By Wednesday, the students had stopped staring.
Well—almost.
The wide-eyed curiosity had faded. Now it was quieter. Sharper. Like they were still watching, just from behind tinted lenses.
I wasn't scandalous anymore. I was something worse.
Uncategorized.
I didn't have a clique. I didn't have a label. I hadn't made a fool of myself, but I hadn't dazzled anyone either. I was just... there.
Like a rumor no one could confirm but no one quite forgot.
Which was fine by me.
Ghosts make great observers.
And observation was my new full-time job.
That morning, I arrived early to class, took my usual seat in the back, and watched as students filtered in. Every interaction mattered now—every nod, every look, every pause before someone chose a seat.
I was cataloguing data like a sociopath with a grudge.
And the numbers didn't lie.
Seo Rayan never walked with anyone. But people always moved out of his way.
Haeun's friends rotated daily, but never surpassed three at a time.
Popular students occupied the center of every classroom—close enough to the teacher to look studious, but far enough to keep their social immunity.
Me?
I was an edge case.
Unranked. Untethered. Unpredictable.
And soon… that would become my weapon.
In History class, I made my move.
It wasn't dramatic.
The teacher posed a question about political legitimacy during dynastic transitions. Everyone froze, calculating whether this was a trap.
I raised my hand.
Just high enough. Just fast enough to be first.
The teacher blinked.
— "Yes, Miss Lee."
— "I think the comparison to modern regimes only works if we ignore the dynasties' religious claims to power. Theocratic legitimacy can't be compared to constitutional models without distortion."
A beat of silence.
Then the teacher smiled.
Slightly. Sharply.
— "Interesting. Please elaborate."
And I did.
I referenced a case study I'd read the night before. Cited a historian I remembered from my past life—thank you, Alma's depressing palace of a library—and tied it all together with a quote I knew would hit.
Not too long. Not too eager.
Just… precise.
When I finished, the teacher gave a small nod and turned back to the board.
But the impact had already landed.
Two students glanced at me with narrowed eyes.
Another scribbled something into their notebook.
Even Rayan tilted his head slightly.
I pretended not to notice.
But inside?
Check.
By lunch, the tension had changed shape.
Instead of whispers behind my back, I got full-volume commentary right in front of me.
— "She thinks she's clever."
— "I heard she memorized that from a prep book."
— "Probably desperate for attention."
Haeun didn't say anything.
She didn't have to. Her silence was a form of punctuation.
I sat alone again. Same spot. Same sad tray of beige food. But my ears were open, and so was my radar.
Because attention—any attention—meant opportunity.
Even bad press circulates.
But then something shifted.
As I was clearing my tray, a girl approached me.
Petite, bright-eyed, carrying a milk carton and a stack of flashcards.
— "You're Lee Nina, right?"
I nodded cautiously.
She sat without asking.
— "I'm Jin Yuri. I sit behind you in Literature."
Right. The girl with the stickers on her laptop.
— "Hi."
She smiled, almost nervously.
— "I liked what you said in History. About legitimacy."
I blinked.
— "Thanks. I wasn't sure anyone was listening."
— "People were listening. They just don't know how to say 'good job' without sounding condescending."
Her tone was light, but something about it told me she knew exactly how the game worked.
— "Are you ranked?" I asked.
— "Ninety-second out of 120."
— "Congrats. I'm not even on the board."
She laughed into her milk carton.
— "You will be."
She wasn't a lifeline. Not yet.
But she might be the first person to see me without flinching.
Which, in this place, was worth noting.
That afternoon, something strange happened.
The teacher of our Economics class didn't show.
Instead, a TA handed out a mock exam—"just for fun," he said.
Which in this school translated to: this will be used against you.
I stared at the test.
Twenty questions. All case-based. No multiple choice. No forgiveness.
Around me, pens started moving.
I hesitated. Then breathed.
Alma would have panicked. Hesitated. Wondered if answering at all would expose her.
But Nina?
Nina had nothing to lose.
I wrote. Fast, clear, focused. I skipped the fancy phrasing and wrote like I had something to prove.
When I finished, I was the second person to hand it in. The first was Rayan, of course.
He glanced at my paper. Briefly. Then at me.
No comment. No reaction.
But when I passed his desk, I felt it.
A shift.
I wasn't just background noise anymore.
After class, the TA called my name.
— "Lee Nina?"
I turned.
He held my exam.
— "You're not officially graded, but… this was excellent."
I blinked.
— "Thanks."
He looked at me a second longer than necessary. Not creepy. Just curious.
— "Where did you transfer from again?"
I smiled.
— "Nowhere special."
And walked away before he could ask anything else.
That night, I lay in bed and stared at the cracked ceiling of my shoebox apartment.
I was still broke. Still unknown. Still nobody.
But for the first time…
They had to start counting me.