Sleep clung to you like a second skin, heavy and persistent, your head resting against your folded arms as the faint breeze slipping through the open window teased you with the promise of rest you couldn't afford, because no matter how much your body demanded it after the chaos of the previous day, you knew better than to fall asleep in class, not when your professors were already forming opinions and not when you had worked too hard to be seen as anything less than capable, even if that meant forcing your eyes open and straightening your posture the moment the classroom door slid open.
"Sit properly," Mina whispered from beside you, nudging your arm lightly as she leaned closer, her voice carrying quiet amusement, and when you turned slightly, you caught a clearer glimpse of her as you often did without really thinking about it, her blond hair falling in soft layers around her shoulders in a butterfly cut that framed her face effortlessly, giving her an almost airy, put-together appearance, while her sharp features, defined cheekbones, a straight nose, and expressive eyes—gave her a naturally striking look that stood out without her needing to try at all.
"I might fall asleep anyway," you muttered under your breath, rubbing your eyes briefly before reaching for your pen, "and if I do, don't wake me."
"I will absolutely wake you," she replied without hesitation, her lips twitching slightly as she leaned back in her seat, "I'm not getting dragged down with you."
Before you could respond, the teacher entered, her presence silencing the room instantly as she placed her materials on the desk and looked over the class with a sharp, assessing gaze, the kind that made it clear she had no patience for nonsense or unnecessary questions.
"I assume you've all heard," she began without introduction, her tone brisk and efficient, "your previous teacher has left, and I will be taking over temporarily, which means you will follow my rules, not his."
A student in the back hesitated before raising a hand. "Ma'am, do we know when the new—"
"No," she cut in immediately, not even sparing him a glance, "and I don't care, so neither should you."
The room fell silent again.
"Page sixty-seven," she continued, already turning around, "and place your essays on my desk before you leave."
Mina leaned slightly toward you again. "She's scary."
"Pregnant and scary," you corrected quietly.
"Even worse."
Despite your exhaustion, a faint smile tugged at your lips before you forced your attention back to the lesson, pushing through the class with sheer willpower alone until the bell finally rang, signaling the end and allowing you a brief moment to breathe before gathering your things and submitting your essay, your movements slower than usual as fatigue continued to settle into your bones.
By the time you reached the library, the quiet atmosphere should have been comforting, yet your focus remained unsteady, your thoughts drifting as Mina continued talking beside you, flipping through her book before abruptly closing it with a sigh.
"This is pointless," she said, leaning back in her chair as she looked at you, "you're not even reading, you're staring at the same page."
"I am reading," you replied weakly.
"You've been on that paragraph for ten minutes."
"…It's a complicated paragraph."
She stared at you for a second before shaking her head, strands of her layered blond hair shifting softly with the movement. "Go home."
"I just got here."
"And you're already dying," she shot back, pointing at your face, "look at you."
You exhaled slowly, knowing she wasn't wrong. "Fine."
"That easy?" she blinked, surprised.
"I'm too tired to argue."
"That's new."
You ignored her, packing your things as she continued to watch you with a satisfied expression. "Tomorrow," she added, "coffee shop, don't forget."
"I won't."
"You better not, I'll drag you there myself."
"I believe you."
The walk home felt heavier than usual, your thoughts clouded with exhaustion until you reached your door and instinctively reached for your keys, only to freeze when your pocket came up empty, the realization sinking in slowly before frustration followed immediately after.
"No… no, no, no," you muttered, checking again despite knowing it wouldn't change anything.
Right on cue, your phone rang.
"Grandma," you answered, already knowing.
"Soo Yoo, dear, I accidentally took your keys," she said without preamble, her tone entirely unconcerned, "you'll have to come get them."
You closed your eyes briefly. "Of course you did."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I'm coming."
The line disconnected before you could say anything else.
The bus ride back felt longer than before, your irritation building with every passing minute, though you kept it contained, knowing there was no point in complaining about something that was already done, and by the time you arrived at the estate, you had already decided to get your keys and leave without speaking to anyone, choosing the back entrance to avoid unnecessary encounters.
For a moment, it worked.
"There you are," your grandmother said, handing you the keys almost immediately, "I mistook them for mine."
"That's reassuring," you replied dryly.
She ignored the comment. "Go home and rest."
"I will."
And just like that, she left.
Perfect.
You turned toward the exit, ready to finally leave—
"Planning to attack someone again, or was that a one-time thing, Rapunzel?"
You stopped.
Slowly, you turned.
Kai stood a few steps away, leaning casually against the counter, a glass of water resting in his hand as if he had all the time in the world, and this time, under proper lighting and without panic clouding your perception, you saw him clearly, from the slightly messy black wavy hair that fell effortlessly across his forehead to the dark, almost hypnotic black-green eyes that seemed to observe rather than simply look, sharp yet unreadable, carrying a quiet intensity that made it difficult to hold his gaze for too long, while his posture remained relaxed but controlled, his tall frame and well-built physique noticeable beneath the simplicity of his clothes, not exaggerated or overly muscular, but defined enough to make his presence impossible to ignore.
You stared at him for a second before speaking. "I said I was sorry."
"You did," he replied calmly, taking a slow sip of his water, "I just don't remember accepting it."
"That's not how apologies work."
A brief pause settled between you.
Then, very slightly, he smirked. "Isn't it, Rapunzel?"
You exhaled sharply, already feeling your patience thinning. "Look, I didn't recognize you, I thought you were an intruder, and yes, I tried to knock you out, but in my defense, you were standing in a dark kitchen dressed like you were trying to look suspicious."
"I wasn't aware I needed your approval for my clothing choices," he replied evenly.
"You don't," you shot back, "but it would've helped."
He studied you in silence for a moment, his gaze steady enough to make you aware of every second that passed before he finally spoke again.
"You didn't hesitate," he said.
"What?"
"Yesterday," he continued, setting the glass down, "you thought I was a threat, and instead of leaving, you approached."
You frowned slightly. "So?"
"So," he repeated, his tone quieter now, almost thoughtful, "most people would've walked away."
"Well, I'm not most people."
"I can see that, Rapunzel."
The nickname again.
You chose to ignore it.
"I apologized, so can I go now?"
"You could've left already."
You blinked. "…You're the one who stopped me."
"Did I?"
You opened your mouth—then closed it again.
This was exhausting.
"I have a name," you said instead, crossing your arms slightly, "it's Soo Yoo."
"I know."
That caught you off guard.
"You do?"
"You work here," he replied simply.
"…Right."
A brief silence followed, stretching just enough to make the atmosphere feel heavier than it should have, before you turned toward the door again, deciding that this conversation had gone on long enough, but just as you reached it—
"You're tired."
You paused.
"That obvious?" you asked without turning.
"Yes."
You let out a quiet breath. "Good. At least something is."
Another pause lingered behind you.
Then—
"Go home, Rapunzel."
You hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"Gladly."
And this time, when you walked out, he didn't stop you.
But the conversation stayed with you, lingering quietly in your thoughts in a way you couldn't quite explain, because there was something unsettling about him, not in the way you had expected, not loud or aggressive, but controlled, observant, and far too aware, as if he had already started figuring you out while you still couldn't decide what kind of person he really was, and somehow, that felt far more dangerous than anything else.