The classroom was a quiet sanctuary of rustling pages and the soft hum of the air‑conditioner. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting the wooden desks in a warm, honeyed glow. Bobae slipped into the seat by the window, the familiar creak of the chair a small comfort after the night's turmoil. She pulled her worn notebook from her bag, the cover scarred by countless scribbles, and opened to the page where she had left off—a chemistry diagram of the nitrogen cycle. The intricate loops and arrows demanded her full attention, and for a few precious minutes the world outside the glass faded away.
She traced the lines with her fingertip, the ink smudging slightly under the pressure of her thumb. The words in the margin—"Remember to ask Jun‑pyo about the lab experiment"—felt like a distant echo, a reminder of the promise she had made to herself to keep moving forward, even if the path was strewn with bruises.
A sudden clatter shattered the calm. The classroom door slammed open with a bang that made several heads turn. A ripple of murmurs rolled through the room as a group of students surged forward. At the front of the pack was Lizzy, her hair pulled back into a fierce ponytail, eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and triumph. Beside her were three of her closest allies: So‑hyeon, a sharp‑tongued girl with a reputation for gossip, and two others whose names Bobae could never quite recall but whose smirks were unmistakable.
They marched straight toward Bobae's desk, their footsteps echoing off the polished floor. The other students instinctively shifted, giving them a wide berth, as if the air around the group had thickened with static.
"Hey, look who finally decided to show up," Lizzy sneered, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. She stopped a few feet from Bobae, planting her hands on the desk and leaning in so close that Bobae could smell the faint scent of her perfume—something floral, overlaid with a sharp, metallic tang.
Bobae's heart hammered against her ribs. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the notebook, the ink blurring as her hands trembled. "What do you want, Lizzy?" she asked, voice low, trying to keep the tremor from reaching her throat.
Lizzy's smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth. "What do I want? Oh, sweetie, I think you know exactly what I want. You re just trying to pretend. You think you can wase‑wash your way into Minho's life, into my life, and get away with it? You're delusional." Minho is mine and mine alone.
So‑hyeon stepped forward, her eyes glittering with malicious gauze. "You think you can just sit there, reading your boring chemistry notes, You're a joke, Bobae. A pathetic little maid who thinks she's something special."
Bobae eyes widened with shock how did they know she asked her self inwardly
The other two girls chimed in, their voices a chorus of derision. "Doomed," one whispered, the word hanging in the air like a curse. "You're doomed, you hear me? You'll never be anything but a servant in that mansion."
Bobae's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. The notebook slipped from her fingers, landing with a soft thud on the floor. The sound seemed to echo louder than the chatter around her. She bent down, fingers brushing the paper, and for a split second the world narrowed to the feel of the cheap, lined pages against her skin.
Lizzy's hand shot out, snatching the notebook from Bobae's grasp. She flipped it open, eyes scanning the scribbled equations. "Look at this," she mocked, holding it up for the class to see. "She's trying to be a scientist now? How adorable."
You are shock about how I knew you are a maid in the jejjuk mansion I overheard everything u told him. You are a nobody you are a low born.
So‑hyeon leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that only Bobae could hear. "You think you can hide behind Minho's protection forever? He's not here, and when he's not, we're the ones who decide what happens to you."
Bobae's breath hitched. She could feel the eyes of the entire class on her, the weight of their curiosity and contempt pressing down like a physical force. She forced herself to meet Lizzy's gaze, her voice steadier than she felt. "Leave me alone. I haven't done anything to you."
Lizzy laughed, a short, sharp sound that sent a shiver down Bobae's spine. "You haven't done anything? You've taken what's mine, Bobae. You've taken Minho's attention, his rides, his… everything. And now you sit here, pretending you're just a student. You're a thief, and thieves get punished."
The other girls began to chant in low, rhythmic tones, their words forming a cruel mantra: "Thief! Thief! Thief!" The chant grew louder, reverberating off the walls.
Bobae's hands clenched into fists beneath the desk. She could feel the bruises from the previous night still throbbing, a reminder of how quickly things could turn violent. She swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. "I'm not a thief," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone else. "I just… I just want to be left alone."
Lizzy's smile turned cruel. "Too late for that," she said, and with a swift motion, she tossed the notebook across the room. It spun through the air, pages fluttering like wounded birds before landing with a splatter of ink on the floor.
The classroom fell into a stunned silence. the door burst open a senior prefect, his badge glinning, eyes scanning the room. He took in the scene: the scattered notebook, the trembling girl at the desk, the triumphant smirks of the four girls.
"Enough!" he barked, his voice echoing off the walls. "All of you, out. Now."
Lizzy hesitated for a fraction of a second, then, with a final glare at Bobae, turned and stalked out, Bobae sat frozen, the ink stain spreading slowly across the floor, a dark reminder of the confrontation.
She bent down, fingers trembling, and began to gather the torn pages, each one a fragment of the life she was trying to build—a life that now felt as fragile as the paper in her hands. As she lifted the last sheet, a small, folded note slipped out and fluttered to the ground. She unfolded it with shaking hands and read the hastily scratched words: _"Meet me after school. – M."_
Bobae's breath caught. The note was from Minho, but the timing was impossible—he was supposed to be at the mansion, not here. She stared at the ink, the words blurring as a cold dread settled in her chest. The bell rang, signaling the end of the period, and the students began to shuffle out, their chatter a dull roar in the background.
Bobae slipped the note into her pocket, her mind racing. Who had left it? Was it a trap? Or was Minho really trying to reach her? She rose from her seat, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders, and stepped into the hallway, the echo of Lizzy's laughter still ringing in her ears.
The corridor was crowded, but a single figure stood at the far end, partially hidden in the shadows—a silhouette that seemed to watch her every move. Bobae's heart pounded as she approached, the sound of her own footsteps the only thing she could hear over the din of the students.