I left about TMI? Okay, now let's go with today's

- I am actually not that bored right now

- I'm sad😔

[Red Punch | 00:12 AM]

- Sad? What's wrong?

He froze at that message, the lighthearted banter suddenly coming to a halt. And wait, why is he the one suddenly feeling so worried?

[Purple02 | 00:12 AM]

- I'm reading a book rn, it's a hearthwarming novel.

- But so daaamn sad rrrrrhhh😫😫 The antagonist, the bullies. I'm rooting for a happy end and just got ...

- More depression😵‍💫

The shocking turnmoil on his heart slightly changed to an amusement. He shook his head, couldn't help not to brust out a chuckle.

[Red Punch | 00:13 AM]

- You're sad because of a book? Seriously?

- You sure you're not just a big softie?

[Purple02 | 00:14 AM]

- No! I'm not that usual softie, but this book making me softer😭

- Can you sccompany my deptession?

He read the typo and the cuteness just kept piling on. The girl kept getting more and more adorable on every words she writes. It hurts.

[Red Punch | Monday 00:14 AM]

- Accompany you?

- Sounds like a full-time job.

And why the hell is he willingly accepting the job?

- But I guess I can spare some time for a pity party.

- So go on, cry all you want. I'll be your shoulder to cry on.

[Purple02 | Monday 00:15 AM]

- Hueeeee🤧🤧😭

- I'll go to your house now!!!

- Keep the door open🪓🪓

With that, Kyungjun almost dropped his phone. "Keep the door open ..." God, does she even know what those words does to him?

- Just place ramyeon on the table🍜😔

- I'm sad.

- Also hungry.

What was happening to him? He wasn't just interested. He was in trouble

-

Back to reality. Sunlight pierced through broken glass and spilled across an abandoned zone behind the building of a school, there was nothing sacred here. Not with the cracked desks, the blood-stained gravel, except the sound of someone's flesh getting slammed against a wall.

Jin Dabum's head hit concrete. Like always. He slumped down, arms limp, breath wheezing like a dying dog. The one who landed a punch, Kim Jinha stepped back, flexing his fingers. "Well," he sneered, "Still not man enough? It's been a thousand times you lose on a four fingers game with me."

The blonde buzzcut, Seungbin draped with an orange jacket, spun a scissor in his finger. "Bro, even a worm fights back when it's stepped on. What's his excuse?"

Just a few feet away, sat high on a toppled desk, legs spread, cigarette between his fingers, Go Kyungjum watching like a bored lion. There was no smile in his frown, didn't join in. Just stared down at Dabum under Jinha's grip, and Wooram who was struggling with playing four fingers with Seungbin to control the scissor in between his fingers. Creating both agony and scratching wounds on his skin.

So goddamn boring.

Kyungjun's jaw flexed at their screams. He had seen those peasants that were easily toyed by him to fight back sometimes, but then what? Nothing changed. The law of the jungle was still intact: the weak stayed weak, the strong stayed bored. Even if it was fun, nothing's new, Kyungjun had always on the top chain.

He leaned back onto the wall, staring up at the sky, watching spring unfold in pastel streaks under the wide awake blue space. Cherry blossoms floated like ashes from heaven. Her messages flashed again in his mind.

That anonymous behind a pixel icon. The one who laughed at his unfunny sarcasm, threw back smarter jokes, teased and withdrew. That person sounded so loud even in her typing, it irritated the hell out of him. And yet-

He couldn't shake her. Couldn't stop hearing her typing tone. Couldn't stop wondering who the hell she wa-

"Let go of him, you fuckers!"

The shout cut through the air, dragging Kyungjun out of his thoughts. Wooram pulled himself off from a horrific scissor game and snatched the sharp steel from Seungbin's hand.

He sounded pathetic, but loud enough to pull Kyungjun's eyes down. The leader stood in slow motion. The scissor in Wooram's grip swung almost to scratch Kyungjun's feet.

Then, without a word, he kicked the sharp object off Wooram's hand, followed by a straight strike on the ribs.

The boy rolled back, gasping like a fish out of water as Seungbin laughed while catching his scissor back. Kyungjun clicked his tongue, clearly didn't like it when his thoughts were ruined by distractions. Especially not when it slump for a-

"So noisy." But then-

A thud. Something heavy landed just a few feet near them. All five boys froze. Jinha, who was busy slapping Dabum, turned his head. "What's ..."

Kyungjun narrowed his eyes. Another sound, the sharp scrape on the leaves. Above them. The top part of a pink petals of cherry tree outside the wall shaking as if disturbed by turbulence. But there was no wind, not even a vehicle to crash on it.

It was someone's backpack that fell from the sky.

-

One hour late, the girl's lungs scratched raw with every breath as she sprinted along the back road behind the school, sneakers slamming the pavement in a rhythm that felt like death chasing her.

"Shibal, I'm gonna die!"

The newcomer's chest burned, throat couldn't take it anymore. Skirt was tangled around her thighs, while heart leaping out by the turbulence of running which now might cracked her skull hot like it might explode.

Spring's scent filled her nose, too fresh, too sweet. Cherry blossoms drifted gently through the air as she barreled past crowded buillings and stores, full of employees and random uncle who gave his husky a morning walk which barked and almost chased excitedly at her rapid pace, weaving between trash bins and rusted fences.

She darted behind the massive iron dumpster after almost getting bite by the husky, now heading toward an old cherry bloosom. Her usual emergency route. The safest way to avoid the school guards when she overslept. She had done this for the third time - if this one success. Even in a skirt.

Without stopping, she stepped on the metal lid, used her knee to boost up. Didn't had the time to look upon how clear and magnificent the luminating pink shadow of the leaves as her lungs blocked the air. Instinctively to stop inhaling how rake the trash smell.

Above her, the bloosom finally caught her eye, casting the shape of her shadowed cheekbones like something out of a painting. Pink petals, tiny red dots of fruits she never tastes because of the adrenaline call. All with a wet and execrable smell of junks.

Stupid junk rake like hell, argh!

The girl knew the path was like muscle memory, so she crawled on the most thick trunk that reached on top of the wall, breathing hard, sweat sliding down her spine. Fingers fumbled to pull off her backpack, swinging it off her shoulder.

She always tossed the bag first to give a clean drop, then jumped after. Just to soften her agility to stay intact, fast, and no remorse when she walk into the class. But when her ears caught the sound of the bag hit the ground, immediately-

"Holy shit, what was that?"

"A bag? From the sky!"

Voices.

Voices?

Her stomach dropped. She looked down through the thin gap between the blossoms, and her blood ran cold. They were down there. Five of them.

Boys. Familiar faces. Dabum, Wooram, both of her obvious classmates wrecked on the ground. Followed by trio who were standing in the middle of it all:

Hell nah.

She couldn't run back. Couldn't un-throw it. It was too late, the bag was already down there. There was only one choice.

That's them? That one him?

One hand gripped bark, one foot found a foothold on the trunk, and then she finally decide.

-

"SHE JUMPED!"

"BRO WHAT?"

From the boys' point of view, it was like watching a goddamn movie.

A violet black figure dropped out of the sky. The intruder's heart raced as she landed right in front of who. Her knees stung with an unfamiliar ache. The pain snapped her soberness to darted frantically around, searching for her core problem: backpack.

Then her gaze locked onto it. There, in Kyungjun's hand. His hand. The one she had been trying to avoid for the last five months.

"That bob haired. Isn't she ..." Jinha noticed, pointed at the newcomer first, "Jung Taerin?"

Taerin? That name owned by someone in their class. The first thing Kyungjun noticed was the color of her short obsidian hair, falling onto the fabric of her violet bomber jacket.

"Is that really her?" Seungbin giggled, checking the clock in his phone "Man! Who knows the 4th rank is secretly an overslept parasite?"

Her pulse spiked. Oh god. This is it. She knew her safety ended right there.

Her focus still couldn't compeherent with his presence, bangs that gelled up and stikes a few blade upon his eyes. Green messy jacket wrapped around his buff, making him more flashy around the arid atmosphere of the alley.

Is that really him?

Actually him?

She seen enough. She knew all about Kyungjun and his goons, the gossip, the rumors. It was clear what they did. Clear how they made random boy's nose break by just walked pass them.

And now, she was here. With Jin Dabum and Park Wooram who clutched behind their feet. Five of those boys, added one by her, are in the same class.

She didn't know what reason those nerds dragged today, but the problem is: she needed to save herself.

She swallow her panic, convince him that she wasn't a threat, not even a foe.

"Give me back ..." She just needed her stuff back without poking his rage. Yes, that was the plan. "... my stuff?"

