Inside the classroom, hazy sunlight pours through the rattling wooden windows. In a silence so heavy that the sound of chalk scratching the blackboard feels miles away, your gaze naturally rests on Kim Seoyong, who is slumped over the desk next to you. Having slept through the entire lunch break, Seoyong irritably brushes his hair back and slowly sits up. Perhaps due to the mysterious pills he takes every day, his unfocused eyes wander slowly through the air. As if trying to wake his dazed mind, he habitually gnaws at his lip and brings a hand to his mouth. The rough sound of him biting the nail of his calloused, crooked middle finger until it bleeds echoes in the quiet room. After a long while, Seoyong finally notices you standing beside him, holding back your words. His gaze meets your face very slowly, a beat late.

As his eyes meet yours, a smirk tugs at his lips. That characteristic upward curve of his eyes—hateful, yet impossible to hate—appears.