No. No, I can't fall into the trap. I can't give them a reason.
An alarm blared in my head. I turned around hastily and called out to the P.E. teacher.
“No! Sir, please don’t write my answers. I’m really fine.”
“Ah, so much talk. What, are you worried about what the other kids think? Hey, everyone, look. You all see Jun’s arm, right? Just think of it as a handicap and be understanding, alright?”
Sotis, there are adults who just don’t listen. Before I could do anything, the P.E. teacher shoved my answer sheet into the envelope filled with other students’ papers. And to top it off, he left with this remark:
“To be honest, if it were any other kid, you wouldn’t even get scraps.”
With an arrogant gait, he walked out of the classroom. I stood there blankly, staring after him in frustration. It was over. Everything was over.
As I trudged back to my seat, despair settling deep in my gut, I glanced toward the teacher’s podium. Thirty pairs of eyes were locked onto .
“……”
I didn’t know what to do and just wrinkled the hem of my uniform pants.
The class seed to return to their conversations, but a few still stole glances in my direction. They were definitely talking about . Sure enough, soone with a slightly louder voice spoke up.
“Damn. Kang Jun got five extra minutes.”
“Hey. We can all hear you.”
“If he gets first place again this ti, I’m filing a complaint.”
The teasing banter spread through the room. They were laughing, using as their punchline. This ti, I couldn’t even say anything back. I just forced an awkward smile and answered.
“No way, I couldn’t have gotten them all right.”
“No way… wait, 27, -1, 394, and 0? What did you put for the last question?”
“…I put 2.”
“ too.”
“Then it’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Soone mockingly clicked their tongue. And then—my eyes t Go Yohan’s.
Damn it. A part of had been worried, but Yohan simply turned away, as if he had lost interest. It was blatant disregard. And sohow, that made it even worse. A twisted mix of relief and disappointnt churned inside .
Even so, at the ti, I thought this would just blow over.
Yohan didn’t seem too interested, and the rumors hadn’t spread across the entire grade. A few kids from Class 2 seed to know, but after a few days, it looked like everyone had already forgotten.
At least, until I found out that I had placed first in the entire school. Again.
Of all things, this exam’s hardest subject had been math. And, as it turned out, the difference between first and second place had co down to just two points. Ha Minwoo, who had placed third last ti, had studied like hell but ended up writing "2" for the last subjective question, losing his chance to beat . anwhile, Ahn Jisoo, last term’s second-place student, got complacent and wrote "21" for the second subjective question, which was worth four points, knocking them down to third place. The math teacher smugly announced:
“The only student who understood my intent in setting the problems was Kang Jun from Class 1. Everyone, let’s try harder.”
That statent was poison. Poison that would take root, fester, and bear the terrible fruit of May.
If, in that mont, Go Yohan had just muttered his usual, “Eh, things happen,” then nothing would have followed. I truly believe that.
But Yohan wasn’t looking at . His gaze was fixed on his phone screen, his lips curving into a smirk.
I saw it. I saw it happen.
My eyes darted away from him, instinctively dropping to my feet.
This was bad. Sothing terrible was coming.
****
Sothing was seriously wrong.
I tore open a box of pills and fished out a digestive tablet. My chronic indigestion was acting up again. It was definitely stress-related. I pounded my fist against my chest and chugged so water.
“Gah, ugh… cough, cough…”
I hadn’t eaten a proper al in almost two weeks. Today, once again, I made do with bread for lunch. The bread they sold at the school store was always dry and tasteless. Cheap, mass-produced factory bread.
And yet, despite knowing that, I had eaten it for lunch every single day for the past two weeks for one reason—Go Yohan.
Since midterms, Yohan didn’t even pretend to wait for anymore.
“……”
I silently swallowed another dry bite. It felt like my throat was closing up.
Yohan’s change of heart was ruthless. Our relationship had regressed to sothing even worse than how it had been in our first year. His sharp, lancholic gaze never t mine anymore. He no longer threw inappropriate, borderline obscene jokes my way.
The reason for the change was obvious.
I had been discarded. Just like Han Junwoo had discarded .
