Mango

With five minutes remaining, Yujin was already leaning back, her paper face-down, watching the dust dance in the light. She looked calm, steady, and entirely sure of herself.

"Five minutes," Ms. Kwon called out, checking her watch with a sharp nod.

When the bell finally rang, the room exhaled.

"Papers to the front," Ms. Kwon said, gesturing with a brisk wave of her hand. "Don’t forget, there will be no office hours tomorrow. The TA and I have to grade the papers. They should be done by Wednesday."

—

The atmosphere in the class was a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy of the regular math wing. Here, the only sound was the rhythmic scratching of pens and the low hum of the wall heater.

You sat in the back row, your notebook open to the day's notes, though your eyes were fixed on the front of the room. Beside you, Karina leaned back, her long hair falling over the back of her chair. She was one of the few who could actually keep pace with the lecture, which meant she could spend most of her time observing you.

"You're unusually quiet today, y/n," she whispered, her voice a low velvet that barely carried past your desk. She leaned in closer, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through the scent of pencil lead. "Are you actually worried about your students taking Ms. Kwon’s quiz right now? I didn't think you had a heart to fret with."

You didn't pause your pen. "I'm not worried, Karina. My job was to give them the logic. What they do with it during the quiz is none of my concern."

"Spoken like someone trying to convince himself," she teased, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She tapped the edge of your notebook with her pen. "You’ve checked the wall clock three times since the bell rang. You're wondering if they're struggling, aren't you?"

"I'm checking the clock because the lecture is boring," you replied coldly. "If they fail, they fail. There's nothing more that could be done."

"Sure," she hummed, turning back to her own work. "But I have a feeling they’re more prepared than you think. You have a way of... leaving an impression on people."

—

As the bell rang, the usual post-quiz chatter was as frantic as ever.

"The second page was almost identical to problems he did on the board," Wonyoung murmured, adjusting her bag as she walked alongside Yujin.

Yujin nodded, her expression unreadable. "It wasn't a trick. It was just the logic he kept stressing. If you followed the steps, the answer was already there."

Wonyoung slowed her pace, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned closer to Yujin. "Is that so? Because you looked a little too focused. Honestly, Yujin... were you actually solving the problems, or were you just thinking about him the whole time you were writing?"

Yujin’s pace faltered for a split second, a sudden, sharp heat climbing up her neck. "I, what? Don't be ridiculous," she stammered, her voice an octave higher than usual as she stared straight ahead. "I was perfectly normal. I was just focused on the quiz and the derivatives. I wasn't thinking about... anything else."

"Your face says otherwise," Wonyoung hummed, looking delighted.

"I’m just warm from the lecture hall," Yujin countered quickly, clutching her bag strap. "You’re so annoying, Wonyoung."

—

The rest of Monday passed in its usual, blur-like efficiency. You followed the same rigid loop you always did: finishing your final classes, heading to practice, followed by dinner and then finishing the day with homework. 

Tuesday rolled by with a similar, predictable rhythm. Classes bled into one another, and before you knew it, the final bell of the day had rung, and the campus began its slow transition into the post-school rush of clubs, sports, and study sessions.

A fresh sign was taped to the door of room 1120, the bold ink leaving no room for interpretation: NO OFFICE HOURS. DO NOT DISTURB.

Inside, the room was silent, save for the rhythmic scratch of your red pen against the final few papers. You were leaning back, focused entirely on the work in front of you. There was no one else in the room; the empty chairs felt like a barrier between you and the rest of the school's noise.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence.

Yuna stood in the doorframe, her presence immediately commanding the room. She had clearly seen you through the small window, and while she definitely noticed the sign, she didn't care in the slightest.

You didn't look up immediately. You finished marking a final bracket, capped your pen with a deliberate click, and finally shifted your gaze toward her. You weren't angry, but your tone was firm.

"The sign is usually there for a reason, Yuna," you said, gesturing slightly to the door.

Instead of retreating, Yuna took a slow, deliberate step into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She leaned her shoulder against the frame, a playful, soft smile tugging at her lips as she tilted her head.

"I know," she murmured, her voice dropping into a lower, more confident tone. She let her gaze linger on yours before looking at the stack of papers on your desk. "But it's so quiet in here, and the sign says 'Do Not Disturb.' Doesn't that just mean we won't be interrupted?"

She stepped towards the closest desk, her eyes bright with a new kind of daring. "Can't I stay for just a little bit? I'm sure you can make an exception for your favorite student."

You leaned back in your chair, your expression remaining stoic, though the air in the room seemed to shift with her proximity.

"You can’t stay, Yuna," you said, your voice steady and cool. "You can’t see the quizzes until Ms. Kwon officially releases the grades. If anyone walked in and saw you in here while the stack is still open on my desk, it would be an issue for both of us."

Yuna didn't flinch. She actually leaned in a little closer, resting her hand on the edge of the desk closest to the door, her gaze fixed on yours. "Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re so good at keeping secrets, isn't it? I won't tell if you won't."

You looked at her hand resting on the edge of the desk, then back up into her expectant, daring eyes.

She’s not going to take no for an answer, is she. The thought flickered through your mind with a hint of genuine amusement. You hadn't expected her to find this much backbone, but now that she had, it was clear that a simple dismissal wasn't going to work.

A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped your lips, not one of annoyance, but of weary concession. Your voice lost its sharp, icy edge, replaced by a tone that was still firm, but notably softer.

"Fine," you said, gesturing with your pen toward the table she was leaning on. "Go sit over there. But if you’re staying, stay quiet. I still have the rest of the stack to finish, and I need to focus. Don't bother me while I’m grading."

Yuna’s entire face brightened, a triumphant but contained smile spreading across her lips. She didn't push her luck by saying anything loud; "Whatever you say, boss," as she slid into the chair with a newfound grace, leaning her chin on her palm as she settled in.

The silence returned, though it felt heavier now. You went back to your work, the red pen moving with practiced precision across the final few pages. Even without looking up, you could feel Yuna’s gaze lingering on you from the corner, constant and unblinking. It was a distraction, but one you chose to ignore as you finished the last mark.

You stood up, tapping the stack of papers against the desk to align them. "I’m finished," you said, your voice cutting through the quiet. "I need to head back upstairs to put these in Ms. Kwon’s mailbox so she has them tomorrow morning."

Yuna started to stand, likely to follow you, but you gestured for her to stay put.

"Just wait here," you told her, your tone level. "The halls are still busy, and I’d rather not have people seeing us walk out together while I'm holding the class results. I’ll be back in five minutes."

She sat back down, a small, knowing hum vibrating in her throat as she leaned her chin on her palm again. "Take your time. I’ll wait here just for you."

You stepped out into the hallway, the cool air of the corridor a sharp contrast to the room you just left. You moved with your usual efficiency, climbing the stairs and sliding the folder into Ms. Kwon’s narrow mailbox before turning back toward the TA room.

—

While you were making your way through the quiet upstairs corridors toward Ms. Kwon’s office, the hallway outside the TA room was far from empty.

Wonyoung and Yujin were walking toward the exit, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. They both slowed to a halt as they reached your door. The bold NO OFFICE HOURS. DO NOT DISTURB sign was impossible to miss, yet through the small rectangular window, the room wasn't empty.

Yuna was sitting at the front corner table, looking remarkably comfortable as she waited for your return.

Wonyoung’s eyebrows shot up, a mixture of disbelief and immediate suspicion crossing her face. She leaned closer to the glass. "Is that... Yuna? In there? Alone?"

"He told us he was going to be busy grading today," Wonyoung said, her voice dropping as she pointed at the door. "He literally taped a very explicit 'Do Not Disturb' warning to the handle."

"And yet, she's sitting in there like she owns the place," Yujin added, her voice flat. She watched through the window as Yuna leaned back, looking entirely too relaxed for a student in a TA's private workspace.

Wonyoung tried the handle, but it was locked. She tapped lightly on the glass to get Yuna's attention, but Yuna simply looked over, saw them, and offered a slow, deliberate wave before turning back to the room, looking entirely unbothered.

"She’s actually smirking," Wonyoung noted, her eyes narrowing with a sharp edge of annoyance.

"He said he was busy today," Yujin muttered, her grip tightening on her bag strap as she stared at the sign that apparently didn't apply to everyone.

Wonyoung turned to Yujin, a sharp, calculating glint in her eyes. "Maybe you need to start doing the same."

Yujin blinked, looking at her friend in total confusion. "What? Why?"

"Because being the 'good student' just gets you a locked door and a sign," Wonyoung said, gesturing toward the glass. "But being a distraction? That seems to get you a seat at his desk. If you want his attention, you have to stop waiting for him to give it to you."

"I don't want his attention," she said firmly, gripping her books slightly harder.

Wonyoung’s eyes narrowed as she stared through the glass at Yuna’s relaxed silhouette. "Where even is he?" she hissed, looking up and down the empty corridor. "He wouldn't just leave her in the room alone unless they were... I don't know, doing something more than just math."

Yujin didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the "Do Not Disturb" sign that seemed to mock them. The unfairness of it stung more than she cared to admit. "Maybe he's just in the supply closet," she suggested, though her voice lacked conviction.

"In the dark? Please," Wonyoung scoffed.

They stood there before the sound of your footsteps approaching from the stairwell made them jump.

