It was the second week of Ji-ho Park's operation, and Class 2-3 had turned into a cage full of wounded snakes. The air was thick with the smell of fear-sweat and barely concealed hatred. No one dared turn their back on anyone else; everyone was waiting for the next strike.
Today, Ji-ho made no moves. Just stares and silence. Those were his weapons—sharp and merciless.
---
First period: Chemistry. 8:30 a.m.
The lab reeked of sharp acid and cold sweat. Students stood in pairs at the benches. Min-soo and Jung-ho—who until two weeks ago had been glued to each other like loyal dogs—now stood side by side with an icy distance between them, as if an invisible wall of suspicion had been erected. The teacher had forcibly paired Yu-jin with Su-jin. As Yu-jin walked over, her shoulders were hunched, like an animal that knows it's already trapped.
Ji-ho, as always, alone. His bench in the farthest corner. He didn't need a partner; he had been fighting solo from the start.
The experiment was simple: burning a strip of magnesium. When it was Min-soo's group's turn, Jung-ho reluctantly picked up the lighter. A blue flame flared. The magnesium burned with a blinding white light—a light that for one moment illuminated every face like lifeless corpses.
At that exact instant, Ji-ho lifted his head for the first time and stared straight into Jung-ho's eyes. The gaze was heavy, sticky, full of something that seemed to say: "I know what's in your heart, you piece of shit. I know how scared you are."
Jung-ho's eyes were filled with the light, but he felt that stare. In the white glare, Ji-ho's expressionless face looked like a death mask. Without thinking, he took a step back, as if someone had punched him in the gut.
The light died. But that stare kept burning in Jung-ho's brain.
Min-soo whispered in a thin, contemptuous voice: "What's wrong with you, Jung-ho? Why are you so pale? Did that silent Park Ji-ho rape you or something, the way you're shaking?"
Jung-ho didn't answer. He just stared at Ji-ho, who had already lowered his head again and was scribbling something in his notebook.
Inside Jung-ho's head, voices swirled: "Why did he look straight into my eyes? What does he know? It's like he's saying he knows how weak I am… like he's waiting to see if I'll break."
---
Break time. North hallway.
Dong-woo crept along the wall like a shadow, heading for the bathroom. Tae-seon spotted him. To Tae-seon, Dong-woo was still a living punching bag—a way to vent the resentment Min-soo had planted in him.
Tae-seon blocked his path and said with a filthy grin: "Where you going, you pussy poet? Gonna go rhyme some lines in the bathroom about your new asshole? Thought your lame little poems could get you laid?"
Dong-woo just shook his head and tried to go around. Tae-seon grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. The sound of bone hitting concrete echoed.
Tae-seon's breath was hot and foul in Dong-woo's face: "Now that Min-soo told you to fuck off and stay away from us, you think you can just walk away clean? You still owe me, got it? All that money you stole from me and Min-soo… you think that's over?"
Then he leaned in closer, lowering his voice: "You think that mute bastard Park Ji-ho can protect you? He's just a dead piece of meat who doesn't even have the balls to open his mouth. A complete fucking idiot."
At that exact moment, Ji-ho appeared at the end of the hallway. His steps slow and measured. When he reached them, he didn't even turn his head. But his eyes—those black, dead eyes—went straight into Tae-seon's. And while Dong-woo was still pinned under his grip, Ji-ho moved his lips silently. Just the shape of the words:
"Does your dad know?"
Tae-seon froze. The color drained from his face, as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice. His hand went slack. Dong-woo slipped away. Tae-seon just stared at the spot where Ji-ho had disappeared. His hands were shaking.
"Does your dad know?" What did that mean? The petty thefts? The lies? Or the nights he spent sleeping with rich older women for cash? Or the bigger secret—the one about who his real father was? The secret he thought no one else knew.
Ji-ho didn't even pause to watch the reaction. That was the worst torture of all. Now Tae-seon would lie awake for days with the question: How much does Ji-ho know? When is he going to spill everything?
---
Lunch. Cafeteria.
