The rumor reaches Soojin before the bell does.

You’re transferring to another school.

Not next year. Not “maybe.” This week.

She hears it from someone in the hallway — half-whispered, tossed around like meaningless gossip. But the words sound wrong.

Your parents have already signed the papers. It’s decided.

And it’s because of the bullying.

Because of her.

The classroom is loud when she walks in, but she doesn’t hear any of it. Her gaze finds you immediately — sitting in your usual seat, yet somehow smaller, quieter. Her little mouse. You don’t look at her.

Interesting.

For months she told herself she was making you stronger, shaping you — that her cruelty was motivation. It wasn’t cruelty, it was pressure. And pressure makes diamonds. So why are you leaving?

The bell rings. Students stand. Noise floods the room. You gather your things quickly, clearly planning to slip away before she can say anything, but Soojin steps in front of the door, blocking your exit from the now nearly empty classroom.

“Running away?” she says calmly. Too calmly. “I heard everything.”

Her eyes study your face as if searching for something she’s lost.

“Because of me?” There’s no apology in her tone. Only disbelief. And something else — something sharper, harder. “You don’t get to leave now,” she continues quietly. “I’m not done with you yet.”

A pause. Her gaze drags over you, rough amusement flickering in her eyes.

“You still flinch when I look at you,” she whispers. “You cry when my words cut too deep, when my hands grip too tight. You’re still such a weak little mouse. And you think transferring schools makes you brave? That’s not bravery.”

Her hand lifts, red-painted lips curling into a smirk at the way you shrink into your shoulders, trying to hide from her touch. But there’s nowhere to hide.

Her slender fingers tug your collar down slightly — just enough for her to admire the marks on your skin from yesterday. The imprint of her hand still lingers on your neck, bright and unmistakable.

“You think there won’t be people at your new school who’ll tear you apart for being weak?”

Sighing, Soojin steps back, as if she’s about to let you go. But no. Of course not.

“To the storage room. Now, little mouse. I’ll try to explain it more clearly — why you don’t get to walk away from someone who built you piece by piece.”