Chapter 4: Whispers and Shadows
885 Words
The whispers followed her everywhere.
By the second week, Yoo Mirae knew the rhythm of Cheongdam Academy’s gossip better than the chime of the school bell. They spread like smoke through the hallways, curling into every corner, slipping into ears before she even turned her head.
“That’s her. The one living in Kang Joonseo’s house.”
“I heard she begged her way in. Or maybe she’s just some charity case.”
“Look at those clothes. Doesn’t she know where she is?”
“I swear Baek Taewoo smiled at her the other day. She’s probably trying to trap him.”
Mirae kept walking, clutching her books to her chest. Her hoodie shielded her like a wall, but even walls cracked under enough pressure.
When she reached her classroom, she slid into her seat at the back without raising her head. The air was heavy, buzzing with unsaid things. She could feel eyes flicking toward her and away again, as if looking too long might burn.
She hated it.
She hated being noticed.
But she hated being invisible even more.
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At lunch, she stayed in her classroom, too drained to face the cafeteria crowd. She unpacked the sandwich her mother had made that morning — simple, familiar, comforting — and placed it carefully on her desk.
“Skipping the circus?”
She looked up, startled. Jin Harim leaned against the doorframe, smiling as if he belonged there. He carried his own tray, but instead of sitting at his usual table downstairs, he crossed the room and dropped into the seat in front of her.
Mirae hesitated. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He unwrapped his chopsticks with a grin. “But I want to.”
She lowered her eyes. “People will talk.”
“Let them,” Harim said easily. “They already do.”
It was the way he said it — not careless, but calm, like he’d made peace with something long ago. His presence eased something inside her. He asked her what she liked to read, if she’d ever traveled, if she preferred ramen or tteokbokki. She answered in short sentences, embarrassed by how plain her life sounded compared to his.
But Harim never laughed. He only listened, as if every word mattered.
When she glanced up, she caught him watching her too closely. His smile was soft, but his eyes… his eyes lingered. She dropped her gaze, heart thudding.
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That evening, the ride home was different.
Usually, Joonseo sat beside her in silence, the car thick with an unspoken barrier. But today, when she slid into the backseat, she found Baek Taewoo already there — sprawled across the leather, tie loose, his phone glowing in his hand. He glanced up and smirked.
“Well, if it isn’t Little Hoodie.”
Mirae stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It suits you.” He stretched lazily, his knee brushing against hers on purpose. “Besides, it’s cute.”
She scooted an inch away, pressing herself against the window. “Don’t.”
“Relax.” His smile widened. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask.”
Her face heated instantly. “You’re disgusting.”
“Ouch. You wound me.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “But you’re blushing, Mirae-yah. Don’t tell me no one’s ever said things like this to you.”
She turned her head sharply, staring out the window, refusing to answer.
The car door opened. Joonseo slid in, his presence filling the space without a word. He sat on Mirae’s other side, expression unreadable as he pulled out his phone. For a moment, the silence was unbearable, Taewoo’s grin pressing against the edge of it.
Then, without looking up, Joonseo said flatly, “Stop.”
Taewoo raised an eyebrow. “Stop what?”
“You know what.”
The air tightened. Mirae’s breath caught, eyes flicking between them.
Taewoo chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. “Jealous, hyung?”
Joonseo’s gaze lifted slowly, meeting Taewoo’s across Mirae. Cold. Sharp. The kind of look that cut without words.
Mirae shrank into her seat, heart hammering. She didn’t understand what was happening — or why her stepbrother’s silence suddenly felt more dangerous than Taewoo’s teasing.
The car ride continued like that, tense and brittle, until the mansion gates swallowed them whole.
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That night, Mirae stood in her room, staring out at the garden below. The lanterns glowed softly in the courtyard, casting long shadows against the walls. Somewhere in the distance, the rhythmic sound of a tennis ball echoed through the night — steady, unyielding.
She hugged her hoodie tighter.
She didn’t belong here. Not in this house, not in that school, not between boys who looked at her in ways she didn’t understand.
And yet… she couldn’t ignore the way her chest tightened when Harim smiled, when Taewoo teased, when Joonseo spoke at last. Even Rihan’s cold stare in the library lingered in her mind like a question she couldn’t answer.
Why me?
She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the glass.
Tomorrow would be worse.
Tomorrow, the whispers would grow louder.
And tomorrow, she would still have to walk through those halls — hoodie and all.
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- Writer