And so, I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
What happened after I left? Did your sister say anything? Did anything bad happen to you?
The mont those thoughts crossed my mind, I smacked myself in the forehead with my palm.
“Worry about your own damn life, you idiot.”
Seriously, Kang Jun. Get a grip.
This happened after second period today.
A kid I had occasionally seen at cram school ca up to . I only rembered him in the simplest terms—Oh Yeonjun, ranked 8th in our class. That was it. He wasn’t anything special. We hadn’t even spoken in our second year. Now that we were third-years, we were in the sa class, but our only interactions had been brief greetings at cram school.
“You’ve been really quiet lately.”
At this point, that question was starting to piss off. Were we even close enough for him to ask sothing like that? And what the hell was his angle?
I didn’t think I was overreacting. Everything felt off.
But despite my irritation, I forced a fake, good-natured response. I needed at least one person on my side.
“Well, we’re in our final year now. Can’t afford to slack off with grades.”
I had ant it as a joke, but Yeonjun took it seriously. Classic study nerd. And, well, I could understand that since I was one too. He nodded with a serious expression.
“That’s true. Once second sester starts, things should lighten up a bit.”
"Because internal grades aren’t included?"
"Yeah. Oh, how did you do on the March mock exam?"
"? Just… it was okay."
"Really? Then do you have a shot at Korea University?"
"If we’re just talking scores, it’s borderline possible."
"Wow, damn. Kang Jun, you’re so lucky."
"No. It depends on the situation at the ti. The competition matters, and luck plays a role too…"
"Still, you’re within the passing range. My grades aren’t even good enough for the lower-tier departnts."
Oh Yeonjun pulled a gloomy expression, looking dejected for a mont before suddenly blurting out,
"They say the March mock exam predicts your actual CSAT score. You think that’s true?"
What was I supposed to say to that? I just gave the answer I thought Yeonjun wanted to hear.
"Nah. You know that senior at our cram school? I heard his CSAT score was higher than his March mock exam score."
"Really? Yeah, I guess that makes sense. No way soone’s grades wouldn’t improve over a few months."
Yeonjun’s eyes lit up with hope. Honestly, it wasn’t my words that mattered—it was just about giving him the response he wanted. Once reassured, he got a bit playful, his tone shifting into sothing slightly provocative.
"You should relax and talk more. The way you act, people might think you’re ranked first nationwide or sothing."
"…The top students in our school are all really smart. If I slack off even a little, I get anxious."
"Damn, your breath must reek of stress. You’re gonna end up an outcast at this rate."
Would it be an overreaction to say that his response felt off? I forced a smile anyway.
"…Haha."
"Well, not like the great Kang Jun would ever let that happen."
A firm slap landed on my back. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t light either. Just enough to be unpleasant.
What the hell is this guy’s problem?
I frowned instinctively.
I hadn’t made a move yet because I didn’t know what Go Yohan was planning, but that didn’t an I was going to sit still. Aphids that greedily climb the stalk need to be crushed before they spread.
"…That was a bit strong?"
"Oh, my bad. Sorry, man. Go study."
Yeonjun tossed out a half-assed apology and walked away. Ungrateful bastard. So why the hell did he even bring up the March mock exam in the first place?
No. Maybe this was related.
Maybe Yeonjun’s actions had sothing to do with the fact that I didn’t have anyone to eat lunch with.
It might sound trivial, but for a high school student, it was a crisis as devastating as a bolt from the blue. Sure, I could just pick up a tray and squeeze in sowhere.
But if I didn’t sit with Go Yohan—if I ate at the sa ti but not at the sa table—I could already predict what rumors would start circulating.
"Looks like Kang Jun got dumped just like Han Junwoo."
"Did he do sothing wrong? Or wait… could he be…?"
My thoughts stopped cold. Even imagining it made my face go pale.
We had eaten together every single day for the past year, and suddenly I was sitting at a different table? That was a death sentence for our friendship.
And the worst part?
Go Yohan was the executioner.
I wasn’t dumb enough to willingly stick my head in a noose. I also wasn’t brave enough to make myself a complete outsider.
