Chapter 2: The Rules of Their World
1214 Words
The next morning, Yoo Mirae woke to the unfamiliar sound of silence.
No traffic. No arguing neighbors. No slamming doors or pipes groaning through thin walls. Just filtered sunlight spilling across a marble floor and the faint sound of birds she couldn’t see.
For a few seconds, she forgot where she was. Then her eyes landed on the window — the white curtains, the vast courtyard beyond — and the memory hit her like a weight to the chest.
Right. The mansion.
The marriage.
The brother.
Her mouth was dry. Her hoodie, crumpled beside her on the bed, felt like the last piece of herself she had left.
She got dressed slowly, mechanically — oversized uniform skirt, loose blouse, hoodie back over it all. She couldn’t bring herself to wear the blazer. The school crest on the pocket made her feel like a liar.
When she stepped out into the hall, the world felt too quiet again. Too perfect. The air smelled like clean linen and something floral she couldn’t name. No one was around.
But as she passed one of the open corridors, she saw him.
Kang Joonseo.
He was already dressed in his school uniform, jacket buttoned, white collar sharp against his neck. His tennis bag hung from his shoulder like it belonged there, effortless. He didn’t look at her as he passed. Didn’t pause. His footsteps were precise, soundless against the polished floor.
She froze instinctively, standing half-hidden behind a pillar until he disappeared down the hall. Her heart was louder than it had any right to be.
He hadn’t said a word to her.
Not last night.
Not now.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
---
The car that took them to school was black and silent, with tinted windows and chilled water bottles placed neatly in the backseat cupholders. Mirae sat stiffly, clutching her bag. Joonseo sat beside her, eyes on his phone, headphones in. He didn’t acknowledge her presence once.
That was fine.
She didn’t need him to.
But every few minutes, her eyes drifted toward him — the slope of his neck, the way his fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh, the slight crease in his brow like he was always halfway into a problem he couldn’t solve. He didn’t look like a student. He looked like someone older. Colder. Already too far away from wherever she was.
The car pulled into the private lot behind the school, and Mirae’s nerves twisted tighter. She tugged her hoodie further over her head.
As they stepped out, a pair of girls walking by gasped audibly.
“Is that Kang Joonseo?”
“He’s here early. Did you see the way he—wait. Who’s the girl?”
Mirae didn’t wait to hear the rest.
---
Cheongdam International Academy looked more like a luxury resort than a school. Everything gleamed. Even the staircases sparkled like someone polished them hourly. The students — tall, model-beautiful, perfectly dressed — walked like they owned the ground beneath their feet.
Mirae kept her head down as she walked through the courtyard.
She didn’t make eye contact. She didn’t speak. She didn’t sit when she got to her classroom, just stood awkwardly near the door until a teacher ushered her in.
No one said hello.
No one smiled.
Even the desks seemed to shift away from her.
Her seat was at the back, near the window. She slid into it like a ghost and pulled her sleeves down over her hands.
They whispered.
They always whispered.
“She’s the new one. No connections.”
“Wears that hoodie every day. Probably trying to hide something.”
“Maybe she bribed someone to get in.”
“She’s Kang Joonseo’s sister, right? Half or step or… whatever. Gross.”
Her stomach turned.
She wanted to shrink, but there was nowhere left to disappear.
---
It was during lunch when the first one spoke to her.
“Hey.”
She looked up, startled.
He was taller than she expected — warm eyes, tousled blond-brown hair, a tray balanced in one hand and a crooked smile that didn’t quite match the rest of the school’s sharp edges.
“You’re Yoo Mirae, right?”
She blinked. “Y-Yes.”
“I’m Jin Harim. You looked like you were about to pass out, so I thought I’d say hi before you did.”
She flushed immediately, lowering her head. “Sorry. I’m fine.”
He laughed — a quiet, gentle sound. “Don’t apologize. This place is intense. I’ve been here since middle school and it still makes me want to run away some days.”
He sat down across from her without waiting for permission.
No one else did that.
No one else even came near her table.
She stared at him, confused.
“Are you… sure you want to sit here?”
“Why not?”
“You might get…” She hesitated. “Talked about.”
Harim shrugged, biting into his sandwich like he didn’t care. “Let them talk. I’ve been called worse for less.”
Mirae looked down, unsure how to respond.
“Besides,” he said after a moment, voice softer, “you looked lonely.”
Her chest ached in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
She gave a small, awkward nod. “Thanks.”
---
Later that day, she found herself wandering toward the library — too nervous to go home early, too exhausted to sit in a crowd.
The library was quiet. Cool. She stepped between shelves and let her fingers trail along the spines of books that looked like no one had opened them in years.
She didn’t notice the other presence until she turned the corner.
Seo Rihan stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the bookshelf like he’d been waiting. His gaze flicked up, expression unreadable.
“You’re Yoo Mirae.”
It wasn’t a question.
She froze.
“Yes…”
“You’re in my class.”
“I… yes.”
“Your uniform’s incorrect.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize,” he said calmly, walking toward her. “That wasn’t a command. Just an observation.”
He stopped close. Too close.
She held her breath.
“Don’t misunderstand,” he added, tilting his head. “I don’t care what you wear. But people here do. And if you plan to survive, you should care about what they think.”
Mirae couldn’t move.
“I wasn’t planning to—”
“To what?” he interrupted, voice low. “Stand out? You failed.”
Her throat tightened. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes — recognition. Or was it annoyance?
“No,” he said softly. “You didn’t.”
He turned and walked away, his footsteps perfectly even.
---
By the time the car arrived to take her home, she was shaking. From exhaustion, from tension, from something else she couldn’t name.
Joonseo was already in the backseat, scrolling through his phone.
He didn’t look up when she climbed in beside him.
Didn’t speak.
But when the car turned the corner, she caught him glancing at her reflection in the window — just once.
As if checking that she was still there.
---
- Writer
