Having woken up with an immediate disgust at the situation I'm in now, and having slept badly as a result (which worsens my already frail heath), I push the blanket away with my feet, barely able to keep my eyes open.

I grab some vitamins from my drawer, hoping I will not collapse of dizziness today. That's the last thing I need right now, bullying and all being frustrating enough. Something, anything, must be done, so I can live my school life peacefully. Father won't help me with this; I can already hear him going on about how being a Lee means solving every problem by oneself.

Oh.

I finally understand the mistake I made yesterday. It’s a stupid mistake, actually. I only lacked a simple realization: Honesty is not the solution for this problem.

I almost laugh at how long it has taken me to finally think of a solution. I must have become rusty.

Of course honesty isn't going to solve this. Slyness can only be countered with slyness. Or at least it's the only way I, with my lack of intimidating appearance, can counter it. What was I trying to achieve telling that teacher? Even if the culprits were punished for their doing – although I doubt that would happen anytime soon – they would simply continue after the punishment, that’s usually suspension, and most-likely continue with worse tactics, being revengeful.

I smirk a little as take out my phone. I haven't attempted to solve any problem like this in a long while, but I know what I'm good at. I'm a Lee, after all.

I can do this. With the means of the Lee, of course.

I call my driver, who usually assists me, and tell him to bring a small video camera to me as soon as possible.

It’s time to make use of the old Miyoung again.  

I arrive much earlier than usually. The school gate has just been opened, with no students outside. “I know I could rely on you,” I say to my driver when he hands over the camera. I almost forgot during my stay abroad what a good driver I had back in Korea. No matter what you ask of him, he won't question you and try to see to it.

“Do you need me to go inside and secure it, Miss?”

I shake my head, mentally going through what he told me earlier. “I can do it myself, thank you.”

Once inside the building, I quickly make my way to the classroom. Because I know it’ll be still locked, I first go to the caretaker’s room and tell him I wish to do my homework in the classroom. He doesn’t question anything – maybe he’s used to students demanding something of him – and comes with me to unlock the door. I thank him, bow slightly, and make my way to my desk with a smirk.

Shortly before class begins I go to the restroom. On my way back I see Luhan walking ahead of me; he doesn’t notice me. His posture looks stiff to me and his breathing reminds me of the sort of breath you take when you brace yourself for something you don’t want to face. And I remember that being the homeroom teacher of a class such as this must be arduous. No wonder, he looks much more exhausted than last year. But perhaps it’s also connected to what made him go home early yesterday. I still have no clue as to what that could have been.

When he hears my steps he turns around, eyes lighting up slightly. It is a weird mixture of relief and concern. I feel weird whenever he’s looking at me like that. It’s almost too personal.

“Miyoung,” he greets, “was there a problem yesterday? Mrs Shin told me you asked about the homework?” His tone suggests that he’s already made the connection with the bullying problem, which is to be expected of someone as attentive as he is. I’m surprised, though, that Mrs Shin even bothered to tell him. She seemed so unconcerned about my actual problem yesterday. But maybe she’s really not a bad person, only too used to sweep bullying problems under the carpet. And maybe the other teachers are like that, too, which makes it hard to actually dislike them for their lack of action against real problems.

I am still pondering whether to tell him now that I have a solution anyway when the bell rings. As I don't see the need to put yet another problem on his – probably endless – list of problems regarding this class, I wave it aside. Instead I ask, “Why did you leave earlier yesterday?”

He is not taken aback by this question, but he seems to struggle finding an answer he deems appropriate. “Just a little family problem,” he then states, then nods and motions me to enter the classroom first. Not wanting to attract attention to my being with the teacher, I quickly enter the class, even though part of me wants to know more.

It is, stupid as it may be, amazingly surprising to associate Luhan with a family. Of course he has one, like any other person in the world, my mind reminds me. It’s just that as a student I tend to forget that he, a teacher, is just like any other person in the world. Of course he has a life and problems outside of school. Being a teacher is not all he is. He’s just someone whose job it is to be a teacher.

When I’m seated I am reminded of my own problems. I stop thinking about him, or try to, but the thought of Luhan’s family comes to me once in a while during the first two classes.

In middle of trying to solve a problem in math I can hear my inner voice wonder if he has siblings or what h