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“Oh, man, you can’t be serious!”
Namgyu’s voice rang through the cramped discipline room, the place only troublemakers would end up in.
Namgyu wasn’t a troublemaker, at least, he swore to be. Sure, he’d broken a few rules here and there, like—skipping extracurricular activities with an excuse he had extra classes for Addmaths. He dropped Addmaths months ago.
But even so, that doesn’t qualify him as a troublemaker. Who would want to do marching for two hours straight in direct sunlight anyway? Not him.
And today, he got sent to the discipline room because of, well, his hair.
Occasionally, the school will hold a dress code checkup on the male students regarding their hair. If a student’s hair reaches their brows or nape—even just barely—they get sent straight to the discipline room.
And Namgyu was unfortunate enough to be one of those kids. But somehow, Minsu didn’t get sent for his hair reaching his brows, which was absolutely ridiculous to him!
Myunggi stared at Namgyu for a beat longer, with that solemn, unbothered look on his face. The look that Namgyu wants to rip off of his face.
Myunggi was one of the prefects there, and of course, he called out Namgyu as soon as the teacher announced the dress code checkup during assembly.
“Well, maybe you should’ve cut your hair sooner.” Myunggi said indifferently.
Namgyu just scoffed in response. “Then, how come Minsu didn’t get called?”
Myunggi shrugged, pouting slightly. “Beats me.”
“What do you mean beats you?” Namgyu stepped closer to Myunggi.
But Myunggi just kept calm, his arms remained crossed. “I’m just doing my job. Dress code checkup was held, your hair was a violation, you got sent here.”
“No, you got me sent here. There’s a difference.” Namgyu retorted.
Myunggi scoffed, amused by the way Namgyu talks. “Is this really how you talk to seniors?”
Namgyu paused for a second. It is true: Myunggi is a Form 5, while Namgyu is a Form 4. Older just by a year or even less.
It is also expected for juniors to pay respect to their seniors, especially senior prefects. But Myunggi doesn’t deserve his respect!
“Nah, man. Just you.” Namgyu said, as if challenging him.
Myunggi didn’t respond to the jab, he squinted his eyes and tilted his head slightly, eyes examining Namgyu’s hair.
“I mean, your case is different compared to Minsu’s. His hair only exceeds his eyebrows, while yours…” his voice trailed off. “Yours is more like a girl’s.”
Namgyu immediately took it as an insult, he brought his hand to his hair as if to shield it from Myunggi’s comments. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
Myunggi shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just, usually for someone like Minsu, we’d just trim the part that violates the dress code. But for you…”
He didn’t take his eyes off of Namgyu’s hair as he continued, “we’d chop the whole thing off.”
Namgyu’s eyes went wide in an instant, clutching his hair tighter, “Huh?!” he stepped back without realizing.
Before anything else, another prefect came into the scene, holding up a spare girls’ uniform that was hung on a hanger. “Here it is, Myunggi.”
Myunggi smiled. “Ah, great timing.” The prefect handed him the uniform before they walked out from the scene.
All while Namgyu was still clutching his hair, eyes still wide, face maybe turning a little red too.
Myunggi turned to Namgyu, a smirk now tugging at his lips. He extended the uniform toward Namgyu. “So, what do you say?”
Namgyu stared down at the uniform, the white long sleeved shirt paired with the sickeningly vivid blue skirt. In that very moment, he began questioning his dignity, heck—even his masculinity.
But getting his whole hair chopped off is another thing, and not to mention, it isn’t like his hair is going to be handled like it would at a barber. He isn’t going to give up his hair just like that!
Namgyu scoffed, but it sounded more like a breath that took effort to let out. “There’s no way you can make me,”
Myunggi’s brow raised, his grin wavering before he turned his head toward the door, and shouted, “Hey, can we get a pair of scissors in here?”
Namgyu was quick to intervene the request, flailing his hands. “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll wear, I’ll wear.”
Myunggi was more than pleased, it reads all over his face. He hands Namgyu the uniform.
Namgyu huffed comically. “You’ll pay for this, Myunggi.” as he started to head his way out.
It wasn’t until Myunggi called out to him. “Hey, wait. I think you’re forgetting something.”
Namgyu looked back, and saw a hair tie in Myunggi’s palm. At first, he didn’t respond, a confused expression on his face.
“What, you think girls don’t have hair dress code?” Myunggi almost wanted to burst into laughter, but retrained himself.
