The next morning, Seo-yeon knew something had changed.
Not because of whispers.
Not because of the school forum exploding overnight.
But because Kang Ji-hoon walked into class and sat down beside her like nothing had happened.
Like defending her in front of Min-jung meant nothing.
Like choosing her publicly was normal.
It wasn't.
The classroom buzzed louder than usual.
Some students stared openly now.
Others avoided eye contact completely.
The forum post had been updated.
This time, it wasn't anonymous.
Hyun-woo had posted:
"Stop spreading nonsense. There's nothing going on. Grow up."
That should have helped.
Instead, it fueled speculation.
"Why is he defending her?"
"Why is Ji-hoon defending her?"
"She must be special."
Seo-yeon gripped her pen tightly.
Special.
She didn't want to be special.
She wanted to be invisible.
"You're thinking too loud," Ji-hoon said calmly.
She didn't look at him.
"Do you ever regret things immediately after doing them?"
He didn't hesitate.
"No."
She turned sharply. "Not even yesterday?"
His eyes met hers steadily.
"Especially not yesterday."
Her chest tightened.
She looked away first.
The teacher entered, cutting the moment short.
But the tension didn't fade.
It lingered.
Like static electricity before lightning strikes.
By second period, the situation escalated.
A notification buzzed through half the classroom at once.
Seo-yeon's stomach dropped again.
Another post.
This time with an edited image.
Her face.
Photoshopped beside Ji-hoon's.
Hearts drawn around them.
Caption:
"Guess the genius finally fell."
Laughter rippled through the back row.
One boy muttered loudly, "That didn't take long."
Seo-yeon felt heat crawl up her neck.
She hated this.
Not because of embarrassment.
Because it felt familiar.
Busan had started exactly like this.
Small jokes.
Harmless edits.
Then lies.
Then isolation.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Ji-hoon noticed immediately.
He always did.
Without asking, he stood.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
The entire class froze.
He walked toward the back row.
Calmly.
Controlled.
Dangerously quiet.
"Delete it," he said.
The boy holding his phone laughed nervously. "Relax, it's just a joke—"
Ji-hoon leaned slightly closer.
"It wasn't a request."
The classroom felt suffocating.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
The boy swallowed and deleted the post immediately.
But Ji-hoon didn't stop there.
"Anyone else?" he asked softly, scanning the room.
Silence.
Even the teacher hesitated to intervene.
After a long moment, he returned to his seat beside Seo-yeon.
Like nothing happened.
But everything had.
She stared at her desk.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did."
"You're making it worse."
"No," he said quietly. "They are."
She clenched her jaw.
"You can't fight every rumor."
"I don't need to."
"Then what are you doing?"
He turned to her slowly.
"I'm making it clear."
Clear.
Clear that she wasn't alone.
Clear that touching her reputation meant confronting him.
Clear that she mattered.
The realization scared her more than the rumors.
At lunch, the cafeteria felt like a stage.
People stared openly now.
Hyun-woo joined them without asking.
"Congratulations," he muttered sarcastically. "You two are officially the main characters."
Seo-yeon sighed. "I hate this."
Hyun-woo looked at her more seriously. "It'll die down."
Ji-hoon didn't look convinced.
Min-jung entered the cafeteria.
The room shifted again.
She walked past their table without looking at them.
But her silence felt heavier than any insult.
Hyun-woo leaned closer to Seo-yeon. "She's not used to losing."
"Losing what?" Seo-yeon asked.
Ji-hoon answered instead.
"Control."
That word lingered.
Because this wasn't about romance.
It was about power.
And for the first time, Ji-hoon wasn't playing by expectations.
After school, Seo-yeon didn't wait.
She left quickly, hoping to avoid the attention.
But halfway down the street—
"Han Seo-yeon."
She froze.
The voice wasn't Ji-hoon's.
It was older.
Colder.
She turned slowly.
A black sedan was parked by the curb.
The window rolled down.
A man in his late forties sat inside.
Sharp suit.
Sharper eyes.
She didn't know him.
But she knew instantly who he was.
Kang Ji-hoon's father.
"You're the Busan girl," he said evenly.
Her throat went dry.
"Yes, sir."
He studied her for a long moment.
Then—
"Stay away from my son."
The words were calm.
Polite.
Absolute.
"I don't—"
"You don't need to explain," he interrupted smoothly. "I've seen this before."
Seen what?
Ambition?
Manipulation?
Rumors?
Her fists clenched.
"With respect," she said carefully, "your son can choose who he talks to."
A flicker of something crossed his face.
Amusement?
"You're confident."
"I'm honest."
He leaned back slightly.
"My son has responsibilities. Expectations. Distractions are unacceptable."
The word stung.
Distraction.
That's what she was.
Before she could respond—
A familiar voice cut through the air.
"She's not a distraction."
Ji-hoon stood a few steps away.
His expression wasn't cold.
It was furious.
Controlled fury.
His father stepped out of the car slowly.
The resemblance was undeniable.
Same posture.
Same stillness.
"Kang Ji-hoon," the man said evenly. "Go home."
"No."
The word shocked even Seo-yeon.
Ji-hoon stepped beside her.
Not in front.
Not shielding.
Beside.
"She's my classmate," he continued calmly. "Nothing more."
His father's gaze flickered to Seo-yeon again.
"You see?" he said quietly. "Temporary."
The word sliced deeper than intended.
Ji-hoon's jaw tightened.
"She's not temporary."
The air froze.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
For a long moment, father and son stared at each other.
A silent war.
Then the older man sighed lightly.
"You're young. You'll understand later."
He got back into the car.
Before the window fully closed, he added—
"End this before it becomes a problem."
The sedan drove away.
Silence swallowed the street.
Seo-yeon didn't speak.
Ji-hoon didn't move.
Finally, she whispered—
"I told you this would get worse."
He looked at her.
And for the first time—
He didn't look untouchable.
He looked torn.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly.
The question felt heavier than snow.
Because the answer mattered.
More than she expected.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
But that second said everything.
"No," she admitted softly.
Something in his expression softened.
"Then I won't."
Simple.
Final.
Dangerous.
They stood there in the fading winter light.
Rumors spreading.
Parents interfering.
Lines being drawn.
And yet—
For the first time—
Seo-yeon didn't feel like running.
Because if winter was going to be a storm—
At least she wasn't standing in it alone.