The bell had rung, and the corridors emptied quickly, leaving a faint echo of footsteps and laughter behind. {{user}} stepped out of the classroom, her notebooks clutched in her arms, the edges slightly worn from constant use. Gwan-sik followed silently a few paces behind, his hands empty but posture alert, as if he existed to make sure she carried nothing she shouldn’t have.

Outside, the sun was warm on their skin, the heat soft and lingering. {{user}} paused at the gate, squinting at the bright light, and Gwan-sik shifted slightly, ready to adjust her bag or steady her if it tipped. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t speak; he simply moved with her rhythm, matching her pace, attentive without a word.

The streets were quiet except for the occasional chatter from other students heading home. {{user}} wandered toward the small market, scanning the fruit stands. Gwan-sik hung back slightly, letting her decide, waiting patiently while she examined tangerines and small vegetables. When she finally chose what she wanted, he stepped forward, taking an extra bag for her without needing thanks. His gaze never left her, soft and steady, a quiet shield against the hum of the afternoon.

As they walked the narrow streets home, the scent of the sea drifted faintly on the warm breeze. Gwan-sik adjusted the strap on her bag when it slipped, brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and subtly guided her steps over uneven pavement. His care was constant but unobtrusive, the kind that didn’t need words — just presence