The Weight of a Gaze
Taiyang entered the library like a ghost haunting his own life. The designer clothes from the night before had been replaced by a crisp school uniform, but his face bore the unmistakable pallor of exhaustion. As he brushed past Zohi and June's table, his eyes snagged on the white bandage wrapped around Zohi's wrist.
His heart executed a painful stutter. This girl had been dragged through the mud of a police station because she tried to help him, while he—protected by the invisible shield of his father's wealth—had walked away without a backward glance. Zohi looked up, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before she deliberately looked away. That single look of pure, cold disdain pierced his aristocratic pride more effectively than any blade. He wanted to say something—anything—to bridge the chasm, but the words died in his throat. He retreated to the furthest corner of the library, sinking into the shadows of the bookshelves.
The Echo of a Story
A few moments later, Sijun burst into the room, a ray of sunshine that felt almost intrusive in the heavy atmosphere. "Good morning, Zohi! You're so early!" she chirped, before her eyes widened at the bandage. Zohi offered the same rehearsed lie about tripping in the dark.
Sijun squeezed her hand sympathetically. "Be careful, Zohi! Honestly, the world is becoming such a scary place. Last night, my dad was telling me about a girl who got into a terrible situation. Just hearing about it gave me shivers."
The air in the library seemed to vanish. Zohi and Taiyang both froze, the silence between them turning brittle. Zohi's face drained of color as the realization hit her like a physical blow: Sijun's father was the officer from the station. If Sijun ever connected the dots, Zohi's reputation would be in tatters. Across the room, Taiyang bowed his head, the fire of his guilt stoked by the innocent chatter of the girl who respected him.
A Desperate Secrecy
The truth felt like molten lead in Zohi's veins. She tucked her bandaged hand beneath the table, her palms growing damp with a sudden, cold sweat. She had never imagined that Sijun—the only person who treated her with genuine kindness—was the daughter of the man who had witnessed her lowest moment.
"R-really, Sijun?" Zohi managed to stammer, her voice thin and precarious. "The world... it really is a dark place." She stole a jagged glance at Taiyang.
Taiyang was staring at his book, though the words were nothing but a blur. He knew that if June or Sijun ever discovered how he had abandoned Zohi, he would lose the only scrap of humanity he had left in their eyes. June, ever the observer, watched the color flee from Zohi's cheeks and the suffocating stillness of Taiyang. His sharp mind caught the scent of a secret, a jagged truth that both were desperate to bury.
The Corridor Confrontation
As the four of them moved toward the classroom, the school bell tolled like a warning. But as they reached the door, the path was blocked by a human wall: Jinsy and her entourage.
"Well, well," Jinsy drawled, a crooked smile playing on her lips as she looked at Sijun. "Did you bring the money I asked for, or are we going to have a problem?"
Before Zohi could intervene, Sijun stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. "We aren't giving you another cent, Jinsy. If you touch us, I'm going straight to the teacher."
Jinsy erupted into mocking laughter. "The teacher? Oh, I'm shaking! You can tell your teacher, or your precious police officer father for all I care. I want my money, and I want it now."
Zohi's patience finally snapped. The trauma of the previous night had left her with a raw, jagged edge. "Get out of our way, Jinsy. Let us into the class."
Jinsy turned her venom on Zohi. "And who are you? The Queen of England? You think I have to listen to you?"
Zohi met Jinsy's gaze, her eyes hard and unyielding. "I'm not giving you anything. If you're so desperate for a handout, come back later. But if you keep pushing, you won't get a single penny. Not ever."
Fury flashed in Jinsy's eyes. She took a predatory step toward Zohi. "You dare talk to me like I'm a beggar? You think you're better than me?" She raised her hand, the air whistling as she swung for a slap. Zohi flinched, bracing for the impact—but the rhythmic click of the teacher's heels echoed down the hallway.
Jinsy froze, her hand dropping to her side. She leaned in, her voice a lethal whisper in Zohi's ear. "You got lucky today. But remember this: I always collect my debts."
The Chasm of Privilege
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was a battlefield of silent anxieties. The teacher's chalk scraped against the blackboard, but the minds of the students were miles away.
Taiyang was drowning in the echoes of the police station. Jinsy sat fuming, her pride wounded and her pockets empty when she needed the money most. And Zohi sat in a state of high alert, terrified that a single slip of the tongue from Taiyang or a story from Sijun would destroy her.
"Jinsy!" the teacher barked, catching her staring blankly out the window. "Stand up. Answer the question on the board."
Jinsy stood, her eyes darting across the pages of her book, but the answers wouldn't come. "What's the matter?" the teacher scoffed. "You have plenty of energy for bullying and playing the thug, but when it comes to your future, you're empty-headed? If you keep this up, your 'tough girl' act won't save you from a failing life. Go to the back of the class and stand."
Jinsy's face turned a scorched red as she retreated to the back, the laughter of her classmates stinging like salt in a wound.
Then, the teacher turned to Taiyang. "Taiyang, your turn."
Taiyang remained silent, his head bowed, unable to focus on anything but his own internal rot. But the teacher didn't scold him. Instead, her voice softened into a supportive coo. "Taiyang, you need to apply yourself. You come from a family of great responsibility. You have a legacy to uphold. Sit down, and please try to pay attention next time."
The blatant double standard tasted like ash in Zohi's mouth. Because of his father's name, Taiyang was excused, while Jinsy was humiliated for the same failure.
Finally, the teacher looked at Zohi. "Zohi, can you solve this?"
It was the very problem June had explained in the library just an hour ago. Zohi stood, her voice steady and confident, and delivered the perfect answer.
"Excellent work, Zohi. Sit down."
The praise was the final straw for Jinsy. Standing at the back of the room, she watched Zohi with a gaze that promised fire. To Jinsy, Zohi's success was just another way of mocking her struggle. As the bell for the end of class neared, Jinsy made a silent vow: once school was over, Zohi would pay for every humiliation she had suffered today.