"I walked out of the restroom with a newly forged armor of determination, but the truth is, intangible armor doesn't protect you from stares."
The coffee stain on my chest was a beacon, drawing the attention of every ship sailing through the hallways of Hathor. Every muffled snicker, every sidelong glance, felt like a cannonball.
What's the best thing to do in these cases? I asked myself, staring straight at the floor. According to the movies my dad watches, it's time to counterattack... or a strategic retreat.
But where do I find a trench on this battlefield? And if I go back into the restroom, they'll think I have stomach problems.
"Lunch," I remembered, patting my stomach. I had to eat something—if only to prove to myself that I could perform a human function in this hostile environment.
I headed straight for the "emergency menu" counter, feeling the weight of my scholarship status with every step. The menu consisted of a chicken salad and a bottle of flavored water.
"Even their free menu looks delicious."
I took it without another word, looking for the most remote and lonely table in this savannah—a dark corner that seemed designed for people like me.
I had barely placed the salad on the table when a long shadow, distorted by various golden lights, fell over my space.
"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."
I looked up. It was Mary. And this time, she wasn't alone. Behind her stood two other girls, her lackeys, both sporting the same predatory smile and the same gold-colored uniform.
"Enjoying your gourmet lunch? Scholarship girl," asked an unfamiliar voice, but with the same intonation already branded into my eardrums.
When I turned to look at her, it was another girl with a curved smile.
But it was Mary who captured all my attention. Her gaze, which had once acted warm, was now chained to the scar on my blouse, twisting her smile. "Oh, what a mess. Looks like you had a little accident. Although, to be fair, that coffee stain probably costs more than your entire wardrobe."
All her friends laughed at the same time, like programmed robots without a soul or identity outside the zeros on their bank cards.
"Leave me alone, Mary," I replied, my voice firmer than I felt as I took a seat.
Mary let out a sharp giggle that echoed in the silence forming around us.
"Oh, the scholarship girl has claws. How adorable," she continued her condescension. "But of course it's my business. You see, when a nobody like you not only sneaks into our school but also dares to disrespect our kings—and especially our precious Vhy-oppa—it becomes everyone's business."
My face tightened at hearing her say "Vhy-oppa," nearly making my stomach churn.
"I didn't disrespect anyone! He spilled the coffee on me!" I retorted, though something told me it was useless.
"Liar!" shrieked one of her clones, a girl with pigtails that bounced with her indignation. "We all saw how you lunged at him! I bet you did it on purpose just to get his attention, you filthy sasaeng!"
The word sasaeng—"obsessive stalker fan"—hit me like a slap.
"I'm not a sasaeng! I don't even like them!" I half-lied. Well, Shugar seemed the most perfect to take photos of, but now wasn't the time for nuances.
"Even worse!" the second clone exclaimed dramatically. "You insult our princes! Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your place? To take that 1-A jacket? With his cologne and sweat? And you waste it?"
Mary leaned over the table, her smile vanishing.
"We need to teach you a lesson about your place here."
With a nod, one of the girls opened a bottle of sparkling water and slowly emptied it over my head. The cold water ran down my hair and back, a shock that left me breathless. The other girl took my salad plate and, with a smile, dumped it onto my lap.
She didn't stop there. With her hand, she rubbed the vegetables and oily dressing into the fabric of my skirt, throwing the leftovers from her fingers into my face as if wiping her hands.
"So you learn not to stain other people's clothes, scholarship girl," she finished, her voice full of knives.
The laughter around me multiplied. Someone shouted, "Photo, photo!" and several phones went up. Conversations stopped just to watch the show. I was the lunch entertainment. The circus act of the day. The murmur grew like a wave, feeding on my shame.
And then, in the midst of that chaos of cruelty, I saw them.
On the other side of the cafeteria, entering through the main doors, were the two of them...
Jhin and Vhy.
My heart leaped. A stupid, irrational, desperate leap.
They... they could.
Despite everything—the spilled coffee, the insults, my own rage—a primitive part of me clung to them as if they were lifeboats in the middle of the ocean. Because they understood what this was.
They lived in this world of appearances and cruelty, but they also knew the other side.
Right?
Our gazes met.
Me, on that damp floor with food in my lap and water dripping from my hair, just desperately wanting them to see me. To understand me. And if they could... to help me.
