"Go back and attend your classes properly."
"Yes, Professor."
At the academy parking lot, Ethan Moore waved goodbye to Clara Vaughn, then turned toward the classroom carrying a pillow in one arm and a sofa cushion in the other.
Sam Reed.
This grudge was officially remembered.
Tonight, Ethan swore he'd beat him so badly he'd be begging to be called dad.
When Ethan arrived, the classroom was still mostly empty.
He chose a seat in the very back.
With a pillow and a sofa cushion on hand, sleeping through class wouldn't be uncomfortable at all.
The pillow was oversized, big enough to fit three or four heads. Pale yellow and white, with elegant patterns stitched into the fabric. The only flaw was a slightly damp stain on one corner.
Ethan flipped it over to the clean side, buried his face into it, and inhaled deeply.
It smelled… nice.
Warm. Faintly woody. Almost like the sandalwood scent Professor Vaughn carried with her.
The sofa cushion, on the other hand, was plain. Dark gray. Nothing special.
Ethan considered hugging it while he slept—but the moment he remembered calling that thing "Mom" last night, he immediately tossed it aside in disgust.
Students began filtering into the classroom.
Mike Turner, Chris Nolan, and Sam Reed arrived one after another.
The three of them spotted Ethan instantly.
Actually, nearly everyone who entered glanced his way.
There was no helping it.
Anyone who brought a pillow to class just to sleep stood out like a beacon.
The seats were arranged in pairs.
Mike sat beside Ethan, while Chris and Sam took the row in front.
Mike leaned over.
"Bro, what were you up to last night? Steal that pillow from some girl's place? And what's with the sofa cushion?"
Sam smirked.
"Sleeping the moment you get here… looks like you got drained dry last night."
Chris added,
"Wake up already. Share the details."
Hearing Sam's voice, Ethan immediately lifted his head.
"Sam! Didn't you say you weren't coming to class?!"
Sam clutched his chest dramatically.
"Ethan, why are you yelling? Did I do something wrong?"
"I don't buy that act! Come here and die!"
Ethan grabbed him by the collar.
The next second—
"Dad~"
Ethan froze.
"…What the hell?"
"Oh my god…"
Mike and Chris both shuddered.
"That was… unsettling."
"You—you—" Ethan stared at Sam, speechless. "…Forget it. I'm going back to sleep."
He dropped his head onto the pillow again.
The professor for this class was an elderly man.
At first, nothing seemed out of place.
Then his gaze landed on Ethan.
In all his years of teaching, this was the first time he'd ever seen a student bring a pillow to class just to sleep.
"Student! You—yes, you with the pillow!"
"Stand up and answer the question! Someone wake him!"
"..."
Ethan was gently slapped awake by Mike, still half-asleep.
Thinking class had ended, Ethan rubbed his eyes, hugged his pillow, and started walking toward the door.
Honestly… Professor Vaughn's pillow was ridiculously comfortable.
"What do you think you're doing?!" the professor roared, beard bristling.
"???"
Ethan finally realized something was wrong.
Dozens of eyes were staring straight at him.
Without even being given the chance to answer, he was promptly escorted outside to stand in the hallway—
Still holding his pillow.
Morning classes ended.
Ethan, Mike, Chris, and Sam went to the small cafeteria and ordered a large shared hotpot dish.
Four servings. Ninety-eight total.
Split evenly, it was barely over twenty each.
Back at the dorm, they ate while gossiping.
Mike grinned.
"Alright, Ethan. Be honest. Which hotel were you at last night? Which girl?"
Chris added,
"On campus or off?"
Sam squinted at the pillow.
"Judging by the pillow and cushion… feels more like some older woman's place."
"Eat. Stop talking."
Ethan tried to change the subject.
They didn't let him.
Finally, he sighed.
"Fine. Truth is, I stayed at Professor Vaughn's place last night."
Mike burst out laughing.
"Then I might as well tell you my ancestor was the First Emperor."
Sam shook his head.
"Bro, at least come up with a believable excuse next time. Say that out loud and someone might actually hunt you down."
Chris smirked.
"If you won't talk, fine—but don't let us catch your secret relationship."
Ethan spread his hands helplessly.
See?
Told the truth and no one believed him.
The food was good.
While the others were talking, Ethan quietly picked out all the meat.
By the time they noticed—
"Wait. Where's the meat?"
"Why is this all vegetables?!"
"I'm full," Ethan said calmly, wiping his mouth.
As he stood up, Mike slammed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.
"Oh no you don't. Sneaking all the meat while we were distracted?"
"That wasn't sneaky," Ethan argued. "I did it openly."
Mike looked at the others.
"Thoughts?"
"Get him," Sam and Chris said in unison.
Outnumbered—and with Mike's muscle involved—Ethan saw the danger.
"Fathers, please wait!"
Everyone knew the male dorm was a place overflowing with fatherly love.
Most problems could be solved with a single word.
"Speak," Mike said.
"I'll buy breakfast tomorrow."
Sam nodded.
"Fair."
Chris smiled.
"Respectable."
—
"Hey, Clara, look at the school confession wall."
Professor Lynn Harper handed her phone over to Clara Vaughn.
On the screen was a photo of Ethan Moore standing outside a classroom, hugging a pillow while being made to stand as punishment.
Clara glanced at it once, then calmly looked away.
