The Warmth of Pale Hands

The four old fans rattled noisily, stirring up nothing but hot air. It was only the beginning of July, yet the sun was already blazing as if summer had reached its peak.

Sixth-period break.

In the senior classroom adorned with the motivational slogan “You can do it” on the wall, a mix of languor and commotion filled the air. Some students, unable to resist the pull of sleep, rested their faces sideways on their desks, stealing ten minutes of precious slumber. Others, with bright orange silicone earplugs firmly in place, focused intensely on solving practice problems.

It was an unremarkable scene—until the classroom door opened and a girl with an unfamiliar face walked in, following behind the homeroom teacher.

“Everyone, attention. This is Kang Ye-kang, a transfer student from Seoul,” the teacher announced.

A few students who had been dozing off lifted their heads. Those engrossed in their books or quietly chatting among themselves also turned their attention to the new arrival. The drowsy atmosphere that had settled over the room disappeared in an instant.

“Ye-kang, introduce yourself to your classmates.”

“…I’m Kang Ye-kang,” she said softly.

“Wow, what a long introduction,” the teacher quipped with a chuckle, breaking the tension with a half-joke. Ye-kang hesitated briefly before adding, “Nice to meet you,” and bowing politely.

As she bent forward, her shoulder-length hair spilled over her face, brushing against her cheek before settling back onto her shoulders.

Her clear, slightly flushed skin, paired with her chestnut-brown hair, matched the unfamiliar sailor-style uniform she wore. Her limbs were unusually slender and long, yet her blouse seemed dangerously tight, the buttons stretched to their limit. At nineteen—standing on the cusp of adulthood—the gazes of the other students silently filled with tension.

“She’ll need some help adjusting, so be kind to her,” the teacher continued. “And don’t forget, next week’s mock exam is coming up. Stay focused and don’t let your attention wander.”

Throughout the teacher’s instructions, Ye-kang stood stiffly, her gaze avoiding everyone’s. Her stillness made every tiny movement—like her pale hand gripping her school bag and fidgeting slightly—seem more pronounced.

“Ye-kang, why don’t you take the seat next to Chang-min over there?”

At last, she lifted her head. Toward the back of the third row, there was an empty seat. The weight of the focused stares made even taking a step feel awkward and deliberate. No matter how many times she’d experienced the first day in a new classroom, the unfamiliarity and tension never got easier.

With only half a semester left until graduation, this would hopefully be her last time enduring the feeling of being a zoo exhibit. That is, assuming she didn’t have to move again.

Thud.

She stopped and turned at the sound. A book had fallen from someone’s desk and landed on the floor.

“……”

Ye-kang swallowed dryly, staring at the textbook lying haphazardly on the ground. It was a relief she hadn’t tripped over it, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that. Apologizing first seemed like the best course of action.

“…Sorry.”

“For what?”

Her hand, which had instinctively reached to pick up the book, froze mid-motion. Slowly, her gaze lifted, meeting his.

Under thick, even brows were almond-shaped eyes that drew her in. His gaze was striking—sharp, commanding. Among the identical uniforms and similarly styled haircuts, he stood out effortlessly.

“I dropped it. What are you apologizing for?” he asked.

In contrast to the students fanning themselves with textbooks and pressing icy water bottles to their faces, he sat upright, gripping his pen with precision, not a single bead of sweat visible on his immaculate face. It was as though the heat didn’t affect him, as if the air around him was cooler, untouched by the oppressive summer. His features were so refined, so symmetrical, that they seemed to belong to a painting meticulously crafted by an artist obsessed with beauty.

“What a strange girl,” he muttered as he returned his attention to his desk.

Though he spoke as if to himself, his voice was loud enough for her—and the nearby students—to hear.

On her first day at the new school, Kang Ye-kang had already been labeled weird. Heat rose to her neck, coloring her skin bright red.

“Ye-kang, what are you doing? Je-ha, are you teasing her again?”

“I was just trying to help her relax,” Je-ha replied with a smirk.

“Well, stop it. When someone as big as you messes around like that, people might think you’re a thug,” the teacher scolded with a sigh.

“Yes, ma’am,” Je-ha replied, chuckling, as the other students giggled along.

Despite his mischievous behavior, Je-ha’s features weren’t rough; rather, they were delicate, almost too refined for someone his size. What set him apart wasn’t his face but his overwhelming physical presence. Even among those on the verge of adulthood, he stood out with his towering frame and imposing build.

The broad shoulders that dropped at perfect right angles made the school uniform he wore seem almost absurdly out of place. Even sitting down, his eye level was nearly the same as hers as she stood. Though she wasn’t particularly tall, it wasn’t hard to estimate his towering height.

As he chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly, there was an intoxicating blend of boyish charm and an unmistakable, commanding masculinity radiating from him.