Suddenly, the heavy fire door at the end of the stairwell groaned open. The rhythmic, unmistakable sound of your dress shoes clicking against the hard floor began to echo through the hallway—steady, purposeful, and getting closer by the second.

"Shit, he's coming!" Wonyoung gasped, her cool exterior vanishing in an instant.

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Yujin’s sleeve. The two of them spun on their heels and broke into a frantic speed-walk, their sneakers squeaking against the floor as they rounded the far corner into the South Hall. They disappeared from view just seconds before you turned into the corridor.

—

You arrived at the door, oblivious to the near-collision, and found the hallway empty. You fished your keys from your pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped back inside.

Yuna looked up from the corner table, her chin still resting on her hand. "That was a long five minutes, boss. Get caught up in a conversation?"

"No, just had to ask a teacher to open the door to the lounge." you replied, walking back to your desk. 

You reach under the desk, pulling out your heavy school bag and then walk to the corner to grab your tennis bag.

"I'm locking up," you said, your voice echoing slightly in the now-empty room. 

Yuna didn't look dismissed. Instead, she stood up with a rhythmic, easy grace, smoothing out her skirt before slinging her own bag over her shoulder. She walked right alongside you, not behind you, her presence assertive but not overbearing.

As you both begin to walk toward the exit, Wonyoung and Yujin peek out from the turn in the middle of the hall.

Wonyoung and Yujin were practically fused with the lockers, their breath hitched as they peered around the corner. From their view, they saw everything: the way Yuna matched your stride perfectly, her posture relaxed and startlingly intimate.

"Is she... walking with him?" Wonyoung whispered, her voice trembling. Her grip on the corner of the wall tightened, but she immediately glanced sideways at Yujin, her expression flickering with a sudden softness.

"Does he ever hang around after he's done with his work?" Yujin asked, her voice low and hollow. She watched as the two of you passed under a hallway light, the distance between you and Yuna looking far too small for a TA and a student.

Then, Yuna’s voice drifted back to them, clear and teasing.

"So," she said, tilting her head toward you. "You don't have practice for another half hour, and you're already done with the grading. What do you want to do? There’s still thirty minutes left."

The words drifted down the hall, making the two girls pause. Wonyoung pulled back behind the wall, leaning her head against the cool surface with a dry, frustrated exhale.

"Thirty minutes of free time," she muttered, her voice more annoyed than devastated. "And he’s spending it with her? On Thursday he definitely made it sound like he was going to be buried in work. That sign was pretty convincing."

"But I guess he finished early for Yuna," Yujin noted, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before she looked back up, her expression a mix of resignation and mild discomfort. It stung to see the "Do Not Disturb" rule get bent so easily, but she wasn't about to let it ruin her afternoon. To them, it felt like a bit of a snub; a door that had been firmly closed to the group but left slightly open for one person.

Wonyoung glanced at Yujin, checking her reaction with a subtle, sympathetic tilt of her head. She saw the flicker of unease in Yujin's eyes and straightened her blazer, letting out a small, huffing laugh. "Well, if he’s 'not busy' anymore, I’m curious to see just how far this special treatment goes."

You and Yuna started down the concrete staircase, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the enclosed space. The stairwell felt private, shielded from the prying eyes and ears in the main hallway above.

"I don't know," you replied, your voice losing its formal edge. "I wasn't really planning on spending the rest of my period with you."

You didn't say it to push her away. It was a rare, honest admission, a break from your usual calculated routine. You looked straight ahead as you descended, the weight of your tennis bag shifting against your shoulder, but there was a subtle looseness in your posture that suggested you weren't exactly rushing to get rid of her either.

The heavy fire door groaned as Wonyoung and Yujin slipped into the stairwell, moving as silently as they could. The concrete walls acted like a megaphone, carrying the voices from below right up to their ears.

"Well, life is full of surprises, isn't it?" Yuna’s voice drifted up, playful and echoing. "Besides, you're the one who told me to stay in the classroom alone. You basically kidnapped me."

Wonyoung froze, her hand hovering over the railing. Her eyes went wide, reflecting a mix of shock and pure indignation. Kidnapped? The word felt like a physical spark in the quiet stairwell. She looked over at Yujin. 

Beside her, Yujin shifted on her feet, a cold knot of discomfort tightening in her chest. The sheer casualness in Yuna’s tone suggested an intimacy that made the air in the hallway feel stifling. She looked away, feeling like an intruder on a conversation she was never meant to hear.

Just as the two girls began to creep down the first flight of stairs to get a better look, the bottom door clicked open.

You stepped out into the crisp afternoon air, the sun hitting your face. You didn't look back at the door as it swung shut, but you did glance at Yuna, who was trailing just a half-step behind you.

"I didn’t want to have the quizzes in my hand while walking next to you, Yuna. There's a difference," you corrected, though a faint, almost invisible tug at the corner of your mouth betrayed your amusement. You weren't about to admit that your "no distraction" rule was failing spectacularly.

Behind the exit door, Wonyoung and Yujin watched the two of you walk toward the open quad. They were close enough to see that ghost of a smile on your face, the one you apparently never wore in the halls.

"He's actually enjoying himself," Yujin whispered, her voice barely audible.

Wonyoung didn't answer. She just pushed the door open a crack, watching as you led Yuna away from the main campus traffic.

As you and Yuna stepped out of the building into the main courtyard, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The quad was far from empty, and the sight of you walking side-by-side with one of the school's most pretty girls acted like a lightning rod.

"Is that him?" a girl whispered, nudging her friend. "And Yuna? I thought he didn't even talk to students outside of class."

The murmurs followed you like a low hum. You kept your gaze fixed forward, your expression neutral, though you were acutely aware of the eyes on your back.

"I need to grab something to eat before practice," you said, your voice low enough that only she could hear. "Can we head to the store?"

"Sure, whatever you want," Yuna replied

You led the way to the small convenience shop just outside the school gates. Inside, the bell chimed as you walked to the refrigerated section. You picked up a pre-made sandwich, simple, efficient, and quick. Turning to Yuna, you caught her watching you with a curious expression.

"Do you want anything?" you asked.

"No," she replied, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I'm not hungry."

You paid and began the long walk back toward the athletic wing. Since you still had twenty minutes to spare, you chose the perimeter path, the scenic route that bypassed the crowded cafeteria. The silence between you was surprisingly comfortable until you unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite.

Yuna watched you, her eyes trailing the movement of your hand. "Can I have a bite?" she asked suddenly, her voice tilting with a hint of a flirtation.

You slowed your pace, looking down at the sandwich and then back at her. A month ago, you hadn’t even known her name; a week ago, she was just another face in the room. Even now, after this strange afternoon, you weren't exactly close.

"Fine," you muttered reluctantly. The sandwich was already sliced into two neat triangles—perfectly symmetrical, perfectly separate. To you, it was the logical solution. Letting her take a direct bite from your half felt unnecessary and, more importantly, far too personal for two people who were essentially still strangers.

You hold out the other half to her.

"No," Yuna said suddenly, stopping in her tracks. She looked at the sandwich and then up at you with a playful, expectant glint in her eyes. "I don't want a whole piece. I just want a bite."

"Just take the other half, Yuna," you insisted, lifting it out the tinfoil. You held it out to her, your expression fixed in its usual professional mask. "It’s already cut. It’s easier and less messy."

Yuna’s face immediately fell. She looked at the half in your hand, then back at the sandwich in yours, her lower lip pouting out in a visible display of disappointment. She clearly wanted the "share a bite" moment, not the "other half" moment.

"You're no fun," she mumbled, but she took the piece anyway, biting it with a dramatic, exaggerated sigh of defeat.

Behind the corner of the gymnasium, Wonyoung and Yujin were huddled together, eyes wide.

"He shared his food," Yujin whispered, her voice trembling. "He just... gave her half his sandwich."

"He’s still letting her follow him," Wonyoung added, her brow furrowed as she watched Yuna lean against the fence with such ease. "Why is he even letting her follow him all the way here?"

She looked at Yujin and saw the quiet discomfort on her friend's face. Wonyoung’s irritation shifted into a weary sort of protective frustration. She didn't want to stand there and analyze Yuna's "victory" anymore.

"Whatever," Wonyoung sighed, pulling Yujin back from the edge of the wall. She adjusted her bag, her tone turning brisk to shake off the mood. "Let him give away his food. We're wasting our time standing here in the dirt. Let’s just go to practice."

The two girls turned away and headed toward the gymnasium.

—

The afternoon sun was still bright as you and Yuna walked toward the athletic wing. The silence was comfortable, at least on her end, as she maintained that effortless, steady stride right beside you.

"So," Yuna started, her voice casual as she glanced at the bag where you’d tucked the rest of your materials. "Since I went through the trouble of ignoring your very scary sign, are you going to tell me how I did? Give me a hint. Did I pass?"

You didn't slow your pace, keeping your eyes on the path ahead. "I can't tell you that, Yuna. You’re not supposed to know your grade before it’s officially posted."

"Aw c’mon" she repeated with a small, amused huff. "You and your rules. Come on, I saw you grading them. You have to remember mine. Was it over 90?"

You stopped in the middle of the path and finally looked at her, shifting your gear bag. "Actually, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Your paper wasn't in the stack I graded today."