Kyungjun's gaze stopped at her. "What makes you think I'll just hand it over?"

Taerin's gaze waver, mouth twinch in think fast. "You're Go Kyungjun from class 3-3, right? My class."

The ringleader took a couple steps closer, still gripped her bag. "Observant, are we?" He nods matter-of-factly. "Yes, we're in the same class."

Her chest burned. Seeing her backpack getting closer, Taerin blurted, "I'm fully capable of knowing your authority. Fully understand. I'm not trying to become your foe here."

"Oh, I like that." Kyungjun's smirk widened as he can see that Taerin treading carefully, trying not to provoke him further. "I really like that. You're smart enough to know your place."

"If you like that, now give me my backpack?"

Instead of walking closer, he threw the backpack at his lackeys behind. Made them catch how the girl's face jolted in terror.

"Hell ... hell no! Give it back!"

"You'll have to try a bit harder if you want your stuff back."

Without thinking, she run towards them impulsively. Only to get Kyungjun's arms wrap around her stomach.

Her brain shut for a moment. Feeling the rough muscle that trapped her. His strength overpowering her attempt to break free. A surge of dreadful warmth crawls through her belly. Realizing she's being carried like a bag of a rice. "You bastard, get of me!"

As her gaze meeting his from neck, he shot a defiant grin. "You really think you can just run away from me like that?"

"Aish! Crazy bitc-"

With one slash. No thinking. She give him a backlash on his lower center. Only to catch Kyungjun's grunts in pain as her kick connects. The unexpected attack sending him stumbled backward.

In front of them, Seungbin and Jinha watch the scene with shock and surprise. Without Taerin fully aware, they rush to throw her backpack behind the mountain of the desk. "Yaaah! What the fuck is your problem? That's my stuff!"

As she planned on climb the piles, two of the bullies crumpled her. "Damn it, don't touch me-"

Her elbow strike a punch on Jinha and Seungbin's face. While the goons busy attacking her, nobody expecting the two victim behind them arose.

Jin Dabum?

Oh, no, Wooram? They're hurt!

Wooram yells while strike Jinha with a broken chair, "You bastards have been tormenting us for too long! It's time for payback!"

Taerin barely had time to register the sound of Wooram's victory before she found herself climbing again.

"Hahaha! You assholes can't even throw a punch on a girl!" Her words echoed through the alley, almost crazed. And she knew she sounded wild, like a woman possessed, but she didn't care. "This is what you got!"

"You ... you're crazier than I thought." Kyungjun grunt at her, face still contorted in pain from the initial blow. His goons were spiraling by the losers. But it was clear, no one could listen anymore.

Accepting his fate, Kyungjun terminated the boys brawl by snatch their hair and elbowing everyone's ribs by himself.

Oh, no.

In a slice second, one fist of his gripped her ankle.

She squealed under his nipped nails. "You better be joking! Seonsaengnim! Anyone, help me!"

"Goddamnit, shut your mouth!" Kyungjun screech his boilling throat.

But her voice already slice through someone's ears.

Choi Jieun, the woman of counselor, rush in a blast toward the scene. All the umpteeth screams were already heard by her along walk out behind the cafeteria. "What in the world is, shi ... what is going on here?"

"Here! Here's going on, Miss! Please, help!"

"Enough! Stop right there, all of you!" Choi Jieun's face was grim as she scanned the situation. Six students involved in an altercation. Six. "How do you even get in there? What are you doing?"

"I ..." The bob hair was still stuck, wedged between a mountain of chairs. "They throw my backpack up inside there."

Jieun's expression turned stern as she listen to the monkey girl's explanation. "My God, seriously?" Her attention shifted to the boys. "Is this true? You boys did something idiotic like that?"

Damn it!

They said love is a feeling, and feelings shouldn't be bought with way too much effort. Never in history have memorialized any gentleness started by something forced, something violent.

"Miss, why? Why would I climb upon these thing if I lied?" Taerin raised her voice just to convice more. "Just ... just, please, my life is on the edge now!"

Damn it all to hell! Thanks to my decision of responding a lewd catfish all over the night.

But what tragedy would happen if something that not meant to be crossed especially along this kind of loud physical violations ...

Now I'm stuck with these bullies and Ms. Choi!

... suddenly destined to line up?

Chapter Text

The life of Seoul's had teached someone to become a pragmatic.

Chasing the rhythm of footsteps on office pavements, urgently catch the rush of subway without watching how perfect the sunbeams casted on the leaves and flowers. That was all unimportant. It taught Jung Taerin to never understand what "melancholy" meant.

Her childhood was far from yearning how soft the sky was busy storming out the brittles of rain. Her brain never had a chance to create a dramatic identity crisis music video while watching the drips fall upon the balcony. All she anxiously waits was how the thunder might struck someone's antena amongst her poorly maintained apartement. Because if it was hers, that meant another day of her mother came home just to scold her for not able to watch news.

Taerin's whole life was only a record between stay practical and save solutions in her sleeves. And being practical was meant she need to stay simple.

Even by doing dirty things.

She once forgot there was a scheduled quiz on her junior high era. But a brilliant idea slipped throught her brain to write the answer keys beneath her arms, all bare with pen ink along her skin. Then the chaos followed by school announcement of a sudden visit from the public health service. Immunization day had come. They brought needles and need a bare skin. While a full sheet of answers had tattooed inside her sleeves.

The chaos that followed was fast and ridiculous as the class clapped their hands by knowing her plan. She still remembered how she shoved the whole frantic handwriting down her tights at the toilet before washing the ink off her hand in a cold panic.

Why needed drama if you can finish something in one kick? If the goverment had a chance twist the laws, so was she. She was far from being a corruptor, but her one and only problem on society was being a discipline. So? If her options were seems difficult, just finish it with simpler way.

While knowing herself to never wake up on time, her solutions? Not fixed her sleeping schedule, instead, she seek a secret spot to sneak in.

At her elementary, at her middle school, and now, at Yooil High. All purposed to avoid such encounter with any officiants whenever she arrive late.

"Detention letter, huh? What a surprise." After dragged by the almightly counselor, Taerin's arrival interrupted her first biology class.

"Bet you have a good excuse to tell, not overslept after watching some KDrama about stupid mafia game that become real life, just like your last attempt."

Tiny laugh spread in between the air by Mr. Kang's remark. "I expect better from you, Miss Jung. Triple homework for this week, any objection?" Despite his punishment, she just hope her cheerful grin and polite nods melted him apart.

"No objection then," he replied at her forcibly nods, Taerin's grin almost looks like an uncanny valley from the dark web funny videos Kang secretly likes to watch. "Triple homework it is. Maybe it will help you to learn time management."

Taerin dragged herself to her seat, shoulders slumped. Triple homework and a swollen pride. Great. The usual "ha!" from Heo Yeol on the back seat rows made her want to grab her chair and fling it out the window.

So, a little lesson from Jung Taerin on "how to live your messy life" was beside being a pragmatic, you need to know how to cheats the law and punishment to protect yourself.

Seriously, Jung Stupid Taerin? You were asleep at 2 AM and wake on 8 AM? Where do you think you live in? The Sims world?

The thing was, if you were confident enough to stay within this kind lifestyle for a long terms, it wasn't protection you grew. Your steps were also closer towards the disaster.

-

"Oi, dumbass." It felt like there was a bloom of sakura petals choked Taerin's throat by one sway of hair in front of her. That soft, honeyed voice was laced with strawberry perfume and judgment.

Choi Seonwa turned her shoulder back, her brunette long hair catching the golden light like a goddess of spring. Straight and smooth as if she never had to sprint for the subway.

"You walked in at nine-twenty-seven. You okay? Or you joined the time-travel club again?"

The bob haired's pen already scratched through her biology punishments. "Overslept. Was up reading a novel 'til two."

When the word of "novel" poped up, a shadow of long haired ghost flashed from Taerin's right shoulder. "Wait, you stayed up for a book? What novel was it?"

Reacted to the innocent ghost interference, Taerin chuckled. "Ah, this worm right here."

Lee Yoonseo's black medium hair sit straight on her shoulder. No strange hairstyle. A little scent of a vanilla clouding the neat of her collar. She's sweet, but more plain compared to Seonwa's bright choices of accesorries. Yoonseo's style was just like a shy decent girl, just felt right in place.

But is she actually a decent girl? Well, it's not unusual for everyone to catch a red cover of a book titled The Shining in between the notes on Yoonseo's desk. For few days, she changed it to The Crime and Punishment and Sherlock Holmes to help her to zone out at the corridor's bench. Is that actually what a decent girl read?

