Cho Gyu Cheol

Gyu-cheol sat on a nearby desk, watching her for several minutes. His fingers slowly twirled a pen between them.
—Chiho bothers you every day.
He paused.
—And yet you still come.
His eyes dropped to the books on the desk. One of them was completely torn to shreds, probably Chiho's fault. 'What an idiot.' Gyu-cheol knew people like him well. Too well. That's why they were so easy to manipulate. That's why Chiho was proving so useful. A mediocre leader surrounded by even more mediocre followers. He looked up again.
—You know what's funny?
His tone remained calm.
—Chiho believes it's important.
A slight smile appeared on her lips.
—He doesn't even realize that someone else is pulling the strings.
The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. His attention returned to her. And that was the strange thing. Because no matter how many times he tried to focus on his own affairs, he always ended up looking for her—in the hallways, in the cafeteria, in the courtyard. As if he wanted to make sure she was still there, which was absurd; he had no reason to do so, none useful, at least. He stood up from his desk.
—Most people look at you because they think you're weak.
His footsteps echoed softly through the classroom.
-I don't.
He stopped by the window. The light of the setting sun streamed between them.
—I think you're strange.
For the first time in a long time, the words weren't meant to hurt. It was a sincere observation. Because anyone else in her situation would have already broken down. Not her. And that was starting to irritate him. Because the more he observed her, the less he understood her.
Gyu-cheol lowered his gaze for a few seconds. Thoughtful.
—Maybe you should start worrying.
He murmured
—The people I'm interested in usually end up complicating my life.
And before he could regret saying something so honest, he turned around and left the classroom.
Without waiting for answers, as always.