“If we sacrifice him, we’ll lose the game!”
A student shouted from somewhere in the crowd.
“Ki Hwan-young, fighting!”
Another voice joined in.
“Kim Mu-ryeong, you traitor!”
That last one came from one of his own classmates in Class 7.
“...Why am I the traitor?”
Mu-ryeong muttered, genuinely perplexed, though he couldn’t help but laugh.
At that exact moment, Seung-joo threw the ball with all his strength. It was fast, but Mu-ryeong caught it with one hand effortlessly, pulling it into his chest.
“Wooooaaaah!”
“Nice one, Kim Mu-ryeong!”
Once again, instead of attacking directly, Mu-ryeong passed the ball to someone else. A loud thwack echoed across the court, and another pair was eliminated.
Now, the game had come down to a 1-on-1 match.
Mu-ryeong swept his messy bangs back with his right hand.
“...It’s hot.”
He wasn’t exhausted, but the weather was starting to get to him. He was incredibly sensitive to heat, and his flushed face was proof of it. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, and turned his head slightly.
“You’re not hot?”
“......”
Hwan-young didn’t answer. Instead, he simply stared at Mu-ryeong—his red-tinted ears, his flushed cheeks, his lips parting slightly between breaths.
Feeling the gaze, Mu-ryeong tilted his head, only for his hair to slip forward, brushing against his eyes.
“...What?”
“...Nothing.”
Before Mu-ryeong could question it further, the ball was launched toward them again. He moved instinctively, catching it with ease.
The students from Class 7 immediately started booing.
“Traitor!”
Mu-ryeong ignored them completely and passed the ball back to the outfield.
“If you guys keep this up, I’ll show you what real betrayal looks like.”
Truthfully, if Mu-ryeong got serious, eliminating the last opponent wouldn’t be hard. The only reason he was holding back was to avoid an accident.
If it were only male students on the court, it wouldn’t have mattered, but with girls in the mix, he didn’t want to risk hurting anyone.
“Pass it here!”
A ball flew over Mu-ryeong’s head. He stretched his neck from side to side, adjusting his stance. Keeping his left hand behind his back the entire match was making his shoulder stiff.
“...We could just lose...”
Hwan-young muttered just as Seung-joo caught the ball.
Mu-ryeong, not realizing what was happening, turned his head toward Hwan-young.
And in that instant, the ball was already flying straight at them.
“Hey—!”
Even Seung-joo looked startled, realizing his mistake too late.
Mu-ryeong, completely distracted, was about to get hit right in the face.
His right hand shot up at the last second, but there was no way he could react in time. It was going to hurt.
“—!”
Instinctively, Mu-ryeong shut his eyes tight.
A loud thwack! echoed.
The ball hit the ground and bounced twice before rolling out of bounds.
“......”
“......”
The once-rowdy court fell completely silent.
Mu-ryeong, realizing he felt no pain, cautiously opened one eye.
Blink. Blink.
His vision adjusted, and through the bright sunlight, he saw a familiar hand.
“...Oh.”
A large, well-shaped hand, its veins subtly visible beneath the skin. A hand big enough to cover Mu-ryeong’s entire face.
A hand that should have been holding onto his waist.
“We won!”
Someone shouted.
“Waaaaaah!”
The students from Class 7 erupted into cheers, storming the court.
Caught in the commotion, Mu-ryeong slowly turned to look at Hwan-young.
“......”
“......”
Hwan-young, still standing behind him, was frowning down at his own hand.
He flexed his fingers once before shaking his wrist slightly and muttering under his breath.
“...Getting hit in the face would hurt.”
Mu-ryeong could only blink in response.
“Kim Mu-ryeong!”
Seung-joo finally ran over.
Mu-ryeong, still dazed, only snapped out of it when Hwan-young took a step away from him.
His mind replayed the scene—
The ball flying toward him.
Ki Hwan-young’s hand, blocking it.
There was only one conclusion.
“...We lost?”
“Hey, you traitor! That’s what you care about right now?”
Seung-joo, clearly frustrated, pressed a hand against Mu-ryeong’s head.
His palm was warm against Mu-ryeong’s heated scalp as he firmly squashed down on his head.
“Why the hell were you looking somewhere else? Even you would’ve gotten hurt if that hit your face.”
“You should’ve thrown the ball better, then.”
Hwan-young cut in with a flat, unimpressed voice.
Seung-joo opened his mouth to argue but realized he had no counterargument.
After all... he really had just thrown it without thinking.
Of course, what Hwan-young said next was completely unacceptable.
“What if you hit him too hard?”
“What are you even saying? This is a game where you’re supposed to hit people with the ball.”
“......”
This time, Hwan-young was the one caught off guard, closing his mouth with a slightly dumbfounded expression.
