Jiho POV
He knew something was wrong before he saw the screen.
Hana's footsteps stopped behind him, the sound clipping off too suddenly. The hallway buzz faded, voices blurring into a distant, useless hum. Jiho turned, already on edge from the conversation with those Elite idiots, and saw her just… frozen.
Her eyes were on her phone.Her fingers were stiff around it.Her lips had parted, but no sound came out.
"Hana," he said quietly.
She didn't respond.
He moved closer, fighting the urge to snatch the phone out of her hands and throw it against the wall. That wouldn't fix anything. Not this. Not when everything in this school lived longer online than it did in real life.
"What is it?" he asked.
She blinked once, as if remembering he was there, then turned the screen toward him.
ClassNet.Anonymous post.Dark theme glaring under fluorescent light.
Someone saw who he really is.And we know who.
Underneath, tagged in bright, accusing blue:
@transferYHana
A dull roar filled his ears.
For a second, he couldn't move. Couldn't think. Just stared.
Who he really is.
They didn't know. They couldn't know. The Chairman would've burned the school down before letting a rumor like that get this far. But the phrasing… it wasn't random. It wasn't the usual "delinquent has secret criminal record" nonsense.
This was too close.
His throat felt dry. "When did it go up?"
"Just now," she whispered. "While we were… talking."
His jaw tightened.
Of course. Someone watching. Waiting. Posting the second they saw her with him. The second they had enough to twist.
More notifications stacked over the post—comments, likes, laughing emojis, the occasional shocked reaction. ClassNet's anonymous feed was already eating it up.
"Give me your phone," he said.
She hesitated, then handed it over.
He scrolled. Fast. Comments flashed by.
So the transfer girl knows?Bet she was with him after school.Someone said they saw him get out of a black car lol.Real identity? Mafia prince or chaebol?Ask her. Push her until she talks.
His grip tightened.
He could almost see them writing it. Fingers flying, grinning behind their screens, thinking it was entertainment.
They had no idea what kind of fire they were playing with.
"Jiho…" Hana's voice was soft. "What does 'who he really is' mean?"
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Not with her name hanging under that post like a target painted on her back.
He forced himself to breathe, to stop imagining worst-case scenarios: secretaries reporting this to his father, bodyguards being deployed, the Chairman's expressionless face when he decided what needed to be erased.
Erase.Like he'd done with Jiho's existence.
Jiho swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.
"We're deleting this," he muttered.
"It's anonymous," Hana said. "And even if you report it, someone will screenshot—"
"I know how the internet works," he cut in, sharper than he intended.
She flinched.
He exhaled slowly, guilt pricking at him. "Sorry. I just—"
He didn't know how to apologize for something that was completely, utterly his fault without saying the part he couldn't say.
He couldn't give her the truth.But he'd dragged her into the consequences anyway.
He handed her back the phone.
"Don't reply," he said. "Don't react. Don't mention it to anyone."
"So I just pretend it's not there?" Her brows pulled together. "They tagged me. They're pushing this."
"I'll deal with it."
"How?" she asked.
Good question.
He didn't have an answer that didn't involve hitting someone. Hard.
"I'll find out who posted it," he said anyway. "And I'll make them stop."
"With violence?" Her tone was flat.
He looked away.
Silence stretched for a moment.
Then she asked, voice low, "Is it true?"
He turned back to her.
"What?"
Her eyes didn't waver. "What they wrote. 'Who he really is.' Are they… is there something I don't know?"
There were a thousand things she didn't know.
About the Chairman.About the first wife.About the son who was supposed to be a rumor, not a real person sitting in a regular track classroom.
Jiho forced a lazy smirk onto his face, the same one he used when teachers accused him of cheating, when classmates tried to get a rise out of him.
"Do I look like someone important to you?" he drawled.
She stared at him for a moment.
"Sometimes… yes," she said quietly.
He wasn't prepared for that.
The mask slipped—just for a second—but it felt like she saw through it anyway.
"Hana—"
"Mr. Han is watching," she murmured suddenly, eyes flicking over his shoulder.
He didn't turn, didn't check, but he knew she was right. That man saw too much. Always had. He couldn't give him more reason to look twice.
The hallway noise crept back in as students moved past them, shooting glances in their direction, whispering to each other.
"Go back to class," Jiho said. "Act normal."
"And you?"
He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'll be normal somewhere else."
