Episode 11
Junyoung wanted to transfer schools. As she put her pen down, she squeezed her eyes shut. Honestly, she just wanted to disappear somewhere—anywhere.
Of all the moments, why did it have to be then?
Beomjin had acted like she didn’t exist, just like always. Then again, maybe that was because she had made sure to keep her distance from the moment she spotted him.
Still, even just knowing he was sitting behind her during class made her want to sink through the floor.
After getting home that day, Junyoung had flung down her bag and waited for her mom to return. She needed to prepare for Round 2, but this time, she wasn’t going to take it lying down. Her nerves were fried at the thought that someone had witnessed her most vulnerable side. The humiliation, the shame—it brought tears that wouldn’t stop.
But when her mom did come home, she didn’t even look at her—just flopped down and pulled an old blanket over herself. Junyoung stared in disbelief, only to be met with snoring a few moments later.
Junyoung stayed tense for hours, but nothing happened.
This kind of lull wasn’t new. Her mom was always like that—blowing up one second, eerily quiet the next. All that remained was the deep embarrassment tied to Beomjin.
Now she couldn’t even go to his house to study—and the exams were just around the corner. So where was she supposed to study now? And how long was she supposed to keep avoiding Kwon Beomjin?
Her pen wobbled. The last line of her reflection letter turned into a mess. The words looked like a rebellious scribble, regardless of how well-phrased the letter itself might’ve been. But she didn’t bother fixing it.
Letting out a deep sigh, she stood—only to freeze. She’d spotted Beomjin lying with his head down.
His clean-shaven jaw and nape were now blotched with bruises. His lip was split again, and the other kids had whispered that he must’ve gotten into a fight the night before.
But she couldn’t exactly say, “Yeah, that was my mom.”
Still holding the letter, Junyoung bit down on her lip. She remembered how he’d run to shield her with his body—wrapping around her like armor.
Even though her cheek still stung, she could clearly recall how his arms had tightened around her back, the way his chest had brushed her nose as they moved, the warmth of his body and that distinct scent of his.
“What are you smiling at like that? Mind moving?”
Junyoung turned to find Hyesoo squinting at her with a sneer. Letting out a short sigh, Junyoung leaned in and pulled her lips into an exaggerated smile.
“Take a good look. If it’s not enough, let me know—I’ll smile wider.”
“You little—”
Ignoring Hyesoo’s shriek, Junyoung walked past her and out of the classroom. Her reflection letter fluttered in her hand.
…Was I really smiling?
“Must be losing it. I laugh at the weirdest times these days.”
Muttering to herself on her way to the faculty office, Junyoung paused when she noticed a group of students murmuring near the door. Something felt off. As she debated going in, she felt all their eyes shift to her.
Sometimes, it felt like she had a weird power—to silence an entire room with her presence.
With everyone watching, she couldn’t just turn back. She knocked, then pushed the door halfway open.
That’s when she heard a voice—one she’d never heard before. It was the math teacher’s.
“No, not at all. That’s not what I meant.”
A dry, awkward laugh followed. Junyoung froze.
The scene inside was… strange.
Teachers were standing around the long sofa and meeting table, where staff usually held meetings. But this time, they stood with their hands neatly folded in front of them—as if they were in trouble.
Inside that awkward circle sat the homeroom teacher, the math teacher, and a woman.
Junyoung had never seen someone like her in real life—only on TV.
Her shoulder-length hair gleamed with healthy shine, curled uniformly at the ends. She wore a silk blouse in a soft tone, paired with nearly black navy slacks, and heels with thin, tall stiletto points. The jacket draped over her shoulders swayed ever so slightly.
She looked like a celebrity—everything about her perfectly curated, nothing out of place. But more than that, everything about her screamed: someone else made me this way.
Junyoung instantly knew who she was.
Normally, parent meetings happened in the counseling room—not here. The fact that she was sitting front and center in the teachers’ office said it all.
One of the teachers glanced up and spotted Junyoung.
“Oh, Junyoung.”
“Sorry—I’ll come back later.”
Junyoung hadn’t wanted to draw anyone’s attention, but her name was already out there.
