Chapter Two

// Red Cheeks //

 

Jiyong's POV

I was told I was a machine once, and that my purpose in life was to make living easier for people— but that's the thing.

I hate people.

And I never listen. 

People come and go, but their faces never leave— that's my predicament. I would always remember the way they'd frown, stutter, glare, and so on and so forth, like they're stamped into my brain. I hate thinking about them as much as putting up with their , their endless questions with the solutions up their asses. 

Like everyone else, her face wouldn't leave my head, and I studied her. The cute, innocent type, with a high chance of being one of those studious teacher's pets. Tall nose, tiny face, plump pink lips. Pretty. I recall her tugging along five bags— obviously not another vain socialite, with the way she appeared lost. In conclusion, she is a country bumpkin. That leads to a seventy percent chance of her being a scholar; country bumpkins like her usually have scholarships. But then, the defining feature about her is the way she was flustered. I admit it, I liked it. I liked they way she reacted to me. Girls like her are easy to break— fragile, even. A weak target for men. I wonder how would she look when she laughs, or even when she cries. 

It may seem strange, but observing and analyzing people is sort of, let's say, my hobby. I find it fascinating how people would react to different situations, and I most especially find their intimidated state the most entertaining, but frankly, they are like lab rats to me, or even toys. They may spark some interest in me and keep me entertained for a while, but nothing is infinite. When the plaything breaks, it is disposed of.

One think irked me, though. Why am I still lingering on the subject of her? It confuses me. She made me wonder, made me lay out possibilites, when all the others would be a fleeting moment of study. I kept thinking, and those mere thoughts of how her reactions would play out made me smirk. Though I knew it was petty, I felt deprived, and I was craving more. She wasn't interested in me, and she wasn't asking me any questions. In fact, she looked like she wanted to get away from me as fast as she can. Curious. 

"That girl with Chaerin. Who is she?" I had to ask. I couldn't resist. My curiosity was getting the best of me again, as always. I glanced at my cousin and saw that erted grin of his making another appearance— happens every time an attractive girl is the subject of the conversation. Typical Seungri. I fought back a sigh and an eyeroll. 

"Her name's Sandara Park. Same major as you. She's here on a scholarship and I heard she was the valedictorian of Busan Girl's High School. Really shy and she doesn't have much friends, but she's very popular with the guys. Her sister's T—" He stopped once he noticed the look Taeyang was sending him, then he laughed airily. "Damn, I'd tap that. She's cute, right? Unlike that evil little—" 

"Yeah. Cute." I grinned to myself as I plugged in my earphones and leaned back against the couch, my forearm was laid over my eyes and loud music blasted into my ears.  I must admit, even though Seungri's stalker-like knowledge on people is really creepy, it can come in handy sometimes. 

A physics major? Interesting. 

Usually, my thoughts would be drowned out by the music, but this time it wouldn't. All that is in my head is her pretty face. Just like every person I've seen, I could remember her expressions clearly: the way she looked when she stuttered, the way she gaped at me, the way she blushed when I looked back— everything. She looked fragile, but there was something unexplainable about her. There was something buried underneath her porcelain skin and her tiny little bones, I can tell. I want to dig them out, and I want to break her to find out. Honestly, right after I had bumped into her, I had thought she was only just another face, but after observing her during that brief moment we met, without realizing, the scene replayed inside my head, over and over again, like a movie.


I chuckled. Catch you in class, Sandara Park. 

Let the games begin. 

I hate like these: having to sit down in one place with all the morons in the world surrounding you, while another moron drawls on and on about rules no one's ever going to follow through a crappy mic. Orientations like a . 

"I'm skipping this bull." I groaned irritatedly as I ruffled my hair, before turningon my heels and shoving my hands into my pockets. Then, I spotted her, looking like a lost lamb in a den of wolves with her wide, innocent eyes. Shortly after, a smirk unfolded on my features and I found myself striding towards her with big steps, then soon, I was towering over her once again. That was when she caught sight of me and froze, looking at me like a deer in the headlights. She gasped, "Y— you again!" I cocked my head to the side and cooly spoke, pretending it was all a coincidence, "Why is it that every time we meet you have to be in my way, Sandara Park?" Her face showed a mix of emotions: shock, tension and a slight tinge of curiosity. I love it. 

"How— how did you know my