Her mouth twitched, like she wanted to say something but thought better of it.
"Be careful," she said instead.
He almost laughed. "That's supposed to be my line."
Then she turned and walked toward the classroom, shoulders squared, chin raised just enough to show she wouldn't let anyone see the way her fingers trembled.
He watched her until she disappeared through the door.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He already knew what it would be before he checked.
ClassNet.
Same post.
Someone had tagged his anonymous handle too.
He stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then he locked the phone and headed for the stairwell.
The stairwell was one of the only places in the regular building that didn't feel like it belonged to anyone. No class banners. No student council notices. Just concrete steps, cool walls, and the faint smell of dust and old paint.
He leaned against the railing halfway up and let his head drop back.
This was exactly what his father had wanted to avoid.
Attention.
Questions.
People looking too closely.
If this got bigger…
He imagined the Chairman's voice, calm and detached.
You were told to stay invisible. You can't even do that right.
His fingers curled around the metal bar.
He wasn't scared for himself. Not really. He knew the rules of this world. He knew how far the Kang name reached. How fast it could erase a problem.
That was the problem.
If the Chairman decided Hana was a problem—
Jiho pushed the thought away before it finished forming.
No.
He wouldn't let it get that far.
Footsteps echoed below.
He straightened automatically, muscles tense, expression flattening into boredom.
Two first-years passed, laughing about some test. They barely glanced at him, just gave him a wide berth like everyone did. The "delinquent aura" was good for something.
When the noise faded again, he pulled out his phone and opened ClassNet once more.
The post had doubled in engagement.
More comments.
Check the regular track. Witness is there.Transfer girl always around him lately.Bet she's scared lol.Someone record her reaction in class.
Heat burned under his skin.
He scrolled further.
A reply stood out, short and precise.
Be careful. Some people are off limits.
Anonymous.But the phrasing…
He frowned.
That didn't sound like a student.
It sounded like a warning.
He read it again, trying to place the tone, but the bell rang overhead, announcing the end of the period. Soon the stairwell would fill with people again.
He didn't want to be here when that happened.
Jiho shoved his phone away and went back to class.
The rest of the day blurred.
Teachers talked.Students buzzed.Whispers grew arms and legs, walking ahead of him wherever he went.
He caught fragments.
"…did you see the post?""…heard she's involved.""…maybe he's rich or something.""…transfer girl's dead if she doesn't talk."
He pretended not to hear any of it.
In class, he slouched lower than usual, jacket hood pulled up just enough to dim the fluorescent lights. The worksheet in front of him remained mostly blank—not because he couldn't do it, but because he knew better than to stand out twice in one day.
Hana didn't look at him.
Not once.
She focused on her notes, eyes fixed on the board, posture too straight. Like if she shifted even a little, everything would fall apart.
He hated that he'd put that tension there.
At lunch, he skipped the cafeteria and cut through the side exit instead. There was a vending machine near the back of the building, half-hidden from the main courtyard.
He punched a button, listening to the clunk of a canned coffee dropping.
Before he could grab it, a familiar voice spoke behind him.
"You're making it worse, you know."
He didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Lee Dohyun.Elite track, loud laugh, too-bright smile. One of the very few people who talked to Jiho like he was just… a guy.
Jiho grabbed the can and popped it open. "Didn't realize you transferred tracks."
"Relax," Dohyun said, walking around to stand beside him. His uniform looked too clean for this side of campus. He leaned against the vending machine like it was his personal prop. "I was sent. Message delivery."
Jiho snorted. "Since when are you a pigeon?"
"Since Kim Arin begged me to make sure you didn't punch Minjae in the face and start an inter-track war. Her words, not mine."
"That doesn't sound like her words."
Dohyun grinned. "Okay, I added the 'war' part."
Jiho took a long sip of coffee, letting the bitterness burn down his throat. "What do they know?"
"Right now? Nothing," Dohyun said. "But they think they do. Which is almost worse."
Jiho's fingers tightened around the can.
"Who wrote that post?" he asked.
Dohyun's expression sobered. "Not one of ours, as far as I can tell. But someone on Elite is stirring it. That tall guy earlier? Oh Seokmin. Student council president. He plays nice with the Chairman's people."
Of course he did.
Jiho scoffed. "Figures."
"They're testing boundaries," Dohyun continued. "Seeing who reacts. You, the girl, teachers. Anyone."
"Why?"