Vhy saw me first. His eyes scanned me: Mary and her henchmen, the water, the food, the laughter. His face showed no emotion. No surprise. No disgust. Not even curiosity.
Only... attention, as minimal as it was imaginary.
His expression was one of cold and impenetrable indifference, as if I were a stain on the wall. Something unpleasant but insignificant. Although, for a fleeting, almost imperceptible instant, his lips trembled. Disgust? Discomfort? I didn't know. Because in the next second, he looked away.
He simply erased me from his field of vision. My heart stopped, feeling his total indifference like a stake through the chest.
No. It's okay. He would never stop for me...
But then I looked at Jhin.
Who had offered me his jacket. Him with his expensive perfume and those obsidian eyes that, for a moment, had seemed genuine.
He saw me too.
And he broke.
I saw the shock cross his face like a lightning bolt. I saw his eyes widen, his entire body tense up. I saw the exact moment he understood what was happening. And something else: guilt. Recognition. As if he knew that this, in some twisted way, was connected to what had happened between us.
His right foot shifted in my direction. One step. Just one.
He's coming. He's going to help me, I thought, as a smile began to form on my lips. Hope bloomed in my chest like a stupid, fragile flower.
Because now I understood.
In this storm where everyone ignores, he will always extend his hand and cover you with his umbrella.
I would be that elderly woman who accepted his warmth, and I would be happy by his beautiful side.
I won't make the mistake again, I thought desperately. I promise.
Jhin took another half-step.
And then Vhy reached out, placing his hand on Jhin's shoulder.
The movement was casual, almost lazy. But the effect was immediate. Jhin stopped in his tracks as if he'd hit an invisible wall.
Vhy leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. I couldn't hear the words, but I saw Jhin's shoulders slump. I saw his jaw tighten. I saw how, slowly, he lowered his head.
I saw it.
I saw everything.
And then, simply... they left.
The two of them left.
They walked toward the other side of the cafeteria, toward their private table, where the lights were softer and the air probably smelled better.
Vhy didn't look back. Jhin... Jhin looked once, just once, over his shoulder.
Our eyes met for the last time.
And I could see my own condemnation reflected in them.
They abandoned me. The phrase echoed in my head like a death knell. They abandoned me!
And the worst part—the absolutely devastating part—was that I knew it was my fault.
I had pushed him away. I had yelled at him. I had called him spoiled, a rich kid, everything my wounded pride could spit out. And when he had looked at me with those eyes full of anger and disappointment, I had felt a sick satisfaction.
Now, that satisfaction had turned to ash.
The letter. The envelope with the N7 and Amethyst logos was still in my backpack. I could give it back. I could apologize. Maybe be friends.
"I should," I confessed, barely breathing, as my mind formed a clear and urgent word: Apologize.
But even as I thought it, I knew I wouldn't. I couldn't. Because returning the letter would be admitting that I had lost. That they were right. That I didn't belong here.
And that... I couldn't do.
So I stayed there, in that horrible limbo between regret and pride, feeling something inside me break.
A tear formed in the corner of my eye. Just one.
It wasn't for Vhy with his icy indifference, or even for Jhin with his abandonment.
It was for me.
For the stupid girl who had made the wrong decision and was now paying the price. For the girl who had convinced herself she didn't need help from anyone, only to discover that she did—for the girl who desperately needed it and now would never receive it.
The tear rolled down my cheek, mixing with the water that already soaked my face.
No one saw it. The sparkling water had given me that small mercy.
Mary kept talking, saying something about lessons and respect, status and place, but her words were just static noise.
I opened my mouth. One last desperate, pathetic attempt to call them. To say something. To make them come back.
Please... I imagined.
But the only thing that came out was a muffled, strangled sigh, barely audible. My throat had closed completely, sealed by shame and pain.
Jhin disappeared from my sight, swallowed by the crowd and the soft light of his unreachable world.
And I was left there, broken.
"Now apologize, you filthy thing," Mary said, opening another bottle.
I lifted my head, seeing her smile filled with sick pleasure. Apologize... if you do, this torture will end, my inner self pleaded.
"I... I..." the words barely came out. "I won't!" I declared, with a knot in my chest as firm as a sailor's.
Mary's smile widened, longer, more distorted.
"Then you still haven't learned your lesson."
She raised the bottle over my head.
And then, as if someone had pressed a mute button, the entire cafeteria fell silent.
