Hana's POV
The library always felt like a safe place.Until today.
Hana sat frozen long after Jiho walked out, staring at the empty spot where he'd stood. The silence pressed in around her, thick with words she hadn't said and things she didn't understand. She'd thought transferring here would be about grades, about staying invisible, about surviving.
Instead, she'd managed—in one morning—to trip straight into the center of someone else's storm.
Her phone buzzed on the table.
She didn't want to look. She already knew what it was.
But the dread in her stomach insisted she check.
A new ClassNet notification lit the screen.
"The new scholarship girl saw him first."
She inhaled slowly, the air sharp in her chest.
Saw him first.As if she'd chosen it. As if she wanted to be part of whatever this was.
Her fingers curled against the phone case. "Great," she whispered. "Amazing. Day one and I already have haters."
Students' voices drifted down the hallway outside the library—laughing, gossiping, their footsteps tapping against the polished floor with infuriating normalcy. Meanwhile she was here, heart thudding uncomfortably, feeling the weight of a rumor she hadn't earned.
She gathered her things and stood, tucking loose hair behind her ear.Time to go home. Time to breathe. Time to hope this would all disappear by morning.
But the second she stepped out into the hallway, she felt eyes on her.
Two girls leaned near the lockers, whispering. When Hana passed, their attention snapped to her blue lanyard, then to her face.
"That's her, right?" one murmured. "The transfer."
"Yeah. Look at her pretending she doesn't know anything."
Hana tightened her grip on her backpack. She didn't respond. Didn't look at them. That would only make it worse. She walked with steady steps toward the stairs—
"Hey."Someone stepped into her path.
It was a girl from her homeroom—Arin, if Hana remembered correctly. Pretty, spotless uniform, expression sharp enough to cut paper.
"You talked to him today," Arin said. Not a question. A fact dripping suspicion.
Hana blinked. "Talked to who?"
Arin scoffed. "Don't play dumb. Kang Jiho."
Several students slowed their steps, pretending to check their phones while actually listening.
Hana hated this feeling—the circle forming around her, invisible but unmistakable. A shrinking of air. A closing of doors.
She kept her voice calm. "He dropped a paper. I picked it up. That's all."
"Sure," Arin said. "And the car? You saw that too?"
Hana stiffened despite herself.They knew. Of course they knew. Nothing stayed secret here.
She shook her head. "I really don't know anything about him."
Arin leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "Then don't act like you do. People like him… they bring nothing but trouble."
Hana felt something flare in her chest—not anger exactly, but a refusal to shrink.
"I wasn't acting like anything," she said quietly. "But even if I were, what he is or isn't has nothing to do with you."
A few gasps behind Arin. Someone whispered, "Damn."
Arin's mouth tightened. "Cute. Standing up to me on your first day."
"I'm just trying to go home."
Arin stepped aside with a brittle smile. "Then run along, scholarship girl. Before you attract more attention."
Hana walked past her without another word.
But her cheeks burned all the way down the stairs.
Outside, the late afternoon air felt cooler, less suffocating. She crossed the courtyard quickly, weaving through groups of students heading to buses, parents' cars, and convenience stores across the street.
Her father would ask how her first day went.She'd planned to say It's fine.Now she wasn't even sure what fine meant.
She reached the front gate.
"Yoon Hana?"
She stopped.
Mr. Han stood there, holding a folder and squinting like he'd been searching for her.
"Sir?"
"You're heading home?" he asked.
"Yes."
He hesitated, glancing back toward the school. "I've heard some… noise about ClassNet. Is everything alright?"
Her throat tightened for a moment before she forced a nod. "It's just rumors."
"Rumors stick quickly in this school," he said softly. "Especially when certain students are involved."
Her pulse jumped. "Certain students?"
"Kang Jiho," he said, lowering his voice. "I suggest you be careful around him. Not because he's dangerous," he added quickly, "but because… trouble follows him. Unfairly or not."
Hana wasn't sure if he was warning her or apologizing on Jiho's behalf.
"I understand," she said.
