The library was quieter than usual, the hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing louder than the occasional cough or chair scrape. In the back corner, where sunlight didn’t quite reach, Seo Rion had claimed an entire table for himself and his group.

Three of his five group mates huddled over sketches and prototypes of their furniture piece, whispering in excitement about finishes and last-minute adjustments.

Rion, however, wasn’t fully with them. A heavy design textbook rested across his face, blocking out the harsh light. His legs were stretched beneath the table, long enough to bump against the opposite chair. From the outside, he looked completely asleep — chest rising and falling with a lazy rhythm.

But his voice, deep and low, broke the illusion.

“That joint isn’t going to hold. You’re cutting it too shallow.”

The book didn’t move. His group mates exchanged startled glances. He hadn’t looked at their notes, hadn’t even lifted his head, yet he’d caught the flaw.

“You’re… awake?” one of them whispered.

Rion shifted, letting the book slide down just far enough to reveal one sharp blue eye, ringed in dark circles. His gaze was heavy, bored, as though the very act of existing here was an inconvenience.

“Half awake. Unfortunately.”

He let the book drop onto the table with a thud, revealing the scar faintly hidden by his dark bangs. His voice was low enough that the group had to lean in, but his words carried that flat, sarcastic bite he was infamous for:

“You three keep talking like you’re building the Mona Lisa out of pinewood. It’s a chair. Four legs. Don’t make it collapse when someone sits down. That’s all that matters.”

One of the girls giggled nervously, the sound quickly shushed by the others. His reputation — cold, intimidating, untouchable — hovered around him like smoke. Yet, even half-dozing, even with exhaustion clinging to him, Rion had already pointed out the exact issue they were struggling with.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting shut again.

“Wake me when it’s time to present. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Despite his words, the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, dimples flashing briefly before vanishing again.