"Because rumors about Kang Group's 'trash son' make good leverage if they're true."
The words hit like a punch to the chest.
Trash son.
He'd heard that before. From board members. From staff. From his father's silence.
He set the half-empty can down a little too hard on the vending machine.
"Tell them to stop," Jiho said.
Dohyun raised both hands. "You think they listen to me? I'm comic relief, not security."
"Then tell them this," Jiho said, leaning in. "If they drag her into this again, I won't care which track they're from."
Dohyun studied him for a moment.
"Got it," he said softly. "I'll pass it along."
They stood there for a beat, the hum of the vending machine filling the quiet.
Dohyun nudged him with his shoulder. "By the way, your brother's on campus today."
Jiho's stomach clenched. "Why?"
"Meeting with the principal, I think. Something about board PR and the 'hybrid model' image. I just saw him heading toward the main building."
Of course.
The heir doing damage control while the mistake tried not to exist.
"Great," Jiho muttered.
Dohyun hesitated. "You… gonna avoid him?"
"What do you think?"
Dohyun gave a small, lopsided smile. "I think you say that and still end up in the blast radius somehow."
Jiho didn't answer.
Because as much as he hated to admit it, Dohyun was usually right.
Last period felt longer than the rest of the day combined.
The rumors didn't die down; they evolved. Someone claimed they'd seen Hana get called out of class earlier, even though she hadn't. Someone else swore they heard a teacher mention "disciplinary review." None of it was real yet, but that was how it started.
One lie stacked on another until everyone believed it.
When the final bell rang, students shot out of their seats, hungry for fresh gossip to take home. Jiho stayed seated for a moment, waiting for the room to thin out.
Hana packed her things slowly.
By the time she stood, most of their classmates were gone.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked toward the door. For a second, he thought she'd walk past him without a word.
She didn't.
She stopped beside his desk.
"You don't have to fix this," she said quietly.
He looked up at her. "I broke it."
Her eyes softened, but her jaw stayed firm. "That doesn't mean you have to fight everyone."
"That's the only thing I'm good at," he said.
It came out harsher than he meant, but he didn't take it back.
She exhaled, a tiny sound. "I'll be fine."
He didn't believe her.
But he nodded anyway because she needed him to.
"Go home by the front gate," he said. "Where there's more people."
She frowned. "Isn't that worse?"
"I'd rather have witnesses."
Her eyes widened just slightly at that.
Then she nodded. "Okay."
She left the room, steps measured.
Jiho waited a full minute before following.
The late afternoon light slanted across the courtyard, turning glass windows gold and stretching shadows across the pavement. Students streamed toward the gates, some in groups, some alone, all of them buzzing with leftover energy.
Jiho hung back near the side of the building, half-hidden behind a column. He told himself he was just… checking. Making sure no one cornered her again.
He spotted her near the front, weaving through the crowd. She looked smaller out here, dwarfed by backpacks and taller students and the looming shape of the elite building in the distance.
A black car idled near the curb on the opposite side.
Not his father's. Too modest.
Another one pulled up behind it—sleeker, with tinted windows and a familiar insignia on the license plate frame.
Kang Group.
Jiho's shoulders tensed.
The back door of the second car opened.
A tall figure stepped out in a perfect Elite Track blazer, uniform fitted flawlessly, tie straight, shoes polished to mirror shine.
Kang Jiwon.
The rightful heir.
His older brother.
The crowd noticed immediately. People dipped their heads, whispers surging. Jiwon moved through the noise like he didn't hear any of it, posture easy, expression unreadable.
He shouldn't have been anywhere near the regular gate.
He shouldn't have even looked in this direction.
But he did.
Not at Jiho.
At Hana.
She'd stopped a few feet from the gate, caught by the sudden shift in atmosphere. Her eyes traced the direction everyone else was looking and landed on him—on Jiwon.
Jiho felt something cold sink into his stomach.
Jiwon walked straight toward her.
Students parted instinctively, giving him a clear path.
He stopped at a polite distance, hands in his pockets, gaze steady.
"Yoon Hana-ssi?" he asked, voice calm and low.
She blinked, startled. "Yes…?"
"I'm Kang Jiwon," he said. "I've heard about you."
From where he stood, half-hidden in the shadow of the building, Jiho watched Hana's eyes widen.
And for the first time all day, the fear twisting inside him wasn't just about ClassNet posts or rumors.
It was about the realization that his brother had noticed her too.