Whatever the answer is, today, the girl had Murder in Orient Express under her arms. Making the decent aura glitched as her pupils became dark whenever her brain swallowed something that attract those frowsty sharp detective radar. Especially the moment when she talked about literatures.

"Heaven by Meiko Kawakami," Taerin finally responded. Flat, tried to supress any despair, but still admit, "It was hell, I bawl like a crazy by the ending."

"Oh, that book!" Yoonseo's eyes lightened even further as she get the title. She covered her o mouth with the novel in her grip. It would be weird if she didn't familiar with it. "I remember reading it a while ago. It was intense, wasn't it?"

"Omo! Omo!" Seonwa cut in, widening her eyes in fake horror. "You bawl? You, Jungtae, the monster who laughed through Gong Yoo's death on Train to Busan?"

"I have emotions, you pink parasite."

"Barely. Last time I checked, your tear ducts were fossilized."

They could go like this forever, two storms dressed as teenage girls, clashing until one combusted. But the third in the trio, Yoonseo, just smiled faintly, fingers tracing her book cover like she was reading them instead of Agatha Christie. "You know," she said, "for someone who claims she ain't melancholy, you sure read books that wreck heart from the inside out."

"Yeah, well." Taerin twirled her pen like a blade. "Guess reading about pain helps me remember that punishment can be poetic."

That earned her two looks: Seonwa's amused, Yoonseo's concerned.

"Punishment?" Yoonseo adjusted her books. "Still thinking of majoring in Law at Yonsei?"

"Trying," Taerin said, which wasn't really an answer. "Though I don't know if I'm chasing justice or just trying to break the rules."

Chase. The word hung for a moment like a brittle on the windows. Chasing, such a simple word to explain how loud the curfew amongst Seoul. Let alone an upcoming CSAT which only wait for them in ten months.

"Damn, Taerin! Why you always love a plot about something chasing someone?" Seonwa continue her snickers. "No matter what genre. The thrillers like The Jurassic Park, The Hunger Games, even some romances like Titanic? I'm afraid you have a kink for being chased-"

"Did you came to school after three bottles of soju?" This time, Taerin groned and ruffled her hair. "Just enough, Miss Drunk Judgement, I need a moment to continue my slavery, can I?"

Ignoring Taerin's plea, Seonwa sticked out her tongue, finally turn to her desk. "Yea, yea, goodluck with your bio yada-yada. Hope your face won't looks like the wriggling thing of powerhouse of cells!"

"That's called mitocondria!"

Switched off all the noise and stress, in a moment of silent, Taerin unlocks her phone with the most decent casual movements. Trying not to act suspicious under everyone's gaze, especially Yoonseo who sat on the right side of Taerin's desk. At least not with those sweet surveillance eyes lurking like the telescreen from 1984 novel that will kill if it caught you doing weird things to oppose the govern.

Hm, no answer?

[Purple02 | Monday 10:30 AM]

- Hey, you up?

- You know what? Looks like my bawling activity last night have a consequence on this morning😔😔

- My morning was doomed.

She exhaled a long breath. Nibbled her knuckle hesitantly. She didn't understand. She could tell her girls about this misfortune, but why does the first thing that came to her mind has to be an alter account she barely even knew?

The mysterious guy said he's a guy on legal age, but not his specific age, and Taerin doesn't mind that. So the bustle she could guess for him to jumbled in were whether he's busy in college or work hours.

But, does a girl who message in the morning feels botheri-

"There you are, you filthy bitch!"

For a moment, the only sound Taerin heard was the thump of her pulse inside her head. Her fingers froze mid-scroll above her screen as her skull jerked forward.

"What the hell is going on?" someone shouted. Gasps filled the classroom.

The furious dizzy stinged at the back of her head. Taerin hissed, only to catch bunch of bastards she had meet earlier.

Shibal, I'm waiting for someone's message! Not these idiot again!

-

"Oh my God! Taerin, you okay?" Both of her girl friends furiously jumped off their spot. Reached to their friend, but Seungbin and Jinha blocked them like a twin of shadows.

"You still have the audacity to sit and chill, huh?" The intruder's voice was a mixture of nicotine and bile. The kind that left a stain even after he stopped talking.

Taerin didn't turn around immediately. Her body paused, every cell calculating what the least stupid reaction would be. The morning light from the windows stretched long and golden across her desk, glimmering over her scattered pens, as if pretending nothing violent ever happened. The calm of that light felt like a personal insult.

"Did you even heard me?" The raspy low groans strap her neck. This time, almost ripped down her ribs. His palms reach out to grip the back of her collar. "Shibal, you little-"

"What is it? Still mad at my words?" Slowly, she lifted her body to turned towards him. "Or is it because you couldn't throw a punch at a girl, so you used a backpack?"

The class sucked in a collective breath.
Kyungjun's lids twich at that small, beautiful second when a person realizes they're losing control. "You're really asking for it, huh?"

"Hey, what is going on here?" Just as things seem to reach the boiling point, the voice of their Class President, Kim Junhee, interrupts the scene. He shouts, exerting his authoritative step between the desks.

Kyungjun turns his attention to the intruder. "None of your damn business."

Junhee stepped closer. "You just happen to threw a bag on her head," he repeats, "This is our classroom. You can't just cause chaos-"

"Oh, yeah? And you'd always turned a blind eye." Kyungjun sneered, curving his mouth with a terrifying uncanny grin closer to the president. "I never see you stand up for the guys I had fun with. What? You have thing with this chick?"

Meanwhile, Taerin take a moment to shut her eyes. A glimpse of torture from the Heaven novel oozing inside her brain.

Bullying this, bullying that.

With Kyungjun's presence only one breath away, she felt like it's only one eyelids apart from those torture to happen in her life.

"Alright, lets settle this!" She raise both of her hand. "I don't like small talk. Especially useless talk like trying to intimidate someone. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Kneel."

For a second, she thought he was joking. Then his hand clamped onto her shoulder, rough and burning through the thin fabric of her uniform

She didn't move. She actually couldn't. The pragmatist cell that alive in her brain started to pound again. The entire classroom blurred. Even the fluorescent lights above flickered, making everything look grainy and unreal.

"I said, get on your knees. Apologize to me."

"Wah, Kyungjun, she's strong!" Behind his towering figure, Seungbin captured the scene. "How the hell is she still standing by your grip?"

"Whoa, this is messed up, man!" The room becomes a cauldron of chaos as Jang Hyunho intervere. He nipped his fist on Kyungjun's muscle. Even Taerin can see Hyunho's knuckles vein bulge under the beam of morning light. "Get your hand off her!"

"You really have thing with so many guys, hm?" Kyungjun glares at Hyunho for one mere second. The sieze on his prey's shoulder still robust. "I'm still politely asking, you know? Or you want something rougher than this?"

Then the pressure of his grip increased. Pain flared across her shoulder, only one nip of his nails and her knees slammed against the cold tile.

The wounds on her knees that she got from jumped off from the wall sting in harsh cut. But the pain can't be compared with how her honor being tormented under bystanders' stares.

The bystanders?

"You son of a bitch! What the hell is wrong with you?" Hyunho furiously grab Kyungjun's collar, but getting snaged by Jinha. "Taerin, get off the floor!"

Yes, the bystanders.

"Hyunho, stop!" she snapped. "Don't get into it."

Blood. His shoes colored precisely similar as the crimson liquid of human essence that flow on every slice her skin ripped after jumped behind this building.

So this is it?

"Anything you need to say?"

My punishment for always being ...

"Fuck it, Taerin, stand up!" Seonwa was now blared.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed under the clump of everyone's whispers. An apology latched with fake stragled plea. "Sorry for today ... for what happened back the alley."

Slowly, she felt his palm gently interwined into her scalp. A thrill of warm shudders pressed her head as it being held in place.

"Aaah, seriously?" he groaned, voice drops lower and husky with hint of unknown intention. "You're still faking it?"

"Taerin, stop!" Now I heard Yoonseo snapped.

Damn it, I just want it to finish quickly!

"Sorry ... okay?" Tried to block all the murmurs, Taerin voice became more stragled with hostile. "You want more of my apology? Fuckin' alright, sorry for screaming when you're literally doing a mistake. Sorry to disturb you just to catch back what's mine. Sorry to kick your balls."

Her ears stabbed by Kyungjun's growls as his grip on her hair tightens. With one power, he pulled her head closer to his--

"Mmhh, seriously, Jung Taerin?" His raspy voice keep giggled in fleer. "Too much words, no meaning. I'd rather see you apologizing in other way ...."

What.

Her forehead almost touch the fabric of his pants. Everyone gasp in dread silent. The harsh cologne of his body stronger than before. She stare straight on his spot with bewildered of shame and shocked.

