Their gaze is alive. If not, there’s no way it would be choking me this vividly. No one is looking at me, yet at the same time, everyone is.
This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.
In other words, since yesterday, I’ve become a clown. The protagonist of a play performed in this small, square classroom for the amusement of thirty people. Of course, my play ends in tragedy. Unfortunately, I don’t have a Demian to protect me.
The biggest sign that the atmosphere had shifted so aggressively was Park Haon and Im Yoonki.
I saw it coming. That’s why, when I entered the classroom and sat down, I deliberately didn’t greet them first.
“......”
Before sitting, I looked down at the two of them. Do they have eyes in the backs of their heads? Because it definitely felt like they were looking at me. Eventually, Park Haon turned first and greeted me. Im Yoonki followed, sneaking a glance in my direction.
"Hey."
"Yeah. Hey."
A short greeting. Only then could I sit down.
Still, the two of them occasionally turned their heads and spoke to me during break time. Most of it was trivial, pointless chatter. Just like always. But I could feel a subtle wall between us, and that made it painfully clear—they were keeping their distance from me.
Ironically, the one who started talking to me more actively was Oh Yeonjun.
Oh Yeonjun kept turning around to look at me. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then, more than once, his gaze flickered toward the back of the classroom before hastily snapping forward again.
"...Idiot."
At first, I wondered why he kept glancing back. But realization didn’t come too late.
The very back of the classroom—that was Go Yohan’s seat.
"Pathetic bastard."
I muttered a curse under my breath, quiet enough that no one could hear. Jealousy burned hot inside me.
Go Yohan was born to be loved, born to look down from above.
Of the three siblings, he was the one who took after his father the most. There are certain genetic traits you just can’t overcome. Go Yohan resembled his father. Maybe that’s why people always flocked to him. Most wanted to be close to him.
Truthfully, there were plenty who envied Go Yohan. Most of them were jealous of his privileges. But I might have been the only one who hated him from the moment I saw him, for no reason at all.
Even Han Junwoo liked Go Yohan, didn’t he? That was the kind of inexplicable charm Go Yohan had.
Even so, I thought I had the upper hand in this class. I believed that being ranked first in the school could be a kind of power here. No—I was certain of it.
But it took me too long to realize that being first in the school was no different from being a target. Because I had never been first before.
Unlike Go Yohan, I was cursed with bad luck when it came to people. And that result had manifested itself completely today.
Why do the kids love Go Yohan, who ranks at the bottom of the class?
Go Yohan had done nothing in this classroom. He never tried to form a group, never made fun of a teacher, never picked a target to bully.
And yet, Go Yohan had become the protagonist of this class. Unlike me, his play was a comedy.
Go Yohan never cared about what others thought. He could rip open a bag of chips with a loud crinkle and munch obnoxiously without being hated. And yet, somehow, he naturally sat at the very top.
Just as a creeping sense of inferiority took hold of me—Go Yohan moved. And my play began.
A loud screech rang out as a metal chair scraped against the floor. Of course, the noise came from the very back. In an atmosphere like this, the only one who could be so disruptive was Go Yohan.
Then, I heard footsteps. I heard people shifting away. The footsteps stopped diagonally in front of me.
I already knew who the source of the commotion was, so I didn’t lift my head. I absolutely didn’t want to. But hearing was something I couldn’t control.
"What are you doing?"
He wasn’t talking to me. I knew that because Im Yoonki, seated in front of me, stammered in response.
"Huh? Uh..."
"Can you move?"
Through my blurry vision, I saw Go Yohan’s hand. The rosary was still there. A hand wearing a rosary, shoved casually into the pocket of his uniform pants.
I lowered my head further, pretending to study.
"Oh, uh! Sorry. Here, take the seat."
"Thanks."
What kind of position makes someone apologize for giving up their own seat?
And what kind of position allows someone to take that seat and receive an apology in return?
Go Yohan sat down in Im Yoonki’s chair, resting both arms on my desk. But he wasn’t done yet.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
A rustling sound. Someone moving hurriedly. All I could see was the shadow cast over my worksheet.
Go Yohan’s quiet voice dropped even lower.
"I need to talk to Kang Jun."
"Oh, sorry! Go ahead."
The chair scraped loudly again. A chilling, grating noise against the floor. Then I heard Park Haon and Im Yoonki’s footsteps trailing down the hallway, dragging slightly as if they were reluctant to leave.
At last, no one was around me.
Only then did Go Yohan finally speak to me.
"Kang Jun."
Kang Jun. My chest caved in.
Did he really have to say it like that?
My throat was tight, and no words came out. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, crushed under such a heavy weight.
I didn’t answer. I scratched at my paper with my mechanical pencil instead.
"......."
When I didn’t respond, Go Yohan’s shadow loomed larger over my desk.
His warmth brushed against my ear, and he whispered softly, almost tenderly.
"Look at me."
"......."
I was nothing but a dog. A dog of hierarchy.
Why, even in a moment like this, did I have to obey?
Yet, like Pavlov’s dog, my head lifted on its own.
Even then, I didn’t want to look at Go Yohan, so my gaze stayed down.
The area beneath my eyes started throbbing. Hot, painful.
Go Yohan straightened up with a satisfied expression.
His hands clasped together on my desk.
Then, he spoke again.
"Kang Jun, what are you doing?"
If someone repeats the same question twice, it means they’re demanding an answer.
"...Solving a problem."