Namgyu quickly scoffed, and snatched the hair tie from Myunggi’s hand as he headed out. All while that stupid smirk lingered on Myunggi’s face.
He’s going to kill this guy.
To Namgyu’s surprise, the uniform fit him almost perfectly. Like it was made for him, but he quickly reminds himself this was probably intentional. Myunggi can go to hell with this uniform, maybe he can wear this uniform while he’s at it.
The long sleeved shirt has that same crisp feel to his actual uniform, which wasn’t so bad. Only a little tight on certain areas, and his movements became limited since it reached just above his knees.
Until he got to the skirt, now—it did covered his legs, from his waist to his ankles even. But even so, there was just something in his mind that told him this was violating his dignity, and quite clearly, it is.
There’s a zipper on the skirt, and at first, he had no idea which way it was supposed to face—his right, or his left. But eventually, he got the hang of it.
He stepped outside the stall of the changing room, and nearly jumped at the sight of his reflection in the mirror.
“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath, stepping closer to the mirror, his skirt swaying a little. “Absolutely insane.”
He reached for the hair tie Myunggi had given him—still incredibly annoyed by the memory of that stupid smirk on his face—and gathered his hair into a rough ponytail.
The tie snapped into place, and when he glanced at himself again, he could feel shame beginning to eat him alive.
Namgyu groaned softly, dropping his head into his hands, already questioning his decision and why he didn’t just go for chopping his whole hair off instead.
But after a long moment, he sighed and straightened his shoulders. Fine, whatever. He’ll wear it, he’ll survive it. He’d just have to endure another few hours and by then, he’s free, and finally be able to murder Myunggi.
Surprisingly, the first place Namgyu chose to go to wasn’t his class. He realized he wasn’t fully prepared when several students looked over their shoulders when he walked past them down the hallways.
At first, he thought of going to the bathroom, but then noticed there were students—seniors lounging just outside the entrance. He immediately walked to the opposite direction, not wanting to even picture their reactions if they saw him.
And eventually, he found himself outside the teachers’ lounge. The bulletin board had the usual listings of teachers who were absent that day.
He read closely through the names, silently hoping at least one of his teachers would be absent. He didn’t know why he was checking the absentee list anyway.
After learning none of his teachers were absent, he groaned lightly.
It was then he heard footsteps approaching. He froze, he glanced back at the list to make it seem like he was busy looking through the list, finger brushing against the paper.
“Namgyu?”
Namgyu flinched when he heard his own name, but was able to suppress it. When he slowly turned to look, Semi was standing there, dumbfounded.
Semi scoffed, the edges of her lips curling. “Namgyu! That is you!”
Namgyu quickly hushed her. “Shh! Don’t be so loud. People might hear you.”
Semi barely registered his words when she spoke again, “What’s up with your uniform today?” she teasingly asked as she scanned him, grin wider than ever.
“Shut…!” Namgyu brought his pointer finger to his lips, closing in the space between them with his eyes sharp and desperate.
“Ooh, wait, lemme guess, this is about the dress code checkup—”
“Semi.” Namgyu’s voice lowered as if warning her.
Semi only laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll shut up.”
Namgyu stepped back, tugging the sleeves of the uniform, recollecting himself. “What are you even doing here? I thought classes start half an hour ago.”
Semi pressed her lips together, a resigned smile. “I just got back from the bathroom. My first period teacher is absent today,” She glanced over at the absentee list and immediately knew where to point.
Her finger landed on Mr. Jungbae’s name. “see?”
Namgyu huffed. “Lucky. None of my teachers are absent today.”
Semi scrunched her nose lightly. “Not really, though. I have Addmaths afterwards.” groaning to herself now that she reminded herself.
“Well, good thing I dropped Addmaths.” Namgyu replied, a smug expression on his face.
Semi hummed, unimpressed. “Why did you even went for Accounting when you know you can’t carry Addmaths?”
Namgyu didn’t budge, flipping the question over to her. “Well, have you ever gotten two digits on an Addmaths paper before?”
“Actually, yeah, I have.” Semi said. “During our midterms. I got a 14.”
Namgyu almost wanted to laugh, but then recalled how much he’d gotten for Addmaths before he chose to drop it: “I got a 3.”
Semi nodded slowly, but then her grin surfaced again when she glanced down at Namgyu’s uniform. “But your uniform, though…” she ducked her head, her hand covering her mouth as if she was about to burst into laughter.