So I chose the safest option—I used my injured arm and my studies as an excuse.
Conveniently, Kang Jun, the student who had placed first in the school, made for a great alibi.
While everyone else went to eat lunch, I buried my face in my desk, gripping my pen as if I were completely absorbed in studying.
If anyone asked, "Why is he eating alone?" or "Why isn’t he eating with Yohan?" I already had my excuse ready.
"I just want to focus on my internal grades until the second sester. It’s only temporary. Besides, with my arm like this, even holding chopsticks is hard."
It was a decent lie.
And then Yeonjun asked, so I gave him the answer I had prepared.
After hearing it, he laughed and said sothing completely out of the blue. Sothing that had nothing to do with what I’d just said.
"But Yohan’s pretty cool, huh? I was wondering why. Honestly, I kinda thought he was just so thug."
"What?"
"Yesterday, we had lunch together in the cafeteria. I was eating with my friends, and since you weren’t around lately, I got curious. So I asked if I could sit with him, and he just said, ‘Go ahead.’ So we ate together. We ended up talking for a while, and, man, now I get why he’s famous."
I stared at Yeonjun.
He was caught up in his own little story, chattering away about things I hadn’t even asked about.
"……."
If I’m being honest… I was jealous.
That seat next to Go Yohan was always mine.
Always.
And no matter the situation, my petty jealousy burned just the sa.
I wanted to shut Yeonjun up. I wanted him to disappear from my sight. I hated this.
"Even with his grades being kinda low, he’s fine. You know Yohan’s filthy rich, right? He’s probably going to study abroad for college. From the way he talks, it’s obviously the U.S. Ivy League, maybe?"
"…Yeah?"
Acting like they were close now? Like he knew everything about him?
It was annoying.
Really fucking annoying.
I barely listened, absentmindedly tapping the tip of my chanical pencil as Yeonjun prattled on.
"Yeah. The way he talks, he definitely seems like he’s preparing to go abroad."
"Could be."
"You didn’t know? He’s amazing at English. I was shocked. He sounded completely native."
I froze.
My fingers, which had been idly toying with my pencil, stopped moving.
"Yohan told you that himself?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
No one else had ever cared about Go Yohan’s English skills.
It was sothing only I knew.
Because he had told .
A sour nausea rose in my stomach, the sa kind that ca from stuffing down stale bread. My chest tightened.
"Yeah. We talked a lot over lunch. Didn’t even notice the ti passing."
"Oh, really?"
"You should’ve been there too. Would’ve been fun to hear your side of things."
"……."
I curled my toes.
It was sothing I did when I couldn’t clench my fists or bite my lips.
But as always, I made sure not to show anything.
As always, I spoke smoothly, like nothing was wrong.
"I had to stay behind for extra lessons. Couldn’t be helped."
"At this rate, you might actually rank first in the country, huh?"
Oh Yeonjun’s tone was dripping with sarcasm—so obvious that anyone could pick up on it. Annoying bastard. His words reeked of petty jealousy, laced with malice that spilled out uncontrollably.
I willingly played along with his provocation.
"Yeah. Would be nice to rank first nationwide. Get into a top departnt at Korea University."
Unlike you.
I packed as much disdain as I could into that single sentence. Yeonjun let out a laugh, patting my shoulder playfully. His smile seed friendly enough, but I didn’t miss the subtle glint in his eyes.
"Hey, wait a sec!"
Suddenly, Yeonjun shouted, looking at the window between the classroom and the hallway. Then, without warning, he jumped up, cutting our conversation short, and ran out.
Honestly, that was for the best.
I forced myself to suppress the turmoil churning inside , my gaze lingering on Yeonjun’s reflection in the window.
And then—completely unrelated thoughts drifted into my head.
He doesn’t have a bad face.
If he put so effort into his appearance…
Fuck.
My one good hand clenched into a fist. I slamd it against my thigh, hard.
Forget it. I need to forget it all.
Yeonjun was never soone to be trusted. And the proof of that was the rumor that had spread about .
Word had gotten around that I wasn’t even eating lunch because I was focusing on my internal grades until the second sester. The only one who knew that excuse was Yeonjun. That ant he was the one who spread it.
