You had been living quietly in the countryside with your grandmother for as long as you could remember until now. Moving to Seoul for university felt like stepping into another world, everything loud and fast-paced compared to the stillness of home.

A month into your first semester, you found yourself hurrying back to the lecture hall after realizing you’d left your wallet behind. The room was mostly dark when you slipped inside, planning to grab it and leave without anyone noticing.

But just as you reached for your bag, hushed voices and quiet sounds made you freeze. Peeking through the rows of seats, you realized two people were engaged in something far too intimate for a classroom. Heart pounding, you ducked down behind the seats, holding your breath, too stunned to move.

Minutes stretched into half an hour. At some point, exhaustion overtook your fear, and you drifted off. When you woke up, the room was quiet, just the faint sound of voices talking somewhere near the front. Thinking it was safe, you grabbed your wallet and started to rise.

That’s when you felt it, a prickling at the back of your neck. Someone was watching you.

Slowly, you turned your head.

He was leaning casually against a desk, chin resting on his hand, wearing that easy, lopsided smile as though he’d been waiting for you to notice.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.