Yuna blinked, her confident smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. "What? Why not?"

"I think mine was only the top section of the alphabet," you noted, continuing your walk toward the courts. "Ms. Kwon probably kept the rest. Since you weren’t in my pile, I never even saw your quiz."

She let out a short, dry laugh, regaining her composure as you reached the perimeter of the tennis courts. She stopped at the gate, leaning against the fence with her usual effortless, cool posture. Even without the answer she wanted, she didn't seem particularly bothered—just amused by the situation.

Yuna chuckled, tossing her hair back as she looked you over. "And here I thought I was special," she said, tilting her head with a playful, mock-disappointed sigh." 

As you approached the tennis courts she offered a slow, deliberate wave, her eyes gleaming. "Go on then, get to your practice. Good luck! Fighting!"

"Bye, Yuna," you replied, finally stepping onto the court.

"See you tomorrow," she called out, already turning to head back toward the main building with a confident swing in her step.

"Wait, was that actually Yuna dropping you off?" your friend Minho asked, his voice a mix of genuine confusion and disbelief. He walked over with his racket in hand, looking past you at her retreating figure. "How did that even happen? I walked past the classroom earlier and saw that 'Do Not Disturb' sign. I figured you were locked in there like a hermit."

He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Is our star player finally getting a girlfriend?"

You let out a weary sigh, dropping your bag onto the bench and reaching for your racket. "What, no. She just kept following me. I told her I was busy, but she just sat down and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I couldn't exactly throw her out."

Minho laughed, tossing a ball into the air and catching it. "She just kept following you? Right. Because that happens to all of us."

—

The heavy double doors of the gymnasium groaned open as Wonyoung and Yujin walked inside. The air was thick with the rhythmic thud of basketballs and the sharp scent of floor wax. Students were scattered across the bleachers, changing shoes and chatting before the coach arrived.

Wonyoung scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on a familiar figure by the equipment rack. "Hey, Karina!" she called out, pulling a reluctant Yujin along.

Karina looked up, a playful glint in her eyes as she watched them approach. "Cutting it a bit close today, aren't you? Coach is going to have us doing laps if we aren't ready in two minutes."

"We got held up," Wonyoung said, trying to sound casual as she leaned against a nearby bench. She lowered her voice slightly. "Hey, you know y/n right? He’s our TA for math"

Beside her, Yujin’s head snapped up. She looked at Wonyoung with wide, panicked eyes, her face flushing as she realized where this was going. She gave a small, desperate shake of her head, silently pleading with Wonyoung to drop it before things got even more awkward.

Karina didn't miss the look. She leaned back against the rack, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. "Of course I know him. He’s one of my best friends. Why the sudden interest, Wonyoung? Looking for some extra credit?"

Wonyoung ignored Yujin’s frantic signaling, leaning in closer to Karina and lowering her voice. "Not exactly. I'm just curious, you know? Like, does he even have an ideal type? Or is he actually into anyone right now? He’s always so locked in and professional, it’s like he doesn't even realize girls exist. Oh, maybe he’s dating someone already. Is he?"

Yujin felt the blood rush to her face so quickly she thought she might actually faint. Wonyoung, stop. Please, just stop, she screamed internally. What are you even saying right now? You sound so obvious! And now Karina is going to tell him, and he’s going to know we were asking. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, her mind racing with the image of you sitting at your desk, calm and composed, while Wonyoung acted like a desperate detective. We look so pathetic right now, she thought, her fingers knotting together.

Suddenly, Karina’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward, her face breaking into a wide, excited grin. She practically vibrated with energy as she looked between the two of them. "Wait, wait! Are you actually interested in him? Oh my god, I can totally see it! You and him?" Karina gushed, her voice echoing a little too loudly for Yujin’s comfort.

Wonyoung immediately straightened up, waving her hands in a frantic time-out gesture. "No! No, no, no. It’s not for me, Karina. I'm definitely not interested in him like that," she insisted, her voice sharp with denial.

Karina’s grin didn't fade; it just morphed into something more analytical. She shifted her gaze, her eyes landing briefly on Yujin before looking back at Wonyoung. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a low, playful hum. "Okay... so if it’s not for you, then who is it for? Because you don't just ask about a guy's ideal type for a stranger."

Yujin felt like she was standing under a spotlight. She kept her head down, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she was sure they could hear it. Wonyoung, just walk away. Don't say anything else. Please.

Wonyoung caught Yujin's panicked vibe and gave a small, mysterious smirk to cover it up. She adjusted the strap of her gym bag, looking Karina right in the eye. "I can't tell you yet. It’s... a work in progress. I’ll give you a hint later."

Karina’s gaze shifted. She didn't look at Wonyoung anymore; instead, her eyes settled on Yujin. She watched the way Yujin was practically trying to merge with the floorboards, her ears tinted a deep crimson and her hands twisting the fabric of her uniform.

Karina was smart, she hadn't become one of your best friends by being oblivious. A slow, knowing look crossed her face. She didn't say anything out loud, but the way her head tilted as she studied Yujin’s sheer internal crisis said everything. She had clearly connected the dots between Wonyoung's "confidential inquiry" and the girl currently vibrating with embarrassment next to her.

"I see," Karina murmured, her voice softened but laced with a heavy dose of amusement. She reached out and patted Yujin’s shoulder as she walked past toward the center of the court. "Good luck with your 'work in progress,' Wony."

Then, she leaned in slightly toward Yujin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and genuine support. "And don't worry too much, Yujin," she whispered, giving her a playful grin.

Yujin let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding, finally looking up as Karina walked away. "Wonyoung," she hissed, her voice a mix of a sob and a growl. "Now she thinks I like him!"

Wonyoung didn't look bothered at all. She began walking toward the locker room to drop off her extra gear, her pace casual as she glanced back at her friend.

"Don’t you like him? When will you finally admit it?" she asked, her voice stretching into a long, whiny trail. She slumped her shoulders forward, looking at Yujin with a dramatic pout. "Come on, Yujin, admit it already! My ears are going to fall off if I have to keep listening to you deny it!"

"But, I don't!" Yujin shot back, though the heat in her face told a completely different story. She hurried to keep up, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

"So why were you acting like that when I was talking to Karina?" Wonyoung asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as she pushed open the locker room door. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

"Because you’re acting like I like him!" Yujin whispered-yelled, looking around to make sure the other girls weren't eavesdropping by the lockers. "You’re making it weird!"

Wonyoung let out a light laugh and tossed her bag onto the bench. "How do you know I was talking about you? I never said your name. It could’ve been someone else."

Yujin opened her mouth to argue, but she stalled, realizing Wonyoung had technically kept it vague—even if it was blindingly obvious to anyone with eyes. She groaned, covering her face with her hands for a split second.

She paused, looking at you over the rim of her glasses with a knowing look. "You know you're in the same grade as them, right? Even though you don't have the same classes since you're busy playing 'Genius' in here with the seniors."

"What are you getting at?" you asked, keeping your voice flat.

Karina leaned in, her elbow hitting the table as she propped her chin up, a full-blown teasing smirk on her face. "Don’t you think they're pretty? Most guys in this school would trip over their own feet just to get a seat in your TA block if they knew those two were going to be there."

Before you could even formulate a dry response, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I haven't seen you talk to a single girl besides me outside of class for the entirety of high school. Seriously, shouldn't the 'Ace' have a girlfriend by now?"

You felt a slight heat crawl up your neck, but you didn't let your expression waver. "I taught them calculus, and I'm busy, Karina. Relationships take time I don't have."

"Spoken like a true robot," she teased, leaning in. "But I'm serious. Don’t be too mean to them.”

"What? I’m not mean..." you countered, actually feeling a sharp prick of offense.

Before you could say more, the bell rang, echoing through the high ceilings of the math wing. The chatter in the room died down instantly as the teacher stood up and tapped a marker against the board. Karina gave you one last mischievous wink, then faced forward, clicking her pen into gear.

—

Yeji propped her chin on her palm as she looked at Yuna. "So, you actually went to those office hours yesterday, right? How was he? You were so excited about it yesterday morning."

Yuna practically beamed, her eyes lighting up as she dropped her chopsticks onto her tray. She didn't even attempt to play it cool, her face flushing a light pink. "Oh my god, he was so nice! I mean, yeah, he’s serious—like, super serious—but he was actually really patient. I thought he’d just stare at us until we figured it out ourselves or just give us the answer to get us to leave, but he actually walked me through the whole logic."

She leaned in closer to the center of the table, her voice dropping to a loud, excited whisper that made the other girls lean in too.

"And honestly? Up close?" Yuna's hands flew up to her cheeks. "He’s even more handsome. He looks way better when you're actually sitting right in front of him instead of just watching him from across the gym or from the bleachers. His focus is just... wow. When he looks at your paper, it's like nothing else in the room exists. I almost forgot how to do basic addition, let alone calculus."

Ryujin, who had been leaning back with her arms crossed, let out a dry snort. "Careful, Yuna. If your heart beats any louder, the tennis team is going to hear it from across the hall. Besides, I thought the 'Ice King' didn't talk to anyone under a 4.0 GPA."

"It's not like that!" Yuna defended, her smile only widening. "He's just... different when he’s teaching. Like he's actually dedicated to making sure you get it. He doesn't just give you the answer; he makes you feel like you're smart enough to find it."

