"Saehwa, are you really planning to let Hyerin join our group?" Nari asked, arms crossed as she leaned against one of the shelves.
The documents room was dimly lit, the faint scent of aged paper and ink lingering in the air. Rows of neatly stacked case files surrounded us, a quiet archive of every moot court trial Seonghwa had ever held.
I flipped through a thick folder, scanning the old transcripts. "Why not?"
Nari scoffed. "I don't like it."
I didn't look up. "So?" I said smoothly, turning a page. "Does it matter whether you like it or not?"
She let out a sharp breath, clearly irritated. "She's an outsider, Saehwa. She wasn't raised in this world. She wasn't groomed for it. She's—"
"Smart."
Nari fell silent.
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. "She's smart, Nari. And she's useful."
She frowned. "You don't even know her."
I closed the file in my hands, dusting off the cover before placing it back on the shelf. "Don't I?"
Nari's fingers tapped against her arm, a habit she had whenever she was holding herself back from saying something reckless. "If she causes trouble—"
"She won't," I cut her off. "Not yet, at least."
I could feel her hesitation, the conflict behind her sharp words.
She didn't trust Hyerin.
I did.
Not in the traditional sense, of course.
But I trusted that Hyerin had something worth seeing through.
And I wanted to see just how far she could go.
Nari clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."
I smirked, turning back to the shelf. "Duly noted."
She huffed, pulling out a document of her own, muttering something under her breath.
I didn't push further.
Because whether she liked it or not, Hyerin was already here.
And there was no turning back.
By the time I returned to class, something was off.
There was no teacher in the room, but a strange tension lingered in the air—a quiet buzz of murmurs, the kind that meant something had just happened.
The moment I stepped in, all eyes flickered toward me.
Except for Hyerin.
She was staring down at her uniform, her blazer and blouse completely soaked—the dark navy fabric now stained with a bright, sticky blue liquid.
Juice.
Someone had dumped it on her.
She didn't move, didn't react. She just sat there, gripping the edge of her desk, her posture eerily controlled, too controlled.
I followed the shift in glances across the room until they all led back to one person.
Jang Gaeun.
She sat near the center of the class, legs crossed, arms folded, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
She wasn't even trying to hide it.
I tilted my head slightly, letting the silence stretch as I took in the scene, the unspoken hierarchy at play.
Then, in a voice smooth and calm, I asked,
"Who did this?"
The silence was louder than any confession.
Hyerin remained still, her fingers curling slightly against her soaked uniform, her grip tight but her expression unreadable.
Jang Gaeun leaned back in her seat, tilting her head as she studied me, as if testing how I would react.
The smirk on her face—it was intentional.
She wanted me to acknowledge it.
I took a slow step forward, my shoes clicking softly against the polished floor, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room.
I didn't look at Gaeun.
Instead, I walked past her and stopped in front of Hyerin's desk.
She still wouldn't meet my gaze, her eyes locked onto the mess in front of her. Her entire front was drenched, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to her skin, sticky with whatever cheap convenience store drink had been used.
I exhaled through my nose, reaching into my bag and pulling out my handkerchief, setting it on her desk without a word.
The room stayed quiet, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.
And then, I finally turned.
Slowly, my gaze flickered to Jang Gaeun.
She smiled, feigning innocence. "Something wrong, Saehwa?"
The audacity.
I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head slightly. "Gaeun." My voice was calm, smooth—dangerously smooth. "Did your hand slip?"
Her smirk widened. "Oops."
The class held its breath.
I tilted my head, resting my hand lightly on Hyerin's desk. "Do you know what I find funny?" I asked, my tone light, almost amused.
Gaeun raised a brow. "Enlighten me."
I smiled.
Then, in one swift motion, I grabbed the untouched cup of water sitting on Hyerin's desk and poured it over Gaeun's head.
A sharp gasp rippled through the class.
The once-smug look on Gaeun's face vanished instantly, replaced by pure, stunned disbelief as ice-cold water soaked through her expensive uniform, dripping down onto her lap, her seat, the floor.
She inhaled sharply, blinking through the shock, her perfectly styled hair now clinging to her face, ruined.
"You—" she started, her voice rising, but I cut her off.
"You should be more careful," I said smoothly, placing the empty cup down with a quiet clink. "Wouldn't want your hand to slip next time."
