The group's laughter swelled. And then, at the edge of the crowd, someone else appeared. Han Jisung. Clutching his bag strap. Smiling nervously, the way he always did when he approached Felix in public.

The words were cold, clipped. Dismissive. The kind of voice you use on a stranger who's interrupting you. Felix's friends snickered, exchanging glances.

Felix finally looked at Jisung. But his expression wasn't warm. It was flat. Almost annoyed. Like Jisung was an inconvenience he had to tolerate.

Jisung turned, shoulders hunched, and disappeared into the flow of students heading toward class. Felix didn't watch him go. Instead, he turned back to his friends, rolling his eyes.

The bell rang. The crowd thinned, and Felix finally moved—a step toward the classroom. And that's when he almost bumped into you, standing right there. You'd seen everything.