"Interesting," Yeji noted, taking a slow sip of her water. "Usually, guys with that much hype are either total jerks or have the personality of a brick. To hear he’s actually 'patient' is a bit of a plot twist. Maybe there’s a human under all that precision after all."

"I'm telling you," Yuna whispered, leaning even further in. "It’s the eyes. They’re so sharp. It's like he's solving you along with the math problem. If he keeps this up, Room 1120 is going to be the most popular spot in school."

—

On the other side of the lunchroom Leeseo leaned in, her eyes wide with curiosity as she stirred her yogurt. "Did you guys actually see him yesterday? I heard the TA session was packed."

"I didn't go," Rei added, propping her chin on her hand, "but I saw the crowd. Yujin and Wonyoung were there though."

Wonyoung, who had been quietly scrolling through her phone, suddenly looked up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned over and gave Yujin’s shoulder a sharp, playful nudge. "Oh, we did more than just see him. You guys know what happened yesterday?"

Yujin, her spoon halfway to her mouth, looked genuinely confused for a split second, her heart skipping a beat. "What are you talking about, Wonyoung?"

"Don't play dumb," Wonyoung teased, her voice dropping just enough to make it sound like a scandalous secret. "After the session ended, y/n specifically asked to talk to Yujin. Privately. In the classroom. Away from everyone else."

"WAIT, WHAT?!" Leeseo and Rei exclaimed in unison, their voices slightly too loud for the crowded room.

Several students at the neighboring tables turned their heads.

"What did he say, Yujin?" Leeseo hissed, leaning so far over the table she nearly tipped her water. "Did he ask for your number? Is he actually a robot? Tell us!"

Yujin felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she felt the weight of the entire cafeteria's curiosity pressing down on her. She couldn't tell them the truth—that you had snapped, that she had followed you home, or that she had seen the "Ace" looking like he was one step away from a breaking point.

"It’s not that big of a deal," Yujin said quickly, waving her hand dismissively while trying to regain her composure. "He just... he noticed I stayed late and wanted to make sure I understood the last problem. That’s all."

Wonyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the "academic" excuse for a second. "Seriously, Yujin," Rei whispered, leaning in so close their shoulders touched. "The 'Ice King' doesn't just pull people aside. "Maybe he just thinks Yujin is a lost cause in math," Leeseo teased, though her eyes were still wide with suspicion.

Yujin kept her head down, focusing intensely on her lunch as the lunchroom continued to be filled with chatter.

—

The lunchroom chatter followed them like a heavy fog as they stepped out into the main corridor. Yujin was still reeling from Wonyoung’s "secret" reveal; the white lie had painted a target on her back, and the weight of it was making her dizzy.

"Wonyoung, why would you say that?" Yujin hissed, her pace quickening as they rounded the corner. "Now everyone thinks there’s something going on. I barely even know him! We've talked for, what, ten minutes total?"

"Exactly," Wonyoung said, her eyes scanning the crowd ahead like a hawk. "Which is why we’re going to increase your screen time."

"What? What do you mean?" Yujin asked, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion. She stopped for a second, trying to parse Wonyoung’s logic. "Wonyoung, I'm serious, what are you—"

"Shh. The target is in range, and he looks distracted," Wonyoung whispered, her eyes locking onto you as you approached.

Before Yujin could process the mischievous glint in her friend's eyes, Wonyoung stepped into her space and threw her weight into Yujin’s shoulder. She stumbled sideways, her balance vanishing. She let out a small gasp as she collided directly with your chest, the force of it nearly knocking your phone out of your hand.

You staggered back half a step, your arms instinctively reaching out to catch her. Your fingers gripped Yujin’s upper arms, pulling her upright to steady her.

Yujin looked up, her face inches from yours. Up close, you looked caught off guard; your usual mask of indifference was momentarily crooked. You blinked, your eyes flicking to hers before darting away to the side. You weren't angry, but you looked a little rattled by the sudden proximity, your grip on her arms lingering for just a fraction of a second too long before you realized it.

"I-I'm so sorry," Yujin stammered, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Wonyoung just—I mean, I tripped."

You let go of her arms, stepping back to re-establish a polite, rigid distance. You cleared your throat, focusing intensely on the schedules in your hand rather than looking her in the eye.

"It’s okay," you replied, your voice regaining its flat, detached tone. "Just be careful."

You adjusted the folders under your arm, your movements a little more hurried than usual. Without another word or a glance back, you turned and continued down the hall, your eyes fixed firmly on the floor ahead as you beat a hasty retreat.

Yujin stood frozen for a second before spinning around to face Wonyoung, her eyes wide with mortification.

"What are you doing?!" Yujin whispered-yelled, her face still burning. "Why would you do that? I barely know him, Wonyoung! Now he probably thinks I’m a total klutz on top of everything else."

Wonyoung, however, wasn't looking at Yujin. She was watching the way you were walking away—just a little bit faster than your usual composed stride.

"He said 'it's okay,'" Wonyoung noted, a smug grin spreading across her face. "And besides, now he remembers you."

"I'm sure he already remembers me," Yujin countered quickly, her voice defensive as she tried to smooth down her uniform.

Wonyoung turned back to her, her grin only widening. She reached out and patted Yujin’s burning cheek playfully. "Well, now he definitely remembers you. There’s a difference between being a student in a classroom and being the girl who nearly tackled him in the hallway.

"Why does it even matter anyway?" Yujin snapped, her voice firm as she swiped Wonyoung’s hand away. She straightened her posture, trying to reclaim her dignity. "I don't even like him. He’s just the TA, Wonyoung."

Wonyoung leaned into Yujin's line of sight, her eyebrows arched in a skeptical challenge. "Are you sure about that? Because for someone who thinks he's 'nothing,' your face is really red, Yujin. Like, vending machine strawberry milk red."

"It’s because you pushed me into him!" Yujin shot back.

—

The day moved in its usual sequence. You moved from class to class, not paying attention to much of the outside distraction. After your final period, you bypassed the lingering crowds at the lockers and headed straight for the small deli across from the school. You sat by the window, focused on a sandwich and a notebook full of match notes, barely noticing the world passing by.

Karina found you there, sliding into the booth with a heavy sigh and a bag of chips she’d just bought.

"The 'Ace' in his natural habitat," she teased, kicking your foot under the table. "You look like you're preparing for war, not a tennis match."

"Stop calling me that. I’m just reviewing some footwork," you muttered, not looking up.

"Just eat your food, y/n." She stayed for ten minutes, the two of you talking in short, comfortable bursts about the upcoming tournament brackets. It was the only part of the day where you didn't feel like you were being "watched"—just two friends killing time before their respective grinds began.

When she left, you headed to the courts.

—

Practice finally ended for the volleyball team. The gym lights hummed as they flickered off, leaving the campus in a hazy, blue-tinted darkness. Wonyoung and Yujin walked side-by-side toward the school gates, their footsteps echoing against the pavement.

Wonyoung was busy adjusting her shirt, humming a melody under her breath, but Yujin was unusually quiet. Her eyes kept drifting toward the tennis courts, then back to the long, tree-lined sidewalk that led toward the residential district.

"Are you even listening?" Wonyoung asked, nudging her. "I was saying we should grab those strawberry lattes tomorrow before the session."

"Yeah... sorry. Lattes sound good," Yujin replied, but her gaze was already elsewhere.

They reached the corner of 4th and Main, the spot where their paths usually split. "Anyway, I'm turning here. My mom’s picking me up at the bakery," Wonyoung said, waving a hand. "Don't let the ghosts get you on the walk home, Yujin!"

Yujin laughed as she kept walking. "Goodnight, Wonyoung."

As soon as Wonyoung turned the corner and disappeared, the silence of the street felt twice as heavy. Yujin slowed her pace as she reached the specific stretch of sidewalk—the place where, two nights ago, she had watched you stop under the flickering streetlight.

She walked past the flickering light, her footsteps the only sound in the quiet air. She didn't feel disappointed, just... curious. It was like a puzzle piece was missing from the scenery. She eventually turned the corner toward her house, dismissing the thought of the "Ice King" as she focused on her own aching muscles and the homework waiting for her at home.

—

The 2:50 PM bell rang, signaling the end of the day for most, but for you, it was the start of the second shift. You were inside Room 1120, wiping down the whiteboard until it was blank. 

In sharp, uncompromising letters across the top of the board, you wrote: NO QUESTIONS ABOUT THE QUIZ.

Beneath it, you added a smaller, more blunt subtext: I do not know what is on the test. Do not ask for solutions.

The door creaked open, and Yuna stepped in. She wasn't carrying her usual stack of heavy textbooks—just a small bag and that signature, high-energy aura that always seemed to shrink the room. She was practically vibrating with energy, her notebook tucked under her arm as she made a beeline for the front row.

"Good afternoon, y/n! I’m ready for those derivatives today," she said, her voice bright enough to fill the empty room.

She stopped in her tracks, however, as her eyes landed on the board. Her bright expression shifted into a playful, exaggerated pout. She leaned against the edge of your desk, invading your personal space just enough to be noticeable, her chin propping up on her hand as she looked from the board back to you.