Taerin's eardrums catch Seungbin and Jinha chimed a vulgar whispers. Triggered her body to burn into a heated mess. All the outlookers in the room also whisper something's suggestive, but all she can hear is ...

What the fuck?

"Yah."

Why the hell is he suddenly moaned?

"You son of a-"

With one powerful clutch, Taerin didn't think twice to throw a harsh punch on his-

"God-" he bamboozleed. Taken aback and crumbled back from her sudden sieze on his crotch. This is the second time he got punched in balls in the same day. His head violetly stung with fury under everyone's sight.

On every bystander sight.

"So this is your purpose?" She rushed to stand up. Hurt, humiliation. All mixed in resentment to snatch an axe and slam it to the guy in front her. Her heart ripped, internal blood exploded in her organs.

"Fucking touch me in front of the public?"

Despite crouching and groans in agony, Kyungjun struck her with a lunatic mocking grin. "You're enough of a bitch to mess with me! You deserve nothing than a-"

"Oh, go to hell, Kyungjun."

She could hear Seonwa and Yoonseo taunts, tries to pull her presence. Before anyone could prevent, Taerin lash out towards him. "Taerin! Don't get into it-"

Her step ended with one blow kick on his stomatch. A violent push enough to make him blast off to the lockers. That was it.

For once in her life, she couldn't tell if she was still avoiding the laws or already sunk into her own dirty life.

Chapter Text

On the other side of Seoul, law had taught someone not to be pragmatic, but to own everything.

For those who lived where the wind smelt like Nutella amongst the wooden varnish fence of housing, rules and reputations can be a purchase. Kyungjun learned that early, not through sermons, but through breakfasts.

His mornings always started with the same sun beams: his mother stirring the limited edition yogurt against a crystal bowl. The woman never raised her voice, instead she raised the volume of jazz music on her audio player.

"Eat more," she used to say, spooning another portion of imported fruits into her son's bowl.

Her words were simple but it felt like hiding the same cold finality as her polished heels walk on the marble floors before getting into the garage. Each click reminder that power was not inherited, it was performed. That when someone beneath you panics with no money in hands, you don't lean some, you just watch. Especially not when your hand was busy gripping a Birkin.

And Kyungjun believed her. He grew up memorizing how his mother dealt with late calls from clients and shopping after their payment flowed into her account. So Kyungjun built himself in her image; he collected shoes like trophies, he brought branded jackets like second skins, he seek girls' compliments like currency. Because behind all that, the philosophy his mother fed him was more expensive than a house:

"You were born into a place where everyone dreams on, so you have the right to eat more."

He did what the others might call it as arrogance, but he called it discipline. For him, arrogance was simply the efficient version of following the mob rule: he had the right to own everything and remove what disturbed his property. So when that one particular stranger from the sky kicked him, his brain didn't register pain.

It registered disrespect.

The sensation was the same way his mother once flinched when the housemaid dared to ask for a raise. A moment of shock of someone from the other side of their world could be ungrateful to step onto their properties. Even in the The 48 Laws of Power, the first book he finished at thirteen, he didn't find the book shocking, he found it familiar. Especially how he underlined his favorite passage on chapter fifteen in highlighter:

"Crush your enemy totally. Halfway mercy invites revenge."

It felt less like a strategy, more like an answer key. And that's why, when Taerin's shoes landed against his stomach, it wasn't just a hit, it was heresy. A reminder that someone dared to bruise what he owned, his honor, his hierarchy.

"So this is your purpose?" Taerin's voice cut through the chaos. The world had tilted out of its proper shape as he restored his balance. Sadly, pain for Taerin was something for her to erase. To lie herself out to escape. But not for Kyungjun. It was a ripple in the empire he believed himself to lead.

Her heart ripped as she watched him. "Fucking touch me in front of the public?"

Despite being hurt, Kyungjun grinned. "You're a bitch enough to mess with me! You deserve nothing but a-"

"Oh, go fucking die, Kyungjun!" But did Taerin could stay on her simple life even after somebody also stepped into hers?

Wasn't she also had honor to protect?

With one swift motion, she didn't hesitate. Her foot shot out. A deadly, malicious front kick that sends him flying backward.

"Shit!" Jinha shouted as he and Seungbin scrambled to help their leader up. "Did she just ... holy shit, she made him fly!"

The one who slammed his back on the locker. His blood runs hot for nothing but a horrifying urge for the first time. First time. Yes. This is the first point of his life he doesn't see someone as a girl anymore. All he saw was red. Trash. A troll who he has to throw at her designated place. The lowest place in humanity. Hell.

Kyungjun's fist came down with all the rage, but before it could land, her fist collided with his jaw, jerked him as his entire frame crumbled with force.

"What the hell?" someone shouted.

"She fucking do boxing?" another voice cracked.

The one who got blown blazed with pure rage as he prepared to retaliate, but Hyunho was on him. Swung a brutal hook and it collided him back.

"Damn! Hyunho just laid him out!"

"Stop! This isn't a fucking brawl!" Junhee's voice thundered as he jumped through desks, but Seungbin and Jinha were already on him, dragging him back from the fray with elbows and knees.

Taerin's frustration was palpable. She roared, leaping over and grabbing a chair, smashing it into the spines of Seungbin and Jinha. "Let's finish this already."

The room was a slaughterhouse, a chaotic, adrenaline-chair throwing melee. Hyunho and Junhee fighting tooth and nail. "Record this! Record this!"

"You bitch!" The main perpetrator shouted. Kyungjun's boot connected with the chair. Palm flew to her jaws. With all of his power, he dragged her body like cotton onto the back locker where she cornered him before.

Then his other fist swung to blew the most terrifying retaliate he never did for the first time in his life.

"Kyaaa! No! No! No!" Someone covered their eyes.

"What the ... bro! I can't ... I can't with this one ..."

Again, a real cracked sound ripped her skin.

"Dude this is not a joke, he punched a girl!"

The punches kept coming. Taerin's vision swam in and out as her head tossed from side to side. But beneath the agony, something flipped.

Her body trembled with exhaustion, but her fist dragged her own shoes. Behind her kept pounding chest, the darkest pulse cracked. To show how it ends if someone bravely messed with her simple life.

Because being simple never needed violence to kill.

The dirty sole of her shoes slammed across his face. With every brutal counting, she blew a hundred dirts onto his breath.

He stumbled by the abrupt attack, groaning, disoriented. But Taerin couldn't stop. She had to finish it. She had to win.

"Yah!" Her friends screamed, but Taerin was too caught up. With gut-wrenching strike, Kyungjun collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

"Taerin, stop!" Yoonseo panted from the corner, "It's out of the line-"

"Then let me drag his soul into hell!" As she limped her shoe toward Kyungjun, she was more than ready to finish him. But it was interrupted by Seungbin and Jinha who threw a bunch of backpacks.

"Oh, fuuuck!" Her throat ripped off, blocking her head. "Junhee, handle the douchebag." The president understood and rushed to help Hyunho to handle Kyungjun. While Taerin ran around with one shoe. Found a bunch of pen and threw it to the goons' eyes.

"Ack! That bitch's keep using objects!" Jinha shouted.

And then, the room fell into more terrifying rift than before, because the moment Junhee's scream cracked amongst the windows by the bones in his arms getting twisted, Hyunho was also flew onto the opposite side of the room, collapsing with a bloody nose upon the teacher's files.

"You always fight with objects." The beast who created the catastrophe gasped towards the last burden. He wasn't done. Not with a chair swung under his fist, not with his arm veins protruded in red. "I'll show you how to properly kill someone with objects."

Meanwhile the girl who got cornered froze, eyes blazing with how both of the friends who helped her collapsed by this monster's unknown strength. She wasn't just fighting for her honor anymore. She was fighting for her fucking life.

Taerin didn't realize when she got caged on top of a desk as her eyes were still on Junhee and Hyunho. The back of her thighs pressed against its wooden surface, four limbs imprisoned by the goons. And as Kyungjun raised the chair above his head, Taerin didn't breathe.

She just regained her consciousness when her scream sliced up through people's ears. Then final blow came as her world began to be a pitch black.

-

The scream of the old headmaster cracked through the office. A reprimand paper slapped the desk, sliding across the glossy wood toward Kyungjun and his two lackeys. Another landed in front of Taerin, Hyunho, and Junhee. Six suspects, all ringed around the oval table like criminals.

I've made a mistake.

"What a fine gentleman, Mr. Go," Principal Yoo's voice was razor-cold. "Finally bold enough to throw a punch at a girl?"

A big mistake.