"If anything becomes overwhelming," he continued, "come to me. Don't handle everything alone."
The offer surprised her—unexpected warmth in a school that already felt cold at the edges.
"Thank you."
She stepped through the gate.
The road stretched ahead. Sun dipping low, traffic humming through the city, a familiar bus stop a short walk away. She let herself breathe, adjusting her bag strap.
Halfway down the block, she paused.
A figure leaned against the lamppost near the bus stop.
Jiho.
Of course it was him.
He wasn't looking at her. He didn't look like he was looking at anything at all—hands shoved in pockets, head bowed, earbuds hanging without music. His shadow stretched long on the pavement, like someone trying to outrun himself.
She considered turning around.He'd made it clear earlier that distance was safer. For both of them.
But then a car rolled slowly past, windows cracked just enough for the driver to look out. A man in a dark suit. Watching.
Jiho's posture tightened by a fraction.
Hana recognized the man. The one from that morning. The one who'd called him—
Young Master.
Understanding settled like a weight on her ribs.
He wasn't waiting for her.He was hiding from being found.
And suddenly the distance he'd asked for felt like a lie—something meant to protect her, not push her away.
She approached quietly.
"You shouldn't be standing alone here," she said.
Jiho's head snapped up, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it. "Didn't I tell you not to talk to me?"
She ignored that. "He's looking for you."
Jiho didn't even ask who. His jaw clenched. "He always is."
The black sedan turned the corner and disappeared.
Hana stepped onto the bus stop platform beside him. She kept space between them—enough that it didn't look like they were together, not enough to pretend she couldn't feel the tension radiating off him.
"You don't have to say anything," she murmured. "I just… didn't want you standing there alone."
He stared at the ground.Then at the street.Anywhere but at her.
"People are talking," he said finally.
"I know."
"They're talking about you."
"Also know."
He exhaled, frustration cutting through the air. "This is exactly why I said to stay away."
"What do you expect me to do? Pretend we've never spoken?"
"Yes," he said. Immediately. Too fast.
She blinked.
Jiho dragged a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath.
"Look," he said, softer but not gentler, "I've spent years making sure no one looks twice at me. And today… one photo blows everything up."
"I didn't take it."
"I know."The words slipped out so quietly she almost missed them.
Her breath caught.
He sighed, shoulders sinking like the weight of the day had finally settled onto them.
"I don't want things getting worse for you," he said.
Hana let out a soft, humorless laugh. "It's Seonghwa. Things get worse even when you do nothing."
"That's exactly the problem."
"Then don't let them scare you," she said.
His eyes lifted to hers—dark and tired and full of a question he wouldn't ask.
"What if they scare you?" he murmured.
She hesitated.Then answered honestly.
"I haven't decided yet."
He huffed something that wasn't quite amusement. "You're ridiculous."
"You're welcome."
He shook his head, looking away too quickly, as if the corners of his mouth had threatened to soften.
The bus approached from down the road, headlights glowing faintly in the dusk.
Students climbed on ahead of them. Hana took a small step forward—
Jiho's voice stopped her.
"Don't read ClassNet tonight."
She turned. "Why not?"
"Because I did."His throat worked."And I don't want you seeing what they're saying."
The bus pulled in with a hiss of brakes.
Hana studied him for one long, steady moment. "If something happens tomorrow," she said quietly, "I'll deal with it."
"I should be the one dealing with it," he muttered.
"You don't owe me that."
He didn't respond.
She boarded the bus.Found a window seat.Pressed her forehead lightly to the glass.
Outside, Jiho stayed where he was—hands in pockets, staring at the pavement as if deciding whether to disappear into the night or go home and face whatever waited for him.
As the bus pulled away, he finally lifted his head.
Their eyes met for a fleeting heartbeat.
He looked lost.And furious about being seen that way.
The bus turned the corner.
Hana exhaled shakily, unsure if the trembling in her hands came from fear… or from the strange, disquieting truth settling in her chest:
Whatever secret he was hiding, she was already tangled in it.And someone online had just decided to drag her deeper.