He hadn't seen me yet—but I wasn't going to risk it.
The moment he turned to the whiteboard, I whispered under my breath,
"Like hell I'm gonna sit through this."
I closed the laptop gently, trying not to make a sound. Then, in one fluid motion, I slipped my bag over my shoulder, ducked behind a tall student, and bolted out the back door like a spy escaping enemy territory.
Once outside, I leaned against the wall, heart pounding like a war drum.
I remembered conversation from Ha-rin's boyfriend birthday party. Ya he is a genius, so it's not a surprised that he is teaching.
I glanced back at the glass window of the classroom. He was already deep into explaining machine learning algorithms, his hands moving smoothly as he drew diagrams. Students were eating it up. Girls swooned. Boys nodded like disciples.
And me?
His student fake one.
Great.
Just great .
After the last bell rang, the corridors buzzed with tired footsteps and murmurs of weekend plans. I kept my pace steady, blending in, eyes scanning. Senior Han's words echoed in my head:
> "Make connections. Even if they disgust you."
So I did.
I approached her—Min Ji-woo—notorious for being clingy with boys who had records longer than their assignments. She wasn't directly involved in anything criminal, but her ex-boyfriend, Choi Jin-wook, was on our suspect list. He wasn't just trouble. He was the storm.
I introduced myself with a polite smile.
"You're in the UI/UX club, right? I saw your poster for the design challenge. It looked… cool."
She turned, surprised. Maybe flattered. "Oh! Thanks. You're… new, right? Cybersecurity girl?"
I nodded. "Fresh diploma student. Totally clueless," I added with a sheepish laugh.
She smirked. "You'll fit right in."
Just like that, the trap began.
We walked out of college together, chatting about absolutely nothing—makeup filters, AI-generated art, cafeteria gossip. But every word was a step deeper into the underworld I was meant to uncover.
I hated her perfume. I didn't like her style too.
But I smiled anyway.
Because this wasn't about comfort.
It was about the mission.
Home is a Battlefield Too, But Softer
It was a tirelessly long, endlessly strange day. My head throbbed from the fake smiles, the fake identity, and the very real near-run-in with Joon Seo-hyun. I barely made it home without collapsing.
I stepped in, dropped my shoes like a defeated soldier, and before I could even sigh—
"You got kicked out again?"
Dae-hyun's voice floated from the living room, mock-serious.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Oh yes, absolutely. Studying till I'm 80 is my dream. Maybe I'll die with a degree in each hand."
He chuckled, walked over, and without another word, pulled my bag off my shoulder and gently pressed his thumbs into the sore spots of my neck and shoulders. Slow, steady circles. My head dropped forward in surrender.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
I didn't answer.
Just then, the door opened again—Dae-yoon entered, balancing a takeout bag like a prize.
"Dinner's here," he grinned.
He placed it on the table and unwrapped it:
Samgyeopsal—grilled pork belly, still sizzling from the pan. Alongside it:
Fresh lettuce leaves
Sliced garlic and green chili
A little bowl of ssamjang (spicy paste)
Kimchi, perfectly fermented
Steamed white rice
And a bowl of warm Doenjang-jjigae, earthy and rich, still steaming.
I stared at the spread. The warmth of the room. The quiet care in their movements. The scent of roasted meat and fermented spice.
And just like that—
tears spilled out.
Messy. Unplanned. Happy.
Dae-hyun paused mid-massage, surprised.
Dae-yoon handed me a spoon without a word.
"What? You don't love us or something?"
Dae-hyun tried to sound teasing.
I laughed and cried at once.
"God, I love you idiots so much."
And that's how I ended the day.
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