"And you, Miss Jung ..." The principal's eyes narrowed. "What are you living in? A barbarian pit?" He tossed the second paper at her without a flicker of sympathy.

"Friday this week. One of your parents to my office."

The word parents hit Taerin like a knife. Her stomach collapsed inward. She wanted to scream, to rip the page in half, instead her mind spun back to the chaos. To the way she had clawed her way out of Kyungjun's chokehold.

Before Kyungjun tried to maneuvered a chair at her vulnerable figure on a desk, Taerin screamed with all of her body.

The scream crawled the blood up through her teeth like an electric jolt. Gave her the power to smooch a brutal bite on Seungbin and Jinha's arms who caged her from moving on top of the desk.

"It hurts, idiot!"

After biting and shoving their grip, with only one chance, Taerin's shoes blasted of a high kick onto Kyungjun's throat.

Chin blown off. Head shoved through the sky. That was the last thing she saw before she hurtled herself off the air, body crashed roughly throught the floor.

Then sound of a chair smashing against the wooden surface blared across the room.

Back in the office, the split off cheekbones opened her mouth, "He was trying to touch-"

"Stop." Principal Yoo's hand slammed the desk. "Enough with the nonsense. How can you say such innapoproate thoughts in front of your teachers?"

Her chest flared, but the old man's glare made it useless. "But she was actually-" Even Hyunho didn't have a chance.

"Silence. Surveillance shows intimidation, nothing else. If you hadn't thrown attacks, none of you would be here. Do you understand what this does to our school's image?"

Taerin clenched her jaw. Her plan had been simple: to endure, to apologize, and finish what the violent goons eager to take from her on the floor. Even promised to her mother:

No fists. Never again.

But was being forced to kneel like that still bullying? Or was it something else entirely?

"Six of you. Parents on Friday. That's final."

Junhee muttered the formality of acceptance and bow, Hyunho rolled his eyes, and Taerin stormed out with no words first. Throat and shoulder burning while the papers crushed in her fist.

"Seriously? This is the second brawl of the day, Sir," The counselor, Choi Jieun hissed inside the door. "That girl, she was a newcomer five months ago, I already gave her a detention for arriving late, didn't know it will explode to this mess."

"I expect nothing from the rest, but Kim Junhee?" Other officiant chimed in like it was a forum of gossips. "Their leader couldn't even handle the resentment between his friends. How could he call himself a class president?"

"Noisy clusterfuck." Taerin glanced at the one they talked about. Poor kid, dragged into her hell of fire. He didn't deserve this mess. "Don't listen to them. I'm thankful you're with us, Jun."

The hallway air was heavier than the principal's office. "Yeah," Hyunho yawned, strecheed his almost broken arms upon the warm wind, "our leader here's too noble. Got you branded with us, Bro."

The one who pampered sighed by his lips, but when the triplets appeared on the opposite end. The trio they cursed with all their bloodstreams as bastards stormed out to clash their shoulders.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Hyunho spat by his body got unbalance. "Round two already?"

Taerin squared Hyunho's strain, ready to pounce. "You assholes are begging for-"

"Junhee-ssi!"

The squeal cut through like glass. Kim Somi stormed down the hall. Her thick long hair gleamed to wave back, nails painted red as her whole presence sharp as a blade. She went straight to Junhee, cupping his bruised cheek with hands far too gentle for the scene. Of course, a normal reaction from a vice president.

"My God, this what happened to you if you gone mad!"

Junhee tried to brush her off. "It's nothing, really-"

"Nothing? You were screaming like a half-dead!"

Seonwa and Yoonseo came rushing too, but before they could drag Taerin toward the infirmary, Somi yanked Yoonseo's hand away. Her glare landed like a whip.

"It's not like your friend is the victim here."

The hallway froze. Seonwa blinked. "What?"

Somi limped her arms to the sides. "Don't act clueless. You dragged him into this." Her chin flicked toward Junhee. "Him. And Hyunho. For your mess."

Her words sliced sharper than Kyungjun's fists.

"Somi, what do you-" Junhee tried, voice breaking. "Who are you talking to?"

Taerin cut in, blinked in half-understood by her sentances. Her finger pointed the air where Kyungjun had disappeared around the corner. "The bastard who should be blamed is the one who doesn't know his place.-"

"I'm not talking about anyone." Somi's eyes locked on her. "I'm talking about you."

The air grew heavier. Even Seonwa and Yoonseo flinched.

"You think this was noble?" Somi's tone was venom. "You think bleeding in front of teachers makes you a hero? If we're being honest, everyone here knew Kyungjun was untouchable. You knew. And yet you snapped by dragged everyone else down with you. For what? Attention?"

The words cracked across Taerin's skull. Her lungs forgot how to work.

"Irresponsible," Somi spat. "That's what it is. You've been silent for five months while he bullied others? If you had this power all along, why didn't you ever use it to protect anyone else?"

Taerin's chest squeezed shut. The fight replayed in her head, the humiliation. Now the shame flipped on its head, burning hotter than his fist.

Did Somi just call her the problem?

Chapter Text

There were three things for youngsters of Yooil High needed to avoid in obligation. It worked precisely like a pack of rats under the rift of your drainage with a sharp limbic they use to spot a sting of glue. If there was nothing to damage the students' survival instinct, they would also know how to distinguish the smell of these forbidden traps.

The three levels of principal punishments:

The first level of punishment, the reprimand paper, is where the rats' limbs are tied to give reports to your parents. In the need of meeting and discussing their child's despicable acts. Just a slap on the wrist.

If you repeat those actions? Up to the second level, whereas the glue became stickier, it started to injure the rats' body: a suspension that offers a brief pause from one to three weeks. No task, no exam, no resentment towards society, but also a big damage as there wouldn't be any score to count for your next grade.

"Somi, Tae, let's ..." Yoonseo tried.

"Stay out of this!" Somi snapped, finger cutting the air like a blade. Her glare pinned on Taerin. "Irresponsible," Somi spat. "You've been silent for five months while he bullied others. If you had this power all along, why didn't you ever use it to protect anyone else?"

Taerin's chest squeezed shut. Because she had clearly remembered the last guillotine, the last mousetrap. The thing she had to avoid at all cost before deciding something. The moment everyone just resigns themself without questioning any way to escape. If somebody repeats their violation, the answer is clear as day. It was when they got the principal's third punishment: drop-out.

Her chest locked. The humiliation replayed; his palm on her scalp while the grip tightened, also the chair above her. But Somi's words? This shame twisted into a new heat, deeper than fists. "Somi-ssi ... do you feel responsible then?"

Her voice cracked, but she forced a smile. "You're also our leader. But did you ever help me ... when I was on my knees?"

Gasps shot through the corridor. The question didn't just sting Somi, it stung their friends.

For a split second, Somi froze. "No. I know where this is going. Don't twist this, Taerin."

Then the vice's lips curled. "I'm not defending that bastard, but you-" her volume climbed, "I've never seen you stand up for once. Yet suddenly you snap and now we all pay the price. For what? To feed your ego?"

"Guys-" Hyunho hissed, eyeing the teachers eavesdropping from the hallway. "They're all watching."

Neither girl heard him.

"Your actions dragged Jang Hyunho and Kim Junhee into this. They're punished. Do you realize what Mr. Yoo's three level punishment mean? You just pushed them one step to expulsion!"

Taerin's fists trembled. "I didn't drag them, they chose-"

"Did you think of the consequences before you lit the match?" Somi cut her off.

"Let's cut the crap. I fuckin' know what is this about!

"Then tell me the fuck do you know about?"

"No, no!" Their friends tried to storm. "Both of you, stop!"

"Wooo, yes, yes, fight!" The hallway howled.

"I know that this isn't about punishment or friends," Taerin continued.

"Then what? Attention?"

"You're blaming me because I hurt your secret crush. Isn't that right? Our perfect class president!"

Somi's face went white, the loud barks of commotions suddenly shut. None of them were aware that their shoulders were already pulled back. Teachers rushed to stop the outlookers, warning them to get inside.

While the vice's face flushed scarlet. Her mouth opened. The words died in Somi's throat.

"What did you just say?"

Taerin's eyes glinted. "Am I wrong?"

The crowd stirred. Everyone in Class 3-3 had whispered about it, but it was always behind desks, never in the open. Never like this. And now Taerin had ripped it raw in front of half the damn corridor.

"Hell, you heard me."

Junhee's voice sliced through the tension. "Enough." He shoved between them, bruised hands spread both on their distance. "Back off. Both of you."

Taerin's mouth parted. "Who do you think you're defending, Junhee?" She tossed her chin to the boy. "Look at Yoonseo, she didn't throw blame on me-"

That name snapped Somi like a whip. "Yah, michin yeon-" The curse sliced the corridor open. Teachers stiffened. Students held their breath.

