WHO IS THAT GIRL

Chapter 5: The Weight of Silence

By the third week, Mirae’s hoodie had become more than just fabric. It was her shield, her only defense against the constant eyes that followed her. But no shield was perfect. Not here.

It started small — a shoulder bump in the hallway that felt harder than it needed to be. A pencil that went missing and reappeared snapped in half. Whispers in the girls’ restroom that carried just loud enough for her to hear.

“She thinks she’s special just because she lives with Kang Joonseo.”

“She probably seduced her way into that house.”

“Look at her—she doesn’t even belong in those uniforms.”

Mirae pressed her back against the cold restroom door and swallowed hard, waiting until the voices faded before stepping out. Her fingers shook as she tucked her hair back into her hoodie. She told herself to stay quiet, to endure. She’d lived invisible before. She could do it again.

But invisibility didn’t work here. Not when people wanted you erased.

By lunchtime, the whispers turned to laughter. When she walked into the cafeteria, a group of girls at the center table stared openly, covering their mouths as they giggled. Mirae lowered her eyes and hurried toward the back.

Her tray trembled slightly in her hands. She hadn’t realized how empty the cafeteria was until she sat down — the room buzzing with noise, but no one within three tables of her. Space itself had become a punishment.

Then a shadow fell across the table.

“Are you planning to eat all of that, or just stare at it?”

She looked up. Seo Rihan stood there, immaculate as always, his tray balanced effortlessly in one hand. The fluorescent light made his silver hair glint like frost.

Mirae blinked. “I—what?”

Without asking, he set his tray down and sat across from her. The noise in the cafeteria dipped, then spiked again, sharper, curious. People were staring.

Mirae’s heart dropped. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” He unfolded his chopsticks calmly, gaze steady on hers. “But I want to.”

The words echoed Harim’s from last week, but Rihan’s tone was different. Not warm. Not kind. Just matter-of-fact, like he was declaring a fact of nature.

Mirae’s fingers twisted in her sleeves. “People will… talk.”

“They already do,” he replied smoothly, picking up a piece of kimbap. “Better to control what they say than leave it to chance.”

She stared at him, stunned. “Control it?”

“That’s how this place works.” He placed the food neatly into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Silence isn’t survival here. It’s weakness.”

Mirae lowered her eyes. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Rihan’s chopsticks paused mid-air. For the first time, his gaze softened — only a fraction, only for a breath.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Which is why you need to decide if you’re going to keep hiding… or start existing.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t know how to answer.

Before she could, a voice cut through the cafeteria.

“Well, well. Our hoodie girl is upgrading her company.”

Baek Taewoo sauntered over, hands in his pockets, a lazy grin stretched across his face. He slid into the seat next to Mirae, leaning an elbow casually against the table. The smell of his cologne — citrus and musk — filled the air.

“Taewoo,” Rihan said, his voice calm but edged.

“Rihan,” Taewoo echoed mockingly. “Didn’t peg you for the type to eat with strays.”

Mirae stiffened, her throat burning.

Rihan’s expression didn’t change. “And I didn’t peg you for the type to eat at all. Thought you lived on attention alone.”

The air crackled. The cafeteria went quieter, students leaning in, eager for sparks.

Taewoo smirked, unfazed. He leaned closer to Mirae, lowering his voice just enough for her to hear. “Don’t worry. I like strays. They’re the most loyal when you feed them.”

Her face flushed hot. She pushed back her chair abruptly, the legs screeching against the floor. The sound made everyone look.

“I’m not—” Her voice shook. “I’m not a stray.”

Silence spread for a beat.

Rihan’s eyes sharpened, unreadable. Taewoo’s smirk only widened, but his gaze lingered on her face in a way that made her feel both furious and unsteady.

Mirae grabbed her tray, head down, and walked out. She didn’t care where she went, only that she got away from those eyes, those whispers, that suffocating weight.

The hallway outside was cooler, quieter. She leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her chest, her heartbeat erratic.

For the first time since she arrived, her silence had broken. And it scared her almost as much as the boys themselves.

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