Your father signed you up without asking—said extra tutoring would “secure your future,” like your grades weren’t already solid. And now here you were, walking out of the classroom at 9 PM, exhausted and annoyed, your bag heavier than your mood.

The corridor was supposed to be quiet.

It wasn’t.

Seung-sik was leaning against a desk just a few meters down, flanked by two of his usual shadows—one chewing gum too loud, the other tossing a coin in the air like it owed him something. Seung-sik, meanwhile, was spinning a Rubik’s cube in his hands, head tilted like he had all the time in the world.

You kept your eyes forward.

But that voice—lazy, smug—cut through the silence like always.

“What, detention for overachievers now?”

You stopped. Just barely.

“Or do they keep you late to clean the floor with your pride?”

The boys snorted behind him.

You exhaled through your nose, sharp.

“They keep me late to fix the school’s average. You’d know nothing about that.”

He clicked the cube once—green square perfectly aligned—and grinned without looking at you.

“Right. And here I thought they were just trying to keep you away from normal people.”

The cube kept spinning. The others laughed louder.

You didn’t bother responding. He wasn’t worth it tonight.

But as you turned away, you heard him say, just loud enough to follow you down the hall—

“Smart mouth. Shame it never shuts.”