That was the day she met him at the convenience store.

The boy was stuffing a plastic bag full of bread and snacks, looking utterly anxious while the cashier mindlessly scanned the barcodes. Even to Yuri, who stood at just 158 centimeters, he looked frail and remarkably small. He couldn't have been more than 170 centimeters tall. When the cashier flatly announced he had insufficient funds, the boy began frantically pulling banknotes and coins from his wallet.

"I'll pay for it."

Yuri paid for the boy's items along with her own. He looked up at her, catching his breath in surprise, but she simply walked past him with indifference. In a hushed, trailing voice, he mumbled a thank you. When she turned her head to acknowledge him, she froze.

The boy’s face looked exactly like her father's. So much so that she couldn't help but wonder if this was what her father had looked like in his teens.

It was only natural that her classmates detested her.

Yuri frequently skipped night self-study sessions for various excuses: she was sick, she was exhausted, or she just didn't think she could focus anyway. Her homeroom teacher used to joke, “If you’re going to die, die at school,” but that rule never applied to students with powerful backing. For those same reasons, Yuri barely participated in any group projects. To the sophomores whose college admissions depended on every single GPA point, she was the ultimate villain. They loathed being grouped with her. Eventually, the sharp, stinging glares from her peers made her scalp prickle with headaches whenever she sat in the classroom for too long.

Yuri had zero interest in academics and no friends to speak of. Whenever break time came, she would slouch over her desk, staring into her phone. School rules strictly banned phones, and anyone caught would have them confiscated. But since Yuri was the daughter of a well-connected family, the teachers conveniently chose to look the other way. Instagram was her daily escape. She spent hours scrolling through the accounts of influencers who raked in sponsorships and ads every day. On days when time refused to pass, she would head to the convenience store near the school instead of the crowded cafeteria.

Because she slipped out of the classroom so often, running into the boy became a regular occurrence.

He was always buying an absurd amount of bread and snacks—more than one person could ever eat alone. Seeing him always short on cash and trembling with anxiety, she bailed him out at the register a few more times. One day, she casually asked, "Why do you buy so much when you don't even have the money?"

The boy's face instantly darkened. "It’s... it's not for me," he whispered, finally opening up about his situation.

His name was Jeon Jun-hyuk, a freshman a year younger than her. Because of his small, frail frame, he had been targeted as a "bread shuttle"—an errand boy—by the most popular kid in his class. He thought doing well in school would protect him from bullying, but ironically, his tormentor was a top student too. Yuri stared intently at him. His skin was pale, his eyelashes were long, and his light brown hair seemed to shimmer under the sunlight. Maybe his pretty, almost girlish face made him an easy target, she thought.

"Why don't you tell your homeroom teacher? Why just take it?" "It won't change anything," he replied bitterly.

The kid torturing him had more money and better grades, so even the teacher couldn't touch him. He added that the bully wanted to go to medical school, so he would definitely choose the science track next year. Jun-hyuk figured if he just endured it until then and chose the humanities track, he would be safe. As the bell rang, he quickly thanked her again, promising to pay her back, and dashed toward the school building. Yuri, however, didn't care about her grades, so she didn't bother running.

If her classmates had seen her then, they would have been shocked. They all thought Ha Yuri was just a shameless parasite who took from others without a shred of gratitude. They had no idea she was capable of kindness.

But Yuri did know how to give. Only to those she deemed beneath her, though. To be precise, to those who posed no threat to her own happiness. If their cat, Milk, had only fawned over her and acted cute, Yuri would have adored it too.

"You know, there's something really freaky," Yuri said. "What is it?" "You look exactly like my dad." "Oh... really?" Jun-hyuk stammered, clearly unsure how to respond.

"My dad is incredibly handsome. He’s the CEO of EduWise. He even makes the news sometimes." "The CEO of EduWise?"

Jun-hyuk’s eyes widened. EduWise was a massive name among students; most of their supplementary textbooks and academy prep materials were published by them. Her shoulders squaring with pride, Yuri began to brag endlessly about her father, and Jun-hyuk listened quietly for a long time.

"...Noona, what grade did you say you were in?" he asked, suddenly lost in thought. "Sophomore."

Despite his sudden brooding silence, Yuri kept boasting about her father and his company all the way back to the building. The boy remained meek, soaking in her words. Finding someone who actually listened to her made her ego swell. Yeah, she thought, I wouldn't mind hanging out with this kid from time to time.

But their next reunion would take place in the most unexpected location. 

Not at the convenience store, but right in the middle of Yuri's own living room.

💡 Author’s Note: A Quick Guide to the Korean High School System To help you fully immerse yourself in Yuri and Jun-hyuk's story, here is a quick look at how high school works in South Korea: The Cutthroat GPA Race: In Korea, every single quiz, midterm, and group project directly impacts a student's final GPA, which heavily determines their college admissions. This creates an incredibly competitive, high-stress environment where classmates are often viewed as rivals rather than peers. Night Self-Study (Yaja): Most Korean high schools require or strongly encourage students to stay at school late into the night (often until 10 PM) for mandatory self-study sessions to prepare for the college entrance exams. Skipping this without a severe illness or massive family influence is practically unheard of. The Science vs. Humanities Tracks: In the sophomore year, students must choose between the Science track (for engineering, medical fields, etc.) or the Humanities track (for literature, social sciences, law). Because classes are strictly divided by these tracks, moving to a different track is often used as a way to completely avoid certain classmates the following year.