Snow started falling again on Thursday.
Not the soft, romantic kind.
The sharp kind.
The kind that stung your cheeks and made everything look colder than it actually was.
Han Seo-yeon felt it before she even stepped into the classroom.
The shift.
The silence that wasn't silence.
When she opened the door to Room 3B, conversations dropped for half a second — just enough to notice.
Then resumed.
Too casually.
She walked to Seat 3B slowly, pretending not to feel it.
Pretending not to see the way two girls near the back leaned toward each other and whispered.
Pretending not to hear her own name.
Ji-hoon was already seated.
But he wasn't writing.
He was watching.
Not her.
The room.
"What happened?" she asked quietly as she sat down.
He didn't answer immediately.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"You didn't check your phone?"
Her stomach dropped.
"No."
"Check."
Her fingers felt cold as she unlocked it.
And there it was.
The school forum.
An anonymous post.
"Looks like the Busan transfer student moves fast. First Ji-hoon, now Hyun-woo? Guess ranking first isn't the only thing she's good at."
There was a blurry photo attached.
Her.
Laughing at lunch with Hyun-woo.
Taken from an angle that made it look intimate.
Her chest tightened painfully.
The comments were worse.
"Climbing her way up."
"Ji-hoon deserves better."
"Typical transfer student."
Seo-yeon's vision blurred slightly.
She hated this.
Not because of the gossip.
Because it followed her.
Just like Busan.
Different city.
Same pattern.
She locked her phone slowly.
"I didn't—" she began.
"I know," Ji-hoon said.
His voice was steady.
Too steady.
The classroom door opened again.
Min-jung walked in.
She didn't look at Seo-yeon directly.
But her friends did.
One of them snickered loudly.
"It's always the quiet ones."
Seo-yeon kept her eyes on her desk.
Don't react.
Don't give them what they want.
But humiliation burns.
Even when you pretend it doesn't.
The teacher entered before anything escalated further.
But the whispers didn't stop.
Not during class.
Not during the break.
Not when Seo-yeon went to refill her water bottle and heard someone mutter—
"Attention seeker."
By lunchtime, she had had enough.
She grabbed her bag and walked toward the stairs.
She needed air.
She didn't notice Ji-hoon following until he grabbed her wrist gently.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm fine," she said.
"You're not."
"I said I'm fine."
Her voice cracked slightly.
And that was worse than crying.
Because Ji-hoon noticed.
He always noticed.
He led her toward the rooftop — an area students weren't technically allowed to access, but Ji-hoon seemed to ignore rules when he wanted to.
The cold wind hit her immediately.
Snowflakes clung to her hair.
"You don't have to act strong," he said quietly.
She laughed bitterly.
"You don't know anything."
His eyes flickered.
"Then tell me."
Silence stretched between them.
The city skyline looked distant from up here.
Small.
Like the problems below didn't matter.
But they did.
"They said the same things in Busan," she whispered finally.
His expression shifted.
"What things?"
"That I used people. That I flirted my way into positions. That I dated for advantage." Her hands trembled slightly. "It wasn't true. But it didn't matter."
Ji-hoon's fists clenched at his sides.
"Why didn't you fight back?"
"Because fighting makes it worse."
Snow landed on her eyelashes.
Melted.
"People believe what they want," she continued softly. "It's easier to blame the new girl."
He stepped closer.
Close enough that the wind no longer felt as sharp.
"I don't believe it."
Her throat tightened.
"You don't know me."
"I'm trying to."
The honesty in his voice made her look up.
For once, there was no teasing.
No rivalry.
Just something steady.
Protective.
Footsteps echoed behind them suddenly.
They turned.
Hyun-woo stood there, hands in his jacket pockets.
"I figured you'd be here," he said lightly.
The tension shifted instantly.
Seo-yeon wiped her face quickly.
"I'm fine," she repeated.
Hyun-woo looked between them.
Then sighed.
"This is stupid," he muttered. "I'll post something."
Ji-hoon's eyes narrowed.
"Don't."
Hyun-woo raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You'll make it worse."
Seo-yeon looked at Ji-hoon, surprised.
"You don't want him to defend me?"
Ji-hoon's jaw tightened.
"It'll look like you're choosing sides."
"And you're not?" Hyun-woo shot back.
The air grew heavier.
Snow fell faster.
Seo-yeon suddenly felt exhausted.
"I don't need either of you to fix it," she said firmly.
Both boys looked at her.
"I've handled worse."
She turned toward the stairwell.
But before she could step inside—
Min-jung's voice echoed from below.
"Seo-yeon!"
Great.
Of course.
Min-jung climbed the stairs gracefully, stopping a few steps below them.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
"I didn't expect you to be upset," she said sweetly. "You seem experienced."
Hyun-woo frowned immediately. "That's unnecessary."
Min-jung ignored him.
"Rumors don't appear from nowhere."
That was enough.
Ji-hoon stepped forward.
"Watch what you say."
Min-jung's eyes flickered to him.
"Why? Are you defending her?"
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No pause.
Yes.
The word echoed louder than the wind.
Seo-yeon's breath caught.
Min-jung's composure cracked slightly.
"You're choosing her?" she asked quietly.
Ji-hoon's answer was simple.
"I'm choosing the truth."
Silence.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Min-jung stared at Seo-yeon for a long moment.
Then turned and walked away without another word.
Hyun-woo let out a low whistle.
"Well. That's new."
Ji-hoon ignored him completely.
Instead, he turned to Seo-yeon.
"You're not alone," he said quietly.
The snow softened.
Just slightly.
She searched his face.
For doubt.
For hesitation.
There was none.
"왜 이렇게까지 해?" she whispered.
(Why are you going this far?)
His answer came slower this time.
But it came.
"Because I don't like seeing you hurt."
Her heart betrayed her again.
Beating louder.
Faster.
Warmer.
Hyun-woo cleared his throat awkwardly. "Okay. I'm going to pretend I didn't witness that."
Seo-yeon almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead, she looked at Ji-hoon.
Really looked at him.
At the boy everyone feared.
The boy who never chose sides.
Who just did.
For her.
And for the first time—
The rumors didn't feel suffocating.
Because winter felt a little less cold.