"Not even a hint?" Yuna asked, her voice dropping into a soft, honeyed tone. She tilted her head, her eyes searching yours for any sign of a crack in the 'Ice King' exterior. "Come on, y/n. I’ve been studying so hard my brain feels like it’s melting. Just a tiny 'yes' or 'no' on whether I should focus on the chain rule? It wouldn't hurt anyone."

"The board is clear, Yuna," you replied, your voice flat as you set the chalk down. You finally turned, meeting her gaze with a neutral stare. I’m just here to make sure you actually get this. If you understand the logic, the rest of it should be easy."

"Why don't you teach me then?" she said, a small, challenging smile playing on her lips.

You let out a short, breathy huff. "I am teaching you, Yuna. That’s what this session is for."

As she sat down, you glanced past her toward the hallway. Lingering just outside the door frame were Yeji and Ryujin. They weren't hiding, but they weren't coming in either—Yeji was leaning against the lockers with her arms crossed, watching you with a sharp, analytical gaze, while Ryujin stood beside her, looking bored but curious.

You set the eraser down. Without turning fully around, you projected your voice toward the open doorway. "You two. You might as well come in."

Yeji blinked, genuinely surprised you’d called them out so directly. Ryujin straightened up, pulling her hands out of her hoodie pockets as they both hovered at the threshold.

"Even if you’re not part of the class, you can just sit," you added, your tone flat and indifferent.

You sat at the desk beside Yuna, the scratch of your pencil against the paper rhythmically keeping time with the hum of the classroom. You were still breaking down derivatives, moving into the more complex chain rules that usually tripped people up.

"You have to treat the inner function as its own entity first," you murmured, circling a set of parentheses. "If you don't, the whole rate of change falls apart by the third step. See?"

You looked up to see if she understood, but Yuna wasn't looking at the math. Her chin was propped in her palm, and she was staring directly into your eyes, her expression one of pure, unblinking fascination. She was so close you could see the reflection of the overhead lights in her pupils. She didn't look away when you caught her; if anything, her gaze intensified, as if she were trying to see past the "Ice King" exterior.

A couple of tables over, Ryujin and Yeji were like a two-person jury. Ryujin leaned back, balancing her chair on two legs, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she watched Yuna’s blatant attempt to distract you. Yeji remained more poised, her sharp eyes darting between your steady hand and Yuna’s face, clearly impressed—or amused—by your lack of reaction. They didn't say a word, but their silence was loud, a heavy weight of observation that made the air feel thick.

As you moved on to a second example, the classroom door began to swing open more frequently. The actual students were filtering in for the official start of office hours.

The quiet, focused bubble you had maintained began to thin as the room filled. The newcomers hesitated at the threshold, their footsteps faltering when they saw the "Ace" already deep in a session. They filtered in like a hushed tide, whispering behind their hands as they claimed the peripheral desks.

"Next example," you said, your voice remaining flat and professional despite the growing audience and Yuna's persistent staring. You tapped the paper with your pencil to draw her attention back down. "This one involves a trigonometric function. Pay attention to the sign change, or you'll get the slope backwards."

You didn't acknowledge the girls behind her, and you didn't acknowledge the students whispering by the lockers. You kept your focus entirely on the lead of your pencil, even as Yuna leaned in even closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Thanks for the 'one-on-one' time, y/n. I think I learned a lot more than just derivatives today."

She gave you a playful, two-finger salute and a wink that felt like a localized earthquake in the quiet room. Turning on her heel, she gathered her things and headed for the exit. Yeji and Ryujin stood up in sync, like a personal guard finally relieved of duty. Ryujin shot you a dry, knowing smirk as she passed, while Yeji gave a small, respectful nod.

The three girls stepped out into the hallway, the heavy door of the classroom clicking shut behind them. They hadn't gone far when they crossed paths with Wonyoung, Yujin, and Leeseo, who were heading toward the classroom for office hours.

"Oh, hey guys!" Yuna chirped, offering a bright wave.

"You're leaving already?" Wonyoung asked, pausing as the two groups met in the middle of the hall. 

"Yuna was just getting some 'clarification' on a few things," Ryujin said with a cryptic smirk.

The two groups brushed past each other, but the high ceilings of the hallway acted like a megaphone. As the distance grew, Yeji leaned toward Yuna, her voice low but perfectly audible to everyone in the hallway.

"So, are you actually going to do it?" Yeji asked, nudging Yuna. "Are you going to ask out y/n?"

Ryujin let out a short, amused huff. "Did you see the look in her eyes while he was tutoring her? I thought she was going to melt right onto the desk. She didn't hear a single word he said about math."

"He’s just so... unshakeable," Yuna countered, her voice trailing off with a hint of a giggle. "I’ve never seen anyone stay that calm with me sitting that close."

Yeji nudged her again, grinning. "So? Are you going to ask him out or what?"

"Not yet," Yuna replied, a playful but determined glint in her eyes as they rounded the corner. "I need to get closer to him first—actually make him see me, not just the math. If I ask now, he’ll probably just calculate the probability of me being a distraction and say no."

Behind them, the three girls slowed to a crawl. Leeseo’s jaw nearly dropped. "Did she just say she’s going to ask out y/n?" she whispered, looking at Wonyoung.

"Yuna and y/n..." she mused, adjusting the strap of her bag. She didn't look at Leeseo, though. Instead, she shifted her gaze sideways, her eyes narrowing as she studied Yujin’s profile, waiting for even a flicker of a reaction. "I guess that was inevitable. It's a collision course if I've ever heard one."

"You're not shocked?" Leeseo asked, looking between her two seniors.

"Not really," Wonyoung replied. "Yuna has half the guys in this school following her around like puppies, and y/n... well, half the girls in our year find an excuse to walk past the tennis courts every afternoon just to see him breathe. It was only a matter of time before the two of them ended up in the same room."

She leaned in slightly toward Yujin, her voice dropping to a teasing lilt. "Right, Yujin? They’d make quite the 'power couple,' wouldn’t they? It’s almost a shame for everyone else."

Yujin, however, remained quiet. She stood at the threshold of the classroom, her hand hovering near the door handle. She thought back to the empty, silent sidewalk from last night—the way the streetlights hit the spot where you weren't—and then pictured the scene the girls had just described: Yuna leaning over your desk, trying to crack your shell.

"I don’t think he's the type to be swayed just because someone is pretty," Yujin said calmly, her voice level and stripped of the excitement the others felt.

Leeseo’s eyes lit up instantly. She slowed her pace, leaning in toward Yujin with a mischievous, cat-like grin. "Oh, really? And how exactly do you know that, Yujin-unnie?" she teased, her voice dropping into a sing-song tone. "Have you been trying to sway him?"

Wonyoung let out a soft, amused hum, turning her head to study Yujin’s expression. "She has a point. You sounded very certain about his personality just now. Is there something you’re not telling us?"

Yujin didn't flush or stammer, but she did look away, her gaze fixing on the door handle of Room 1120. "It’s just an assumption. Let’s just get the session over with."

"If you say so," Leeseo whispered, still wearing that tiny, knowing smirk as they walked through the doors.

—

"You know, y/n," Wonyoung started, her voice sounding more conversational than teasing. "You should probably give Yujin the harder problems. She’s actually been finished with the main set for ten minutes while the rest of us are still struggling with the first page."

You paused, your pencil hovering over a worksheet. You hadn't noticed the time, but Wonyoung was right. You glanced over at Yujin’s desk. She wasn't making a show of being finished; she was just sitting there quietly, reviewing her steps with a calm intensity.

"She’s surprisingly good at this," Wonyoung added, leaning back and nudging Yujin’s shoulder with a smile. "Most people come in here to talk, but she actually looks like she’s in her element. You two are kind of similar when you're focused."

Yujin looked up then, her eyes meeting yours for a brief second. She looked a little caught off guard by Wonyoung’s sudden praise, but she didn't look away. "I just like the logic of it," she said softly. "It makes sense."

You let out a breath—not a sigh of annoyance, just a quiet release of the day’s tension. You weren't a robot, after all; you were just tired. You looked at Yujin’s notebook, seeing the neat, organized rows of numbers that mirrored the way you liked to work.

"It’s rare to see someone actually check their work before handing it in," you admitted, your voice losing some of its sharp edge. It wasn't a compliment, exactly, but for you, it was a high form of recognition. "Wonyoung’s right. If you’re that far ahead, you don't have to sit through the review. You’re doing well, Yujin."

Yujin’s face turns light pink and gives a small, almost imperceptible nod, a tiny bit of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Thanks," she murmured.

Wonyoung grinned, satisfied with herself. She hadn't forced a "moment," but she’d managed to pull your eyes away from the chalkboard and onto Yujin.

The session finally came to a close as the distant chime of the school bell echoed through the halls. You began gathering your papers into a neat stack, the sharp sound of your stapler puncturing the quiet.

Wonyoung stood up first, stretching her arms with a graceful yawn, while Leeseo, on the other side of the room, scrambled to shove her homework into her bag. Yujin was the last to stand, carefully sliding her perfectly completed worksheet into her folder before looking up at you one last time.

"Good work today," you said, your voice calm.

As they stepped out into the hallway and the door swung shut behind them, the shift in energy was immediate. They started walking toward the gym, their sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

Yujin turned to Wonyoung, her eyes narrowed and her pace quickening. "Wonyoung, what was that back there? What are you doing?"