Namgyu whined, nudging her by her arm. “Stop it,”
“Hey,” Semi called out softly. “at least they didn’t make you wear a pinafore.” her eyes traveled down to Namgyu’s skirt as she continued, “Their skirts are shorter. Above the knee short.”
Namgyu immediately winced, shrinking himself, hands covering his front, as if Semi’s words alone would transform his skirt into a pinafore’s.
Semi let out a breath, like she was expecting that exact reaction. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I wear this type of uniform instead.”
She glanced down to her own uniform, the same one Namgyu was wearing—the white long sleeved shirt, the bright blue skirt that reached her ankles.
“We’re practically matching.” Semi said as she glanced back at him.
Namgyu hummed indifferently. “Yeah. Guess so,”
Semi smiled, something mischief flickered in her eyes. “And I like how you put your hair in a ponytail. Makes you look like a natural.”
Namgyu’s shoulders shot up immediately, ready to object. “Hey, they’re the ones who made me!”
Considering that Namgyu’s hair had layers—and maybe that he didn’t tie his hair properly—a few strands of hair fell over the sides of his face, framing his face to something more softer and gentler.
“Yeah. I know.” Semi said simply, still smiling. “But I just wonder what would Subong say if he sees this,”
Namgyu’s breath hitched. “No— no way. Don’t even think about it.” he immediately said, he shook his head so hard his ponytail swung.
He gripped the end of his sleeves automatically like it could shield him, genuine discomfort tightening his features.
Semi’s smile wavered when she realized she shouldn’t have joked about something like that.
A sigh slipped from Namgyu. “Y’know how I am with him.”
Semi nodded. “Yeah, my bad. So… what, you’re just gonna avoid him?”
He bit his lower lip. “Yeah. Seems like the best option.”
“So, you’re not gonna spend recess with us?” Semi asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
Namgyu didn’t answer immediately, his eyes wandered elsewhere, anywhere but her eyes. Then, quietly, “We’ll see first.”
A few seconds passed, enough for the embarrassment to settle on him again. He tugged lightly at the base of his shirt, trying to make the uniform less noticeable on his body.
“We… should get to class,” he mumbled, already stepping back. “I don’t wanna be late.”
Semi’s brows lifted for a mere second. “You? Worried about being late? Since when?”
“Since now,” he muttered, already turning, clearly ready to escape before anyone else caught sight of him.
Semi hummed, not fully convinced. “How about I’ll walk you to your class?” she moved to his side before he could walk away.
“Huh? Eh, no— you don’t have to. Our classes are, like, on different blocks.”
“Then so be it. I don’t mind.” Semi said, shrugging. “I promise, I’ll glare at anyone that tries to give you weird looks.”
Namgyu didn’t answer, didn’t protest. He just scoffed despite feeling a little touched. “…Whatever,”
“Also,” she added, tugging him gently forward, “I’ll teach you how to not look so out of place. And maybe you could say hi to Junhee for me as payback.” she could feel herself smiling after that last bit.
Namgyu narrowed his eyes at Semi. Junhee was in the same class as him, and Semi always asked him to give her updates on Junhee instead of actually talking to her herself.
Namgyu didn’t mind Junhee. He just didn’t like how she’s connected to stupid, stupid Myunggi. She’s his girlfriend.
“What if I don’t want you to teach me anything?” Namgyu deadpanned, lifting a brow as if he genuinely believed that would get him out of it.
“Then don’t come whining to me about how uncomfortable your uniform is,” Semi shot back without missing a beat.
Namgyu looked away, then muttered, “…Fine.”
And Semi’s smile broadened instantly. “Thought so.”
As expected, by the time Namgyu and Semi reached his classroom, his heart was thudding loud, to the point he couldn’t fully absorb Semi’s instructions.
He only was able to catch a few of it—lift his shirt just slightly when he sits down to avoid stiffness, adjust his skirt when he does so to avoid showing things he didn’t want to, and all of the above.
And unsurprisingly, just when he stood by the door and knocked lightly to alert the class inside, the entire room erupted. A full roar of laughter, sharp enough to sting.
Namgyu glanced over to Junhee across the room, only to catch her hiding a smile behind her hand.
And that was the moment he learned Myunggi wasn’t the only person he disliked in this school. So much for saying hi to her for Semi. Screw that. Screw this. Screw everyone.
He tried everything Semi taught him. But it just seemed to make things worse.
