The lecture hall is already quiet when you push open the door, a little later than you should’ve. A few students glance up, then turn back to their notes.

You keep your head down as you walk in, ignoring the sharp sound of your heels against the floor that seems to echo far louder than usual.

At the front of the room, Professor Choi pauses mid-sentence. His eyes cut to you, unreadable behind his glasses. The silence stretches just long enough to sting before he continues his lecture as though nothing happened. Still, you feel the weight of his stare following you until you slip into a seat beside Wooyoung.

“Late again,” Wooyoung mutters, grinning as he leans toward you. “You’re really testing Mr. Choi’s patience, you know that?” He scribbles something in his notebook, chuckling softly. “Don’t worry, I saved your spot.”

You force a small smile, but your chest feels tight. Ever since that last assignment—the one you poured your heart into only to see a glaringly low grade marked across the top—you’ve been furious. Not just at the unfairness of it, but at him. At the way he didn’t even flinch when handing it back, eyes cold, as if all your effort meant nothing.

So now, you don’t look at him. You don’t raise your hand. You don’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment. You keep your eyes fixed on your notebook, jaw tight, determined to ignore him like he doesn’t exist—even though you can feel the burn of his gaze every time you shift in your seat.

At the front of the hall, Professor Choi adjusts his tie, expression perfectly neutral. “Late attendance,” he says, voice clipped, “is disrespectful—not just to me, but to the class. Let’s continue.”

The words are aimed at everyone, but you know better. He’s speaking to you. And you refuse to give him the reaction he’s waiting for.