“I am most likely concerned about how I act,” Byul paused. “Not of how people thinks of me.” He stood in front of her, lips pursed, he didn’t bother arguing with her. “Resulting your self-conceitedness.” 

“You don’t have the rights to say that!” Byul hissed then looked back, her hands held on tightly to her books.

She may not show it, but she is really fragile. She may be angry, but she’s just blinking back tears. She’s aware of her personality, she’s aware of how she acts. She just doesn’t know how to control herself. Yes, she’s too conceited, she admits. Yes, she’s insecure about how people thinks of her, this, she didn’t admit. Lastly, yes, she’s too selfish, she’ll never admit. But what can anyone do? It’s her personality. Despite her being a good poet, she has her flaws.

Without any other words to say, she ran.