The classroom was wrapped in the dull hum of late morning.
Pens scratched against paper. Pages turned. A few students sat upright and alert, eyes bright with effort, while others fought sleep with heavy lids and stiff shoulders.
Ji-Bok was losing that fight.
He sat slouched slightly in his chair, chin dipping, snapping back up every few seconds like his body was betraying him on purpose.
His eyes burned, blinking hard as he stared at the board, willing himself not to drift off.
Behind him, Ji-Ho glanced over his shoulder, noticed Ji-Bok's struggle, and sighed softly.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, posture straightening again as if to compensate for the chaos around him.
Ji-Woo wasn't looking at the board at all.
Her gaze was lowered, fixed on her pen as she rolled it slowly between her fingers. Click. Stop. Click again. The motion was small, almost soothing.
Her thoughts wandered.
I miss my home so much.I wish I could visit Jeonju.It's not that far from Seoul… just three hours.
Her pen paused.
If I leave at 5 a.m., I could arrive by 7.And if I come back around 5:30… I'd still make it before 10 p.m.I'll just take the bus.I just need to get a ticket…
"Ji-Woo."
The voice cut cleanly through her thoughts.
"Answer this."
Mrs. Posh stood at the front of the room, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.
Ji-Woo blinked once—twice—pulled back into the present. Chairs creaked softly as a few students shifted, watching.
She stood.
Her voice was calm when she answered, steady and clear, like she had never been anywhere else but this room. When she finished, Mrs. Posh gave a short nod and turned back to the board.
Ji-Woo sat down again, heart still beating a little too fast.
Across the room, Mi-Sook smirked.
She twirled her pen slowly between her fingers, eyes glinting with quiet amusement, as if she had seen straight through Ji-Woo's drifting thoughts—and enjoyed it.
Ji-Bok finally forced his eyes open again, missing all of it by a second.
And the classroom went on, heavy with things left unsaid.
--
he sky was still dark when Ji-Woo stepped quietly out of the house.
All black—her clothes simple and neat, blending into the early morning shadows.
Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, smooth and practical, a few wisps brushing her neck as the cool air touched her skin.
The time on her phone glowed faintly:
4:45 a.m.
She slipped the screen into her pocket.
Two minutes.
That's all it would take to reach the bus stop.
Her fingers tightened around the bus ticket she had picked up earlier, the paper slightly bent from how often she'd checked it, as if it might disappear if she didn't.
The street was quiet, almost holding its breath.
No cars.
No voices.
Just the soft sound of her footsteps as she moved quickly, carefully.
Her phone buzzed.
She stopped under a streetlight just to send a message.
Ji-Woo:Eun-Woo, I can't come today. I'm sick.
She stared at the screen for a second, worry flashing across her face.
Her eyes lifted, scanning the empty street instinctively, then she tucked the phone away and moved again—faster now.
She reached the bus just as the doors opened.
Ji-Woo climbed in, paid silently, and took a seat by the window.
As the bus pulled away, she rested her forehead lightly against the glass, watching the dark streets slide past like a quiet secret.
Her phone buzzed again.
She lifted it.
Eun-Woo:Oh no… don't worry. Just rest.
Miles away in his small room, Eun-Woo lay back on his bed, phone in hand, the early light barely touching his curtains.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he read her message.
He typed back.
Eun-Woo:I'll come meet you after school.
On the bus, Ji-Woo's smile faded gently—not unhappy, just careful. Her thumbs hovered, then moved.
Ji-Woo:No. It's okay. I'll see you tomorrow.
Eun-Woo read it, paused, then smiled wider. He nodded to himself, as if she could see him.
Tomorrow, he thought.
The bus carried Ji-Woo forward through the quiet city, dawn slowly creeping in—unaware that both of them were smiling at the same time, thinking of the same day that hadn't arrived yet.
---
Ji-Bok walked down the hallway toward his classroom, hands in his pockets, whistling softly to himself like he didn't have a care in the world.
His steps were loose, confident—until he suddenly stopped.
He paused mid-step.
Slowly, he turned around and walked back a few paces, stopping in front of a classroom window.
The glass reflected him clearly—uniform neat, hair just messy enough to look intentional.
Ji-Bok tilted his head.
His reflection stared back.
He ran a hand through his hair, lips curling into a grin."Oof," he whispered dramatically.
"Who is this handsome guy… wow."
He made a face at himself. Another. Then winked.
Satisfied, he turned to walk away—
"AH—!"
He jumped back with a small, undignified scream, clutching his chest.
"Oh my god," he groaned, exhaling hard. "I thought it was that terrifying girl."
"…Good morning to you too."
Ji-Bok turned to see Ji-Ho standing there, arms crossed, expression calm as ever.
"What do you want, Ji-Ho?" Ji-Bok asked, already tired.
Ji-Ho cleared his throat lightly. "Your math assignment. Mr. Yoo Joon's class."
Ji-Bok's shoulders sagged instantly. He sighed so dramatically it sounded painful, then placed a hand over his heart before resting it on Ji-Ho's shoulder.
"Tell me," he said solemnly, "am I the only one who didn't submit?"
Ji-Ho shook his head. "No. Ji-Woo didn't either."
Ji-Bok froze.
"…You see—" he started, then blinked. "Wait."
He turned slowly. "That girl didn't submit?"
Ji-Ho nodded. "She isn't in school today."
Ji-Bok's expression shifted—confusion, then something sharper.Is this about Mi-Sook? he wondered.
"Huh," he muttered.
Then, just as quickly, his usual tone returned. He patted Ji-Ho's shoulder once.
"Do me a favor," he said. "Make an excuse for me."
Before Ji-Ho could respond, Ji-Bok had already turned and walked off, whistling again—but a little quieter this time, thoughts no longer as light as his steps.