The class erupted into hushed whispers, the shift in power immediate, absolute.
Gaeun looked at me, expression twisting, but she didn't say another word.
She knew better.
I turned back to Hyerin, who was watching me now—not with shock, not with embarrassment, but with something else.
Something unreadable.
I leaned down slightly, lowering my voice just enough for only her to hear.
"Come on," I murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up."
She hesitated, just for a second.
Then, finally—she nodded.
And without looking back, without giving Gaeun or anyone else the satisfaction of another reaction, I led Hyerin out of the room.
Because this?
This wasn't over yet.
The moment we stepped out of the classroom, the air around us shifted. The tension, the weight of all those watching eyes, stayed behind, locked within those four walls. But I knew it wouldn't last.
By the time we returned, the entire school would know what happened.
Hyerin walked beside me in silence, her steps careful, measured. Her uniform was still damp, the cold fabric clinging to her, but she didn't complain. She hadn't said a single word since I threw that water on Gaeun.
I glanced at her. "Are you just going to stay silent?"
She stopped, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
"You didn't have to do that," she muttered.
I leaned against the wall beside her, crossing my arms. "Oh?"
She turned to face me, eyes sharp, emotions finally breaking through the controlled mask she always wore. "I could've handled it myself."
I smiled. "I know."
She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Then why?"
"Because I wanted to."
Hyerin blinked, caught off guard. "That's it?"
"That's it." I tilted my head, watching her. "Unless you would've preferred that I just sat back and did nothing?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No, but—"
"Then it's settled."
She let out a quiet sigh, torn between gratitude and frustration.
I pushed off the wall, grabbing her wrist gently.
"Come on," I said, leading her toward the restroom. "You can argue with me after you change into something dry."
She didn't resist.
She let me lead her.
And for some reason, I liked that she did.
—
The restroom was empty when we entered, the sound of running water filling the space as I turned on the sink.
I tossed her my spare blazer from my locker, watching as she hesitated before taking it.
"You always carry an extra?" she asked.
I smirked. "I like to be prepared."
She eyed the fabric, then slowly pulled off her damp blazer, revealing the soaked blouse underneath. The white material clung to her frame, almost translucent, and for the first time since meeting her, I saw her hesitate for a different reason.
She turned slightly away, as if debating whether to say something, before muttering, "Turn around."
I raised an eyebrow, amused. "Shy?"
"Saehwa."
"Alright, alright." I chuckled, raising my hands in surrender before turning my back to her.
The quiet rustle of fabric filled the air as she slipped out of her soaked clothes, replacing them with mine.
It was strange.
I'd only known her for a short time, and yet, here we were.
A transfer student—**the daughter of the man my father buried in court—**standing here, wearing my blazer, slipping further and further into my world.
"Done," she said, her voice quieter than usual.
I turned back around, letting my gaze settle on her.
The blazer fit just slightly loose on her, the sleeves a little too long, the emblem of Seonghwa Girls' Academy stitched neatly against the fabric.
But the way she stood, the way she looked at me—Hyerin didn't look out of place in my clothes.
If anything, she looked like she belonged.
And I didn't know how I felt about that.
I stepped forward, reaching for her collar, straightening it slightly. "Better."
She stiffened slightly at the proximity but didn't move away.
"Let's go back," I said.
She nodded.
She nodded, adjusting the blazer slightly as if testing the fit.
Then, after a brief pause, she asked, "How'd you know my size?"
I smirked, tilting my head slightly. "If you can fit my clothes, you can fit my uniform."
Hyerin blinked, as if just now realizing how easily everything had fit. "Oh… right." She glanced away, clearing her throat.
Cute.
I watched as she ran a hand through her hair, still slightly damp from earlier, before shifting awkwardly under my gaze.
I exhaled, stepping back. "Now go to your next class."
She frowned. "What about you?"
I smiled, but there was an edge to it—calm, smooth, but holding something sharper underneath.
"I have something to take care of."
Hyerin studied me for a second, as if debating whether to ask what exactly that meant.
But in the end, she didn't.
She nodded once, then turned on her heel, making her way down the hall.
I watched her go, waiting until she disappeared around the corner before turning in the opposite direction.
I wasn't heading to class.
No.
I was heading back to Jang Gaeun.
Because while I had already humiliated her, I wasn't done.
Not yet.