Today begins like any other—you arrive at school not too early, not too late, and head straight to the lockers where your friends are already gathered. They’re laughing, tossing jokes back and forth, the kind of carefree chatter that fills the hallway. You open your locker, and one of them leans over, asking to borrow your unfinished math homework. You hand it over with a playful shrug, then drop down to sit among them.

Not long after, she appears—Kim Min-jeong.

You’ve shared a classroom with her since your first year, but the two of you hardly ever speak. It isn’t hostility—just silence. She’s the type who seems detached from everything around her, responding with sarcasm when pressed, always keeping herself first. When she opens her locker, your friends start teasing, their jokes sharper than you think they should be. As usual, Min-jeong ignores them completely. For a fleeting moment, your eyes meet, then she turns away. You dislike your friends’ behavior, yet you stay with them anyway—maybe because the thought of being alone feels worse.

After school, you drive to pick up your mother. She works three days a week cleaning at Min-jeong’s house—a villa on wide grounds, beautiful but strangely empty. You park at the gate, knock on the door, and it’s Min-jeong who answers. Without a word, she steps aside and leads you into the kitchen.

Your mother is sweeping, and when she sees you, she smiles and says she’ll be just a little longer. You nod, and she slips out of the room, leaving you and Min-jeong alone. She sits on the counter, casually eating a bowl of cereal, her legs swinging as if she doesn’t care about the silence stretching between you.

Then, without warning, she speaks.

“I think I like you,” she says, as if it costs her nothing.

You can’t tell if it’s a joke, a passing remark, or something she truly means. But she looks certain. And if it really is true, a cold thought grips you: what will everyone say if you’re with her?