By the next morning, the school wasn't buzzing.
It was boiling.
"JI-HOON BEATS UP OUTSIDERS FOR INVISIBLE GIRL?"
"Love? Or Blackmail?"
"Ex-bullies claim Hae-won is faking everything."
The gossip app exploded.
Pictures. Videos. Speculations.
Ji-hoon stood beside Hae-won at the front gate like a silent storm.
Untouchable.
Unapologetic.
But Hae-won could feel the change.
The stares had teeth now.
People weren't just curious—they were hunting.
Some were impressed.
Others… disgusted.
And then someone posted it:
A thread of old class yearbooks.
A photo of her when she was fourteen, eyes bruised, uniform dirty.
"This is her. This is who Ji-hoon's protecting."
Her blood ran cold.
IN CLASS
Silence when she walked in.
Whispers behind palms.
Phones buzzing with new comments.
Ji-hoon sat beside her like usual, but he noticed it too.
The way everyone stiffened.
The way no one dared to speak to them—only around them.
She clenched her fists in her lap, fighting the panic.
She wanted to disappear again.
She needed to.
LUNCH — THE SCHOOL ROOFTOP
They skipped the cafeteria.
Too loud.
Too crowded.
Too much.
He handed her a sandwich. She barely touched it.
"You're quiet," he said.
She flinched. "You made me visible."
His brow furrowed. "That's a bad thing?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she whispered, "They know who I was."
He stared at her for a long second. "I don't care."
"I do," she whispered.
LATER THAT NIGHT
The moment she stepped into her house, she knew.
Her father was waiting in the shadows.
The living room smelled like smoke and sweat.
He turned, beer can in hand, eyes bloodshot.
"Well, look who's famous now," he slurred.
Her stomach dropped.
"How long were you gonna hide it, huh?" he asked, waving his phone at her. "Even the damn internet's talking about you."
She backed away slowly.
"You've got a rich boyfriend now?" he sneered. "That's cute. You think you're better than me?"
"I didn't—"
"Shut up!" he shouted, slamming the can into the wall. Foam splashed. Her heart skipped.
"You owe me, you hear me? Owe me. After everything I gave you. After everything your mother took away."
He grabbed her wrist.
"Now you're gonna pay me back."
She tried pulling away. "I don't have anything—"
"I know where you keep your savings."
Her breath caught.
"If you don't want your pretty little face all over the news for something worse," he hissed, "you'll give me everything. And then some."
She ran.
Up the stairs.
Into her room.
Locked the door.
Collapsed against it.
Her body shook.
Sobs wracked her chest.
And outside, the past clawed at her wall
The next day she went to school early
She held it together untill third period
Three classes of pretending
Three hours of silence.
Three hours of whispers behind her back.
And then, someone said it.
Loudly. Carelessly.
"Bet she let him do things to get all that attention. You know girls like her—"
Snap.
Her pencil broke in half.
Her heart cracked with it.
And then she couldn't breathe.
The walls spun.
Her vision blurred.
The laughter. The whispers. The memories—
Min-seok. Her father. The fists. The blood. The silence. The girl in the mirror who never screamed.
She stood up too fast, her chair scraping.
The room went quiet.
Everyone watched.
"Shin Hae-won?" her teacher asked gently.
But she didn't hear it.
She ran.
Out the door.
Down the hall.
Into the restroom.
And screamed.
---
AFTER SCHOOL
Ji-hoon didn't say a word.
He followed her all the way home, steps quiet behind her.
She didn't tell him to go away.
She couldn't.
Her house loomed like a grave.
The curtains shut. The door cracked.
She hesitated on the porch—but Ji-hoon reached out and opened it first.
What he saw inside made him stop cold.
Broken beer bottles.
Ashtrays.
Dirty plates.
Burned-out cigarettes.
And a hallway that smelled like mold and fear.
He turned slowly to her.
"This is where you live?"
She said nothing.
He walked in without permission.
She followed him numbly.
---
LATER THAT NIGHT
Ji-hoon ordered food.
He cleaned the small table himself.
Made her sit down.
She hadn't eaten all day.
He said nothing about the trembling in her hands.
Instead, he said, "You're staying home tomorrow."
"What?" Her voice cracked.
"You're not safe here. Not until something changes."
She looked away, lips trembling. "I can't run."
"I didn't say run," he replied, pulling out his phone. "I said change."
She looked at him.
And watched him do what she never had the courage to do.
He called the police.
"Hello. I'm reporting a case of child abuse," he said firmly. "The father is dangerous. And the girl is still in the house."
---
WHEN THE POLICE ARRIVED
They knocked loudly.
Ji-hoon stood in front of Hae-won as her father opened the door.
"What the hell—"
"Sir," the officer said, stepping forward, "we've had a report of violence in this home. We need to ask you some questions."
"What violence? I don't know what this brat told you but—"
"She didn't," Ji-hoon cut in.
"I did."
The officer raised an eyebrow. "You're?"
"Her boyfriend," Ji-hoon said coldly. "And witness."
Her father's face turned red.
He lunged—but the officers were faster.
Two of them grabbed him, forcing his hands behind his back.
"You think you're safe now?" he spat at Hae-won as they dragged him out. "You think he's gonna save you? He'll leave you too."
But she didn't flinch.
Because Ji-hoon had stepped beside her again.
And this time—she wasn't alone.
The door clicked shut behind the officers.
The house was silent.
No yelling.
No threats.
No footsteps thudding up the stairs.
Just the low hum of Ji-hoon's breath beside her.
She sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest.
Her hands were still shaking.
He didn't say anything at first.
Just crouched beside her, shoulder brushing hers.
Minutes passed.
He finally whispered, "He's not coming back tonight."
She nodded slowly. But her body didn't believe it yet.
She'd lived so long in survival mode, she didn't know how to unclench.
He noticed. Gently, he reached out and took her hand.
Her first instinct was to pull away.
But this time… she didn't.
He didn't squeeze.
He just held it.
And that simple act made her eyes water.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
He nodded. "You're allowed to be."
"I've never been safe before."
"You are now."
Her lip trembled.
He moved closer, arms slowly circling her. "I've got you."
And then—
She broke again.
But softer this time.
She cried into his chest.
He held her tighter.
No judgment.
No questions.
Just warmth.
After a while, she pulled back, her eyes glassy.
Their faces were inches apart.
She looked up at him.
He looked down at her.
And for the first time, the air between them wasn't made of fear or tension.
It was quiet.
Honest.
Electric.
Her fingers gripped his shirt.
His eyes searched hers.
"Can I?" he whispered.
She didn't speak.
She leaned in first.
Their lips met—slow, uncertain, soft.
It wasn't practiced.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was real.
He kissed her like he was scared to break her.
And she kissed him like he was the first person who ever stayed.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together.
"Why me?" she asked.
He smiled softly.
"Because you see the world the way I never did. And somehow, even after everything… you still survive it.