According to his classmates, it made him look like he’d done this a thousand times before. And he tried to laugh along, act unbothered, force himself to focus on the lessons.
But the humiliation clung to him, growing heavier with each passing minute.
When recess finally rolled in, things didn’t get any better.
By then, news about him wearing the girls’ uniform had already spread like wildfire across his entire block. All it took was one person whispering about it in the hallway and suddenly everyone in his batch seemed to know—even Minsu and Gyeongsu.
He swore he saw a few girls walk past his class, glancing over their shoulders with smiles they didn’t even bother hiding.
Despite all this, he was still brave enough to show his face at the canteen. He didn’t know why himself.
He stepped in with his head lowered, hoping desperately that if he made himself small enough, he could blend into the crowd. Maybe, if the universe was kind for once, everyone would just assume he was another female student and move on.
The canteen was packed; loud, and chaotic, for a moment, Namgyu could almost ignore the humiliating swish of his skirt as he joined the queue.
He kept his eyes glued to the floor, just focusing on getting lunch and getting out.
He didn’t even notice the group of dudes standing behind him. But they noticed him.
“Oi, chick! Get back to the end of the line!”
Namgyu pretended he didn’t hear them at first, inching forward with the line. The chatter around him was loud enough that he could almost disappear into it, until the voice behind him spoke again.
“…Is this chick deaf or what? Oi!”
Namgyu ignored it. He shifted another step forward with the line, eyes stuck on the crowd in front, pretending the voices behind him weren’t bothering him.
A light tap came to his shoulder. He stiffened but didn’t turn. He could feel a couple students glance over, curiosity flicking.
“Eh,” the guy muttered, sounding annoyed now. “don’t try to act blur.”
While Namgyu continued pretending the world didn’t exist, the dude finally reached out—fingers hooking into Namgyu’s ponytail and giving it a small yank.
A few of his friends winced on instinct.
“Bro…” one of them muttered. “You don’t just pull a girl’s hair—”
“Then how else am I supposed to get her attention?” the first guy shot back, but his voice had already its confidence.
Namgyu’s breath stilled. The annoyance spiked before he remembered what he was wearing. He spun around and snapped, “What?!”
The guy who’d been mouthing off actually jumped back. For a split second he looked like he’d seen a ghost—expecting a girl, but getting Namgyu’s face instead.
“Wha— Namgyu?!”
Namgyu was so quick to realize the group behind him weren’t just guys—they were seniors. The moment their voices rose, heads turned.
A few other Form 4’s craned their necks. Some pretended not to stare and kept glancing anyway, eyes flicking between Namgyu’s uniform and the group behind him.
And in seconds, he wasn’t invisible anymore.
The seniors practically gawked at Namgyu and his uniform, one of them stepped closer. “Namgyu! I would’ve known it was you,”
They all had grins on their faces, maybe laughing too. Namgyu wasn’t sure if they were genuinely relieved he wasn’t a girl they messed with, or were just making fun of him.
“That’s what you get for having hair like a girl’s,” one of them said, smirking. “Now Subong’s got himself a lady-boy.”
Namgyu’s stiffened at the mention of Subong’s name.
Everyone in his batch—and Subong’s batch too—knew about their little arrangement.
He was Subong’s favorite junior. The one who’d volunteer to keep watch outside the bathroom while Subong ‘handled business’ with his vape. And Namgyu would take a few hits himself as payback.
It was weird, and also a little unfair, but it’s in their nature—at least, that was what Subong told him.
Namgyu exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered, “Y’know what, you can go in front. I’m not hungry anyway.”
Before they could react, he stepped out of the line, quick and stiff, the humiliation burning too hot to stay still. He just wanted out. Out of the line, out of their voices, out of the eyes staring at him.
He walked a little too quickly, wasn’t aware where he was going and bumped straight into someone.
A soft gasp followed. “Oh— Namgyu,”
His stomach instantly dropped.
His English teacher, Ms. Hyunju, blinked at him, eyes widening a little as she took in his uniform, his flushed face, the ponytail.
“Teacher! Hi…” Namgyu tried to smile, hunching himself low.
“I barely recognized you,” she said, her voice concerned. “What— why are you—”
“I have somewhere to be!” Namgyu blurted. He didn’t wait for her reply. He slipped past her, practically fleeing the canteen, aware of every pair of eyes trailing him until he was out of sight.
