Yoon Jung's expression remained apathetic and unreadable as he extended a hand towards her. Without a word, he led her out of the bathroom and into the empty hallway, his grip steady and unyielding as he pulled her along.
Choi Irene followed in a daze, her mind still reeling from the harsh words of her family and the emotions that they had stirred up within her.
Despite her attempts to hide her self-harm, Yoon Jung's eyes seemed to linger on her wrist, and she felt a flush of embarrassment and shame wash over her. But he didn't comment on it, didn't show any signs of judgment or disgust.
Instead, he simply continued to guide her along with an air of detached efficiency, his footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.
As Irene walked away from Yoon Jung and entered the classroom, her mind raced with conflicting emotions. She hastily packed her things into her bag, hoping to make a quick escape before he could catch up to her.
But as she moved towards the door, she felt a strong grip on her hand, and she was yanked back towards him with such force that their faces were suddenly mere inches apart.
She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, and her heart raced in her chest as she struggled to regain her composure.
Yoon Jung's eyes bore into hers with an intensity that she had never seen before, and she found herself frozen in place, unable to look away. Despite her best efforts to pull away, his grip remained firm, and she was forced to confront the reality of the situation.
Then, with a swift and unexpected movement, he lifted her wrist to his lips, and with a gentle touch of his tongue, he traced along the length of the cut, carefully cleaning away the blood. Irene stood there, stunned and confused, as she watched him tend to her wound with a tenderness that seemed to contradict his cold, apathetic demeanor.
It was as if they were the only two people in the world, lost in a sea of emotion and desire. But just as quickly as it had begun, the moment passed, and Yoon Jung released her hand and stepped back, leaving her standing there, her heart racing and her mind in turmoil but didn't ended this.
Irene's voice cut through the stillness, loud and commanding, as she yelled at him to stop. He immediately obeyed, halting his actions and watching her with a stoic expression.
She demanded an explanation from him, her voice cold and devoid of any emotion, as she asked, "Do you like me? Or are you doing this out of pity?" Her eyes drilled into his, searching for any signs of insincerity or deception.
With a sudden change in direction, he sharply spun around on his heel, his eyes fixed on her form.
Closing the distance between them with confident strides, he leaned in close, his lips hovering just inches from her ear, before releasing a low, sultry murmur that sent shivers down her spine. "Who knows," he whispered in a voice dripping with seductive allure, the words punctuated by his warm breath tickling her skin.
As the weight of his words hung heavy in the air, he pulled back and turned away, his form quickly disappearing into the distance, leaving her with a racing heart and a lingering sense of intrigue.