Harper pointed at the photo and clicked her tongue. "Kids these days are bold. Bringing a pillow to class just to sleep, and right in front of the strictest professor on campus. But…" She squinted. "Doesn't that pillow look exactly like the one you have at home?"
Clara focused on eating her dinner.
Harper kept talking. "Good taste though. I wanted to buy the same one back then but never found it."
"I'll send you the link later," Clara replied.
"Oh right," Harper added, pointing toward a corner of the living room. "I brought the lilies back."
Clara fell silent for a moment.
"Don't throw them away," Harper warned seriously. "I bought that vase on purpose. You're not allowed to toss them."
Back in the dorm.
Mike Turner stared at Ethan's phone and burst out laughing. "Damn, Ethan, you look so dumb in this photo."
Sam Reed was already saving it. "Keeping this. Turning it into a sticker."
Chris Nolan leaned over. "Send me a copy."
"..."
Ethan was speechless.
Wasn't life supposed to have very few spectators? Why did it feel like there were cameras everywhere?
Ignoring the three idiots, Ethan got busy. First, he removed Clara Vaughn's pillowcase. Then he took off the couch cushion cover.
He went out to the balcony and started washing them by hand.
Their floor had shared washing machines, and they weren't expensive. But Ethan once saw someone throw socks and underwear in together with normal clothes.
After that, he never touched those machines again.
Summer was fine. Washing by hand wasn't too bad. Winter would be another story.
As he scrubbed, Ethan hummed to himself.
After everything that happened, he felt noticeably more relaxed.
Based on what he'd seen so far, this world really was the same one as the novel he remembered.
But the plot and characters were clearly different.
Inside his mind, information surfaced one by one.
Clara Vaughn.
Twenty-seven years old.
Blood type O.
Height: 173 cm. Weight: 53 kg.
Likes white lilies.
Favorite composer: Chopin.
Favorite piano pieces: nocturnes.
Dislikes sweet food. Likes sour flavors. Likes cilantro.
Likes drinking until she's slightly buzzed.
Usually goes jogging weekday mornings.
Ethan wasn't sure how much of this was accurate anymore.
After washing the pillowcase, he hung it on the balcony to dry.
The next morning.
6:30 a.m.
A soul-destroying alarm went off in the dorm.
"Which bastard set an alarm this early?" Mike Turner shouted.
"So annoying! Who is it?" Sam Reed snapped. "Big Mike, it's coming from your desk!"
Ethan was jolted awake too. "Who the hell did this? Are you sick or something?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he froze.
Wait.
Wasn't that… his alarm?
"Damn it, Big Mike!" Sam yelled. "Stop yelling and turn it off!"
"Bullshit," Mike cursed. "My phone's under my pillow!"
Ethan cleared his throat guiltily. "I'll go turn it off."
Mike scanned the room, then stared at Chris Nolan, who was sleeping peacefully. "Must be Chris. He wakes us all up and sleeps like a pig himself."
"Enough," Sam muttered. "Let me sleep."
Ethan turned off the alarm, lay back down, waited ten minutes, then quietly got up once everyone was asleep again.
Black T-shirt. Shorts. Sneakers.
After getting dressed, he went to the balcony, stole some of Chris Nolan's hair wax, and styled his hair neatly.
6:50 a.m.
Ethan slipped out of the dorm.
There were already quite a few people exercising on the track.
At a glance, he spotted Clara Vaughn's graceful figure.
She was dressed in black sportswear, with a white athletic top underneath and a light outer layer. A towel hung around her neck.
Ethan was about to jog over when a guy ran up beside her.
The guy looked even flashier than Ethan, hair slicked back with way too much product.
"Professor Vaughn," he said eagerly while running. "I'm a third-year piano student. I've been having some academic issues. Could I add you on the messaging app and ask you questions later?"
Clara didn't respond.
The guy kept following her anyway.
Ethan listened and rolled his eyes. Academic issues? Didn't you have your own instructor?
He sped up and ran to Clara's side. "Professor Vaughn? You jog in the mornings too?"
She glanced at him.
Ethan smiled. "Actually, I also have some study questions. Would it be okay if I add you?"
"Sure," Clara replied.
The third-year student was stunned.
"What?" His face twisted. "Professor Vaughn, I also have questions."
"Ask your own instructor," Clara said flatly.
"Then why can he—"
"He's my student."
That ended the conversation.
The guy left in embarrassment.
Ethan immediately pulled out his phone and showed his QR code. "You can scan me."
"Later," Clara said.
"Okay."
Ethan followed beside her, lap after lap.
After a while, he felt like his lungs were about to explode.
"P-Professor Vaughn…" Ethan gasped. "How many laps are left?"
"Stop talking," she replied.
"…Okay."
A moment later, Clara raised one finger.
One lap left.
Her ponytail swayed as she ran, sweat forming lightly on her forehead.
Ethan stared for a bit too long.
"Watch the road," Clara said.
"Huh?" Ethan didn't react in time.
The next moment, Clara grabbed his arm and pulled him sharply.
Ethan stumbled straight into her, instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist.
So thin.
Before he could process anything, Clara pushed him away.
"I told you to watch the road," she snapped. "Why are you looking at me instead of where you're running?"
Ethan finally looked forward.
A girl was crouched ahead, tying her shoelaces, staring at him.
"…My bad."