And Somi's burning eyes shifted. Not on the rebels anymore, it was towards Yoonseo.

Oh, fuck-

"Enough!"

Junhee's roar thundered down the corridor. Everyone flinched. Nobody had ever seen him like this; eyes blazing, patience shredded.

He turned to Seonwa and Yoonseo, voice ragged but steady. "Take Taerin and Hyunho to the infirmary. I'll deal with Somi."

Yoonseo hesitated, glancing between them. "Are you sure?"

Junhee closed the statement. "Now."

With a heavy silence, they obeyed. The girls coaxed Taerin down the hall. Everyone knew. The silent looks between Junhee and Yoonseo were an open secret, almost a confession. The crowd knew it. Somi knew it.

And now the battlefield had turned into something else. But she realized it too late.

"No ... shit." Her hand clawed Yoonseo's arms even before she realized. "Yoon, I didn't mean-"

"No, no, we'll scold you about this later." Seonwa stammered under her breath, almost to herself. "Now let's tend your wounds."

-

[Purple02 | Monday 10:30 AM]

- Hey, you up?

- You know what? Looks like my bawling activity last night have a consequences😔😔

- My morning was doomed.

[Red Punch | Monday 04:00 PM]

- Hm? What's wrong?

The whole day bled itself. Never in Yooil history trapped the cleaning schedules trapped them like prisoners field cleaning task. Never in that evening, the imbecile final bell jarred throught the air, the warm wind was still heavy, rotten with the vehicle storm. The desks had been rearranged into neat rows, as if furniture could erase memory.

The unlucky students trapped on duty scrubbed the floor and the bumpy crocked steel of lockers with mechanical hands, but no one spoke of the memory. No lips questioned, no one answered. Even the perpetrators' shadows were absent, but at least, somebody had waited hours for this moment.

Taerin saw Junhee sling his bag across one bruised shoulder, limping toward the door. Her pulse tripped as she shock the room with squeal and run. "Junhee! Do you have time?"

The president stopped, looked over his shoulder and found the crack deep voice reeled his attention. “Taerin?”

“Does it still hurt?” She walked closer before she could stop. And he blinked, a little caught off guard as the girl's harsh hand reached him out. Just a light touch on the bandage on his wrist.

He stiffened, not out of discomfort but surprise. “It’s fine. Infamary said it's just a muscle strain. Nothing serious.”

Her fingertips lingered half a second too long before looked up, trying to read his face for any flinch.

“You’re right-handed, right?” she muttered. “Guess he really went for the worst side.”

“Yeah,” he smiled faintly, “guess so.”

The moment hung fragile, softer than either of them intended. Until movement flickered in the corner of her vision.

Behind her, Yoonseo stood by her own desk, pretending to fix her tie but watching them.

Taerin froze. Her hand retreated, sliding into her jacket pocket like the concern had never existed. “Anyway. You hungry? I’ll buy somethin’ for a lil talk.”

He glanced back too, scanning the room where he found Yoonseo that came first on his sight, then the pink presence of Seonwa and Hyunho. Pretending to be busy, but watching out of the corners of their eyes.

"I already told them this had to be private." Taerin answered what his eyes asked.

Junhee almost taste her sharp mind, but he accepted it anyway. "Sure. Let's go."

-

She needed a whole stretched minute before she could take another breath as Junhee shoved his phone off her sight. Then continued to nonchalantly chew a toppokki in front of their cafeteria tables, as if what he just exposed wasn't a lump of scandalous news.

He just gave her a clear info of Go Kyungjun's family.

"You better be just making a fanfiction." Taerin's heartbeat poundrd in between bites of fishcake, voice raised higher. "That's a whole freaking joke!"

Across her, Junhee's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You sound almost impressed."

She was almost half-choking. "You mean that Go freaking Yura? The one who made that viral speech about 'reformation through discipline'? Oh, bloody no."

He leaned back, converse pressed against the floor. "What a cosmic irony, right?"

"I am," she exclaimed with a harsh fist on the table. "Impressed that someone so good at law can raise a son who throws it like a trash bag. What the heck am I even learning for Yonsei ..."

The fact that it was not usual for Junhee to have a casual talk with Taerin, it was kinda hard to do. He said that to himself to just enjoy whatever she gave beside the toppoki and beverages. He was okay with everything, but it was harder because the topic she led.

They both usually talk when there are some formal events being held. Goes around bookstores to search for a reference for their group task. Watch the band performance of Heoyeol, Eunha, Eunchan, and Yeonwoo, on the last day of exam at a cafe around Hongdae. Or came to support basketball, tennis, and everything Jang Hyunho had invited the class to scream on. And the formal list goes on.

This time, in this unusual eye to eye talk, the class president felt like he had a new rebel to handle its citizenship. He knew she needed to clarify today's altercation, but still, he didn't expect the first question she gave was about whose womb the big bad Go Kyungjun came from.

Her laughter ended her rant too lightly, but Junhee didn't laugh back. His silence dragged, the kind that made her itch to fill it. Except she stopped herself.

"You don't like him either," she leaned both elbows on the armrest.

He blinked. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb. I can tell from the way your jaw twitches every time someone mentions his name. Especially when he stood near Yoonseo."

That earned him a cough, a quiet, sudden one, the kind that only slipped from someone who had been holding too much for too long. He took his drink.

"Was he also ... had a crush on Yoonseo?"

Junhee's brain was broken, completely cracked like the chair Kyungjun threw. "Wha ... no, I think not? Nobody ever think that-"

Taerin pouted, leaning both elbows forward the table. "Just guessing."

"He's complicated, but not stupid." He wept his mouth, couldn't lie that her last question leaped his heart for a beat. "Someone like him is just raised to believe he's immune to rules. You don't touch someone like that unless you want trouble."

Taerin tilted her head. "Well, guess I did touch him. Two times in a row."

Her tone was joking, but the bruise on his wrist pulsed. Junhee studied her face for a moment. He could feel her gaze like sunlight he wasn't sure she wanted. So he kept silent.

"Anyway, I indeed need to know his parents' identity from you. Sorry if it feels random and inconvenient," she clarified, sipping her iced tea. "But thanks for sending me Go Yura's Ted Talks link yada-yada, at least I can throw a quote from that celebrity's stages towards her son in the future."

That cracked his calm exterior; because a laugh finally slipped out, low and real. And it was enough. A small victory for her.

She looked up through the cafeteria's wide glass panes as if didn't care about how bright his sudden smile was. Outside, the cherry blossoms smeared the benches where innocent couples whispered like they were the only ones left in the afternoon. The upper floors of Yooil's main building stretched beside them, her consciousness almost lost in the warmth.

"Jungtae."

Until his voice cut through the yellow streams. Firm, but hesitant in the throat. Especially saying the nickname Yoonseo always used whenever she talked about her friends' daily life via chatroom with him. He had always thought the name sounded too masculine for this girl, but maybe that's why it fit.

"Hm?" she mumbled, turning her head slightly.

"If Kyungjun or his friends try to do something, don't act by yourself. Report it to the teachers or," he hesitated. "To me."

Taerin tilted her head, lips quaking like she couldn't decide if he was being brave or naïve. He was serious. So serious it almost made her laugh.

"Funny thing," she said, her voice low and airy. "I do have something strange going on."

His brows pulled tight. "What do you mean?"

"I've got detention with those bastards," she explained, stirring her straw into melting ice. "In a few minutes from now."

Junhee nearly choked. "What? That's ... no. That's a trap!"

"Guess that's what I'm best at walking into," she murmured, watching a petal fall onto the windowpane. "Traps."

-

"With him?" His voice cracked against the low cafeteria hum. "You shouldn't even be near Kyungjun right now. Didn't Principal Yoo say-"

"Relax, Captain Justice. It's just detention." She lifted her drink, took a sip that hid a tremor in her jaw. "But I can't skip, can I? He's already watching for mistakes."

"Then at least don't go alone."

"You want to join a detention?" Her tone lightened, but the faint shake in her leg betrayed something else. "C'mon, that's the last disposal you'll step into."

The air tightened between them. The half-eaten toppokki steamed like a silent witness. Junhee watched her, searching for any trace of fear, but all he saw was fatigue disguised as bravado.

Then she leaned forward, eyes flicking up at him with something almost pleading. "But hey, since you're so determined to save me ... maybe you could tell me something."

"Something?"

"Mm." Her voice dropped softer, more deliberate. "Something that'll risk your trust in me."

