The first light of dawn slipped through the heavy curtains of Junpyo's private study, painting the polished wood floor in a thin, amber stripe. The scent of sandalwood still lingered, mingling with the faint, lingering warmth of the ginger tea that had cooled on the low table. Bobae lay curled on the plush sofa, the blanket pulled up to her chin, the soft rise and fall of her breathing the only sound in the otherwise silent room.
She opened her eyes to the muted glow of sunrise and, for a moment, the memory of Junpyo's hand on her back, his voice whispering promises of safety, flooded her mind. A cold knot formed in her stomach. The warmth of his embrace was still there, but it was tangled with the sharp sting of his confession.
She sat up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders, and stared at the empty space beside her. The silence felt heavy, as if the walls themselves were waiting for her to make the first move.
Bobae slipped out of the study and padded down the marble corridor, her shoes making soft, echoing clicks against the floor. The mansion was already stirring—servants moved quietly, polishing the banisters, arranging fresh flowers in the entry hall. She kept her head down, her eyes fixed on the polished tiles, avoiding the curious glances of the house staff especially Nora.
At the far end of the hallway, Junpyo stood by the grand staircase, his back turned to her. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, his dark hair still slightly damp from his morning shower. He turned as she approached, a tentative smile forming on his lips.
"Good morning, Bobae," he said, his voice low, trying to sound casual.
Bobae's throat tightened. She forced a small, polite nod, but her gaze flicked away, landing on the large clock that ticked steadily on the wall. "Morning," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Junpyo's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered, stepping forward as if to bridge the growing distance. "Did you sleep well?
She swallowed, feeling the weight of his concern pressing against the walls she had built around herself. "yep" she replied, the words feeling like a thin veneer. She continues, "Thank you for… everything." I knew you were the one who carried me back to the study. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.
He reached out, his hand hovering just above hers, then withdrew as she pulled back instinctively. The awkwardness settled between them like a thick fog.
"Bobae," Junpyo began, his tone softer now, almost pleading, "about last night—"
She cut him off, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "I need to get to school," she said, her voice sharper than she intended. "I'm already late."
Junpyo's eyes flickered with hurt, but he nodded, stepping aside. "Of course. The driver will take you. I'll… I'll see you later." bobae? wait! He called out,
About yesterday Mrs Lee was the one who brought you back to my study, she told me jinho locked your room. She begged me to allow you sleep in my study, so you are not indebted to me, and you didn't disturb me.
Bobae didn't look back. She hurried down the stairs, the echo of her footsteps a stark contrast to the heavy silence that followed her. The mansion's grand doors opened automatically as she approached, and a cold draft brushed her cheek, as if the house itself were exhaling a warning.
Outside.
She made her way to the bus stop, the one she had taken countless times before the mansion's car became her only ride. The bus was already waiting, its engine idling, a thin plume of exhaust curling into the cool morning air. She boarded, finding a seat by the window, and pressed her forehead against the glass, watching the world blur past.
A feeling of unease settled deeper with each passing block. She glanced at the other students, noticing a few whispering and glancing in her direction. A knot formed in her stomach—was it the lingering tension from last night, or something more ominous?
She tried to steady her breathing, recalling Junpyo's words, his promise to protect her. Yet, as the bus rumbled toward the school, a sudden jolt made her grip the seat tighter. The bus swerved slightly, and for a brief instant, the silhouette of a black car flaced across the street, its headlights flashing like a warning.
Bobae's heart raced. She closed her eyes, willing the feeling away, but the sense that something terrible was about to unfold clenched her chest like a fist.
The bus pulled into the school parking lot, and the doors opened with a soft hiss. Bobae stepped onto the pavement, the morning sun now fully risen, casting long shadows across the courtyard. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the school building, each step echoing the conflicting rhythm of hope and dread that pulsed through her veins. On getting to her class room corridor, she saw some posters plastered on the wall with all sorts of bad words, like go to hell, scum bag, drop out from school you this low born this place is not for people like you and so on but she didn't mind she just went straight to her class