3rd person POV

Miso was sitting quietly in the back of the classroom, breathing the air in short through the material of her uniform in order not to inhale the strong smell of smoke. The time went by too slow and she wasn’t going to lie – she was quite nervous being in the presence of the other students who had earned themselves a spot in the detention room as well. She was quite lucky that they paid her no mind cause she wasn’t about to deal with any of them.

She could feel the sneaking effect of the smoke as her head started to throb but there wasn’t much she could do.

This had been her life for a year now, ever since she moved to Seoul to live with her father. Opposite to her beliefs at the beginning, money didn’t seem to be as big of a problem since they could afford to eat decent meals every day. She honestly didn’t know how he earned them, but she didn’t ask either. Although she had forgiven him for lying it didn’t mean that she wasn’t hurt. She was sure that if her mom knew how they were living she wouldn’t let her stay a minute longer, but Miso didn’t want to burden her. She visited her mom once every couple of months since she was rarely home, and she treasured those few days of familiarity under decent conditions.

She appreciated her dad’s efforts to redeem himself, it wasn’t that at all. It was more the fact that he stayed out until late, which was quite ironic and left a bitter taste in . She was in Seoul so she wouldn’t be all alone but that exact thing happened here anyways.

Other than that, Miso had already grown accustomed to the small rented house she lived in with her father, but she could never quite be at ease. Now she usually wasn’t one to judge based on appearance, but she had a strong feeling that the people who hung out in the streets of the neighborhood were people who had given up hope on a decent living and now roamed the streets doing what they had to do to survive. The patrols that showed up a couple of times a day in their shiny police van to keep an eye on the area was just a confirmation to her belief.

The sudden sound of the door opening broke Miso out of her stream of thoughts, happy to see that the teacher was back.

“You may go home now. Please think about your actions the next time and reflect over your wrongdoings,” he said in a monotonous voice, as if he had said these words a thousand times before. Miso was shocked as she packed her things. Wasn’t he going to comment on the smell of smoke in the classroom? Sure,