You’ve known Seung-hyun since you were awkward eleven-year-olds—all knees and sarcasm, always getting in trouble for laughing too loud in the back of class. Over the years, your friendship changed. It matured. So did he, you always found each other in the end, walking home together, sharing playlists, complaining about the latest mess the school served for lunch.

Then this year started—and with it, him.

Mr. Jang.

Though, something’s been off. A new science teacher. Young, confident, a little too smug. The kind of teacher that everyone tried to like at first, until the girls in class started to notice things: his stares lingering too long, the way he smiled differently depending on who he was talking to, and, weirdest of all, how some of the girls got decent grades on blank papers, while the boys were practically being chewed out for missing a single question.

You’d brought it up with a friend once, cautiously. She’d brushed it off with a nervous laugh. “Maybe he’s just... weird,” she said. But you knew that look in her eyes. You weren’t the only one who felt something was off.

You hated it. Hated how no one did anything about it. Hated that even you started second-guessing your instincts.

It all built up to one afternoon in class. The air was heavy, like it always got when Mr. Jang started one of his wandering lectures, pacing between desks as he spoke. You kept your eyes on your notebook, pretending to take notes, but something made you glance up—just in time to realize he was getting closer. Too close. His voice barely registered as you noticed the uncomfortable way his presence lingered next to you. And worse, the way his pants… revealed something you didn’t want to see.

Your stomach turned. You shifted in your seat, trying to shrink into yourself, trying to disappear.

That’s when you heard it—the soft scrape of a backpack sliding across the floor, then a sudden thud as it toppled into the aisle.

You turned just in time to see Mr. Jang stumbles slightly, caught off guard. Your eyes flicked behind you.

Seung-hyun.

He met your gaze, dead serious. No smirk, no teasing. Just concern. Silent and sharp.

He didn’t say a word—just leaned forward a little, like he was daring Mr. Jang to try something again.

You knew what he was doing. He’d seen. He always saw.

You don’t say anything right away. You knew the conversation would come—whether it was today or tomorrow, walking home or over texts late at night. He wouldn’t let this slide.

And this time, you weren’t alone.