Two days had passed since Yeri last saw Shin Keir lurking near the back gate.
He hadn't done anything outrageously invasive since—no unannounced break-ins or stealthy dorm invasions. Still, the memory lingered like a thread.
Just in case, she now locked every window before leaving her room, even the one that barely opened and squeaked like a haunted door hinge.
She'd blocked his number too. Unfortunately, Shin Keir had the tenacity of a telemarketer in love—he kept calling using different phone numbers, some of which were probably burners. After a while, she gave up and just stopped using her phone altogether. Peace through digital silence.
Then came the gifts.
Bouquets. Chocolates. Fancy wrapping paper that screamed "I have money and no boundaries." At first, Yeri assumed it was another random admirer. After all, students at her school were known for their dramatic, borderline theatrical methods of courtship. Love letters on desks, teddy bears in lockers, even one case of a love song performance in the cafeteria (which got shut down halfway by the lunch lady's ladle).
But one detail made her nervous: the cards.
They were always signed with two letters—SK.
Short. Subtle. Still unmistakably Shin Keir. Thank the stars he hadn't written out his full name. That would've opened a whole new series of trouble.
Today, though, Yeri decided to leave school and head home. Her mother had messaged, asking her to come back for the night. Yeri didn't need much convincing. Any excuse to put distance between herself and Shin Keir was a good one. Who knew what he'd try next? Appear as a subject teacher?
After class, she returned to the dorm to pack a few things. She'd barely stepped onto the staircase when the dormitory personnel called out to her.
"You're Yeri, right? I have a package for you," the woman said with a cheerful smile, as if handing out joy instead of stress.
Yeri blinked. "A… package?"
The woman reached behind the desk and, with the dramatic flair of a magician, pulled out the most excessive bouquet Yeri had ever seen. It looked less like a romantic gesture and more like someone was trying to smother her with flowers.
A cascade of 999 red roses spilled from a white lace wrapper, tied with a pink ribbon fat enough to cover her tiny face.
Yeri stared. "Is that… is that legal?"
"It's a bit heavy," the woman said, and then—without warning—plopped the entire monstrosity into Yeri's arms.
Yeri nearly dropped it on the floor.
"A bit heavy? It's so heavy!" she muttered. 'What are these roses made of? Iron petals?'
The bouquet was so massive it blocked her view. It smelled like a wedding chapel had exploded in her face. She tried shifting it, only to feel her spine protest.
"Show-off," a snide voice cut through her struggle like a dagger dipped in sarcasm. "What kind of suitor sends something like that? Must be some thug from a delinquent school."
Yeri turned around with a sigh. Speak of the devils.
Tiffany Rhian stood a few steps away, flanked by her usual two companions—girls whose names Yeri could never remember, and had mentally nicknamed Backup Mouth #1 and Backup Mouth #2. The three were as inseparable as they were insufferable.
Tiffany had once shared a dorm room with Yeri, but it hadn't lasted. The girl was convinced Yeri faked being sick to get sympathy points, and accused her of various high crimes like stealing shower time and breathing too loudly.
After Yeri moved to a single room, Tiffany treated her like she was some aristocrat who had the audacity to refuse peasantry.
Now, Tiffany's eyes were narrowed at the bouquet like it had personally insulted her fashion sense.
Yeri forced a smile, turned back to the dorm staff, and said, "Thanks. I'll… find a way to carry it without toppling over."
Behind her, Tiffany muttered, "Ugh. Desperate much?"
Yeri didn't even bother replying. There were bigger things to worry about.
Without even glancing at the card tucked into the bouquet, Yeri could only think of one person: her now ex-boyfriend.
If this was Shin Keir's idea of subtle, she wasn't sure she wanted to see what "bold" looked like.
She turned away with a sigh, adjusting the absurdly large bouquet cradled awkwardly in her arms. The stems poked into her side, and she could barely see over the blooms. It would've been enough of a hassle on its own, but of course, Tiffany chose this exact moment to make an entrance—looking like she'd just swallowed a lemon and wasn't planning on letting Yeri off easy.
Tiffany stepped directly into her path, hair flipping like she practiced it in the mirror. "Yeri, don't rely so much on that pretty little face of yours to seduce men. Pretending to be a delicate snowflake every day—aren't you tired? I say this out of concern, you know. That disgusting habit of yours won't work once you're old and irrelevant."