The laughter died mid-chuckle. Phones were lowered. Conversations died on people's lips. Even Mary froze, the bottle suspended in the air.
The change was so abrupt, so absolute, that for a moment I thought I'd gone deaf.
But no. It was something else. I felt everyone's respect directed toward a single person. A cold, sharp sensation like ice pierced the silence.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" he declared. It wasn't a question. It was an insult wrapped in interrogative syntax.
Everyone turned the other way, trying not to make eye contact, yet unable to look away.
Leaning against the doorframe, with arms crossed and an expression of absolute boredom, was a boy in a blue uniform. His black hair fell over eyes of a blue so pale they looked like crystals. But it wasn't his beauty that silenced the room.
It was his gaze.
Cold. So cold it seemed to suck the warmth out of the room. His eyes weren't looking at me. They weren't looking around with curiosity or interest. They were looking directly at Mary and her clones, and in that attention, there was a contempt so pure, so absolute, you could almost touch it.
Somewhere in the back, I heard an excited whisper:
"It's Zen... the Prince of Ice Eyes."
"Zen," I muttered. So that was his name.
"Zen-oppa..." Mary whispered, and suddenly all her bully attitude vanished like smoke. Her voice became small, nervous, almost childish.
Zen didn't even look at her directly. He raised a hand in front of his face, as if blocking out an annoying light, and continued walking in my direction.
"How pathetic," he declared, his voice low but resonating with an authority that didn't need volume. "You look like a group of chimpanzees fighting over a banana."
He paused. His blue eyes finally landed on Mary, and she stepped back.
"Your scandal is vulgar and noisy," he continued, each word a precise stab. "You're annoying."
There was no warmth in his words. No heroism. Only a disdain so cold it froze.
But there was something else. Something only someone observing him closely could notice.
His jaw tightened, just for a second. His fingers, previously relaxed, clenched briefly before he crossed his arms with apparent indifference. And when he spoke, though his voice maintained that icy tone, there was an undertone of... anger? No. Something more visceral. More protective.
"But, oppa, she...!" one of the girls tried to justify herself.
"I don't care about 'her'," he cut her off, and now his gaze landed on me. For a second. Just one.
And in that second, I saw something that shouldn't have been there.
Recognition.
Not the recognition of "oh, the girl from the scandal." But something deeper. Older.
But it disappeared so fast I might have imagined it.
"I care that your stupidity is ruining my lunch," he finished, turning his attention back to Mary. "Get out."
The "get out" was said without raising his voice, but it had the weight of a royal command.
Mary and her friends flushed, a mix of shame and excitement.
"Yes, oppa! We're sorry, oppa!" they said almost in unison, giving a small bow.
"Zen-oppa is so cool!" they whispered to each other as they hurried away, completely oblivious to the irony that the boy who had just humiliated them was now their hero.
Zen ignored them. He approached me, and for a moment I thought he would simply walk past.
But he didn't.
He crouched down in front of me. His ice eyes looked directly into mine, and I couldn't look away. There was something hypnotic in that coldness.
"And you," he said, his voice directed only at me. "Stop being such an easy victim."
He reached his hand toward my hair. Instinctively I flinched, but he didn't stop. With surprisingly delicate, almost tender fingers, he removed a piece of cilantro that had gotten tangled in my hair.
The contrast was brutal. His words, cold and sharp. His actions, careful and soft.
He held it between his fingers for a second, looking at it as if it were something mildly interesting, and then let it drop.
"Watch over your dreams, Sur."
The word hit me like thunder.
Sur.
For a fraction of a second, his voice lost that edge. It sounded almost... nostalgic. Familiar. As if he had said that name a thousand times before, in a time and place I couldn't remember.
Before I could process, before I could ask, Zen stood up and turned around, walking away in the opposite direction with his hands in his pockets.
I stayed there, alone in my island of humiliation, trembling not just from the cold and rage, but from the frozen intensity of the boy who, unintentionally—or perhaps wanting it more than he showed—had just saved me.
The cafeteria slowly came back to life, whispered murmurs trying to fill the void Zen had left.
But I didn't hear any of it. I could only repeat that word in my mind, over and over.
Sur. Sur. Sur.
"Sur?" I whispered, feeling the nostalgic weight of that sound on my lips. "Someone... someone used to call me that."