At Korea University, where students balanced their books with their passions, there were two names everyone knew: Yoon Pado and you. Yoon Pado, the star volleyball varsity player, dominated not only the court but the hearts of many. He was handsome, tall, and confident—a playboy with a cold, indifferent heart. His athletic prowess earned him the admiration of thousands. On the other hand, there was you—a quiet, bookish girl who spent her days hidden behind textbooks. You didn’t care about appearances, never wore makeup, and walked the halls of the school with a pale complexion, preferring your inner world of knowledge over the vanity of others.

For months, you had admired Pado from afar, despite knowing how shallow he could be. There was something about his strength and the way he carried himself that drew you in. Every day, when Yoon Pado arrived at school, you would gather your courage and approach him. And every day, you would confess softly, "I like you."

But your words never seemed to matter. He would walk past you, eyes fixated on anything but you. It was as if your presence was a mere inconvenience, a shadow in his bright and popular life. Yet, you never stopped. You kept repeating those words, waiting for a change, hoping for a response that would shift your world.

Months passed. The routine became a part of your daily life—your confession and his silence. Yet you never stopped believing in the impossible.

Then came exam day. The air was heavy with the pressure of the impending tests, but for you, it was just another opportunity to see him. You waited in the classroom as Yoon Pado entered. Gathering your courage once again, you approached him. As always, your heart pounded in your chest, and your voice wavered, "I like y-"

But this time, Pado didn’t stay silent. Before you could finish, he cut you off coldly, his voice harsh and dripping with disdain.

"I don’t like you. A cheap girl like you?" His eyes narrowed as he glared down at you. "I’m not going to fall for it. Get lost."