Su-jin sat alone. Her new group of girls laughed at another table, but every few moments they shot sharp, judgmental glances her way. She had been the queen; now she was just a living corpse.
From across the room, Yu-jin stared at her with red, swollen eyes. In her bag, the starfish gold earring sat like a ticking bomb. She still hadn't dared to take it out or throw it away.
From his solitary table, Ji-ho watched everyone. Then his gaze moved to Min-soo and Jung-ho's table. Two trays of food, two heavy silences.
Suddenly Jung-ho slammed his spoon against his tray. The sound echoed through the hall.
"Cut it out already. Why do you keep staring at me like that? Like you want to fuck me with your eyes."
Min-soo slowly raised his head. His voice cold and dangerous: "I'm staring? You're the one spinning bullshit in your head. You think you can still pretend everything's normal?"
Jung-ho laughed—an edgy, venomous laugh: "Yeah, ever since that damn note was found, you've been acting like a rabid dog toward me. You think I'm the traitor? Me, the one who's always been up your ass?"
Min-soo gave a bitter smile: "Maybe you are. From that pussy poet to you—suddenly everyone remembers how to stab each other in the back."
Jung-ho raised his voice; a few heads turned: "So that's what Park says too. Yesterday he came up to me and said you knew I was planning to meet Su-jin after school. He just told me. How do you know, Min-soo? Got cameras in me?"
Silence.
Min-soo's face twitched for the first time. This lie—that Ji-ho had spoken—made everything dirtier.
Finally Min-soo said: "I didn't tell that mute bastard anything."
Jung-ho sneered: "Then how does he know? Unless you told him so you could drag me through the mud in front of everyone. Right? You wanted to prove you can still control everything, even with lies?"
Min-soo stood up. He grabbed his tray hard: "I'm done with this childish bullshit. Go fuck each other." He walked away, but his steps no longer carried their old arrogance.
Jung-ho sat alone, fists clenched. His gaze fell on Su-jin, who had watched everything from across the hall. Su-jin quickly looked away.
Ji-ho? Ji-ho calmly ate the last bite of his rice. An ordinary motion. But inside his chest, a cold, sweet fire was burning.
---
Afternoon. Literature class. Last period.
Ms. Park was talking about "silence as power." For the first time, Ji-ho felt someone was speaking his true language.
Throughout the lesson, glances landed on him one by one:
- Jung-ho: full of resentment and fear, as if he wanted to strangle him with his eyes.
- Tae-seon: terrified, curious, cold sweat on his forehead.
- Dong-woo: pleading, like a dog waiting to be petted.
- Su-jin: full of suspicion and hatred.
- Yu-jin: searching, as if looking for an ally in hell.
Only Min-soo didn't look. But the back of his neck was rigid, as if he could feel Ji-ho's gaze burning through his skin.
Ji-ho looked out the window. Rain was falling again. Droplets drew tangled lines on the glass, like the veins of a mad brain.
He knew phase one—paranoia—was almost complete. Now it was time to increase the pressure. Not with big moves. With disappearances. With absences that drive people insane.
Tomorrow, when Yu-jin rummages through her bag and the earring is gone, Ji-ho will just watch. When Tae-seon lies awake at night sweating over possible retaliation for his secret, Ji-ho will be there. When Min-soo and Jung-ho devour each other with accusation-filled eyes, Ji-ho will sit by the window and take note.
And at night, in his dark room, he will practice again. Every strike, every block, every held breath, accompanied by voices that no longer broke him—only made him stronger:
"Come here, you little piece of shit…"
"Let me see what you're hiding under those fucking clothes…"
"Cry, scream… no one's coming to cry for you, no one…"
Those voices no longer broke him. They were fuel. And the fire of his revenge, silent and smokeless, was burning them all.
The bell rang. Ji-ho was the last to stand. As he passed Min-soo's desk, their eyes met for a moment. Ji-ho let something show in his eyes: not anger. Not fear. Just cold anticipation.
Min-soo was the first to look away.