So basically, because some lunatic revealed that he’d ranked 7th, he ended up with the completely absurd title of Rank #0 attached to him.
Creak—Sihyeon’s grip tightened around his phone. His already far-from-normal school life had just been doused with an extra layer of extreme web-novel nonsense, and he felt like tracking down that student and demanding an explanation right this second.
No wonder there were more stares than usual.
Only then did he realize why people had been whispering about him. Even the freshmen who already knew he was a New Class and a Quadruple had been murmuring when they saw him—not because of that, but because of the out-of-nowhere title of Rank #0 that had suddenly been slapped onto him.
Without even knowing it, he’d become international gossip. Suppressing his irritation at the openly unpleasant situation, he suddenly heard an uncomfortable voice from the side.
“Rank #0, my ass. Guess they’re ranking based on personality now?”
“…….”
The noisy cafeteria fell silent in an instant at that single remark. Sensing the prelude to a fight, the students quieted on their own. Turning toward the source of the voice, Sihyeon met the speaker’s eyes and swallowed a sigh.
Kang Donghyeok.
It’s not like he’s some kind of professional troublemaker, but ever since last time, he kept poking at him. Already on edge, Sihyeon pressed a hand to his aching head.
If you give attention, they just escalate.
That saying fit someone like Donghyeok perfectly.
“What’s his problem now?”
“Ignore him.”
At Dawoon, who flared up on his behalf, Sihyeon grabbed her arm and told her to let it go. He didn’t want to clash and hand more gossip to the students who had gathered to watch. Being chewed up and spat out was enough for one day.
When he stopped her, Dawoon shot him a dissatisfied look.
“Don’t you have any pride?”
“That doesn’t exactly put food on the table.”
“I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
He changed the subject to divert attention, but Dawoon frowned, clearly displeased. As a crease formed on her otherwise refined face, Jihye, who stood beside her, soothed her before she could get aggressive. It was that familiar “let it slide just this once” approach.
While Jihye calmed Dawoon, Sihyeon grabbed Haru and headed into the cafeteria. As he walked, many followed, and the crowd split apart around him. It felt like witnessing the parting of the Red Sea again.
“Aw, what, no fight?”
“I wanted to see how strong a Quadruple is.”
“Did he chicken out?”
Ignoring the various comments, he moved to get food—but just as he did, a voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Guess you can’t say anything because it hit the mark?”
“…….”
“Why, am I wrong?”
Kang Donghyeok, who had been eating, sneered while keeping his gaze fixed on Sihyeon. The blatant mockery made Sihyeon inhale slowly.
It was childish.
Maybe because he’d been dealing with people like Yoo Seowoo or Kang Haeun, Donghyeok—who openly displayed his immaturity—seemed painfully juvenile.
There were always plenty of people who interpreted someone ignoring them out of exhaustion as fear. And Kang Donghyeok was clearly one of them.
Do not feed.
Do not engage.
Mentally slapping two warning signs onto Donghyeok’s forehead, Sihyeon pushed forward on Dawoon’s back, who looked ready to snap. When he said, “Why are you getting more worked up than me? It’s my problem,” Dawoon’s expression twisted even more.
Thinking he might’ve said the wrong thing, Sihyeon hesitated—then, of all people, Haeun opened his mouth.
“You’re seriously hilarious.”
“……?”
“Aren’t you just hung up on the fact that Sihyeon didn’t heal you back then? Wow! How can you be this petty?”
I said don’t feed him—why are you jumping in?
Not only feeding him but actively provoking him, Haeun left Sihyeon dumbfounded. When Sihyeon looked at him, Haeun flashed a V-sign with his fingers, as if asking, Didn’t I do great?
Sihyeon shook his head. He made it very clear: That was awful.
Haeun immediately deflated, his expression falling. The way his mood flipped so quickly made him look completely unhinged.
“Just… cut it out.”
Too tired for a battle of nerves, Sihyeon waved it off and glanced toward Donghyeok to assess his condition. Donghyeok, fists clenched tightly enough to tremble, glared at Haeun before shifting his gaze back to Sihyeon.
Their eyes met—and Donghyeok let out a laugh.
“Hah—”
The laugh, exhaled like a breath, was more than enough to sour Sihyeon’s mood.
“Must be nice, hiding behind them.”
“…….”
“What, are they your spokespersons? You can’t even say anything yourself, but the guys behind you do all the talking for you. Guess being a Quadruple gets you that kind of service.”
What a load of bullshit.
Sihyeon’s eyebrow twitched at Donghyeok’s words, which twisted and distorted everything however he pleased. There was no need to care about nonsense like that.
But at the same time, it occurred to him that his own ambiguous attitude might be fueling Donghyeok’s provocations. Since he hadn’t said a single word, Donghyeok kept clinging to him.
Do you avoid shit because you’re scared of it? No—you avoid it because it’s filthy.
Not understanding even something that simple, Donghyeok kept scratching at him, provoking him. Sihyeon exhaled a long breath, as if releasing the discomfort hanging in the air. Getting heated wouldn’t gain him anything.