He frowned. "Jung Tae-"

"The sneak entrance," she cut in, too casual. "There has to be more than one, right? You're my president, you know all the shortcuts. I can't just walk through the back wall where he threw my bag after this morning's circus."

"That's insane, you could get expelled by three level of punishments-"

"Then don't help me." She stood up. Her voice turned mocking. "I'll just figure something else out, I always do."

He didn't answer. His throat moved like it wanted to form a protest but couldn't find words.

"Guess this is what I get," she muttered, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond him, "when my family could never give a normal night for me to sleep."

The sentence dropped like glass on tile: fragile, and cutting. Junhee's mind splintered with uninvited images of his friend sitting in a cold room, lights off, while listening to the home that never felt like peace. The girl's home he was now looking up in front.

She never had a normal nights?

Before he could ask, she walked off, brushing crumbs from her skirt. "Anyway, thanks for the time, President. I'll handle the rest."

That's why she always arrived late ...

She took a step back, one, two, and smiled. Too bright. Too sweet as if they didn't just have the weirdest conversation all over his life. Then his chair scraped the floor.

"Taerin, wait-" His hand caught her wrist, firm but trembling. Junhee stood up, crumbling the distant and the only thing between their recklessness storms they both were walking into. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you the one alumni always used."

Chapter Text

The risk of skipping detention was never freedom, it was prison painted in neon that smelled like liquor.

Hongdae looked merciful from above: a sprawl of sequined streets, the magnificent that made you forget the word punishment ever existed. The detention was nothing but a bass throbbed like a second heartbeat beneath the evening. Go Kyungjun let a stranger draw a lip mark on his cheek. Red on red. A sweet stamp made of sin.

Lights fractured across his cheekbones; blue, red, and glittery. Seungbin yelled as his arm thrown over someone’s shoulder, chanting a song that didn’t belong to any language. Jinha’s one knee lifted up to a billiard table as he grinned, leaning forward preparing to shoot a purple. The three boys swung through the crowd like kings of a sinking ship. Grinning, because the water hadn’t reached their lungs yet.

The leader of the goons’ glass trembled on the marble counter as he watched the ice spin, melt, and die. Then the sound bled into another room, more soft and muffled.

On the other side of the city, Jung Taerin sat folded on the edge of her bed. Black camisole strap clung to her shoulder like the last thread of her wellbeing. Her phone was completely shut like a dead bird inside her backpack, no music, no internet, avoiding the yearning of social lies and the touch of humans.

Her bare knees pressed to her chest. A handful of melting ice cubes wrapped in a towel hissed against her ankle; the spot was swollen, flushed violet where her kick had met someone’s throat. Every time she massage it, a tremor ran up her leg, pulsating a raw new kind of heartbeat.

Her other hand ghosted beneath her ribs, tracing the tender skin where the clash almost caught her soul. The faint memory of his chair swung above her head where the reflex had saved her, but the landing had crushed her body onto the floor. Now she better get broken bones than to slip his name from her tongue.

So, she only did what she always did best: treat the wound, not the feeling.

A bottle of rubbing alcohol tipped over, glinting in the city’s faint light. She then tore a strip of bandage and wrapped it around her ankle. When the burns of alcohol stung inside her ripped flesh. A study desk watched her muffled groans with a mocking stare, even a row of novels laughing under a bookshelf.

Their spines bent from use. Except for one, a book with a yellow spine, its cover showing two students in blazers, stood against a wall in winter. Heaven.

It still lay shut on her desk beside her laptop, like a confession she had finished reading. But never finished the risk. The responsible for the most fatal late arrival.

She hadn’t sent the reprimand paper into her mother’s room. Her temples ached again, not from the throb of her muscles. But from stress. A whole hundred swords stabbed her spine in reminder that nobody never had the bravery to lead their own mistakes into justice.

“Irresponsible.”

Her heart dropped.

“If you had this power all along, why didn't you ever use it to protect anyone else?”

Her teeth bit the ripped lower lips. She didn’t care, who would care how the metallic tasted beneath this insignificant flesh? A tiny drop of crimson slowly crawled inside her tiny tongue, smeared like an iron soup mixed with cold saliva. Even to hide behind this kind of torture, none of it could ever defeat the unerased sensations Somi’s sting.

She was never a victim.

Back at the club, Kyungjun’s heartbeat leaped similar to the beat of the drum. Some girls’ perfume clung to his collar long after she was gone. The glass in his hand almost slipped. Then the dizzy night began to rot.

The bass grew heavier, almost painful on his earbuds. Seungbin was already shouting at the DJ booth, voice gone hoarse as he jumped and screamed amongst the adults. Jinha’s laughter cracked into something uglier across the billiard table. The cue stick snapping against the floor, a few curses also echoed from an unknown guy. A clear sign of an argument had grew and might ended with fists.

Beneath Kyungjun’s consciousness, the crowd circled drastically, neon slicing through the smoke of violet ceiling. For a moment, the noises suddenly sounded wrong.

He pressed a palm against his temple where his pulse jumped. His cheek still burned from the lipstick mark - red bleeding into red. He rubbed it with the back of his palm until the skin turned raw.

Then he left. The club door burst open with a kick. Cold air knifed his neck as his head slumped against the brick wall. Breath hung white while the night smelled like metallic steel.

His fingers trembled when he reached for his phone as the new buzz came under the jacket. Despite longing for the girls he hadn’t texted back to seek more of his attention, it wasn’t one particular toy of his games who dug in.

It was the group class notification. He swiped the screen open, the preview was enough to slice the last thread of his night’s dignity:

“Guys, check Naver. Someone filmed today.”

“Those comments on the kick … holy shit!”

Kyungjun froze, the neon haze of the club still bleeding out behind. But the wind chewed through the burning pulse of his neck with an unfamiliar kind.

“@kyungjun, your name’s trending, bro.”

For the first time that night, he couldn’t hear any noise behind the wall. All he could process was the loud crack of a shoe clashing onto his throat.

-

Back last winter, white frost spread across the window pane like crispy ice cream. Inside Class 2-3, everything shimmered with excitement. Christmas garlands hung across the chalkboard, red and green shiny like a fairy had poured their magical pollen along the night where the city had slept. Santa’s origami mustache crumpled its curve on the teacher’s desk. This room was shaped like a big theater of a snow globe. At least, like a gift.

The teacher’s voice broke through the noise. “Everyone, you may already have heard about this!”

It had been the warmest topic along Yooil, about one of these days when the door finally slid open. The who, the where, and the how was all the main headline. But the first thing they sought wasn’t her answer. Firstly, it was her coat, though it was a heavy black one, sleek and city-like against the beige walls. Then, it was the baseball cap she removed, revealing a straight cut neatly at her collar.

It was also a smile. The curated Teletubbies face, effortlessly dazzling curves that reached her eyes.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Jung!” the teacher shouted like a music show. “Everyone, say hello to Jung Taerin!”

“Hi, all.” Sweet and crunchy with ice cubes in your tongue, her voice carried a soft scrape of iced tea. “Name’s Tae. If anybody takes the bus route to Hongdae-do, please befriend me. In need of a companion to walk home. Thanks, and … happy early Christmas, I guess?”

A few scattered chuckles fluttered around the room.

Even the teacher laughed. Her words weren’t particularly funny, but there was something magnetic in how easily she said them. Something that didn’t belong to this room yet somehow already did.

“Your seat,” said the teacher, pointing, “the empty one from the back. We always had an odd number for two years, happy to have somebody to make it even. Now continue to our last material …”

And from the middle, someone muttered, “Wait, no why and where did she mutate from?”

“Dude, where do you think we are? Junior year? Does her stories affect our mock test?”

“At least, she can tell us whether she’s single.”

The wide black coat swung in between the rows, her heels making a satisfying tap across the tiles, like someone who knew how to belong even before being accepted. The first boy who caught her eye was on her right desk. A dandy haircut, the quiet type whose uniform always looked freshly ironed, who sat like he was apologizing for existing.

“Hi,” Taerin caught his eye and smiled, setting the coat behind her chair. “Sorry in advance if my handwriting looks like a crime scene. I tend to write too fast when I’m nervous.”

Jin Dabum blinked, startled that someone had spoken to him at all. “Oh, um … it’s fine.”

Her grin broke wide. “Cool.”

And then, just for a second, she felt a faint pulse from the other side of Dabum. The boy by the window beside the snowy world. His head angled outside as chin balanced on one hand. Only the small reflection in the pane betrayed him, a flicker of his eyes, a stillness that didn’t quite match the rest of the noise.

She couldn’t see his full face, but it was enough to send a message.

Then a guy from her left side leaned a little closer. “So, new kid,” Heo Yeol said with a grin that belonged more to summer than winter, “you just moved here? Where from?”

