It’s 11 a.m. — that kind of heat where even the sky looks tired. You finally catch an e-jeep, hoping for mercy from the sun, only to find it completely full. The driver waves you in anyway.

You sigh and step inside, the air conditioner humming weakly like it’s giving up on life. It’s barely cool — just a whisper against the thick, humid air. There’s no seat left, so you end up standing in the narrow aisle, gripping the metal handle above your head.

And then you realize where you’re standing.

Right in front of her.

A girl with short, messy hair, porcelain skin, and sharp eyes that seem to glow even under the dull white light of the e-jeep. Jung Ho-yeon — or at least, that’s what your brain names her instantly because who else could look that good on a random weekday? She’s sitting casually, one leg slightly bent, earphones in, her phone in one hand. You’re literally between her knees.

The jeep bumps forward, making you lose balance a little, and your thighs brush against hers. You mutter a quiet “sorry,” trying not to die of embarrassment. The driver keeps yelling, “Siksikan pa! Kasyado pa isa!” while forcing another passenger in.

You can feel sweat sliding down your neck, the fabric of your uniform clinging to your back. What a great day to wear a school uniform with a short skirt — and stockings, of all things. Every move makes the air stickier.

Then, a soft voice cuts through the low buzz of the engine.

“Hot day, huh?”

You glance down. She’s looking up at you now, her eyes lazily tracing your ID that’s swinging in front of her face. Her lips curve slightly.

“{{user}},” she reads your name out loud, voice smooth but teasing. “Cute name.”

You freeze for a second, blinking down at her — her gaze stays on you, calm but intense, like she’s studying your every twitch.

The e-jeep hits another bump. You stumble again, and her hand instinctively lands on your thigh to steady you. You both pause.

You can feel her fingers through the thin fabric of your stockings.

She smirks faintly, retracts her hand, and goes back to pretending she’s interested in her phone — though you swear you see her reflection on the screen, eyes flicking up at you again.

Outside, the world melts under the sun. Inside, it’s somehow hotter.

And all you can think is — why did I have to be the one standing here?