Backup Mouth #1 clicked her tongue with theatrical approval. "Right. Seriously, what are you trying to prove? That you're dating the heir to a flower empire or something? You can't even carry that thing without tipping over."
"Exactly," chimed Backup Mouth #2, who clearly lived for moments like this. "And who even sends a gift that extravagant and doesn't bother showing up in person? Maybe she ordered it herself."
"Or the guy's hideous!" Backup Mouth #1 added with a sneer.
Yeri rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in her skull. "Move," she said flatly, as if she were addressing a pack of stray dogs blocking her sidewalk.
Tiffany snapped her fingers and stepped even closer, her grin sharp as glass. "It's pathetic how hard you're trying. Who even sends that many roses? What is this an offer for your funeral?"
Before Yeri could retort, Tiffany reached out and slapped the bouquet from her arms.
"Oops," she said with a falsely sweet laugh. "So clumsy of me."
"Hey!" Yeri shouted as roses went flying like startled birds. The entire floral monstrosity hit the floor with a dramatic whoomph. Petals scattered across the polished dorm floor like red confetti, and from deep within the arrangement, something small and black rolled out from the center of the bouquet.
The black box came to a gentle stop.
It bumped against Tiffany's perfectly polished shoe.
The dorm receptionist, still hovering nearby, approached out of curiosity.
Yeri glared at Tiffany and reached out to pickup the box, but Tiffany was faster. Like a predator stalking prey, she bent down and snatched it up before Yeri could react.
With a snap, she opened the lid.
Inside, nestled against black velvet, were a pair of earrings so luminous they looked like tiny drops of captured starlight. Twin pink diamonds shimmered softly in delicate gold settings—custom-made, absurdly expensive, and unmistakably rare.
Tiffany's smirk faltered for a heartbeat. Even she knew how rare pink diamonds were.
"Well, well," she said, blinking with mock astonishment. "Looks like someone's doing more than just skipping class and faking sick."
Backup Mouths gasped in perfect sync.
"Give that back," Yeri said sharply.
Tiffany held the box higher like it was evidence in a courtroom. "No wonder you've got your own dorm room and miss class whenever you want. All this time, I thought you were just some sad fragile snowflakes. Turns out, you've got yourself a big shot."
Yeri's jaw clenched. "I said—give it back."
"Why? Am I wrong?" Tiffany smirked, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of passing students. "Or do you think it's normal for someone like you to get designer jewelry tucked into bouquets?"
Before anyone could blink, Yeri stepped forward and snatched the box out of her hand—not with violence, but with the refined precision of someone who belonged to high society. Her posture was all grace, her voice level and cold.
"Do you have evidence for any of your little accusations?" she said. "There are plenty of witnesses—and security cameras. If I feel like it, I could sue you for defamation. Besides, you're making a big deal over a pair of earrings. Anyone in this school could afford such trinkets."
Yeri deliberately downplayed the value, her tone dismissive.
After all, only these three idiots had seen the contents.
Tiffany's mouth fell open, stunned that someone had the nerve to threaten her with legal action.
"You! Fine—enjoy your sugar-daddy bling while it lasts," she pointed, brushing rose petals off her skirt like they carried disease. "Just don't act shocked when he dumps you for someone younger next week. That's how these things work, right?"
Yeri pocketed the jewely box, but she didn't reply.
She didn't need to. The building police is coming.
Because the clicking of high heels echoed through the hallway like a warning bell. Principal Red was approaching—her signature red pumps slicing the silence, hands planted firmly on her hips.
Her shrill voice pierced the tension. "What on earth is going on here?!"
The students scattered like startled cats.
Tiffany turned with a strained smile. "It's nothing! We were just teasing Yeri. She got a giant bouquet, and we were just fooling around, that's all."
Yeri sneered, too exhausted for games and launched into a straightforward account of what had happened.
When she mentioned the security cameras, Tiffany visibly panicked, her bravado evaporating in an instant.
"Causing disruption on dormitory grounds," Principal Red scolded with narrowed eyes, "do you want to be expelled?"
Just as Yeri turned to excuse herself, the principal added sharply, "And don't think you're off the hook for the mess, Miss Zhi. Pick up those petals."
Yeri "..."
Thankfully, the dorm receptionist stepped in. "Ah—it's fine, ma'am. I was the one who accepted the delivery. I'll clean it up." Then she turned to Yeri, sheepish. "I… didn't know there was jewelry in there. Should I file a report?"
Yeri smiled politely and shook her head. "No need."