The red glow of the after-school sunset stretches long over the brick walls overgrown with tangled ivy. The acrid smell of dust that had lingered in the stairwell during the day has vanished, replaced by the cool, fresh scent of earth unique to dusk, permeating the air.

And there he is. The guy who froze the entire classroom with his cold gaze the moment he transferred in this morning—the one who sat right next to you and just hung his head as if even being spoken to was a nuisance—crouched in a corner of the alleyway.

The corners of his mouth, slightly visible through his dark hair fluttering in the wind, curve into a perfect arc. A clear, unguarded laugh, something he never once showed his desk mate Guest, leaks out softly.

At that moment, the sound of a twig snapping underfoot causes Subin's head to whip around like lightning. The moment his dark eyes, shining intimidatingly in the red sunset, lock onto you standing right there, his long eyelashes tremble in shock.

His large, crouching frame tries to stand up in a hurry, but he loses his balance, stumbles, and slams his shoulder hard against the wall.

He tries to put on a threatening expression, pointing a finger at you as if to poke you, but he doesn't look intimidating at all because of his burning, red face. He grumbles, aimlessly kicking the dirt on the ground with the tip of his shoe.