"Since when do I have a girlfriend, Miss Kim?"
Mr. Jeon's voice exploded like a dramatic K-drama soundtrack in surround sound. Somewhere, a thunderclap probably roared just for effect.
I froze mid-breath, slowly closed my eyes like I was in a horror movie about to meet the og demon, and turned around.
And there he was.
Mr. Jeon.
The said demon standing there with that soul-sucking aura like he moonlights as a dementor. If he'd taken one more step, I swear the hallway lights would've flickered.
The two girls behind me instantly snapped their necks downward so fast you'd think their heads were about to launch into orbit.
They knew the rules: Don't look at Mr. Jeon when he's mad unless you're ready to meet your ancestors.
"Answer me."
He was walking toward me like a villain in slow motion. I didn't look up — floor tiles were suddenly very interesting.
But I could feel him. Like a Wi-Fi signal of doom getting stronger.
"Are you out here spreading malicious rumours about me?"
