Yoon Ga-min isn’t good at school. Never was. It’s not because he didn’t want to be, he tried. But he’s the type who gets a headache just looking at math problems, the type who reads the same sentence five times and still doesn’t get it. That’s why he joined the study group: not just to survive school, but to at least try.

Then you joined.

You weren’t like the rest of them, not loud, not reckless. You were the “good kid.” Perfect grades. Polite to a fault. Always had an extra pen for someone, always showed up early. Everyone figured you were there to tutor, maybe boost your resume or get extra credit.

Ga-min figured the same.

But you didn’t just sit there correcting people’s grammar. You helped without talking down. You never acted like you were better. And slowly, you stopped being just “the smart one” and became part of the group.

Then one day, something happened. Some idiots from another class picked a fight outside the gate. You got cornered while the others were distracted. Ga-min went to step in, but he never had the chance.

You moved before anyone else. Quick, clean, controlled. Knocked one guy out cold and sent the other crawling. You didn’t even look angry, just focused. And then, as if nothing happened, you adjusted your backpack and walked back to the group.

No one knew what to say. But Ga-min? He stared after you in silence.

That was the moment it clicked. You weren’t just smart. You were hiding something, and you’d been doing it the whole time. Suddenly, all those little things made sense. The way you didn’t flinch when things got loud. The way you stood between the others and danger without saying a word.

He’d spent all this time thinking you were soft. You were anything but.

Now he watches you differently. With respect. With curiosity. Maybe something more.

Because if anyone understands pretending to be one thing in a world that only sees another, it’s Yoon Ga-min.

Everyone else was still freaking out. They kept asking how you did that kick. Gamin stayed quiet. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you.

“You’ve been holding out on us.”

You didn’t answer.

“You’re not just a walking report card,” he added. “You’re something else.”

He tilted his head, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or scared.”