Wonyoung didn't even look over, a playful, satisfied hum vibrating in her throat. "What? I was just praising you. Is it a crime to tell the truth?"

"You were being... extra," Yujin countered, her voice low as she checked to make sure no other students were listening. "You didn't have to tell him I was 'in my element.' or whatever. It was embarrassing."

Wonyoung finally stopped at the locker room entrance, turning to face Yujin with a mischievous smirk that made her look entirely too innocent to be trusted.

"I was just helping him notice the right things, Yujin. Besides..." She leaned in closer, "It shouldn't be a problem, right? Especially since you told us nothing was going on between you two. If there’s no feelings, there’s no reason to be flustered."

Yujin opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. She could feel Leeseo watching them with wide, curious eyes, waiting for her response.

"There’s nothing going on," Yujin finally muttered, adjusting the strap of her heavy bag. "I just want to pass the class."

—

The walk home feels miles longer than usual. Out of habit, you pull a ball from your pocket and begin rhythmically dribbling it against the pavement with the edge of your racket. Tap. Tap. Tap. The steady metallic ring is the only thing breaking the silence of the empty streets.

With every bounce, Coach’s voice echoes in his skull, sharper now than it was in the locker room. “You played without a shred of heart… You’re the weakest link… You lost my respect.”

The frustration boils over, a hot, prickly heat rising up your neck. you stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk, your chest heaving.

"Damn it!" you erupt, the sound tearing through the quiet air as you scream at the darkening clouds.

In a blur of blind rage, you wind back, gripping the handle hard. You bring the racket down with everything you have, a violent arc intended to shatter the frame against the concrete. But inches from the impact — just as the edge of the racket is about to touch the ground—you freeze.

The air whistles in the sudden silence. You stand there, hunched over, the racket trembling in your hand. You stare at the logo on your strings. You hate this racket right now, but you hate the idea of being the "weakest link" even more.

The silence following your crashout is deafening. You stand there, chest heaving, the racket head still hovering inches above the pavement. Just as you pull back, the sound of footsteps hitting the sidewalk makes your head snap up.

Yujin is standing at the corner, frozen. She clearly saw the whole thing—the scream, the wind-up, the moment you almost snapped your $200 racket in half. The streetlights flicker on, catching the shock in her expression.

Embarrassment flares up in your chest. You don’t lower the racket immediately. You look at Yujin across the street. 

You know who she is. You’ve been to a few of the volleyball games before—the atmosphere in the gym is always better than the tennis courts—and you've seen her on the floor. 

"What?" you snap, your voice still raw from the frustration.

Yujin flinches slightly, her grip tightening on her own bag. "Nothing," she mutters, her voice small. She breaks eye contact instantly, fixing her gaze on her shoes as she quickens her pace, disappearing down the street before he can say another word.

—

The front door feels heavier than usual as you push it open, the smell of garlic and vegetables hitting you instantly. The house is warm, but you feel cold to the bone.

Your father is sitting at the head of the table, arms crossed, reading something on his tablet. Your mother is at the stove, the rhythmic sizzle of the pan filling the silence as she plates the final portion of dinner.

"You're late," his father says, his voice level but stern. He doesn't offer a greeting, just the question that matters most to him: "Did you win?"

You hesitate, the word win feeling like ash in your mouth. "Yes," you mutter, not meeting your father's eyes. "I won."

 He nods once.

"Oh, ignore him for a second," his mother says, turning from the stove with a soft smile, wiping her hands on her apron. She notices the way your shoulders are hunched, the dark cloud hanging over your head. "You look exhausted, honey. Did you at least have fun out there today?"

The question hits like a physical blow. You think of the lazy footwork, the coach’s voice calling him a "disease," and Yujin’s startled face across the street.

"Yeah, Mom," your voice flat as you avoid her gaze. "A total blast."

You don't wait for a response. You grab your bag and head for the stairs, your footsteps heavy on the wood. "I’m taking a shower," you call back over your shoulder.

—

After dinner you go straight up to your room to finish some homework. You’ve barely sat down when your phone buzzes on your nightstand.

It’s a text from Karina.

Yu Jimin: Hey, did you finish the Calc 3 homework? I'm stuck on the last three problems.

Yu Jimin: I heard it was a rough game today. It’s okay, Y/N. It happens to everyone. Don't beat yourself up. ❤️

You: Haha I’m ok

You: Thanks tho. It means a lot

You: I’ll be done with the homework in about an hour. I’ll let you know

Yu Jimin: Ok thanks

You: Wait, how do you even know what happened? It was only a couple hours ago

Yu Jimin: Word gets around 😏

Yu Jimin: You know you have lots of fans right hahaa

You: 😑

—

Ms. Kwon (Eunbi) stands at the front of the room, tapping her desk to get the class’s attention. She waits for the chatter to die down, her expression as sharp and professional as ever.

"Alright, settle down," Ms. Kwon says, her voice projecting easily to the back of the room. "I know many of you have been struggling with the pace of the last two chapters. To help with that, I finally managed to get a teaching assistant for this class.

She turns to the whiteboard and begins scrawling a name in bold, familiar letters.

"Since he’s already taken this class last year, y/n l/n has agreed to take the position. He won't be in here during your class time, but he will be handling the grading for the quizzes and the homework.

A ripple of whispers immediately breaks out. Your name carries weight around the school—between the tennis highlights and the academic reputation, everyone knows who you are. The younger students look at each other, some relieved and others intimidated by the idea of the school’s star athlete grading their failing math quizzes.

"His office hours will be held in room 1120 every Tuesday and Thursday during 10th period," Ms. Kwon continues, ignoring the murmurs. "I suggest you take advantage of it. He was one of the top students last year."

—-

"I'm fine," you sighed.

You adjusted your bag, the strap digging into your shoulder. "But did he really need to call me a 'disease' in front of the whole squad?" you asked, more to the ceiling than to Minho. "I know I played like garbage. I know I was flat. But calling me out in front of everyone… felt unnecessary. 

Minho raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice level. "Look, he's the Coach. He’s always been about the 'culture' over the score. He probably thinks if the top of the ladder looks comfortable, the bottom is going to stop trying altogether."

"I wasn't comfortable," you muttered, your stride lengthening as you headed toward the stairs. "I was just having an off day. I'll own the lazy footwork—it was embarrassing. Now I’m going to have to do double the laps just so he can prove that he’s ‘fair’ to everyone. It’s a move, and we both know it."

Minho shrugged, trying to keep pace. "That’s the burden of being the guy at the top. He can’t punish the benchwarmers if he doesn't make an example out of the star first. It’s leadership 101, even if it sucks for your hamstrings."

"Whatever," you replied, shifting the weight of your bag. "Which class do you have now?"

Minho stopped dead, staring at you with disbelief “We’re in the same class, idiot.”

"Man, Coach really did a number on your brain," Minho muttered, shaking his head as he pushed the classroom door open. 

You let out a dry, short breath. "Just get inside."

—

At a table near the center of the room, Yuna, Ryujin, and Yeji were huddled over their trays, though none of them were really eating.

"Did you hear the announcement in Kwon’s class?" Yuna asked, her eyes bright with a mix of disbelief and genuine excitement. "y/n is the new TA. He's going to be grading our quizzes."

Ryujin leaned back, a smirk playing on her lips. "The 'Ice King' himself? I bet he grades like he plays—cold and perfect. One wrong decimal and he’ll probably just set the paper on fire."

"Oh, stop it," Yeji laughed, nudging Ryujin. "He’s not cold, he’s just... focused. You’ve seen him on the court. He’s in a different world. It’s actually kind of impressive how he keeps it all together with that much pressure on him."

"It’s more than just focus," Yuna countered, leaning in closer. "He’s the number one player in the state and he’s still topping the academic charts. He doesn't even talk to people unless he has to. It's so mysterious. And honestly?" She lowered her voice. "Having him look over my shoulder at my math homework? I might actually show up to office hours for once."

"You and every other girl in the class," Ryujin pointed out, glancing over at where you were sitting alone. "Look at him. He just won a match yesterday and he looks like he’s planning a tactical strike. He’s definitely not your average 'math tutor'."

Yeji followed her gaze, her expression turning a bit more thoughtful. "I heard his Coach gave him a hard time after the match, though. Something about his heart not being in it. If he’s already stressed about tennis, having to deal with our failing grades might be the thing that finally breaks that poker face."

"I'll take my chances," Yuna said, a determined smile on her face. "Room 1120, Tuesday and Thursday. I need to 'accidentally' forget how to do derivatives by then."

—-

On the other side of the cafeteria Wonyoung, Rei, and Yujin sat together, picking at their lunch with an air of practiced calm that set them apart from the frantic energy of the rest of the room.

Leeseo slid into the empty seat at the end of their table, a playful, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She leaned in, her eyes darting between the three of them.

"I heard you guys finally got a TA for Calculus," Leeseo said, her tone dripping with mock casualness.

Wonyoung didn't even look up from her salad, her expression remaining perfectly poised. "Yeah, so?" she replied.

"So? Isn’t it y/n?" Leeseo asked, her eyebrows dancing.

Wonyoung finally paused, her fork hovering mid-air. She didn't say anything, but Leeseo took the silence as an invitation to keep going.

