By now, Ara knew the rules of her world.
She saw nothing above strangers. Nothing above teachers. Nothing above the girl who always borrowed her eraser and never remembered to return it.
But the people she loved—that was different.
Her mother in the kitchen: a soft, steady glow of numbers.
Her father at the dining table: another timer, counting down so slowly it felt almost still.
Her grandmother in old photos: a timer that had once reached zero.
And Jaemin.
The memory of his countdown burned behind her eyelids whenever she closed them.
That was why she had drawn a line around herself and decided never to let anyone new cross it.
No new friends.
No new crushes.
No new love.
"Ara, there's a transfer student today," her deskmate whispered, leaning over as students shuffled into their seats. "From overseas, I think."
Ara kept her gaze on the window. Outside, rain blurred the view of the schoolyard.
"Oh," she said.
"That's it? 'Oh'?" her deskmate hissed. "Aren't you curious?"
New people meant new chances for her chest to do something stupid. She wanted no part of that.
"It doesn't have anything to do with me," Ara replied calmly.
Their homeroom teacher walked in, shaking water from his umbrella. "Alright, everyone, settle down," he said. "We have a new student joining us today."
The classroom buzzed.
"Is he handsome?"
"Is he a foreigner?"
"Do you think he'll sit near us?"
Ara tuned them out. She traced a raindrop's path on the window with her eyes, letting the monotony calm her.
"Come in," the teacher called.
Footsteps sounded at the door.
She told herself not to look.
"Introduce yourself," the teacher said.
"Hello," a low voice replied. Smooth. Controlled. "I'm Kang Joon."
The name tugged at something in her memory, but she couldn't place it.
"I used to attend this school before moving overseas," he continued. "I'll be in your care."
His voice was steady, neither too formal nor too casual. The kind of voice that didn't shake easily.
"She's totally going to fall for him," someone whispered.
"I bet the teacher makes him sit in the back."
The teacher scanned the room. "Let's see… Kang Joon, you can sit there. Behind Han Ara, by the window."
Ara's hand tightened around her pen.
Behind her.
Of all places.
She stared down at her notebook as footsteps approached her row. A faint scent of rain and something clean drifted over as he passed her desk.
"Excuse me," he murmured.
She pushed her chair in without looking up.
He sat down.
The teacher moved on to announcements. Students pretended to listen and failed.
Ara kept her posture straight, eyes on the board, pen resting on the blank page.
Her mind, however, refused to stay still.
Don't look, she told herself. He's just a new student. If you don't pay attention, he'll stay a stranger.
Strangers had no numbers.
Strangers were safe.
But curiosity was a stubborn thing.
Slowly, as if pulled by an invisible thread, her gaze drifted sideways. Just a little. Just enough to see him from the corner of her eye.
Dark hair, still damp at the ends. Uniform slightly loose. Long fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the desk as he listened.
He didn't look like someone extraordinary.
He just looked… there. Solid. Present.
Her chest tightened for no good reason.
No, she thought sharply. You don't know him. You don't care. You won't care.
Just to reassure herself, she glanced at the air above his head.
Empty.
Of course.
There was nothing there.
No countdown. No faint glow.
Which meant he was nothing to her. Just another classmate.
Her shoulders relaxed.
This was normal. She didn't see numbers on people she didn't love. That was how it had always been.
At break, the teacher called Kang Joon to the front for some forms. A small crowd gathered around him, girls and a few boys asking questions.
"Where did you live?"
"Why did you come back?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Ara stared at her notebook and underlined the same sentence three times.
"He's behind you," her deskmate whispered. "Shouldn't you at least say hi?"
"It's fine," Ara said. "He has plenty of people to talk to already."
She kept her distance.
She did not want to know what kind of smile he had. She did not want to know what his laugh sounded like. She did not want to give fate another chance.
But fate, as usual, didn't ask her.
During lunch, the classroom grew too loud. Ara slipped away to the rooftop, where the drizzle had softened to a mist. She stood under the small overhang, watching the gray city blur into shapes.
Up here, there were no numbers except the ones she carried in her memory.
"You really like the rain, huh?"
She stiffened.
That voice again. Close.
Turning, she saw him—Kang Joon—standing a few steps away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a closed umbrella. His hair was damp again, as if he hadn't bothered to use it.
"How long have you been there?" she asked, heart jumping.
"Long enough to hear you sigh," he said. "Twice."
"I wasn't sighing."
He smiled slightly. "If you say so."
Ara looked away, focusing on the concrete wall instead of his face.
This rooftop had always been her quiet place. The idea of sharing it with someone else made her uneasy.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Hiding," he answered calmly. "It's noisy downstairs."
She couldn't argue with that.
Silence stretched. The drizzle tapped softly against the railing.
"You're Han Ara, right?"
Her fingers twitched. "How do you know my name?"
"Teacher said it when he pointed out my seat," Kang Joon replied. "And your deskmate said it a lot."
"Oh."
He studied her for a moment. "You don't talk much."
"That's not true," she said automatically.
He waited.
"…I just don't see the point of talking if I don't have anything important to say," she added quietly.
"Fair," he said. "But if I talk, will you at least listen?"
She hesitated.
Listening couldn't hurt, she told herself. Listening wasn't loving.
"…I guess," she said.
"Good."
He stepped closer, stopping at a comfortable distance beside her. They both faced the hazy skyline, as if they were strangers waiting at the same bus stop.
"I don't like crowds," he said. "Too many eyes."
Ara almost said, Me too. She swallowed the words.
"I'm not great with new people either," he continued. "But since we sit close, I thought I should at least say hi."
"You already introduced yourself to the whole class," Ara pointed out.
"That was for them," he said. "This is for you."
Her hand tightened around her sleeve.
He said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You're strange," she muttered.
"I know."
When she risked a glance at him, he was looking up at the sky, his expression calm but distant, like his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
For a fleeting second, she wondered what kind of numbers would float above his head if she ever loved him.
The thought scared her so much she shoved it away immediately.
No.
She wasn't going to love anyone again.
For a fleeting second, her gaze lifted
instinctively
to the empty space above his head.
Nothing.
No numbers.
No countdown.
Her chest tightened.
She looked away immediately.
No.
She wasn't going to think about that.
She wasn't going to make that mistake again.
The rain softened into a quiet mist around them.
Neither of them spoke.
But for the first time in a long while
Ara didn't feel alone.
And that…
was exactly what made it dangerous.