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What do you mean, what if someone gets hit?
The whole point of the game was to eliminate opponents by hitting them with the ball.
“You okay?”
Mu-ryeong tilted his head back, still resting against Seung-joo’s hand, and looked up at Hwan-young. His round eyes briefly folded into faint double eyelids before disappearing again.
When Hwan-young gave a small nod, Mu-ryeong’s lips curled into a playful grin.
“Thanks. If that hit me, I probably would’ve had a nosebleed.”
“Yeah, a double nosebleed, at least.”
“That’s why you should’ve thrown it softer, Seung-joo.”
“Oh, come on. You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.”
While the two of them bickered, the rest of the players began to gather around.
A few minutes ago, Class 7 had been calling Mu-ryeong a traitor. Now, Class 3 was calling him a spy.
Everyone threw complaints at him, yet their hands patted his back as if he had done a good job.
“Did you see Kim Mu-ryeong? He didn’t throw the ball even once!”
“He just kept passing it around. I told you he was a spy!”
“...Wow. This is so unfair.”
The sound of laughter tickled Mu-ryeong’s ears.
Surrounded by his friends, he kept protesting his innocence, but in the midst of all the noise—Hwan-young was already gone.
He had distanced himself far enough that their conversation was no longer within earshot.
“...But at the end, Ki Hwan-young was kinda cool, though.”
With that one comment, the conversation shifted entirely to him.
People talked about how he had never played dodgeball that seriously before.
How it was surprising that he took the hit for Mu-ryeong.
And how he didn’t seem to have sweat even a single drop.
When someone pointed that out, Mu-ryeong narrowed his eyes slightly before responding.
“...Right? He was kinda cool.”
For some reason, Hwan-young—standing off in the distance—cleared his throat.
Mu-ryeong stretched out his stiff shoulders, glancing at him again.
Yeah, he’s probably a good guy.
He thought to himself.
***
Maybe it was because of the intense game, but most of the students spent the next class half-asleep.
It was as if someone had sprinkled sleeping powder across the room.
Mu-ryeong, too, kept nodding off, his head bobbing up and down.
Seung-joo, the only one sitting upright, eventually grabbed the back of Mu-ryeong’s head and forced him to lie down on his desk.
“Just sleep properly instead of fighting it.”
When school ended, Mu-ryeong went straight to Hwan-young’s classroom.
As usual, he had already told Seung-joo to head home without him.
Second-year, Class 3.
Mu-ryeong exhaled deeply the moment he stepped into the empty classroom.
“Hoo...”
Maybe it was because he had seen a vengeful spirit here before, but just standing in this room made his throat feel dry.
Even though he hadn’t sensed any lingering spiritual energy since then, a strange unease still gripped his chest.
His heart pounded as if anticipating whatever was behind the door.
Mu-ryeong steadied his breath and peered through the window of the classroom door.
On the first day, he hadn’t been able to see Hwan-young at all.
But ever since then, he had been able to spot him almost immediately.
Maybe it was because of Hwan-young’s overwhelming spiritual energy.
Or maybe it was something else.
‘...He’s not closing his eyes today.’
Second-to-last seat, by the window.
The setting sun stretched long shadows across the classroom.
As always, Hwan-young sat there, alone.
The only difference today was that his eyes were open.
Instead of resting, he was gazing out the window in silence.
As he always did, Mu-ryeong quietly observed.
The sunlight softened against Hwan-young’s straight nose, highlighting his features.
He was tall, his face mature, but if you looked closely, there was still a hint of youth in him.
“......”
Mu-ryeong had come here to talk today.
They had chatted naturally during PE, so for once, he thought he might not get ignored.
Maybe today, he would finally ask why Hwan-young abandoned his request.
Mu-ryeong let out a small sigh and placed his hand on the door handle.
His other hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing against the familiar texture of a name tag.
He exhaled slowly, trying to shake off his nerves.
Creak.
The door opened with a loud noise.
It was loud enough that Hwan-young definitely heard it.
Yet, his expression didn’t change at all.
He didn’t flinch.
Didn’t turn around.
Didn’t react.
He simply continued looking out the window.
Mu-ryeong took a step inside and casually spoke.
“Not going home?”
His tone was completely natural.
Like he hadn’t been standing outside for minutes, mentally preparing himself.
Like he hadn’t just spent the entire day thinking about what to say.
And just as naturally, Hwan-young responded without turning his head.
“What about you?”
He spoke without even looking at Mu-ryeong.
As if he had known he was standing there the whole time.
The silence stretched.
Mu-ryeong didn’t answer right away.
After a long pause, Hwan-young finally blinked, slowly closing and reopening his eyes.
Then, in an even voice, he asked—
“Why do you come here every day?”