“I’m... not that close to Na Seungwoon,” Junyoung replied.
It was the first time anything like this had happened to her, and hearing that Seungwoon had been talking about her left her completely rattled. Before he could say anything in response, the woman stepped in.
“What do you like to eat? I’m not much of a cook, but luckily, we have someone at home who’s quite skilled. I’m sure they can make something to your taste.”
“No, I...”
“How about 12:30? If you come near Mideum Church, you’ll see our house. If it’s too far, should I send a car to pick you up?”
Junyoung quickly shook her head. Whatever car she meant, it certainly wasn’t the kind you drink.
“No, it’s fine,” she said hurriedly.
“Then I’ll see you at 12:30 on Saturday.”
The woman smiled warmly, patting her son’s shoulder a couple of times before walking off, the sound of her heels echoing through the hallway. Junyoung let out a small sigh and turned to Seungwoon. He met her gaze with a stiff smile.
“Sorry about that. My mom’s kind of... how do I put it? She does her own thing.”
No, that’s not “doing your own thing.”
Junyoung couldn’t agree with his phrasing. People who did their own thing simply followed their preferences. His mother didn’t just follow her own path; she created an entirely new one that bent everyone else to her will.
Junyoung took a deep breath and lowered her voice to a whisper.
“I can’t just show up at your house without a reason. Please apologize to your mom for me...”
“But you were invited,” Seungwoon interrupted urgently, as if afraid she might refuse.
Junyoung looked at him, a bit startled by his reaction. He cleared his throat awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.
“There’s a reason, you know,” he muttered.
His embarrassed expression brought back the woman’s earlier words: He keeps going on about you, Yoon Junyoung this, Yoon Junyoung that.
Junyoung didn’t know exactly what that meant, but the mere thought that Seungwoon had been talking about her at home made her face feel hot.
“Then, see you on Saturday,” he said quickly before she could respond. “I’ll wait for you in front of the church.”
Before Junyoung could say anything else, Seungwoon turned and walked away.
“Wait—” she started, but he was already gone.
Only then did she notice some of the students around her whispering as they glanced her way.
Great.
She could already imagine them running off to spread the story to their friends. By the end of the day, the whole school would probably know. Of course, Oh Hye Soo would hear about it, too. Even if she spent most of her time sleeping through life, she was always alert when it came to gossip.
Not that it matters if Kwon Beomjin hears or not. It’s not like it’s any of my business.
Junyoung sighed heavily, her thoughts tangled in a knot. Originally, she had planned to go to the abandoned house to study over the weekend. But since it was almost certain that Kwon Beomjin would be there, maybe it was better to avoid the place entirely for now.
I’m not ready to face him yet.
Her complicated thoughts weighed on her as she let out a long, deep breath. She wondered if the woman had invited her just because of the comment she’d made about the gymnasium. The thought brought on a sudden headache.
***
“Did you hear? Seungwoon’s mom invited Yoon Junyoung to their house.”
“Kyunghee said she heard it herself. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Why? Why did she invite her?”
“She didn’t hear everything, but according to Kyunghee...”
They probably thought they were whispering discreetly, but Beomjin’s hearing was sharp. His father always said his keen senses were extraordinary, and from a young age, both his sight and hearing had been exceptionally acute.
Even if he had actually been asleep, their chatter was loud enough to wake him. But with his eyes closed, it felt as if he were surrounded by a surround sound system blaring every word.
Clicking his tongue softly, Beomjin sat up, ruffling his messy hair. The instant he moved, a wave of silence rippled outward, the attention shifting to him. He frowned as his fingers brushed against a fresh wound from yesterday.
If Mom’s heavy hands are any indicator, I’d better avoid giving Yoon Junyoung a reason to swing hers. She does have a temper.
Lost in his thoughts, he caught sight of a figure walking past. He didn’t need to see her face to know who it was. After all, there was only one person in the entire school—probably the entire town—who would wear such a perfectly pressed sky-blue polo shirt.
Na Seungwoon’s mom invited Yoon Junyoung to her house? Why? And what was she even doing at school in the first place?
He could have stopped someone and easily found out the details with just a word, but Beomjin chose not to. Drawing unnecessary attention wasn’t his style.
After a moment, familiar footsteps approached behind him. There was a brief hesitation before they passed by. His gaze followed the swish of her neatly tied long hair as it shimmered under the light.
Junyoung sat at her desk and picked up her pen, immediately focusing on her notebook.
