A new day. A new beginning.
Or so the world said.
Jia walked through the school gates. Her fingers traced the sharp edges of the name tag hidden in her pocket.
'Jinu.' It felt like a secret she wasn't supposed to keep.
The classroom was a mess of morning noise.
The smell of chalk dust. The sound of chairs dragging.
Jia just wanted to be invisible, as usual.
Then, the professor walked in.
"Good morning, class! Settle down," he announced. "Today, we have a transfer student. Make him feel welcome."
The door slid open with a soft thud.
A boy stepped inside.
In that second, Jia's world went silent.
The pen in her hand slipped. Clatter. It hit the floor like a gunshot.
Her heart skipped a beat.
It was him.
The boy from the bus was now standing under the bright lights of her classroom.
"This is Jinu," the professor said. "Please be kind to him."
From the back, a group of wealthy students smirked.
"Don't worry, Professor!" one shouted. "We'll take very good care of him."
Jinu didn't flinch.
His face was cold. Expressionless.
He scanned the room with eyes like dark pools of midnight.
Then, he began walking.
Straight toward the only empty seat—right next to Jia.
As he sat down, their eyes met.
Just for a fleeting second.
The intensity made Jia's breath hitch.
She quickly looked down, burying her face in her book.
'How is this possible? Why is he here?'
All morning, Jinu was like a magnet.
Every girl stole glances at him.
But he sat in a heavy, suffocating silence.
He was there, but he felt miles away.
At lunch, the cafeteria was a storm.
But Jinu was an island. He sat alone in the corner.
Soon, a group of girls approached him, giggling.
"Hey, why did you transfer?" one asked, twirling her hair. "Were the girls at your old school not pretty enough?"
They laughed. "You're cute. We can be friends... what do you say?"
Jinu felt a surge of irritation.
Without a word, he picked up his tray and walked away.
"What's wrong with him? So much attitude!" they hissed behind his back.
Seeking peace, Jinu went to the school rooftop.
He leaned against the cold railing, staring at the blue sky.
"It's so quiet here... I like it," he whispered.
"This is my spot."
A soft voice came from behind him.
Jinu turned. It was Jia.
The sunlight caught her hair, making her glow.
For a moment, Jinu's heart hammered against his chest.
He stared at her, frozen.
After a long silence, he muttered a low "Sorry" and hurried past her.
Jia watched him leave. She felt confused. Annoyed.
"Is he really that arrogant?" she wondered.
But she couldn't forget his eyes.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was the same raw pain she saw in her own reflection every morning.
That evening, Jia opened her sketchbook.
She looked at the drawing of him from the bus.
"Your eyes... they really are beautiful," she murmured.
She took her pencil. Scratch. Scratch. She began to sketch him again.
"I don't know what happened to you, Jinu," she whispered to the empty room.
"But I'm going to find out. Because now... you're my only reason to keep going."