Namgyu didn’t stop walking until he reached the small gazebo near the canteen—the wooden shelter tucked behind the staircase, narrowly hidden from view. It wasn’t exactly isolated, but if you sat in the right spot, people tended to forget you were there.
There were two gazebos on campus—one for the guys and another for the girls—and of course, the one he ended up at was the girls’. It fit the humiliation ritual almost seamlessly for his liking.
Not that he had a choice anyway. The guys’ gazebo on the far side was packed and he wasn’t about to endure another round of stares.
He settled onto the edge of the gazebo, grateful for the partial cover, grateful to be able to breathe for a moment.
It didn’t take long before he tugged his shoes off, slipping further into the gazebo as he brought his knees up, hugging them lightly.
All while he still hadn’t eaten anything. He was starving, he barely had anything before he arrived to school.
It wasn’t until he heard footsteps approaching. His head shot up automatically.
He looked to his side, and saw Daeho standing a few feet away, holding a small plastic bag of chicken nuggets in one hand and a juice box in the other.
Namgyu instinctively dropped his legs back down by the sight of him. “Daeho. Hey,”
Daeho was a senior—Form 5. As well as one of the most respected prefects in the school, a Science Stream kid at that.
“Namgyu.” A chuckle slipped from Daeho before he could stop it, “Your uniform…” his eyes dropped to Namgyu’s skirt.
Namgyu looked away, jaw tightening when that was the first thing Daeho noticed. “If you’re just gonna laugh at me, you can go.”
He didn’t mean to sound rude, but he was already sick of everyone commenting on his uniform first thing.
Daeho’s face drooped almost instantly, he swallowed, trying to rephrase his approach. “What’re you doing here all alone?”
Namgyu let out a humorless chuckle and shot him a quick glance. “What do you think?”
“Well…” Daeho drawled, stepping closer but choosing not to sit. “I would wanna answer that, but I’m scared you’ll shut me out again.”
The words hung in the air—light, teasing, but careful.
Namgyu’s eyes flicked to him again, registering the attempt at teasing, but he didn’t respond.
He stared down at his feet, he didn’t bother putting his shoes back on. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be hanging with your prefect buddies?”
Daeho shrugged lightly. “I think they don’t mind me ditching them for a day.”
He finally lowered himself and sat down, leaving one respectful gap between them. “Because I can see that you’ve ditched your friends too.”
Namgyu’s shoulders slumped, “Yeah.” he breathed. “I just… didn’t want Subong to see me. Like this.”
Daeho shifted slightly, glancing at him. “Oh? Subong?”
“Yeah.” Namgyu muttered, as if it wasn’t already obvious. “He… probably wouldn’t want to be around me anymore if he did.”
Daeho squinted his eyes, tilting his head. “You care that much about what he thinks?”
“Duh.” Namgyu said, forcing a smile though it wavered quickly. “He’s my senior. We’ve been friends since I was, like, in Form 2.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The muffled shouts from the canteen felt distant from here, like they belonged to another world entirely.
Daeho’s fingers brushed against the plastic of his food, lingering there for a few seconds like he was silently contemplating something. Then he set it down between them, and nudged it lightly toward Namgyu.
“Here.” he said quietly. “Thought that you might be hungry.”
Namgyu stared at it for a beat, then blinked. “Eh, you’re not gonna eat?” He glanced up at Daeho.
“Oh, no, I already ate.” Daeho reassured, waving a hand. “But… I figured you wouldn’t wanna go back to the canteen looking like that.”
Namgyu let out a short, breathy chuckle—one that wasn’t even because anything was funny, but because he was exhausted. “Yeah. No kidding.”
He pushed a nugget out halfway and took a bite. He laid his eyes ahead to see a girl approaching, and he quickly ducked his head, strands of hair covering his face.
Daeho noticed and glanced at the girl as well. Considering Daeho’s popularity with female students, the girl bowed in a sheepish manner, while Daeho just smiled at her.
When the girl continued walking past them, Daeho and Namgyu’s eyes trailed her until she was out of sight. And unintentionally, Namgyu glanced back at Daeho, but immediately directed his gaze elsewhere.
Silence accompanied them while Namgyu took another bite. Daeho watched him for a few seconds, then leaned on his palms, thinking.
“You know…” Daeho began. “this isn’t the first time someone got humiliated like this.”
Namgyu glanced at him briefly, intrigued, and for a heartbeat, he’d hoped it was Myunggi. “Yeah? Who?”
Daeho huffed a tiny laugh. “Me.”