"No, but think about it," Leeseo pressed, gesturing subtly toward your table across the room. "He’s literally the top tennis player in the state, he’s in your grade, and he’s already finished the entire Calculus 1 and 2 curriculum? Ms. Kwon doesn't just give that job to anyone."

Rei leaned back, tapping her chin with her pen as she looked you over. "It’s a bit much, isn't it? Top of the state for tennis and apparently a math prodigy on the side. I saw him at the library last week during a free period—it was like he was in a trance. He just sat there doing work on his laptop, no phone, no music, nothing. It’s like he doesn't even have a 'relax' setting. He just has 'on' and 'standby.’"

"He's not a robot," Yujin muttered, finally joining the conversation. She was stirring her drink, her expression unreadable. She was the only one who had seen the "unshakeable" top seed nearly break down on a sidewalk the night before. "He’s just... intense."

"Intense is an understatement," Leeseo countered. "He’s hot, he’s mysterious, and now he holds our GPAs in his hands. I heard half the class is already planning to 'fail' just to get a seat in that room." She glanced at the three of them. "Are any of you actually going to show up to his office hours?”

Yujin’s grip tightened slightly on her straw. She felt the weight of the secret she was keeping—the memory of you screaming at the clouds. "I might," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "The last problem of this week’s homework is pretty difficult. I want to make sure I actually did it correctly"

Wonyoung looks across the room towards you before she turns back around. "Just don't expect him to be friendly. Apparently he looked like he wanted to burn the court down yesterday. I doubt he’ll be any warmer in a classroom."

—

The hallway was a sea of students rushing to their final period or heading toward the exits. You were leaning against a locker, adjusting the grip on your bag, when Minho spotted you and fought his way through the crowd.

"Yo, Ace!" Minho said, slightly out of breath. "I was just about to head out. You want to grab some food real quick? I’m hitting that spot across the street before we have to be at the courts for practice. I’m starving."

You shook your head, checking the clock above the classroom doors. "I can't. I have to be in Room 1120. I’ve got office hours during 10th period starting today."

Minho’s eyes widened, remembering the announcement. "Oh, right.”

"It's fine," you said, though the mention of food made your stomach growl. "But actually, do me a favor. Can you grab something to go for me? Just something so I can eat while I tutor. If I don't get some fuel in me now, I’m going to be a nightmare by the time practice starts."

Minho grinned, already turning to head toward the exit. "Alright, sure. I’ll drop it off at 1120 in twenty minutes. Try not to scare the students too much before I get there!"

—

"Where the hell is this classroom..." you muttered under your breath, shifting the heavy weight of your gear.

Finally, you spotted the brass numbers: 1120.

You pushed the door open and exhaled a long, tired breath. The room was empty and smelled of lemon polish. You walked straight to the back corner, unceremoniously dropping your heavy school bag and your tennis bag. The muffled thud of the rackets hitting the floor echoed in the quiet space. You dragged a hand through your hair, trying to look at least somewhat like a functioning human being before the "office hours" officially started.

You had barely sat down when the door swung open. It was a girl you’d seen in the halls—you didn't know her name, but she seemed genuinely relieved to see you.

"Oh! You're actually here," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. "I wasn't sure if anyone would actually show up for the first day of office hours."

You gave her a small, tired smile—the first genuine one you'd felt like giving all day. "I’m the TA, I'm supposed to be here." You glanced down at her notebook, then back up at her. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Oh! I'm Yuna," she said, offering a quick, sheepish grin.

"Nice to meet you, Yuna. You have a question?"

"It’s this," she said, sliding her notebook onto the desk. Her pages were filled with crossed-out numbers and frustrated scribbles. "I can't get the derivative right. Every time I try to apply the chain rule, the numbers just... explode. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

You leaned in, pulling her notebook closer. The "Ice King" persona didn't even make an appearance; instead, you were surprisingly approachable, your voice dropping to a low, steady tone that made the intimidating equations feel manageable.

"You aren't losing your mind," you said, pointing to a specific line of her work with the back of your pen. "See right here? You’re trying to derive the whole thing at once. Think of it like a set of nested boxes. You have to open the outside one before you can get to what’s inside. You just forgot to multiply by the derivative of the inner function."

"Oh... wait," she said, leaning in closer as you wrote a simplified example in the margin. "So I leave the inside alone first?" 

"Exactly," you encouraged, giving her a small nod. "Take it step by step. If you rush the first part, the rest of the equation falls apart. Try the next one, I’ll watch. There’s no rush."

As the minutes ticked by, more students filtered into the room, and you treated each one with that same unexpected patience. You moved from desk to desk, leaning over to point out a missed sign here or a shortcut there. You didn't condescend, and you didn't rush.

You had barely finished helping Yuna when the door creaked again. Wonyoung and Yujin walked into the room together, their presence immediately drawing a few wandering eyes from the other students. They didn't come to the front; instead, they moved toward the back, finding two empty desks near the window to wait their turn.

However, the quiet sanctuary of Room 1120 was quickly becoming a crowded hub. Every time the door creaked, a few more bodies filled the empty desks, and the low hum of whispers began to compete with the sound of scratching pencils. You glanced at the clock; your time was being divided into smaller and smaller increments. 

You were right in the middle of explaining a tricky power rule when the door didn't just creak—it swung wide.

Minho stepped in, balancing a steaming plastic container and a pair of wooden chopsticks. The rich, savory scent of the noodles immediately cut through the room, making half the room look up with hungry eyes.

Minho stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping as he took in the packed classroom. "Man... there's a lot of people here," he whistled, weaving his way through the desks toward the front. "I thought you'd be in here chilling, maybe helping one person. This looks like a mid-term review session."

"Just put it on the desk, Minho," you said, not looking up from a student's notebook as you circled a mistake. "I'll eat it while I work."

"You’re a machine," Minho muttered, sliding the noodles onto a clear spot on your desk. "Don't let the sauce drip on the calculus. I'm heading to the courts—don't be late for warm-ups."

You gave him a quick nod of thanks as he retreated, the door clicking shut behind him. You didn't even sit down; you just popped the lid, took a quick, standing bite of the noodles, and pivoted back to the next student.

Toward the back, Wonyoung and Yujin watched the exchange. Yujin noticed how you didn't even take a real break—you just kept moving, fueled by noodles, your patience never wavering despite the growing crowd. She leaned back, her mind flashing again to the sidewalk. It was hard to believe the guy who had been screaming at the sky yesterday was currently the most composed person in the building.

Finally, the room began to thin out. One by one, students packed their bags and left, until only the two of them remained.

"Your turn," you said, clearing your throat. "Sorry for the wait."

You took a final bite of the noodles Minho had dropped off, set the container aside, and looked at Yujin’s notebook. It was a mess of crossed-out variables.

"You're making it harder than it needs to be," you said softly, your voice a stark contrast to the yelling she'd heard the night before. You took your pen and drew a circle around the inner part of her equation. "Think of the chain rule like a shell. You derive the outside first, but you keep the 'core' exactly as it is. Then, you multiply the whole thing by the derivative of that core. If you try to change everything at once, it won’t work."

You scribbled a quick, simplified example in the margin of her paper. "Try it on this one. Focus on the 'core' first. I'll let you know if you did something wrong."

As she started to write, you could see her hand hesitate. She looked at your hands now, which were steadily pointing out a mistake on a worksheet, and tried to reconcile the two versions of you. The violent, shaking hands that almost snapped a racket were now precise and calm. Her eyes occasionally darted to your face as if checking to see if the "Ice King" was about to appear, but you just stayed there, leaning back slightly, giving her the space to work while offering a calm nod whenever she made a correct move.

"There," you whispered when she finished the last step. "Perfect. You had the logic, you were just rushing the execution."

"I think I actually get it now," Wonyoung admitted, closing her notebook. "Thanks. You're a much better teacher than I expected."

As they both stood up to leave, slinging their bags over their shoulders, you cleared your throat. You didn't look up from the desk, but your voice was firm.

"Hey, Yujin? Can I talk to you for a second?"

Yujin froze mid-step. Wait, he knows my name? she thought, her heart giving a strange little thud. She hadn't introduced herself today, and she didn't think you'd noticed her at those volleyball games you'd attended.

Wonyoung paused, her eyes darting between you and Yujin. Yujin gave her a small, uncertain nod. Wonyoung lingered for a heartbeat before taking the hint, heading out into the hallway and closing the door softly behind her.

You waited until the footsteps faded before you looked up. The "approachable TA" mask had slipped just a fraction.

"About yesterday," you started, your voice low. "On the sidewalk near the park."

Yujin shifted her weight, her grip tightening on her bag strap. "I remember."

"I was having a rough night," you said, looking her straight in the eye. "And I'm sorry for snapping at you like that. It wasn't about you, I just… I wasn't in the right headspace. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about the incident. Or seeing me like that."

Yujin looked at you for a long moment. She saw the pride in your eyes, but also the exhaustion. "Yeah, sure," she said, her voice regaining its steady tone. "No problem. I'm not really the type to gossip anyway."

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders dropping. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

—

Wonyoung was leaning against the cold metal lockers, her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched as Yujin stepped out of the room. The door clicked shut, leaving them in the relatively empty hallway.

"Soooo," Wonyoung started, her voice echoing slightly. "What was that about? Why did the 'Ice King' want to talk to you specifically? And how does he even know your name?"

