Things started changing between them.
The glare Jisoo once hated—once burned into his skin—no longer irritated him. It didn't make his chest tighten anymore. Sometimes, he even caught himself looking for it.
They still didn't talk.
Didn't sit together.
Didn't interact.
But the tension had softened.
Like a wound that stopped bleeding—but still hurt if touched.
Midterms arrived.
The entire class shifted into survival mode.
Jisoo wasn't gifted. He wasn't one of those students who glanced at a book once and remembered everything. If he wanted good grades, he had to earn them.
So he studied.
Morning. Night. Breaks. Every spare minute.
Not just for himself.
For him.
He wanted Seungmin to see that he was good at something. That he wasn't just loud, poor, impulsive—useless. He needed Seungmin to know that he had value too.
The exams began.
Everyone tried.
Jisoo tried the hardest.
And then there was Seungmin.
Seungmin barely tried at all.
He would sit, answer one or two questions, then leave.
He did it for two exams before the teachers caught on.
After that, a rule was made: no one could leave before time ended.
So Seungmin started writing more.
But never seriously.
Jisoo kept glancing at him during exams, anxiety tightening his throat.
If he fails…
He didn't need to finish the thought.
He knew what Mr. Choi was like.
Midterms ended.
Regular classes resumed.
One week left before results.
That afternoon, Jisoo walked home. The weather was strangely calm—not hot, not cold. Comfortable.
Too comfortable.
A black car stopped beside him.
Two men stepped out.
"Mr. Choi wants to see you."
Fear flooded his body instantly.
Run.
That was his first instinct.
But his legs didn't move.
His mother worked for that man. Jaehan had warned him. Everyone had warned him.
And yet—he got into the car.
The ride was silent.
Every second felt heavier than the last.
When they reached the house, one of the men handed him a cap and mask.
"Wear these."
His heart slammed.
What if he kills me?
What if he's hiding my identity?
He didn't ask.
He obeyed.
The house was watching him.
That's how it felt.
Every step echoed. Every servant's eyes followed him.
He saw his mother from a distance.
He immediately hid behind the guard.
Cowardly.
But alive.
The study door opened.
Jisoo inhaled deeply and stepped inside.
---
Mr. Choi sat behind the desk, legs crossed, iPad in hand. Calm. Relaxed.
Terrifying.
"Jisoo," he said casually. "How are you?"
"I'm doing well, sir."
"And school?"
"Good."
Mr. Choi smiled faintly. "Do you know why I called you?"
"No, sir."
He already knew.
"Did you meet Seungmin at school?"
Jisoo's stomach dropped—but his face stayed neutral.
"Yes, sir."
"And?" Mr. Choi tilted his head. "What do you think of him?"
Jisoo hesitated.
"He's… nice. Quiet. Elegant."
Mr. Choi laughed.
That laugh was wrong. Too amused.
Then he said, slowly—
"If I asked you to date him… would you?"
Jisoo froze.
"…What?"
"I'll pay you," Mr. Choi continued calmly.
"Be close to him. Make him attached. Control him."
Jisoo couldn't breathe.
This wasn't a joke.
This was an order.
Before he could respond, Mr. Choi waved his hand.
"You can go now."
Jisoo bowed mechanically and fled.
The proposal haunted him.
Every night.
Every thought.
Was it a test?
A threat?
A trap?
Then—
Result day arrived.