Taerin blinked, caught between his energy. “Mapo-gu?”

“Okay, you have humor. You just mentined your bus route, duh, I mean your last … animal farm.”

Her giggles almost blared. “My farm? Just Hongdae High. Where else will I come? You hope for Cheongdam International? Sorry, I’m not born from a fictional books.”

A few students chuckled nearby. Their laugh came soft and light, like a snowflake outside the street. 

“That explains your aura.” Heo Yeol leaned back. “And no, Cheongdam won’t even look at us. But at least, we’re all open minded then.”

She shot back with a wide grin. The muffled laughter was still continued by Yeol’s sentence. By the window, someone’s pen clicked once. Then again.

He didn’t look up from his notebook, but his reflection in the glass twitched slightly, a shadowed glance toward her coat brushing the side of Dabum’s desk. Just enough for him to see the corner of her smile, the careless swing of her hand opening the notes.

The risk of smiling first in a new school was not bravery, it was a performance. On the second day, the air at Yooil never changed. Outside, the sunlight spilled through the wide glass catching the snow in syrupy golden flakes. But inside? A new hierarchy formed.

“Hey, Hongdae girl!” The voice cut through the hum of recess chatter. Sunlight caught her soft chestnut hair with undertones of gold. A tall presence with a thick pink coat smelled fruity of strawberry perfume and cherry hairspray. Swaying the rhythm of her movement, Taerin slowly lifted her chin.

“I’m Seonwa.” Her grin came with the sweet that made people look up, too bright like a hug. “You really said that thing yesterday? The bus route.”

Taerin blinked, covering her mouth with one hand. Attempted to hide the crawl of cherry blossom on her cheeks. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Seonwa giggled. “That was the most weird introduction we’ve ever had, in a good way. Everyone just spills their old school yada-yada and music as their favourite club. Boring.”

“Well, I figured I’d rather sound like a busway ambassador,” Taerin explained, “Maybe they can discount my carfare.”

“That’s it, I like you already.” It wasn’t forced or careful, they laughed with her whole shoulders. For a second, Taerin forgot what winter felt like.

“So, you take the route too?” The newcomer took the chance to process Seonwa's main intention. “The one that always died by Mapo Bridge.” 

“Yes, I almost forgot!” Seonwa gasped even though the answer was already clear, “We should totally go home together! You’ll love the stop near the park, there’s this tteokbokki truck that tastes like-”

Before they continue, “Sonnie, come on, you’ll miss the burgers again,” a voice floated.

A girl stood around the door, holding a cup of smoked coffee between her palms, her black hair tucked neatly behind her ears. The style that wasn’t shouted for attention, but calm enough to make people lower their voice without realizing it. Behind her, a boy ambled along, Kim Junhee.

He gave a polite nod when their eyes met, the same face from yesterday. “I’m the class president, nice to meet you. Can I have your ID to invite you to the group chat?” The most short and efficient introduction that disappears as soon as Taerin blinks.

“Oh right, Yoonie!” Seonwa called, her tone lifting again. “Girl, that’s Yoonseo and Junhee.”

She lowered herself towards the newcomer and whispered, “A little cute scandal of our class, I’ll spill more if you go with me!” Then bounced towards the couple. “I’m taking the Hongdae-bus girl home today!”

Yoonseo’s lips quivered with a smile. “Jung Taerin, right?” Taerin approved, caught off guard by how gentle her name sounded in the girl’s mouth.

“Well.” Yoonseo tilted her head toward the hallway, “If Seonwa doesn’t steal you anywhere, we’re heading to the cafeteria. You should come.”

“A little tour.” Junhee smiled beside her. “If you had no other business.”

It wasn’t an invitation, more like a simple inclusion. But it was enough to make her chest swell with something she silently had been missing deep for long.

By lunch, the cafeteria air was thick. For only two days, they traded stories about bad bus drivers. By the end of lunch, the class group chat had multiplied into two: the gossip chat and the homeworks. Seonwa tagged them on a selfie captioned, “New seatmate, new chaos,” with love and strawberry emoji.

By the end of the week, the classroom no longer felt like a stranger’s aquarium. Baek Eunha, all limbs and ponytail, tossed Taerin a ball to the court.

Well, Taerin missed her first shot. She could run, dodge, and grin back at whoever shouted her name, but every time the ball touched her hands, she forgot what to do with it. But at least, every time a class ended, Taerin's phone buzzed with new notifications.

More mutuals, more followers. A boomerang of her missed shot appeared from someone with a feed full of sports medals, Jang Hyunho, “Our new disaster,” thirty comments under an hour. She laughed, then reposted it.

By the middle December, her phone still buzzed until she lost count of the new followers. Almost all the third-years became mutual, a bunch of them just shared a hallway for two seconds, greetings with smile and decided it was friendship.

Almost everyone. Because some names stayed silent. She took it as the people that mattered more because they didn’t once bother to hit follow back.

@real.jinha
@s.seung
@kyung.go

Then the girls, three glossy icons that flooded every other comment, even on Seonwa and Yoonseo’s pages with emojis and cute laughs, but never hers.

@choimina.blue
@juyoung.official
@somi.kim

The untouchables of Yooil. She kept watching the glowing screen from her pillow. Their stories were constantly active in neon-lit Cheongdam malls, even after she hit the follow button. She knew one of the girls was the vice president along with Junhee. She, too, found out the name of the guy who sat beside Jin Dabum and immediately turned it off by checking his followings. Just a literal womanizer.

The sudden ache clenched her chest, while her back of head dizzy with a throbbing as she imagined how they would say, “Who are you?” if she ever bravely gets closer. Maybe they were that type of people? Maybe, they weren't see someone who takes a social media as a sign of friendship if they didn’t have a promising smile and glittering image?

Or maybe Taerin just made some mistake during their first impressions?

When her trembling thumb finally hit the gray button to turn blue again. She cut the connection after they didn’t give a chance to create one. No more useless “follow back” to silently wait under the frosting night anymore.

-

April’s morning peeled its way through the bus glass like an intruder. Ever since the winter ended, it wasn't the pink breeze found in the coming-of-age movies. It was the beams of business in their wake up hours. A kind of daylight that wasn't blessed, only full with clanks of construction noise and a crowded line of internship recruitment in front of an office door. A spring that was only a reminder of another corporate day.

The vehicle let out a grandfather’s exhausted hiss as Taerin’s legs wobbled onto the halt. She caught herself on a pillar. Barely. Even her vision was only filled with static screens. When the bus muffler left, it snorted a harsh smoke upon her body as she stumbled to avoid the attack of pollutants.

"That's her from yesterday ..."

"Oh, the boys fought them!"

The heat choked her throat as she coughed in the lump of smoke. She hadn't realized she'd been running too fast towards the gate until the pain on her ankle caught up. It still pulsed since last night, hot and private beneath her swallowed hoodie. And this clear morning hid nothing, not even the irony of the universe already hated her, not even the whispers of shame.

"No, she started it, Principal Yoo confirmed it."

“But, dude, did you see the video? Bet she thought she was in a movie or something.”

Okay, that one hit her.

What video? There was a video?

Someone had filmed it? Of course they did. But was the video viral already? She was missing in action completely with her phone on vacation in her bag. Now the boiling shame drowned her more than the speed of her pulse. At least not until a few more steps lead her through the gate. Come on, just a few more trees, just a few more cafes …

Just a crowd of teachers.

A punch striked faster than the construction steel clashed behind the street. There was a pack of officiants standing in front of the entrance. Three? Four? Too many and right in the middle, Ms. Choi Jieun, the woman of counseling. Maybe after her mouth goes wide and eyeballs almost slip out as she walked into a room fully empty without a smell of a student’s nose. Her big uncanny grin was wide like she was ready to pounce on something.

On someone.

Taerin lowered her head under the hoodie even further, biting her inner cheek so hard she could taste iron. But then she remembered. Exactly like a gentle slap of stone from a catapult: class president.

"I’ll tell you the one the alumni used," he had murmured, hushed in low as he snatched her wrist amongst the tables. Not soft with snow crisp like in early December when Taerin hangs out with the girls, but with the petals of sin filling the silence of their stares.

"Left wing around the food streets. No CCTV, no teacher was ever checked there. There's a giant pipe outside the wall that leads above the roof of a boy's toilet. You can climb down to the hallway outside."

"Wait what … so you have this pipe that I can climb towards some toilet roof?”

“Yes?”

“Then I gotta climb down 'inside' a guy's toilet first, before going out to the hallway safe and sound?"

"Yes."

That was the most regretful information she had ever got from bribing someone amongst her entire life.