Namgyu blinked. “You?” he echoed. “Seriously? Even a prefect like you?”
“Yeah.” Daeho nodded, a faint, resigned smile tugged at his lips. “It was, like, last year. Our discipline teacher saw my hair and I tried the prefect excuse, but all he said was—”
Daeho abruptly stopped and cleared his throat, mimicking Mr. Inho’s stern-as-always voice. “‘All rules apply to every student, whether they’re a prefect or not.’”
A real laugh escaped Namgyu then—tiny but genuine. “You sound just like him!” He lightly nudged Daeho by his arm. “So, what happened then?”
Daeho’s nose scrunched in faux awe, “Oh, where should I even begin?” his grin widened. “A lot of people laughed, that’s for sure. But… that day was also when my class dissected a frog for Bio. So that means almost all my classmates brought their phones to take pictures.”
Namgyu stared at him in disbelief, “So then, they—” not even daring to finish Daeho’s story.
“Yup, they all took pictures of me in the girls’ uniform.” Daeho deadpanned, an embarrassed smile on his face.
Namgyu’s smile drooped a bit. “That’s awful.”
Daeho nodded, “It is.” he said simply. “I think I have flipped off the camera a few times.” a chuckle escaped from him when he recalled. “My classmates had probably made Whatsapp stickers of me after that.”
Namgyu’s smile had almost disappeared. “Dude…” he drawled, shaking his head. “This whole thing is literally just promoting bullying.”
Daeho’s smile wavered as well, but didn’t completely fell. “It is.” he said again.
Namgyu tilted his head downward. “But still, I would lowkey pay money to see one of the stickers.” his voice was laced with somewhere between tease and curiosity.
“No, don’t.” Daeho immediately said, his smile reappearing. “I looked terrible. Worse than you.”
Namgyu scoffed. “Liar.”
“It’s true, though.” Daeho pushed. “At least you look like an actual girl, while I… I don’t think I even managed to pull it off.”
“Hey,” Namgyu called out firm enough to make Daeho stop. “don’t put yourself down so hard. I would’ve probably done the same thing if I saw you that day.” he gestured to the chicken nuggets Daeho had bought him.
Daeho squinted his eyes. “Where were you that day actually?”
Namgyu paused, trying to recall. “…Dunno. Maybe I didn’t come that day.”
Daeho pressed his lips together in resignation. “Figured.”
“But my point is,” Daeho continued. “I know how shitty it feels. Surprisingly I survived, and I believe you will too.”
Namgyu’s eyes lingered on Daeho, then slowly just smiled. And somehow, that was more than enough for a response.
Daeho gestured the juice box toward Namgyu. “Here. Have this too.”
“…Thanks,” Namgyu muttered between bites.
Silence accompanied them again. Until Daeho checked the time on his watch, then lifted his eyes. “Oh— recess ended a minute ago.” Realizing he should’ve been the one to notice earlier.
Namgyu stiffened for a second, the small plastic bag of nuggets still in his hand. “Wait, now? As in now?”
Namgyu groaned, genuinely worried. “I haven’t finished eating yet…” He reached down to put back on his shoes.
“Hey, relax.” Daeho assured, voice casual. “Just take those with you.”
Namgyu blinked. “Huh? You can’t bring food upstairs. Everyone knows that.”
“You can’t,” Daeho corrected gently, “but I can.”
He stood, dusting off his pants. “I’m a prefect. If anyone stops you, I’ll just say I gave you permission.”
Namgyu stared at him, uncertain. “Seriously? What if another prefect catches me?”
Daeho shrugged with a quiet confidence that made it seem like the simplest thing in the world. “Then it’s on me. Not you.”
Namgyu’s breath stuttered a little. “Why’re you suddenly so nice to me?”
Daeho smiled, small but warm. “Because you look like you’ve had enough punishment for one day.”
That shut Namgyu up instantly.
He gathered the juice box and the small plastic bag of nuggets—hesitant at first, like he was accepting something bigger than food. “…Thanks, again.”
“Come on,” Daeho said, already walking ahead but slowing his pace for him. “I’ll walk you halfway. If anyone tries to stop you, just stand behind me.”
For a second, Namgyu just stayed silent, almost speechless, but complied anyway, trailing behind him as they both walked up the stairs.
And from that moment on, Namgyu had considered that maybe—prefects weren’t all so bad, except for Myunggi still.
But he knew one thing after that: Daeho had earned his respect as his senior.