The woman raised her chin with elegance and spoke.
“Is that the student, by chance?”
“Yes! Yoon Junyoung, come over here. Quickly,” the homeroom teacher called out eagerly, waving like an overzealous puppy.
Junyoung locked eyes with the woman and walked over. Her teacher patted her back and laughed awkwardly.
“This is our class’s top student, Yoon Junyoung. Smart kid for a girl from a country bumpkin town, right?”
Junyoung’s straightened back stiffened further. The woman smiled and nodded gently.
“I heard my Seungwoon hit her with a ball and she fainted.”
“Oh, things like that happen in P.E. all the time. This one’s just frail is all…”
The homeroom teacher trailed off, realizing the woman wasn’t listening. Her expectant gaze now fell on Junyoung, who spoke up.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Oh my. Still, he should apologize. Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes.”
Junyoung just wanted to leave. But even as she curtly answered, the woman kept smiling.
“I really don’t expect much from schools,” she said, fingers lightly touching her teacup. “I just want the kids to be healthy. That’s why I’m funding a gymnasium here. This is my hometown, after all.”
The vice principal nodded deeply, as if in reverence. The woman’s smile never wavered, but there was a sharpness in her voice—like invisible blades hidden beneath silk.
“So I hope the staff can show a little leniency in matters of physical accidents. My son’s never written a reflection letter—not even in Seoul. Seeing him worry over something so trivial is heartbreaking. It’d be a shame if it distracted him from his studies.”
The word trivial landed directly on the math teacher. Junyoung saw him shrink even more.
This woman had a different kind of power.
Junyoung could silence a room just by entering—but this woman? She could choose when and where that silence fell. And most of all, the people silenced wanted to be silent.
How?
How is that even possible?
She couldn’t take her eyes off her. That flawless skin, the well-groomed nails, the calm poise, and the unwavering gaze—it was like watching royalty.
Then the door burst open.
Everyone turned.
In rushed the prince himself—with a panicked look.
“Mom!”
Seungwoon shouted, then clammed up when he saw Junyoung. The woman stood gracefully.
“I must’ve kept you all too long. Please, enjoy dinner. Think of it as a token of my appreciation.”
“Oh, yes, thank you!”
The teachers all rose at once. Seungwoon followed his mother out. Junyoung, staring at her retreating figure, exhaled like waking from a trance.
She handed the reflection letter to the slumped math teacher.
“Sir.”
“Just leave it there. Ugh, that woman’s overwhelming.”
“Shh, Mr. Kim,” the vice principal hissed.
Sensing the tension, Junyoung left.
In the hallway, she spotted the two of them.
Seungwoon was tugging at his mom’s sleeve like a kid protesting.
They both turned as she approached.
“That’s Yoon Junyoung, right?”
Junyoung had planned to bow and pass, but froze mid-step. Turning back, she saw Seungwoon flash an awkward smile.
“Uh, Junyoung—this is my mom. She came for some school business.”
“What ‘business’ do parents have at school? She’s here because her kid caused trouble.”
The woman laughed dryly, arms crossed. Seungwoon pouted like a child.
Junyoung looked at them both and spoke without thinking, her voice slightly biting.
“Not about the gym, then?”
“The gym?”
Seungwoon blinked and turned to his mom.
The woman’s sharp eyes curved into a smile.
“Well, that’s for my son too, isn’t it?”
Her tone dropped a note. The warmth in her gaze cooled.
Junyoung clutched her worn sleeve. Maybe she’d said too much.
“What are you talking about? What gym?”
“My son keeps going on and on about this ‘Yoon Junyoung’ girl. I was curious—and I see now. You’re pretty. And you look clever.”
“Mom!”
Seungwoon raised his voice, his face darkening.
Junyoung’s blank expression faltered.
Even her eyes widened.
Seungwoon’s ears turned red.
The woman asked calmly, “Are you free this Saturday? Would you like to visit our home?”
“…Huh?”
Junyoung’s lips parted in shock. She glanced at Seungwoon—his whole face was red.
Even her own cheeks felt flushed.
To be continued…
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