I waited.
Patience was key in moments like this—waiting for the right opportunity, the perfect moment when there were no lingering eyes, no one to interfere.
And then, there it was.
Jang Gaeun stepped into the restroom alone, her expression still twisted with irritation, no doubt replaying the scene from earlier in her mind. She was angry. Embarrassed. Still seething over what I had done.
Perfect.
I glanced down the hall—empty. Not a single witness.
With smooth, quiet steps, I slipped inside just before the door could swing shut, turning the lock behind me with a faint, deliberate click.
Gaeun barely had time to register my presence before I spoke.
"Surprised to see me?"
She spun around, eyes widening slightly before narrowing.
"What the hell are you doing here, Saehwa?"
I took a slow step forward, my presence filling the small space between us, the sterile scent of the restroom air mixing with the tension now creeping in.
Gaeun tried to keep her expression composed, but I could see it—the slight shift in her posture, the brief hesitation in her stance.
She wasn't afraid.
Not yet.
But she should be.
I smiled, slow and deliberate.
"You and I need to talk."
Gaeun's confidence wavered—just slightly—as she took a step back. A reflex. A subconscious reaction to the shift in power between us.
I pulled out my phone, tapping the screen as I started recording. Not obviously. Just enough for her to know.
Her expression hardened. "About what?"
I tilted my head, feigning curiosity. "You know, I have a pretty strong influence in this school, don't you?"
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us.
Gaeun pressed her back against the counter, trapped between me and the cold surface behind her.
"It'd be a shame," I continued, my voice soft, smooth, "if… say, those secret notes you pulled out during one of our exams suddenly came to light."
Her breath hitched.
Bingo.
I trailed my fingers lightly over her shoulder, my touch barely there, just enough to unnerve her.
"You do know what that would mean, right?" I murmured. "Academic dishonesty is a serious offense at Seonghwa. Cheating? The dean doesn't take kindly to things like that."
Her entire body tensed.
"If I were to show it," I mused, tapping my phone idly, "you'd be punished heavily. Stripped of your ranking, expelled—your little future in law, over."
"Saehwa!" she snapped, her voice rising in panic.
I smiled, pressing a finger to my lips. Shhh.
"Don't raise your voice at me, Gaeun."
She swallowed hard, her lips pressing together. Ah, there it is—the first sign of fear.
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a whisper.
"Who told you to touch what's mine?"
Her breathing turned uneven, her hands clenching at her sides.
"Did someone give you permission?" I asked, my tone still light, still smooth, but now edged with something colder.
I tilted my head, smiling just a little wider.
"Did I give you permission?"
Gaeun had no response.
Because she already knew the answer.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She was processing, trying to find a way out, trying to salvage what little power she thought she had.
I waited, watching.
Enjoying the way the realization slowly settled into her expression—the moment she understood that I wasn't asking for an apology. I was teaching her a lesson.
"You think you're untouchable," she finally said, her voice quieter, strained.
I let out a soft chuckle, the sound echoing faintly in the empty restroom. "I don't think I am, Gaeun."
Her eyes flickered, something close to resentment burning beneath the surface.
I brushed a strand of hair from her shoulder, letting my fingers graze her skin in a way that was both condescending and intimate.
"You must be feeling so stupid right now," I murmured, my voice almost sympathetic. "You thought you could make a fool out of her—humiliate her in front of everyone—because what? You thought I wouldn't care?"
She tensed.
I smiled wider. "That was your first mistake."
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"And your second mistake," I continued, tilting my head, "was assuming you could get away with it."
Her jaw tightened. "What do you want?"
There it was.
The first sign of submission.
I exhaled softly, stepping back just enough to give her a sliver of space, but not enough to let her feel like she had control again.
"Simple," I said, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "You leave Hyerin alone."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes as if the idea was ridiculous. "And if I don't?"
My smile didn't waver. "Then, I press send."
Her entire body froze.
I pulled out my phone again, this time tilting the screen just enough for her to see. A saved video, perfectly framed, crisp and clear.
A recorded clip from the last major exam.
Gaeun, slipping a folded sheet of notes from under her sleeve.
Her face was visible. The date and time stamp perfectly captured.
Undeniable evidence.
She paled.
"You wouldn't," she said, but it sounded more like a plea than a challenge.
I raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"
Silence.
A long, tense silence, filled only with the sound of her shallow breathing.
Then, finally, she looked away.
"I get it," she muttered. "I won't touch her again."
I smiled, satisfied. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
She didn't respond.
I turned toward the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. But just before I stepped out, I glanced over my shoulder one last time.
"Oh, and Gaeun?"
She looked up, still tense.
"If I even hear a whisper about you trying something again…" My smile didn't fade, but my voice dipped into something colder.
"You won't get a warning next time."
I stepped out, leaving her behind.
The hallways were quieter now, the earlier tension from the classroom already starting to dissolve into the usual rhythm of school life.
But not for Jang Gaeun.
I knew she wouldn't forget this. Not today, not anytime soon. The fear, the humiliation—it would stay with her. And that was enough.
For now.
I took my time returning to class, slipping back inside just as the next lesson was about to begin. The moment I stepped in, a few heads turned. Whispers. Stolen glances.
They were still talking about what happened earlier.
Good.
But the only one who didn't react was Hyerin.
She sat in her seat, completely composed, the blazer I had given her fitting almost too naturally. Like she had always belonged in it.
Her pen moved smoothly across the page, as if she hadn't just been the center of today's drama. As if nothing had happened at all.
I slid into my seat, and only then did she finally glance up at me.
No questions.
No words.
Just an unreadable stare.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my chin against my palm, smirking. "What? No 'thank you' for earlier?"
She set her pen down, tilting her head slightly. "Did you expect one?"
I chuckled, amused. "Not particularly."
She exhaled softly, then, after a pause, said, "You didn't have to do that."
"Maybe not." I shrugged. "But I wanted to."
She studied me for a moment, her expression calm but thoughtful.
Then, to my surprise, she picked up her pen and continued taking notes.
That was it? No further reaction?
Hyerin, what exactly are you thinking?
I didn't press her for an answer. Not yet.
Instead, I sat back, letting the lesson continue, letting the weight of today settle into place.
But as the minutes passed, my gaze drifted.
Just a quick glance—at her notes.
The first time I had looked, her handwriting had been hesitant, her understanding shaky. But now?
The lines were crisp. Her annotations, sharp and precise.
She was getting better.
Not just improving—adapting.
I studied her for a moment longer. There were no dark circles under her eyes, no signs of exhaustion weighing down her posture. She wasn't struggling to keep up.
Which meant…
She wasn't staying up late.
I tapped my fingers idly against the desk.
Did she even need the sleeping pod?
Most students at Seonghwa reached a breaking point. They all did. Sooner or later, the weight of expectations crushed them, forcing them to find an edge—any edge.
But Hyerin?
She was holding steady.
For now.
I smirked slightly, looking away.
Let's see how long that lasts.
Before Hyerin arrived, everything at Seonghwa was predictable. The same competition, the same desperate attempts to climb the ranks, the same students willing to do anything—**lie, cheat, break themselves—**just to stay afloat.
It was a cycle. A tedious, boring cycle.
But then she came along.
The new transfer student. The one who should've been drowning in this system, yet somehow, wasn't.
And what made it even more entertaining was that she didn't even try to fit in.
Hyerin didn't fake admiration. Didn't seek approval. She wasn't desperate for validation like the others.
She was different—and didn't care to hide it.
I rested my chin against my hand, watching her for a second longer before exhaling softly, turning back to my own notes.
For the first time in a long time, things were finally getting interesting.