Yujin avoided eye contact, adjusting the strap of her bag with sudden, intense focus. "Oh, it was... nothing. He just wanted to make sure I understood the chain rule since I missed that one question.”

Wonyoung stared at her, deadpan. The silence stretched for three seconds too long.

"An Yujin, you’re a terrible liar," Wonyoung said flatly. "You’ve been acting weird since we walked in, and that excuse was pathetic. 

Yujin sighed, her shoulders slumping. She looked back at the closed door of Room 1120, then leaned in closer to Wonyoung, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Okay, look. I saw him yesterday. Off-campus," Yujin admitted. "He was... not like this. He was losing it. Screaming, about to smash his racket. It was actually kind of scary."

Wonyoung’s eyes widened, her posture shifting from skeptical to genuinely shocked. "The guy in there? The one who just spent twenty minutes patiently explaining derivatives to a bunch of students like he was a saint?"

"Yeah," Yujin nodded. "He asked me not to tell anyone.”

Wonyoung looked at the door with a new expression—not quite pity, but a newfound curiosity. "So the perfect Ace has a crack in the glass. Interesting. Are you actually going to keep it a secret?"

"I told him I would," Yujin said, starting to walk toward the exit. "Besides, seeing him act that way... it made him feel more like a person and less like an idol.”

—

You were still standing by the desk, staring at the closed door and wondering if you'd said too much or too little, when the door burst open again.

Minho didn't just walk in this time; he practically ran across the hall. "Hurry up, kid! You’re going to be late!" he barked, grabbing the strap of your tennis bag and tossing it toward you. "Coach is already out there doing the roster check. If you’re the last one on the court, he’s going to make us all run suicides until we puke."

You caught the bag out of the air, the heavy weight of the rackets a sharp reminder of the world you actually belonged to. "I'm coming, I'm coming," you muttered, quickly shoving the cap back on your pen and swiping the empty noodle container into the trash.

"What took so long? I thought you were done ten minutes ago," Minho asked, already halfway back down the hall, his footsteps echoing. "I saw those two girls from the volleyball team leaving. Did they have that many questions, or were you just showing off?"

"Just a complicated derivative," you lied easily, your voice smooth. "Nested functions. It takes time to explain the chain rule properly."

"Right, right. Math. Very exciting," Minho joked, though he gave you a side-eye as you caught up to him. "You look more stressed than when I left the noodles"

"It’s fine," you said, tightening the grip on your bag. "Let's just get to the courts."

—

The atmosphere at the courts was the polar opposite of the quiet classroom. The sun was baking the blue surface, and the air was thick with the scent of pressurized rubber and sweat. You hit the gate just as Coach blew a deafening blast on his whistle.

"Everyone! Baseline!" Coach roared. "Since our 'Ace' decided that yesterday's performance was a joke, you're all going to learn about team accountability. Five laps, right now. Move!"

A collective groan went up as the team started to jog. But as you joined the line, Coach’s hand shot out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you back.

"Not you," he hissed, his eyes drilling into yours. "You aren't finished at five. You're doing ten extra on top of theirs. Since you like playing like a ghost, you can spend some time haunting the fence line."

By the time the rest of the team finished their fifth lap and collapsed near the water coolers to watch you, you were not even halfway through.

Through the gym windows, you caught a glimpse of the volleyball team mid-drill. You saw Yujin near the glass, pausing to catch her breath. She looked out and saw the entire tennis team resting while you were circling the perimeter alone, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

She stopped. She didn't look away. She knew exactly why you were out there. She’d seen the "shitty performance" starting on that sidewalk yesterday, and now she was watching the bill come due.

By lap fifteen, your legs were shaking so hard you weren't sure they’d hold you up. You crossed the finish line and doubled over, hands on your knees, sweat dripping off your nose onto the court in heavy, dark spots.

Coach walked over, looking down at you with zero sympathy. "Now that you've got that out of your system," he said. “We're doing footwork drills and forehand cross-courts until the sun goes down. If I see one lazy step or one ball land in the alley, we start the clock over."

You hauled the heavy wire hoppers onto the court, your arms feeling like lead. For the next hour, it was a blur of high-intensity movement. Coach stood at the net, feeding balls rapidly. You had to sprint to the corner, set your feet, and whip your racket through the ball to send it screaming across the court, diagonally into the opposite corner.

The sky had deepened into a bruised purple, and the stadium lights hummed with a low, electric drone. While you were still trapped on the court, your lungs burning as you executed one grueling cross-court forehand after another, the volleyball team had already emerged from the gym.

Near the school’s main entrance, the volleyball team stood in a loose circle, their laughter drifting across the pavement. They were in no rush to leave, leaning against the brick pillars and replaying the highlights of their own practice. Yujin kept her back to the courts for the most part, but every so often, she’d shift her stance, her eyes trailing over to the lone figure still sprinting through the shadows of the tennis fence.

By the time Coach finally barked, "Clean it up, we're done," the girls were still there, deep in a conversation that seemed to have shifted from sports to weekend plans.

You hauled the heavy wire hoppers onto the court one last time, your arms feeling like lead. You and Minho worked in a weary silence, the only sound the metallic clink of balls being dumped into the bins. Because you had stayed so late for the extra punishment, the locker rooms were already deserted. You changed quickly, splashed cold water on your face, and headed for the exit.

As you and Minho stepped out into the cool night air, you realized the volleyball girls were still gathered by the bike racks. They had been talking for so long that you, the guy who stayed late for punishment, was actually leaving before them.

Minho nudged your shoulder as you both approached the walkway. "Look at that. Even the volleyball stars lose track of time when they start gossiping. I bet they're talking about that 'Ice King' TA who almost passed out on the baseline today."

"Whatever man" you muttered.

As you drew closer, the girls' conversation dipped in volume. Wonyoung nudged Yujin, a playful smirk on her face. Yujin turned her head, her gaze meeting yours. You broke the gaze sharply, fixing your eyes on the exit gate ahead. Your jaw remained set, and your pace didn't falter despite the dull ache in your quads. You walked straight past them, the smell of sweat and sun-baked court trailing behind you like a shield.

—

Wonyoung and Yujin fall into their usual rhythm, walking side-by-side through the quiet residential streets. The humid evening air feels heavy after practice, and Wonyoung is busy scrolling through her phone, occasionally showing Yujin a post or a meme.

"I’m telling you," Wonyoung said, tucking her phone into her pocket. "Seeing him like that yesterday... the way you described him losing it... and then seeing him today? It doesn’t add up. No one can just flip a switch like that. He’s hiding a lot more than just a bad temper."

Yujin offered a non-committal hum, her mind still on the way you looked under the stadium lights—exhausted, drained, but refusing to let anyone see you break. "Maybe he’s not flipping a switch, Wonyoung. Maybe he's just trying really hard to keep the lights on."

"Or maybe he's a ticking time bomb," Wonyoung countered, waving a hand as she started down her own street. "Just be careful. Text me when you get home! Don't let the 'Ice King'—or whatever is underneath him—haunt your dreams!"

Yujin laughs softly, watching her friend disappear around the corner before continuing her walk alone. The neighborhood is peaceful, the only sound being the distant hum of traffic and the chirping of crickets in the manicured lawns.

She takes another turn onto a narrower, tree-lined sidewalk, and that’s when she hears it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It’s rhythmic, precise, and hauntingly familiar. She slows her pace, peering through the shadows cast by the streetlights. About thirty yards ahead, she sees a silhouette. It’s you.

You weren't rushing. You were moving at a measured, almost meditative pace. In your right hand, you held your racket, but you weren't swinging it. Instead, you were bouncing a tennis ball on the very edge of the racket frame.

Yujin stopped, mesmerized. Yesterday, those hands were shaking with rage. Now, they were steady enough to perform a feat of focus that most players would struggle with after a long day.

She realized that if she kept walking, she’d close the gap, but she didn't want to startle you. 

She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder and began to walk quietly behind you, keeping a respectful distance. She stayed in the shadows, her footsteps masked by the steady, metallic clink of your ball against the racket.

She didn't want to bother you. After the chaos of the classroom and the grueling punishment on the court, she could tell this was your version of silence. She watched the way your shoulders move, the way the tension seemed to flow from your arm into the racket. Yesterday you were screaming at the sky; tonight, you were so quiet you were almost part of the night itself.

The streetlights flickered as you both approached the park—the exact spot where the "Ice King" had shattered the day before. As you reached the familiar stretch of sidewalk, the rhythmic clink suddenly stopped.

You didn't drop the ball. You caught it in your left hand, the leather of your grip creaking as you squeezed the racket. You stood perfectly still, staring at the sidewalk where your racket had nearly met its end twenty-four hours ago.

Yujin froze 50 feet behind you, holding her breath. She saw your head bow slightly, the weight of the day finally seemingly catching up to you. For a moment, she thought you might look back.

But you didn't. You kept walking, the ball dancing on the edge of the racket with a rhythmic, desperate precision—less like a practiced trick and more like a lifeline you were holding onto to keep your mind from drifting back to the day's failures.

She followed you through two more turns, watching your silhouette grow smaller under the rhythmic pulse of the streetlights. When you finally reached the gate of your house and turned inside without a backward glance, the steady clink of the ball finally stopped.