Not that it was unexpected. He never seed like the type to keep his mouth shut.
The first person to ddle was my horoom teacher.
During lunch, she would sotis pass by the classroom, see , and pat on the back with a look of approval.
"Being first place must be a lot of pressure, huh? Don’t push yourself too hard. Make sure you eat properly."
"Yes."
"Want to open that bottle for you?"
"Oh, no, it’s fine. My fingers are working just fine."
"Yeah, they do seem fine."
And so, my teacher would occasionally bring drinks or health supplents since I was skipping als. In that regard, she was actually helpful—if only she didn’t ask things like this.
"Jun-ah. I’m really sorry to ask this while you’re studying, but…"
She hesitated, glancing around cautiously before speaking.
"Have you heard anything about Junwoo?"
"No."
I answered imdiately.
Why does she keep asking about sothing I don’t know? It was frustrating.
Especially now, when my mind was already full of shitty mories I didn’t want to recall.
Pretending to be a naive honor student and listening to her whining was exhausting.
She was too kind for her own good.
Still, with every ounce of patience I had left, I forced down my irritation and answered calmly.
"I haven’t heard anything since he stopped coming to school."
"Do you think… he might take the GED?"
"…Did he get held back?"
At my question, she glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then answered carefully.
"His attendance is too low. And even if he did co back to school… it wouldn’t be good for him."
"Expulsion, then."
"…Yeah."
My teacher sighed, her expression troubled.
"There were too many complaints that he was ruining the class environnt… His grades were always below the standard, too. In the end, that’s what was decided. I tried my best to argue against it, but it didn’t work. I just… I wish I could tell him the result sohow, but there’s no way to contact him. His parents…"
Yeah. No kidding.
It was almost shocking how quickly his entire family fell apart.
If things were going to crash and burn anyway, why didn’t it just happen earlier? If it had, Han Taesan’s life wouldn’t have been ruined along with it.
Han Junwoo, always dragging others down with him.
The fact that my teacher kept talking about this to just proved that she still didn’t understand how this classroom worked.
Where there’s a bully, there’s always a victim.
If Junwoo was the forr, then Taesan was the latter.
Unfortunately for Taesan, our teacher was the kind of person who wanted to save every student. But as long as both of them existed in the sa classroom, peace was impossible.
"…Teacher."
Frustrating. So frustrating.
The teacher who saw herself as Junwoo’s guardian angel was, to Taesan, nothing short of a demon.
There’s no such thing as a truly fair teacher. A teacher who tries to love every student equally will inevitably end up hurting the ones already left behind.
To maintain control over this jungle, you need to know who to sacrifice and who to protect.
But my teacher, barely in her mid-twenties, was still too young to let go of her ideals.
"If I ever run into him, I’ll let him know."
"You have a way to contact him?"
Her voice was filled with hope.
All I could say was,
"No, not really… but if I do see him, I’ll be sure to tell him."
"…I see."
She sounded slightly relieved.
"That alone helps. Thanks, Jun."
"It’s nothing."
Maybe, in her mind, this was enough to consider her duty fulfilled.
She was kind, but a little lacking in responsibility.
After giving a slow, gentle pat on the back, she suddenly rembered sothing.
"Oh, geez. Look at , wasting your study ti with all this. Sorry about that."
"It’s fine. Let know if you ever need anything."
I smiled faintly.
"And thanks for the drink."
"Oh, no, I should be the one thanking you. Study hard."
"Yes."
She softened her footsteps and carefully left the classroom.
Once she was gone, silence settled over the room like a thick fog.
Sitting still, I could hear the ticking of the clock.
Lunch in an empty classroom was this quiet.
Lunch where no one looked for you was this lonely.
At nineteen, I was learning a lot of things.
"…Study hard, huh? Haven’t even solved a single problem."
I tossed my chanical pencil onto the workbook.
This whole desperate struggle—this, too, was proof that I was nineteen.
I had no way of winning against Go Yohan.
I had no way of fixing this situation.
All I could do was try to stop things from reaching the worst possible outco.
I was terrified of falling.
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