The morning announcement echoed through the building:
"Reminder: The Clean Slate Program is now mandatory for all returning students. Session one begins this Friday after school."
No one asked what it was.
They already knew.
Everyone turned slightly toward Ji-Woo. Not openly. Just enough.
As if to say: "That's for you."
He sat in silence, arms crossed, face blank.
He'd already been through a year of reconditioning. What could they possibly teach him now?
---
During literature class, the teacher wrote on the board:
"Emotion vs. Disruption"
> "Some words carry emotional weight. Some disrupt order. Your task is to recognize the difference."
Ji-Woo's fingers clenched under the desk.
He stared at the word "emotion."
They could still use the term in class — as long as they didn't feel it.
---
Across the room, Min-Ho wrote carefully in his notebook.
He looked normal. Too normal.
Too perfect.
He hadn't looked at Ji-Woo once all day.
---
Lunch break.
Ji-Woo walked to the back stairs, where no cameras watched.
It was where he had said it.
That word.
The forbidden one.
---
He stood there again, one hand resting on the metal railing.
Cold. Still the same rust mark on the fourth step.
He closed his eyes.
> "I think I feel… that word."
> "You can't say that."
> "But I do."
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He didn't move.
He knew who it was — by the rhythm alone.
Min-Ho stopped a few steps above.
He didn't speak.
Neither did Ji-Woo.
Seconds passed.
Five. Ten. Fifteen.
Min-Ho turned and left without a sound.
But Ji-Woo saw it — just for a moment — in the reflective window beside the stairs:
> His hand had stopped trembling.
But his jaw was clenched.
Back in class, the teacher handed out a new form.
Clean Slate Evaluation — Emotional Risk Level: Pending.
Min-Ho's name was on it.
Ji-Woo stared at it.
A small, sharp ache bloomed behind his ribs.