"Oppa! Oppa, wake up!"
Jaeho felt small hands shaking his shoulder, and he cracked one eye open to see Jia's face hovering inches from his, her smile so wide it could light up the entire apartment.
"I'm up, I'm up," he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The alarm on his phone had been going off for the past ten minutes, but exhaustion had pinned him to the thin mattress like a weight.
"We're ready!" Serin announced from the doorway, spinning in a little circle to show off her outfit. The light blue dress he'd bought her last week—secondhand, but clean and without any tears. Jia wore a matching yellow one, both of them looking fresh and bright despite the cramped, worn-down apartment around them.
Jaeho's chest tightened.
"You both look beautiful," he said, standing and stretching. His back ached from the late shift at the convenience store, but he pushed the feeling down. "Did you eat breakfast?"
"Yes! The rice balls you made yesterday!" Jia bounced on her toes. "Can we go now? I want to show Teacher Kim my new dress!"
"Give oppa a few minutes to get ready, okay?"
He splashed cold water on his face, threw on his school uniform—wrinkled but clean enough—and grabbed their small backpacks. Jia and Serin stood by the door, practically vibrating with excitement. They had no idea. No idea how close they'd come to losing this place last month. No idea about the debt. No idea that their mother had abandoned them a year ago.
And Jaeho would keep it that way.
Just like his father had protected him.
"Alright, let's go."
-
The walk to their kindergarten was fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of his high school. Jaeho held both their hands as they chattered away, Jia asking a million questions about everything they passed and Serin occasionally tugging his sleeve to point out a bird or a flower.
"Oppa, do you think Teacher Kim will like my drawing?" Jia asked, swinging his arm.
"She's going to love it," Jaeho said, squeezing her hand. "You're the best artist in your class."
"Serin is better," Jia said matter-of-factly. "But I'm louder!"
Serin giggled softly, and Jaeho couldn't help but smile.
When they reached the kindergarten gates, both girls hugged him tight, then kissed him on each cheek—Jia on the left, Serin on the right. It was their routine. Their good luck ritual.
"Be good today, okay?" Jaeho crouched down to their level. "Listen to your teacher. And if anyone's mean to you—"
"Tell Teacher Kim," they said in unison, nodding seriously.
"That's right." He ruffled their hair. "I'll pick you up after school. Love you both."
"Love you, oppa!"
He watched them run inside, their laughter echoing in the courtyard, before he checked his phone.
7:54 AM.
School started at 8:00.
"Shit!"
Jaeho took off sprinting.
His lungs burned by the time he hit the third block. Sweat poured down his face, soaking through his uniform shirt. His legs screamed at him to stop, but he pushed harder. This was his cardio. This was how he stayed in shape without a gym membership he couldn't afford.
He rounded the corner and saw the school gates still open—barely. A few stragglers were rushing in ahead of him.
He made it through just as the bell rang. He was able to make it in time due to him running.
7:59 AM.
Jaeho doubled over in the hallway, gasping for air. His shirt clung to his back, drenched in sweat. His hair was a mess. He probably smelled like a locker room. He didn't have the luxury of caring.
He straightened up and headed toward his classroom, slipping inside just as the teacher's footsteps echoed down the hall. He slid into his seat in the back corner—his usual spot, the one farthest from everyone else—and tried to catch his breath quietly.
But he felt it immediately.
Eyes.
Three sets of them, burning into the side of his head like lasers.
Park Minho sat two rows ahead, half-turned in his seat with that smug, lazy grin plastered across his face. He was the ringleader. Tall, good-looking, and rich enough that his family donated to the school every year. His uniform was always pristine, his hair perfectly styled with expensive product. He had that effortless confidence that came from never having to worry about anything in his life.
"Yo, Han," Minho whispered, loud enough for the people around him to hear. "Did you sprint here from the sewer? You smell like shit."
A few students snickered.
Choi Jiwon sat directly in front of Jaeho, close enough that he could see the brand name stitched into the back of his blazer. Jiwon was Minho's right hand—shorter, stockier, with a mean streak that ran deep. He turned around, wrinkling his nose dramatically.
"Dude, seriously. Did you even shower this morning?" Jiwon fanned his hand in front of his face. "This is a health hazard. Someone call the nurse."
More laughter.
The third one, Kwon Daeho, sat across the aisle. He was quieter than the other two, but that made him worse. Daeho had this way of looking at people like they were insects—small, insignificant, worth stepping on. He didn't say anything now, just stared at Jaeho with cold, calculating eyes, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Jaeho kept his head down, pulling out his notebook and pretending he didn't hear them.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," Minho hissed. "You deaf or just stupid?"
Jaeho's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
"Probably both," Jiwon muttered, turning back around. "Charity case can't even afford deodorant."
Daeho finally spoke, his voice low and smooth. "You know, Han, if you need money that badly, I could always lend you some." He paused, his smirk widening. "With interest, of course."
The three of them laughed—quiet, mocking, cruel.
Jaeho gripped his pen so hard his knuckles turned white.
The classroom door opened, and their homeroom teacher, Ms. Ahn, walked in, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The room fell silent instantly.
She was in her early thirties, and easily the most attractive teacher at the school. Her black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, accentuating her sharp cheekbones and full lips that always seemed to rest in a natural pout. She wore a fitted white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt that hugged her curves, the top button of her shirt undone just enough to hint at her ample cleavage. Her figure was the kind that made students—boys and girls alike—glance twice, though she carried herself with such professional grace that no one dared say anything inappropriate to her face.
She set her leather bag down on the desk and surveyed the classroom with dark, intelligent eyes.
"Good morning, everyone," she said briskly.
Minho turned back around, but not before shooting Jaeho one last look—a promise that this wasn't over.
Jaeho exhaled slowly, forcing his heartbeat to steady.
"Just get through the day. Just get through the day."
The twins were waiting for him. That was all that mattered.