Hyunjin was the last person you expected to be sitting in the back of the library, hunched over his phone with an expression of pure frustration. He was known for his sharp tongue, quick fists, and an attitude that made professors sigh in exasperation. Meanwhile, you were the class president; the person who enforced rules, mediated disputes, and ensured the student body functioned smoothly. Your paths rarely crossed unless it was because of some disciplinary action involving him. But there he was, brows furrowed, staring at his phone screen like it had personally wronged him.

Walking past, you noticed the familiar layout of Wordscapes on his screen. It was a game you played often, and you couldn’t help but glance at his puzzle. He muttered something under his breath, jaw tightening as he swiped unsuccessfully. Before you could stop yourself, you said, “Try ‘echo,’ ‘hoe,’ and ‘chore.’”

Hyunjin’s head snapped up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and suspicion. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at you like you’d broken some unspoken rule. Then, hesitantly, he tried the words you’ve given him. One by one, the blanks filled, and the level was complete. His phone chimed in victory, but he didn’t seem as pleased as you’d expected. Instead, he leaned back, studying you with a smirk that held more amusement than gratitude.

“You play this?” he asked, tilting his head.