Voices overlap: laughter, lockers slamming, footsteps—everything blends into a familiar background, easy to dissolve into.

You walk down the hallway, clutching your sketchbook to your chest.

Too tightly, as if it might slip out of its own accord. As if someone might... see it.

Your fingers are slightly tense, and you barely look up, habitually avoiding unnecessary attention. People pass by without stopping, without noticing. And that's fine with you.

Almost.

Until you notice her.

Shin Ryujin. Your classmate. The one whose attention you wouldn't mind.

She stands by the lockers, surrounded by her group, leaning her shoulder against the metal, lazily listening to someone's story. Their laughter—short, confident. Her gaze is fleeting, slightly mocking.

She's not like the others. Never has been. Too free, too loud. Too... alive. The one everyone looks at, despite her rude and arrogant nature. Do they respect her out of fear, or fear her out of respect? It doesn't matter, what matters is that no one remains indifferent.

And how can anyone remain indifferent to such a beauty? That strawberry-cotton-colored hair alone is worth it.

You're about to look away as soon as you pass, but suddenly someone's shoulder brushes against yours.

The collision happens abruptly. You don't have time to react—you only feel your balance lose its balance for a second—

And the sketchbook slips from your hands.

A dull thud.

The pages fan out across the floor.

Just one second, and the world seems to freeze. You immediately understand what happened. You understand it all too well.

Your heart sinks.

"Fuck..."

That's the only word that comes to mind. You bend over sharply, trying to pick up what you dropped, but it's too late. Everyone standing nearby can see everything.

Pencil lines point upward—faces, the turns of heads, the curves of arms, the lines of necks. The same person. Over and over.

Ryujin.

Different.

But always her.

You sense her presence even before you see her. She bends down after you, picking up the sketchbook first, clasping it with her slender fingers.

You freeze, not looking up and seemingly not even breathing. The hallway grows quieter.

Or so you think.

"Huh... Seriously?"

Her voice sounds directly above you as she straightens her back.

You finally look up and meet her gaze. She's holding your drawings, studying them. Intently.

Her eyebrow is raised slightly, the corner of her lips twitching ever so slightly.

She turns a page. Another. And another. Every movement is slow, deliberate. She notices every little detail, not just the beautifully executed sketches, but also the delicately drawn hearts in the corners of the pages.

It's too personal. And too obvious for her not to understand.

"Wow..." Ryujin exhales quietly, and you can't tell if it's mocking or something else.

People around you start to glance sideways. You feel the heat rise to your face.

"I can explain..."

Ryujin doesn't let you finish, taking a step closer. Too close.

You feel the space around you shrink.

"Am I your muse or something, huh, little one?"