Morning didn't feel new.
It felt unfinished.
Jia walked through the school gates, her fingers brushing against the sharp edges of the name tag hidden inside her pocket.
Jinu.
The name felt heavier in daylight.
The classroom buzzed with noise — chairs scraping, laughter echoing, the faint scent of chalk dust in the air.
Jia slipped into her seat quietly, hoping to dissolve into the background like she always did.
Then the professor entered.
"Good morning, class. Settle down," he said.
"We have a transfer student today.
Make him feel welcome."
The door slid open.
Time slowed.
A familiar figure stepped inside.
Jia's breath caught.
Her pen slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a sharp clatter.
It was him.
The boy from the bus.
Standing under the bright classroom lights as if he belonged there all along.
"This is Jinu," the professor announced.
"I expect everyone to behave."
From the back row, a group of well-dressed boys exchanged smirks.
"Don't worry, sir," one of them called out lazily.
"We'll take good care of him."
There was something off in their tone.
But Jinu didn't react.
His expression remained cold.
Controlled.
His eyes moved slowly across the room.
And then—
They stopped.
On her.
He began walking.
Each step steady.
Unhurried.
Straight toward the only empty seat.
Next to Jia.
When he sat down, the air between them felt tight.
For one brief second, their eyes met.
And in that second, Jia forgot how to breathe.
She lowered her gaze quickly, pretending to focus on her book.
Why is he here?
The rest of the morning passed in restless silence.
Girls whispered.
Stole glances.
But Jinu remained distant.
Present, yet unreachable.
___________________________________
At lunch, the cafeteria roared with chatter.
Jinu sat alone in a quiet corner.
An island in the middle of chaos.
A group of girls approached him, their laughter overly sweet.
"So, why'd you transfer?"
one asked playfully.
"Bored of your old school?"
Another leaned closer.
"You're pretty cute. We don't mind keeping you company."
Their giggles filled the space.
Jinu's jaw tightened.
Without answering, he stood up, picked up his tray, and walked away.
"What's his problem?" one muttered.
"So much attitude."
But it wasn't attitude.
It was distance.
___________________________________
The rooftop was silent.
Wind brushed against the railings as Jinu leaned forward, staring at the endless blue sky.
"It's quiet," he murmured. "I like it."
"This is my spot."
The voice behind him was soft.
He turned.
Jia stood there, sunlight weaving through her hair.
For a moment, something flickered in his expression.
Recognition.
Or surprise.
Or something more dangerous.
His heart pounded unexpectedly.
He looked away first.
"Sorry," he muttered lowly, stepping past her.
Just like that.
Gone again.
Jia stood still, confused.
Is he arrogant?
No.
Arrogance didn't look like that.
His eyes weren't proud.
They were wounded.
___________________________________
That evening, Jia opened her sketchbook.
She traced the lines of the drawing she made yesterday.
Then she began sketching him again.
This time, she added something new—
A shadow behind his eyes.
"I don't know what happened to you,"
she whispered softly.
"But whatever it is…"
Her pencil paused.
She didn't finish the sentence.
Because deep down—
She wasn't sure if she wanted to save him.
Or if she was just trying to save herself.