It's Mihyun's typical Wednesday night with a call from Hayi and her beloved laptop sitting front of her, the light of its screen illuminating her turquoise bed sheet. Laying on her stomach, she swishes her feet back and forth as she tells Hayi about how her punishment went.   "He said that?" Hayi's voice booms from the other line. "Dude, he's really the insane one here."   "Tell me about it. He's plain revolting, like Voldemort," Mihyun says, pressing the phone close to her ear with her shoulder. The gentle clicks of her keyboard is the only sound she can hear beside Hayi's and her own voice. "Except Voldy is a lot hotter than he is," she cackles, rolling onto her back and looking up to see a white ceiling. She scrunches up her nose, immediately regretting her words because a nose-less man is not attractive. Not at all. Mihyun shudders as she imagines Lord Voldemort's wicked, nose-less face grinning at her.   "But he's not bad—"
"Hayi!"
"Okay, okay! Geez, sorry."   Fine, maybe Mihyun kind of notices Hanbin is 'not bad'. She doesn't want to constantly remember that, because no matter how his face looks like, just hearing his name makes her want to strangle someone (well, Hanbin, preferably). Good looks won't do you much good if your attitude stinks. Mihyun thinks what matters is on the inside, although the outer appearance is important too. People always say you can't judge a book by its cover—  admit it, we all do.   Mihyun squints, the gears of her brain starting to work extra hard. "We should call him assbutt."   "...assbutt?" Hayi asks.   "Yeah, because if he's an , it's definitely an understatement. So he's an assbutt," She says.   "Sometimes I don't understand you and how your head works."   A faint knock against her door sends her to sit up. "Call you later," she says briefly to Hayi, who hums a yes. Mihyun taps the red phone symbol on her phone to end the call. Seconds later, her door creaks open to reveal her father, still in his work clothes; blue shirt and black satin trousers.   "Principal Jung called me today," Mr. Song says. Mihyun looks down, twiddling her thumbs with guilt flooding in her chest. She knows her father will try to talk to her sooner or later. It shows he cares about her and it feels wonderful— but the downside of that is he has one more thing to worry about.   "I'm sorry," she mutters. Mr. Song shakes his head and walk over to Mihyun's bed, sitting on the edge of it. The man masks his weariness using a genuine smile, warm and comforting.   "I'm not here to scold you, sweetheart. I want to hear your side of the story. It wouldn't be fair if I judge your actions based on another person's point of view, now, would it?"   The same kind of expression etches on Mihyun's face when she hears his father's words. "You'll laugh if I tell you the whole story," she says.   "Try me," He consoles.   She scratches her hair, recalling the incident in her head. "It started when I bumped into him and spilled my orange juice on his uniform— don't give me that look. It was an accident, I swear." Mr. Song gestures her to continue, "And he insulted me, swearing like sailor. When I fired back, he poured my orange juice all over me," Mihyun cringes, remembering how the cheap orange juice smell stuck to her like a plague.   "Ah, so it's not your friend's perfume," He lilts, a fond laugh leaves his lips.

 

"Kihyun told you about it?"   "Yes, he was complaining about how you smelled like an orange juice. That boy has a sharp nose, like me," He points to himself, "I assume that's the cause of your anger explosion?"   Shaking her head, Mihyun crosses her legs. "No. It's because after that incident, he put a balloon filled with orange juice inside my locker. It exploded in my face, but luckily, my hair is tied up so the juice didn't dried up on it. I confronted him— I exploded, basically. He was a total jerk, appa."   He nods, trying to imagine himself inside her shoes. "Do I need to talk to his parents?"   "Nope, no need," she says, "I can clean this mess up myself."   Mr. Song taps his chin, "Speaking of cleaning, did you really clean the school's toilet?"   Shrugging, Mihyun purses her lips as the thought of dirty toilets enters her mind. It's definitely enough for her, she wants that experience to happen only once in her lifetime. "Yeah, but it's better than to hav