His indifferent gaze settled on Donghyeok.
If what he wanted was for Sihyeon to speak, then maybe it’d be better to just have a proper conversation once.
In the first place, he just wanted to live a normal school life—not get trampled everywhere because he looked easy to push around.
“What exactly is your problem?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re acting like this because you’ve got some kind of issue, right? But from what I hear, there’s no real point to anything you’re saying. I need to know what your problem is so I can decide whether to fix it or not. You’re past the age of throwing childish tantrums, aren’t you?”
As he spoke, Sihyeon casually shifted his gaze to the side, looking at Haeun. Seventeen.
His eyes moved again—to Seowoo. Also seventeen.
After making a full circle, his gaze landed back on Donghyeok. He, too, was seventeen.
“So what’s the problem?”
At the repeated question, Donghyeok’s face twisted. As if understanding the meaning behind Sihyeon’s gaze, his face flushed red.
At least he knows how to feel embarrassed.
Watching him silently, Sihyeon saw Donghyeok bite down on his lip.
He didn’t speak—just ground his teeth in frustration. It seemed even he knew how petty and embarrassing his grievance was.
Good thing he knew. If he didn’t, this would’ve been a lot more exhausting.
Arguing with people who couldn’t be reasoned with was always worse.
“Can’t even say it, huh… Want me to get you a spokesperson? Want one?”
With that, Sihyeon lightly nudged Haeun toward Donghyeok. Startled, Haeun whipped his head toward him.
“No thanks!”
At his loud refusal, soft laughter rippled through the surrounding students. Donghyeok’s face reddened even further at the snickering, but Sihyeon remained calm.
If you were willing to throw someone into gossip, you should be ready to experience it yourself.
That’s how karma worked.
Since Donghyeok had given him plenty to latch onto, Sihyeon simply looked at him in silence—then soon turned away.
There was a lot he could’ve done, but he chose not to. Returning just enough to match what he’d received was neither excessive nor insufficient.
He’d embarrassed him enough, and it seemed his spirit had taken a hit.
“Let’s just eat now.”
Pulling Haru along, Sihyeon headed off again. Naturally, the rest of Class A followed behind him. He’d gotten used to it—and was too tired to shake them off—so he left it alone.
Just as he picked up an empty tray, Donghyeok’s furious voice rang out behind him.
“You pathetic piece of shit….”
It sounded like his anger had built up—the voice, scraped from his throat, was heavy and vicious. Anyone could tell it was directed at him.
Sihyeon turned to look at him. He’d thought Donghyeok was too shaken to say anything—but apparently, his pride ran deeper than expected.
Even though pride doesn’t feed you.
Of course, a certain amount of pride was necessary. But depending on the situation, it was something you could set aside. Sometimes, it was better to swallow it and move on quietly.
But for seventeen-year-old Kang Donghyeok—who hadn’t experienced the ups and downs of life—that seemed like an impossible task.
Meeting his blatant hostility, Sihyeon let out a sigh and set down the tray he’d been holding. Eating in this atmosphere would just give him indigestion, no matter how good the food was.
“I’m heading out first.”
Thinking it would only be unfair to the other students if this continued, he spoke up. Seowoo and Haru naturally set down their trays and followed him.
Haru was one thing—he tended to show signs of separation anxiety—but why was Yoo Seowoo following too?
When Sihyeon looked up at him, Seowoo smiled gently.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You barely ate anything all day.”
“Oh, you remember?”
How could he not?
That morning, Seowoo had piled all sorts of food onto his plate just to try feeding Sihyeon—only to throw it all away the moment Sihyeon finished eating. When Sihyeon had asked why he’d taken food he wasn’t going to eat, Seowoo had answered that it was for him. It had been insane enough to leave a strong impression.
And now he’d barely eaten lunch, yet he was skipping dinner too. Did he think he was some kind of fairy living off dew?
“You should still eat.”
“You’re not eating either.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“Good question.”
“…….”
What did it have to do with him?
He’d asked the question, but it came right back like a boomerang. Deciding it wasn’t worth thinking about, Sihyeon shook his head. He was already tired—he didn’t need more complications.
Just as he pulled Haru along, a heavy bang echoed behind them, like something slamming onto a table.
Bang!
At the loud impact that rang through the cafeteria, Sihyeon turned his head from the doorway.
“You fucking bastard.”
The sudden curse made his shoulders flinch. The aggression had escalated even further—like something had snapped.
And in that moment, as he turned back, Sihyeon realized three things he had overlooked.
First, Kang Donghyeok had an extremely strong sense of pride and lived recklessly, like there was no tomorrow.
Second, people like that often acted on impulse in a single moment.
Third, Kang Donghyeok’s temper wasn’t something that could be calmed with a few words.
In short—he had underestimated Kang Donghyeok’s wonderfully awful personality.
As if to prove that realization correct, Kang Donghyeok—face flushed red and blue with rage—hurled the utensil in his hand at Sihyeon.
A piece of cutlery used for slicing food came flying through the air.
A silver knife, gleaming unnaturally sharp hurtling toward him at terrifying speed.