“That strange guy over there is our class president, Lee Je-ha,” the teacher said with a smile.

Ye-kang immediately understood.

“Thank you for the introduction, teacher,” Je-ha said with a laugh.

Her suspicions were confirmed: this boy held the most influence in the class. With a single comment, he could steer the atmosphere in whatever direction he pleased.

“If you have any questions, Ye-kang, feel free to ask the class president. Je-ha, make sure to help her settle in, okay?”

“Well, if that’s the case, shouldn’t she sit next to me instead of by Song Chang-min?” Je-ha retorted with a grin.

“Oh, why? Are you getting flustered just looking at the new girl?”

“Weren’t you the one who asked me before if I liked boys because I’m so mean to girls?”

The class burst into laughter, while Je-ha spun a pen casually between his fingers, his white hand moving with fluid ease.

“You’d better hope your parents don’t hear you talking like that,” the teacher scolded lightly.

“So, should I tell her to sit next to me or not?” Je-ha asked, his smirk widening.

Ye-kang stood frozen, unsure of what to do, feeling like a criminal awaiting judgment. She wanted nothing more than to return the textbook to him and quietly take her seat, but Je-ha seemed more interested in bantering with the teacher than acknowledging her presence.

Her heart began to race uncomfortably.

She hadn’t expected kindness from him just because he was the class president, but if the one targeting her also held the class’s power, it spelled trouble.

“Let’s ask Ye-kang,” the teacher said with a chuckle. “Ye-kang, do you want to sit next to that strange boy?”

“Kim Sang-mi,” Je-ha interjected, turning to his current seatmate, “do you really think I’m that strange?”

Sang-mi, with her puffed-up bangs and twin braids, grinned mischievously, her upward-tilted eyes gleaming like a playful cat’s.

“Yes, you’re totally strange,” she shot back.

“Then why do you always stick by me?”

As Je-ha laughed, Sang-mi’s ears flushed red.

“What… what are you even saying?” she stammered. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

They had been seatmates since the start of the semester, assigned by test scores, and hadn’t changed seats since.

“You’re always saying how annoying I am. Here’s your chance to escape—switch seats with the new girl,” Je-ha teased, still laughing.

The class was no longer sleepy; all eyes were fixed on them. Some looked intrigued by Je-ha’s apparent interest in the new transfer student, while others seemed annoyed by the disruption to their break.

“Ye-kang, hurry and decide. Class is about to start,” Sang-mi said, her voice sharp as she glanced up at her.

Even if it was a joke, her pride had clearly been wounded. Ye-kang could see the irritation in her eyes, and she instinctively recognized the hostility. Even if this didn’t lead to outright bullying, it was clear Sang-mi wasn’t going to like her.

“Uh… no. I’ll just take the seat I was originally assigned,” Ye-kang replied hesitantly.

Now both Sang-mi and Je-ha were staring at her. Je-ha’s gaze lingered, his sharp brows drawing together slightly in a faint frown. His white hand flicked the pen once more, letting it land neatly between his index and middle fingers.

“Here,” he said suddenly, sliding her the textbook with a light thunk against the desk.

Propping his chin lazily on one hand, he extended the other to her, the gesture exuding a quiet arrogance. It wasn’t just his body language—it was the slight narrowing of his eyes that made him seem so untouchable.

“Thank you,” he said curtly, taking the book from her hand.

His large hand was as pale as porcelain, giving it a cold, almost marble-like quality. The neatly clipped nails and long, tapering fingers gave him an air of meticulousness.

Her eyes inadvertently caught on the heavy titanium watch strapped to his wrist—and beneath it, something else. A thin, jagged scar.

It wasn’t subtle; it was a mark that clearly indicated his skin had once been deeply split.

In high school, class officers were usually chosen based on grades. But high grades and emotional stability were entirely separate matters. If what she saw was real, that scar could mean only one thing.

Before she could stop herself, Ye-kang looked away, but not before their gazes locked again.

His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of displeasure crossing his expression.

This was bad. Ye-kang realized she had definitely made a mistake. Her heart pounded erratically. She quickly looked away and hurried to her assigned seat.

The teacher clapped his hands twice, leaning against the chalkboard to regain everyone’s attention.

“All right, that’s enough fun. Let’s get back to where we left off last time.”

Ye-kang tried not to think about him, forcing herself to focus on her bag. Her hands were damp with sweat as she unzipped it.

“Page 182. Everyone, open your books.”

She had packed all her major textbooks just in case, but unfortunately, hers didn’t match the others’. As she pulled out her notebook, a quiet voice came from beside her.

“Hey… if your textbook doesn’t match, you can use mine.”

Ye-kang turned and looked properly at her seatmate, Song Chang-min, for the first time.