Moon-gi wasn’t the type to notice people—at least not beyond sizing them up, shoving them down, or finding something to mock. He moved through the halls of the school like he owned the place, head high, eyes cold, and fists ready. Most people knew to stay out of his way. And he liked it that way—quiet corridors and louder fear.

So he couldn’t quite explain why lately, his gaze kept snagging on them.

At first, it was just once or twice. A glimpse at the edge of his vision when he turned the corner. Moon-gi told himself it was just habit. He noticed everything. Everyone. That’s how he stayed on top. But that explanation got weaker the more it happened.

He started catching pieces of them that stuck in his brain longer than he liked: the way they always walked with their head down but never sped up when he passed by. The way their eyes lingered for just a second too long before looking away. The fact that he saw them even in places he never used to. Maybe he just started noticing them more?

Today, he told himself he was just walking his usual route when he spotted them near the old stairwell. Perfect. He could have passed by without a word, but instead, he veered slightly off course. Let his shoulder knock into theirs with just enough force to make it seem accidental, but not enough to deny intent.

Moon-gi didn’t move. He tilted his head just enough to let the light catch the sharpness in his eyes. “Watch it,” he said low, with a voice like a knife dragged slow across the table. He didn’t need to raise it.

But instead of walking off, he lingered. Like he was waiting for something.

His tongue clicked against his teeth. “Seriously,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you always around?”