The classroom was quiet except for the steady scratching of pencils against paper. The teacher's voice droned on in the background, explaining something about quadratic equations, but Yukian wasn't listening. She sat at her desk near the window, staring blankly at the chalkboard, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her notebook.

She used to like math. She used to be the type to take neat, organized notes, always prepared for the next lesson. But now, her pages were empty.

There was no point in trying anymore.

A folded piece of paper landed on her desk.

Yukian tensed. She glanced around, but the teacher hadn't noticed. Slowly, she unfolded the note under the desk, keeping it hidden from view.

"You should just disappear."

Her stomach twisted.

She didn't turn around. She didn't need to. She already knew who sent it.

Her fingers curled around the paper, crushing it into a tight ball before shoving it into her pocket. She didn't react. She never reacted.

The whispers behind her continued. She could feel them staring, waiting for her to cry, waiting for her to break.

But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

She kept her eyes on the board, pretending to focus.

Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours.

Finally, the bell rang.

The lesson was over.

Yukian didn't move at first. She stayed seated as her classmates packed up their things, talking and laughing like nothing had happened.

She slowly closed her notebook, tucked it into her bag, and stood up.

As she turned toward the door, she felt a shoulder slam into hers.

She barely managed to keep her balance.

"Oops," Reina said with a smirk, adjusting her hair. "Didn't see you there."

Yukian ignored her and kept walking.

The hallway was crowded, students moving in different directions, heading toward the cafeteria or their clubs. The noise filled the air—laughter, conversations, the occasional sound of lockers slamming shut.

Yukian walked through the crowd like a ghost, unseen, unnoticed.

By the time she reached the cafeteria, her appetite was already gone.

But she had to eat.

She grabbed a tray from the counter, picking up the smallest meal possible—a bowl of miso soup, a small carton of milk, and plain rice. Keeping her head down, she moved toward her usual seat in the back corner.

She just wanted to be alone.

But the moment she reached the table, a cold splash hit her back.

The cafeteria erupted with laughter.

Yukian froze. The sticky, icy feeling seeped through her uniform, clinging to her skin. She barely had time to process what had happened before she heard the voice behind her.

"Oops," Reina giggled, still holding her now-empty juice box. "My hand slipped."

More laughter followed.

Yukian gripped the edge of her tray. Her heart pounded. Her hands shook.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the tray at Reina's smug, perfect face.

But she didn't.

She did nothing.

She turned around, walked out of the cafeteria, and didn't stop walking until she reached the girls' bathroom.

She locked herself inside a stall, placed the tray on the floor, and pressed her back against the wall.

Her chest felt tight.

Her hands trembled as she wiped at her uniform, her breath uneven.

She felt like she was drowning.

But no one would save her.

No one ever did.