"Yook Sungjae-haksaeng." Ms. Song called out, eyes flickering around to look for the stark black hair of the class's student representative, only to see him not paying much attention, head ducked down and hand frantically scribbling doodles on the borders of his notebook. It was times like these that makes her wonder if being eccentric really was the downside of being smart. "Yook Sungjae-haksaeng." She called out, much louder this time, reigning in more authority in her voice as her gaze looked expectantly at him, arms crossed over her perfectly ironed chiffon blouse.

This time seemed to work since he stopped whatever he was doing to look up, a confused expression on his face, eyes looking questioningly at her, wondering if he did something remotely wrong or offensive. Of course, not counting the fact that he wasn't listening, he was sure he was subtle with his spacing off. "Deh?"

As if she hadn't heard him, she continued her announcement, "I announced two weeks ago that the papers you were turning in were going to comprise 50% of your midterm grade as a make-up activity to salvage your failing grades. Aside from that, I turned it into a competition among all the classes I'm handling, from your batch at least, that the class of the student who gets the highest mark will get additional points for the exam and the student who garnered that mark will be exempted from the test." She breathed out before flashing them one of her motherly smiles, "I'm happy to announce that Yook Sungjae-ssi got the highest mark."

The class hollered while some clapped their hands excitedly, with Sungjae's friends being the loudest, either teasing him or thanking him for it, others a mix of both.

"Yook Sungjae-ssi," Ms. Song addressed him, "Please come to the front and get your paper."

The person in question seemed to look dumbfounded as he dazedly got out of his seat and walked to the front to get his papers. Pointedly ignoring the cheering of his classmates as he silently prayed that he wouldn’t be reading his paper out loud.

Sadly, the heavens seemed to be against him that day because when he turned to return to his seat, Ms. Song called him, “Sungjae-ssi, don’t sit yet. Please read your paper in front.”

He froze, turning around with a blank look on his face and internally panicking inside, “Do I really have to?” He, almost, whined.

“Why? You should be proud of your work.” Ms. Song beckoned him back, “Come here.”

Reluctantly, he returned in front of the class and cleared his throat.

—육성재

Math tells us three of the saddest love stories:

            Tangent lines—which had one chance to meet and then parted forever,

                        Asymptotes—which can get closer and closer but will never be together;

And, the most tragic of them all:

                                    Parallel lines—which travels in the same direction but was never meant to meet.

Perhaps the strangest thing about my opinion is the mere idea of the technical absence of loss. It wasn’t like we officially met or had gotten the chance to know each other; it wasn’t like we had established some sort of a bond and formed a connection.

We were strangers—and are strangers still.

Essentially, there was, is, no loss, because there was nothing to lose in the first place. I never had you, nor did I have the chance to, because you don’t know me and I don’t know you.

And that thought itself was hardly fair…

…because when I saw you once—the world was no longer the same.

Sungjae was peacefully sleeping on the school's park bench, resting under the shade of the old thick tree with a comic magazine covering his face. He had been lacking sleep staying up at night to do his assignments, finishing their group project (as he had been assigned the group leader without his knowledge) and organizing the collected papers he disseminated the other day to pass to their homeroom teacher (a duty he wouldn't have been doing if he wasn't nominated by his classmates to be their class representative. They all knew he hated the responsibility and yet they kept on pushing it towards him anyway). On top of that, he had been rehearsing the song their band decided to present for the campus-wide activity to be done in a week's time. He seriously needed all the sleep he could get. 

Sadly for him though, he was still about to fully succumb to sleep when the pleasant chiming of bells caught his attention and roused him from his slumber. It wasn't even loud, it sounded like the bell found in a cat's collar, that's why he surprised himself to have even heard it amid all the school's noise. But he could assess that whoever was carrying it was fast approaching, not that he cared. He had priorities and his priority was to sleep.

He was about to do so when a voice, altered in pitch to do aegyo, disrupted him again, "Wendy-eonnie, isn't it cute?" it said. He heard a rustle and the bell rang again.

A person, he assumed it to be this person named 'Wendy', laughed, "Neh." She agreed, "It's cute. But you're seriously going to get scolded for putting that bag accessory in your ID sling."

The other person only snorted, he heard her hop, making the bell tinkle again, "The sound it makes is pretty, plus it's for luck. I should be carrying this with me. I might find the love of my life---ouch! Yah! Why did you