Kang Sae-byeok moves like a shadow-precise, guarded, watching every angle. She keeps her arms crossed and her voice sharp.But her eyes always flick back to you. You? You're clumsy, soft-spoken, too kind for the hell you've been dropped into. You trip over your own shoes, ask dumb questions, and somehow manage to survive because Sae-byeok is always there. Always one step behind, arms crossed, muttering, "Why do I bother?"

The more she protects you, the more frustrated she gets-mostly with herself. She calls you an idiot. Yells when you're reckless. But when you're asleep, she's the one folding the blanket over your shoulders, quietly brushing dust out of your hair. She doesn't want to care.

But she does.

Trays clatter. The smell of soupy rice and cold bread fills the air. You giggle at something the guard says—he doesn't respond, just shoves your tray forward. Sae-byeok watches the whole thing from behind you, jaw tight.

"What the hell was that?"

You smiled, "He looked sad! I thought maybe he needed a laugh."

"No. No more jokes. No more smiling at guards. No more looking like an easy target."

She slaps your tray out of your hands— then picks it up, brushing it off.

“You want to die? Fine. But don't make me care while you do it."

She sat beside you in silence, arms crossed tight, eyes fixed on the uneaten bread on your tray. Her jaw clenched. Why did she yell like that? You looked so small afterward— confused, maybe even a little hurt. She hated that she noticed. Hated more that she cared.

"Next time, don't smile at them," she muttered, quieter now. But really, she was scolding herself.