"Ah—"
Go Yohan twisted slightly. His gaze shifted toward the middle of the classroom.
Then, as if genuinely curious, he spoke—not to anyone in particular, but to the whole class.
"Hey, guys. Did I do something?"
"No?"
A voice answered from somewhere, thick with interest.
"Then why... is everyone staring at me?"
But Go Yohan never gives people the answers they want.
Tipping his head to the side, he pointed at himself.
Then, his next words were unmistakably a command.
"I don’t want to be looked at."
A short laugh burst out. Ha.
Even in that moment, I kept my eyes down and stared at my desk in silence. Go Yohan’s body, which had been turned toward me, shifted back to its original position.
Clink.
His rosary hit the desk.
"Kang Jun. I have something I want to ask you. Can you answer me?"
"......Yeah."
Like hell you’d let it go if I didn’t. I tried my best to keep the tremor out of my voice as I responded.
"Who do you eat lunch with these days?"
"Why do you care?"
"Kang Jun. You said you’d answer me, didn’t you?"
Fuck. My grip on my mechanical pencil tightened. Fuck, fuck.
"......I—I eat alone...."
"Oh, really?"
His tone suddenly turned ridiculously bright. Then he chuckled to himself—out loud, blatantly. A mocking laugh, dripping with condescension. A moment later, he covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to suppress it, waving the other hand in the air as if to excuse himself.
"No, no. I wasn’t laughing. It’s just, I haven’t eaten with you in so long, and I feel kind of left out, you know?"
"I told you. My foot hurts, my hand’s messed up, and I don’t have enough time to study, so I can’t go to the cafeteria."
A blatant lie.
I had no choice but to lie.
Because Go Yohan was crushing me underfoot.
Told them not to look? As if that would stop them from watching. I could hear them whispering, their excitement practically tangible. My pathetic pride refused to die, no matter how much I wanted it to.
"Oh?"
"......."
I gripped my mechanical pencil so hard it felt like it might snap, but I still managed to keep a fairly blank expression. My nineteen years of pretending were still intact.
But Go Yohan, who had made a hobby out of tormenting others, trampled all over my expectations.
"When did you ever say that?"
"......Before. When I first got hurt."
"No way, I’ve never heard that before."
Go Yohan covered his mouth and smirked.
"What the hell? That’s the first time I’m hearing it. Don’t lie."
"Maybe you just don’t remember?"
My frustration boiled over. If I couldn’t defend myself, I had to attack. The best defense is a good offense.
"And aren’t you way better at lying than me? Lying’s basically your hobby, isn’t it?"
"Exactly. So if you’re gonna do it, at least do it well. You’re way too obvious."
"I wasn’t lying. You just don’t remember. But fine, I’ll say it again—I’m busy."
"An unnoticed lie is harmless, but an obvious lie is a crime."
Go Yohan twisted his shoulders in a playful shrug and continued.
"You’re guilty."
Then, once again, he covered his mouth and laughed.
Does he really find this fun?
Fucking bastard.
My eyes burned. My hand shook as I clenched my mechanical pencil.
But unlike me, Go Yohan was perfectly relaxed. He reached out and ruffled my hair.
"From now on, I’ll buy your lunch, so just eat that. Don’t eat weird stuff, okay?"
"......."
"Say ‘okay.’"
His hand remained soft as he stroked my hair.
I kept staring at the floor. My throat tightened, forcing me to swallow, but it felt like I was swallowing down my words instead.
I had to drag my response out from the farthest, most hidden corner of my mind.
"I don’t want to."
"......."
The hand stroking my hair came to an abrupt halt.
Go Yohan, who had been smiling so smugly, turned cold.
The hand that had been shaking my head slid slowly down, tracing the curve of my ear before reaching my cheek.
I flinched when his fingers brushed the edge of my ear, and he deliberately circled back, his fingertips grazing my skin.
I dropped my free hand to my thigh and gripped it hard.
Fuck. Fucking bastard.
Go Yohan’s hand finally settled on my cheek. Then, he slapped me lightly.
Somewhere between a joke and something real. Just enough to hurt.
"Do you really have to say it like that?"
"......."
"That stings, you know."
The one actually hurting me was him.
I refused to respond.
Instead, I lowered my head again and stared at my useless worksheet, pretending to focus. Scribbling circles around numbers, drawing lines under letters.
Go Yohan sat there for a long time, watching, thinking, unmoving.
Then, out of nowhere, he shot up from his seat and stormed out of the classroom.
The door slammed shut with enough force to shake the windows.
My eyes shut tight in reflex.
The classroom remained silent until the next break.
I held back the overwhelming emotions with everything I had. It wasn’t until the other kids lost interest in the brief spectacle that I finally escaped to the bathroom.
The closer I got to that damp, secluded space, the faster my steps became.
As soon as I swung the stall door open, I hastily locked the latch.
Then, I sank to the floor.
"......Ugh."
I wiped my tears away silently.
It was over for me.
After Go Yohan left the classroom, not a single person asked me if I was okay.
Instead, when he returned, a few kids immediately gathered around him.
"What happened?"
"Hey, why’s the mood so weird?"
The moment I heard those words, I knew.
I really was finished.
"......Hhng."
Crouched in the corner of the bathroom, I choked back my sobs.
But I let the tears fall freely.
I didn’t wipe them away, afraid that rubbing my face would make it swell—afraid that it would be obvious that I had been crying.