The atmosphere in the Golden Triangle cram school was a special kind of hell.
It was like a factory, each process of which was robotted to the highest extent.
Row upon row of students sat with hunched backs, the only sound the frantic scratching of mechanical pencils and the low, rhythmic hum of the industrial air conditioner.
My shoulders were throbbing. Every time I reached for my water bottle, my pectorals reminded me that Ji-hoon was a sadist.
I looked sideways at Ha-neul.
She was staring at a page of complex trigonometry, her highlighter moving with mechanical precision.
She hadn't looked at me once since I sat down.
The "outsider" comment from the morning was still sitting between us like a physical wall.
Why am I the one who wants to talk?
I wondered, spinning my pen.
She was the one who went for the throat.
I should be the one waiting for an apology.
But as I looked at her tired eyes and the way her shoulders were tensed up to her ears, I realized she wasn't just being a brat.
She was a kid who was just worried about her loved ones.
To her, I was a guy who could just fly away when things got ugly.
The truth in her words was what stung the most.
I tore a small corner off my notebook.
[Still mad?]
I slid it across the wooden desk.
Ha-neul didn't react for ten seconds.
Then, without looking up, she scribbled something and flicked it back.
[Focus on the sine waves. Your math is tragic.]
I bit my lip to keep from huffing.
[I'm serious. It was a long morning. I'm not an outsider. Well, technically I am, but you know what I mean.]
I watched her read it. Her hand stopped moving. She sat there for a long time, the fluorescent lights reflecting off her glasses.
Finally, she began to write—not a quick jab, but a long, slow paragraph.
The paper slid back to me.
[I'm sorry, San-ah. I was just really scared about Mom and Dad. Seeing the news like that... I took it out on you because you were there. I shouldn't have said that. You've worked harder to fit in here than anyone I know.]
I felt a sudden, sharp knot loosen in my chest.
[Mom's right—you're a part of this family now, whether you I it or not. I have to accept that I have a giant, annoying, gym-obsessed and troublesome brother.]
I looked at her, and this time, she looked back. Her expression wasn't "evil sister" or "academic rival."
'Well... I didn't expect that...'
She just looked like Ha-neul—tired, messy, and relieved.
I picked up the pen to write something back—something about how I'd protect the last of the strawberry milk—but I didn't get the chance.
"San-ssi. Miss Lee."
The voice was like a bucket of ice water.
We both froze.
The instructor, a man who looked like he hadn't slept since the 1990s and whose only joy was the suffering of teenagers, was standing directly over our desk.
He reached down and snatched the scrap of paper before I could crumble it.
"Passing notes?" he asked, his voice echoing in the dead-silent room. "In my session? You must be very confident in your understanding of the Law of Cosines."
"Sir, it's not—" Ha-neul started, her face turning a deep shade of crimson.
"Perhaps you'd like to share this with the rest of the class?" he suggested, holding the paper up. "I'm sure everyone here would love a break from their futures to hear about Mr. Motuzenko's gym habits."
I looked at Ha-neul.
She looked at me.
"Actually, sir," I said, leaning back and trying to look as "San 2.0" as possible despite the internal panic. "It's a secret code for the math problems. Very advanced. From Ukraine."
The teacher stared at me, then at the note, then back at me.
"Is that so? Then perhaps you'd like to solve problem 14 on the board. Since you're such an... expert."
I stood up, my muscles screaming in protest.
I looked at the board.
It was a mess of triangles and variables.
I leaned over and whispered to Ha-neul, "What's the answer?"
"Forty-two," she hissed under her breath.
"It's forty-two, sir," I said confidently.
The teacher sighed, the sound of a man who had truly given up.
"Sit down. Both of you. If I see another piece of paper moving that isn't for an equation, I'm calling Mrs. Lee."
We sat down, shoulders touching.
The tension was gone, replaced by a shared, terrified silence.
Ha-neul nudged me with her elbow.
I looked down.
She had written one more thing on the edge of her textbook in pencil.
[You owe me three sushi bakes for that.]
I smiled.
Yeah.
Definitely family.