Beomjin liked watching her study. There was something special about the air around her during those moments.
The room would fall silent as if the world itself paused to watch her. Everything seemed to settle, calm and still. In the center of it all was Junyoung, her pen moving irregularly, her eyes glinting with focus, the sound of her pen scratching softly on paper.
It wasn’t hard for him to notice that she was distracted today. Her thin shoulders were slightly hunched, and her movements were uncharacteristically restless.
She scratched her forehead and ear with her pen and fidgeted with the edge of her desk and the hem of her shirt.
Beomjin smiled faintly, propping his chin on his hand. It was like watching a favorite scene in one of his films.
Yoon Junyoung is special. She’s the only one who keeps me from feeling lonely.
A life spent hiding was stifling beyond words, especially when there was no end in sight. In the midst of his monotonous, suffocating existence, Junyoung had become his sole source of intrigue.
In this town, she was more well-known than she realized. While it wasn’t the kind of village where everyone knew everyone’s business, there was still some exchange of gossip. Even so, Junyoung and her family remained outsiders, never mingling with the locals.
That was the adults’ business. School was much simpler. Junyoung was beautiful, smart, and stood out. Yet, she didn’t have a single close friend.
Curious classmates who tried to approach her had been turned away with cold indifference. It was as if she deliberately chose to isolate herself, an island separated from the rest of the world.
To say she was entirely blameless wouldn’t be accurate. Her gaze and demeanor made people feel dismissed, whether she intended it or not.
Had she been a bit more savvy, she could have easily drawn admirers instead of pushing them away. But as the math teacher once said, it seemed Junyoung had no interest in forming connections here.
To her, everyone here is temporary, people she’ll never see again after she moves on. She probably thinks they live in a different world than hers.
No one could have guessed that Junyoung carried more than just the burden of poverty shared by many in the area. She never let it show.
Beomjin had always been aware of her from a distance, but his curiosity grew when they ended up in the same class, and she sat in front of him.
At first, it was fascination. No matter how many times he saw her, she always sat upright, her posture perfect, her pen moving methodically as she studied.
Does she really enjoy studying that much? Could it actually be fun for her? Maybe she’s lived here so long that her mind snapped, and solving problems feels like playing a game to her.
Or... does she think of it as her lifeline?
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Watching her from behind, he learned more than he expected. One thing he noticed was how her gaze often drifted toward the direction where Na Seungwoon sat.
It was disappointing in a way. For a moment, he thought she might be just like the other girls, swooning over the so-called “prince.” Yet, when he saw her treat Seungwoon with the same frosty indifference she showed everyone else, he couldn’t help but smirk.
That had been the extent of it—until the day he woke up to find her familiar silhouette in his hideout.
The memory of Junyoung’s shocked face when she first noticed him always made him chuckle. Her usually composed, serene features had been completely thrown off, her expression one of pure panic, as if her entire world had been upended.
Despite her tense posture, her unwavering gaze stood out to him. She quickly regained her composure, her pale face practically glowing with confidence as she boldly confronted him.
Normally, his first instinct would have been to kick her out, regardless of whether she had her sights on his bed or not. Beomjin didn’t like sharing his space with anyone.
But with Junyoung, it was different. He liked watching her. He had no reason to give up the chance to spend more time with her.
Their secret interactions at the abandoned house were the only times he felt he could act like a normal high schooler.
...But how do I fix this?
Beomjin tilted his head, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.
If it were his fault, it would be easier. What made it difficult was that no one was at fault—not really.
The fact that she was avoiding him, of all people, bothered him. But knowing it was because she had revealed something she wanted to hide made him hesitant to approach her.
Junyoung, who had refused to go home despite her fever.
Junyoung, who instinctively shielded herself from blows as if she had done it countless times before.
Junyoung, who screamed at her mother, then ran off, teeth clenched.
That proud girl must feel like crawling into a hole right now.
“Why did it have to be me who saw that?”
He muttered under his breath, his teeth clenched. A classmate sitting in front of him flinched and turned around nervously. The boy’s unease only deepened when he saw Beomjin’s furrowed brows.
Beomjin ignored him, his gaze fixed on Junyoung’s back.
That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not like we asked to be born to messed-up parents.
His sharp eyes narrowed, and the boy in front pulled his chair closer to his desk in fear, trying to shrink as much as possible.
The sound of Beomjin’s fingers tapping the desk echoed like thunder, sending a chill down the boy’s spine.