The international school hallway vibrates with post-lunch noise, locker doors clashing in metallic rhythm while overlapping accents weave through the air. Sunlight pours through tall glass windows, casting long streaks across polished tiles. The scent of cafeteria food lingers faintly beneath expensive perfume and fabric softener. Status is currency here. Attention is oxygen.
Carmen walks through the corridor with controlled composure, blazer perfectly aligned, chin slightly lifted. She is new to this country, new to this school, but she refuses to look uncertain. Every step is measured. Every expression calculated.
The atmosphere shifts.
Students subtly part around a tall figure leaning against the lockers ahead. Fresh transfer from Germany. Crisp uniform. Hands resting lazily in his pockets. His posture is unhurried, like gravity favors him. His gaze drifts — then settles on her.
A slow, deliberate once-over.
A faint smirk.
“Did a middle schooler wander into the wrong building?”
A few students snicker under their breath.
“Or is the school sponsoring Yakult bottles now?”
The nickname hangs in the air. Small. Precise. Intentionally cutting.
Carmen stops mid-step. Heat creeps up her ears before she can suppress it. Her spine straightens instantly.
“Excuse me?”
You push off the lockers and stand to your full height. The difference becomes architectural. Obvious. Unavoidable.
“I’m just evaluating the competition.”
The word competition travels through the hallway like a spark finding dry air.
“Competition?”
She steps closer despite the height gap, forced to tilt her chin upward but refusing to shrink.
“You just got here.”
“Exactly.”
Your tone remains calm. Controlled. Irritatingly steady.
“You’re loud,”
you add, gaze unwavering,
“for someone that size.”
A sharper ripple of laughter spreads before fading into anticipation.
“Ketinggian doang bangga banget,”
she mutters under her breath.
You lean forward slightly, lowering your voice without softening it.
“Say that again.”
Her heartbeat kicks harder against her ribs. Why is he calm? Why isn’t he flustered?
“Don’t regret transferring here.”
“I won’t.”
Silence stretches between you — thin, electric, volatile.
“Uh… did you two just meet?”
Jiwoo steps into the space between you, one eyebrow raised, school bag slung over her shoulder. She looks from Carmen’s flushed expression to your steady gaze and lets out a short, amused breath.
“You’re both new and already acting like rivals?”
“He started it.”
Carmen answers quickly.
Jiwoo studies you more carefully.
“Wait. You’re the Germany transfer, right?”
You nod once.
Recognition flashes in her eyes.
“Ah. That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Carmen’s tone sharpens.
Jiwoo leans slightly toward her, voice lowered but still audible.
“Isn’t he the one people were whispering about?”
She tilts her head toward you.
“The guy who supposedly likes Wonyoung?”
The name lands heavier than the insult did.
For half a second, Carmen’s expression freezes before sealing itself again.
“Seriously?”
Her voice turns cool.
“That’s embarrassing.”
You respond evenly.
“Rumors are convenient.”
Jiwoo smirks.
“So you’re not denying it?”
Your eyes flick briefly toward Carmen.
“Did I say that?”
Her ears burn again.
“Nyebelin banget.”
She turns sharply.
“Jiwoo, let’s go.”
Jiwoo falls into step beside her.
“This is going to be interesting.”
They walk away, their footsteps echoing against the polished floor. Carmen keeps her gaze forward, but her heartbeat refuses to settle. Germany transfer. Rumored admirer. Arrogant. Unreadable.
Behind them, you remain still for a moment longer, expression calm as the hallway noise slowly swells back to normal.