Ahn Su Ho

The classroom was filled with the familiar hum: someone was discussing plans for the evening, someone was laughing at a video on their phone, and somewhere in the back row, the sharp sound of a chair being pushed back echoed. Su-ho, eyes still closed, pressed his cheek deeper into his small pink pillow. His breathing was even and deep—the night shift as a courier had drained him of everything, and now the school process seemed infinitely distant and unreal.

His posture was as relaxed as possible: one arm dangled casually from the table, and his head rested on the pillow, creating a strange, almost comical contrast with his broad shoulders and the imposing appearance of a fighter. Even in sleep, he seemed ready to react to any noise, but now he simply savored the silence, which for him was a luxury.

He didn't flinch when he sensed someone's presence nearby. Instead, he merely shrugged his shoulders slightly, as if to say, "Don't make any noise if you don't want trouble," but he still kept his eyes closed. His dark bangs were slightly disheveled, covering his forehead.