Eager to find his phone and get home, he took the stairs two at a time — and very quickly found himself completely winded. Rather than blaming his rock-bottom stamina, he blamed the school for having the second-year classrooms on the third floor instead of at least the second.
Since this was a game world, there was no evening self-study sessions — so at this hour, all the students had already gone home. Worried the door might be locked, he reached out for the handle before he’d even fully reached the classroom.
“……Ah!”
The door was unlocked, thankfully — but the presence of people inside made him suck in a startled breath. It was the unexpected combination of Choi Woosu and Han Bohyeon, and from the look of things, they might have been in the middle of an argument — because when he threw the door open, both of them turned to glare at him like they wanted him dead. His shoulders instinctively drew in at the piercing stares.
“……Yeon Juwoo?”
“S-sorry. I didn’t know you were in here.”
“What are you doing here? You didn’t go home?”
“I left my phone…”
“Hah.”
He’d been wondering why they hadn’t gone home, but then he remembered the spark-flying standoff they’d been having at the water fountain earlier. These two, who didn’t get along on a good day because of Lee Yura, weren’t here to have a pleasant chat. Judging by the icy atmosphere, they’d been going at it over Lee Yura again.
His appearance had broken the flow of things — Choi Woosu raked a hand through his hair in irritation. He hadn’t meant to interrupt, but he had, and seeing that only made him feel guilty rather than anything else.
Choi Woosu picked up his bag and walked quickly toward him, and assuming he was heading out, he stepped aside to make room to pass. But Choi Woosu didn’t walk past him — he stopped right in front of him.
“How much did you hear.”
This guy was already a head taller than him, and being stared down at from above was intimidating enough on its own — but the voice that came out was one pressing down hard on whatever was boiling under the surface, and it was terrifying. The fear he felt in that moment was worse than any horror movie highlight reel.
“……I didn’t hear anything.”
“Really?”
“Even if I had, I’m not going to spread it around. I’m sorry, but I’m not as much of a lowlife as you seem to think.”
He did feel bad for barging in without checking if anyone was inside — but it was also their fault for having an important conversation in a classroom anyone could walk into, wasn’t it? The indignation was there.
Having already pushed back once before, speaking this sharply wasn’t difficult anymore. His confident stance made Choi Woosu’s eyes widen — though not quite as much as back in the equipment room.
Choi Woosu closed his mouth and walked out of the classroom, clipping his shoulder on the way past. And he didn’t forget to mutter, in a voice just low enough for only him to hear, “You’re so damn annoying.”
Those four syllables landed clearly in his ears, and the sheer nerve of it left him speechless. He raised his middle finger at Choi Woosu’s back, already gone down the stairs and out of sight.
“Unbelievable. Who’s the actually annoying one here.”
Angry or not, you don’t say something like that to someone’s face. He should’ve held his head higher when Choi Woosu stopped right in front of him instead of flinching at the sheer size difference — that part embarrassed him. Still, it finally felt like he’d landed a hit on him, and that didn’t feel bad at all.
He’d been so busy cursing Choi Woosu out that he’d momentarily forgotten about Han Bohyeon — who had apparently come over at some point and placed a hand on his shoulder, calling him “temporary class rep.” It was nice to finally get some kind of title to be addressed by, but since Han Bohyeon was his favorite character, it stung a little that he still wouldn’t call him by name even though they were in the same class.
That slight faded quickly, though, when Han Bohyeon stuck his head out the door to make sure Choi Woosu was gone and then asked offhandedly if the spot where he’d been hit was okay.
“What the hell’s wrong with that guy, smacking someone who never did anything to him.”
He hadn’t expected swearing from a game rated for all ages, but the naturalness and sharpness of it caught him a little off guard. Han Bohyeon had noticeably fewer lines than the other characters to begin with, so this side of him was unexpected.
“I’m fine. It was just a light bump.”
“It wasn’t light. He seems like he seriously can’t stand you — please don’t tell me he’s always like this.”
“No. Usually it’s just a glare when our eyes meet.”
“He just hit you.”
“Up until now, at least, that’s how it’s been.”
“That’s something, I guess.”
Perhaps recognizing that they had common ground in disliking Choi Woosu, Han Bohyeon’s usually clipped responses weren’t ending in single words this time — which was also a little surprising.
On top of that, the fact that he was expressing concern — when being angry wouldn’t have been out of place at all — was the most surprising thing of all. Han Bohyeon’s personality wasn’t any better than Choi Woosu’s by most accounts, but this was different from the Han Bohyeon who could cut someone down with a look alone.
“Aren’t you annoyed at me?”
“Should I be?”
“I interrupted what you were talking about.”
“Not really. If anything, I’m glad — feels like Choi Woosu got what was coming to him. You push back better than you look. Good.”
Han Bohyeon — who supposedly only smiled when he was in a genuinely good mood — grinned at him and gave his shoulder an approving pat. It was completely different from the Han Bohyeon he thought he knew, and it made him wonder if maybe he’d been holding onto preconceived notions about him all along.
He went to his desk and checked the drawer, and sure enough, his phone was there. All this trouble over one phone. He grabbed it and was about to leave when he noticed both the front and back doors of the now-empty classroom were wide open and let out a sigh. The last person out was supposed to lock up — and that was him.
“……Stupid phone.”
In the middle of a noisy classroom full of seventeen-year-olds all the same age, the word “noona” stood out in a way that didn’t quite fit. It was Na Giyeon — who had tracked down the classroom after something he’d told him — calling out to Lee Yura. He was crouched beside her desk, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes, and she was visibly at a loss for what to do.
“Class rep noona, why aren’t you reading my messages? You know I’m genuinely hurt, right?”
“I am reading them, obviously. And why do you keep calling me ‘class rep noona’?”
“You were the student representative. At the orientation and at the entrance ceremony. So — class rep noona.”
“……Just call me by my name.”
“Should I? Alright then. Yura noona.”
Yura noona, Yura noona, Yura noona. The moment she gave him permission to use her name, Na Giyeon repeated it so many times it was enough to drive someone to madness.
Na Giyeon had become notorious as “the entrance ceremony guy,” and now that he’d actually tracked down her classroom, every pair of eyes in the room locked onto them. Na Giyeon didn’t seem to care — but Lee Yura, who found all the attention uncomfortable, hid her face behind a book, and seeing that, he knew a quest was about to open.
“Why are you hiding, noona.”
“Everyone’s looking. Keep your voice down too.”
“Hiding like that isn’t going to work though.”
“Why? Did it not work? Should I go further in?”
“No.”
Na Giyeon stood up — after crouching for so long, it seemed to have taken a toll, because he steadied himself with a hand on his knee. He moved the book aside slightly and leaned in close to Lee Yura, whispering something no one else could hear — and no one else should hear.
[ System ]
[Ⅲ-2. The Younger Guy’s Charge]
[“Hiding like that is just perfect for kissing, you know.”
“Wha, what……?!”
“Ahh, it’s such a shame. If we were the same age, I could borrow your notes, borrow your gym clothes, go eat together — all of it. Being in different years makes it so hard to even see your face.”
Is this guy actually out of his mind? The shock made her drop the book — Na Giyeon picked it up for her, dusted it off, and placed it back on the desk. After saying something like that, how he could still smile that bright, unbothered smile — he really was something else in every possible way.
Na Giyeon glanced around and spotted the empty seat next to her, and moved to sit down — so she quickly grabbed his wrist. It wasn’t because she was worried about the seat’s owner coming back; she just knew she had to get him out of there before he said anything else strange. If I could make it so he never came back at all, would that make me a terrible person?
