Weak hero

The fluorescent lights of Eunjang High hummed with a low-frequency buzz that seemed to vibrate against the inside of her skull. She sat perfectly still, her hands gripping the edges of her desk so tightly that her knuckles had turned a ghostly white.

This was impossible. It was a statistical anomaly. It was a cosmic joke.

She was currently being perceived by Yeon Si-eun.

He was still standing there, the eraser he had returned to her sitting like a heavy, leaden weight between them. His eyes weren't just cold; they were analytical. They were the eyes of a boy who calculated trajectories, identified weaknesses, and dismantled opponents with the surgical precision of a grandmaster. And right now, those eyes were focused entirely on her.

"I thought the same thing," he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it carried over the din of the rowdy classroom. "I feel like I've seen you before."

Her heart did a frantic somersault. "Maybe in the hallway? Or the cafeteria?" she suggested, her voice trembling. "I'm... I'm pretty forgettable. Just a face in the crowd."

Si-eun tilted his head slightly. The movement was slow, deliberate. "I don't forget faces."

The statement was a fact, not a boast. She knew that. In the webtoon, in the drama, his memory was one of his greatest weapons. If he said he hadn't seen her, he hadn't. But he was saying the opposite. He was saying that there was a resonance—a glitch in the reality of this world that recognized her as something that *should* be there, even though she didn't belong.

"Well, I'm new," she blurted out, trying to reclaim some semblance of her 'background character' plan. "Transfer student. First day jitters. That’s probably why I look so... pale."

Before Si-eun could respond, a shadow fell over the desk.

"Hey, Si-eun! You making friends? That’s a first."

The voice was like a burst of warm sunlight, but to her, it felt like a lightning strike. She turned her head slowly, her neck feeling like it was made of rusted gears.

Ahn Su-ho was leaning against the desk behind her, a lazy, easygoing grin plastered across his face. He looked exactly like he did in her favorite scenes—radiant, strong, and tragically unaware of the countdown clock ticking over his head.

"She dropped her eraser," Si-eun said, though he didn't break eye contact with her.

Su-ho’s gaze shifted to her. For a second, his grin faltered. It didn't disappear, but it changed. It softened into something curious, something strangely intense. He straightened up, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"A transfer student, huh?" Su-ho asked. He leaned in a bit closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. "No wonder I didn't recognize the uniform. You look like you’re seeing ghosts, kid. You okay?"

"I'm fine," she squeaked. "Just... tired."

"She says she feels like she's seen us before," Si-eun added quietly.

Su-ho’s eyebrows shot up. He let out a soft huff of laughter, but his eyes remained fixed on her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the way her hair fell over her shoulder. "Is that so? Funny. I was just thinking you looked familiar, too. Like a song I can’t quite remember the lyrics to."

She felt a cold sweat break out on her neck. This was wrong. This was so incredibly wrong. In the story, they were supposed to be focused on each other, on their burgeoning friendship, on the looming threat of the Union and the bullies of Eunjang. They weren't supposed to be noticing a girl who wasn't even mentioned in the credits.

"I have to go to the restroom," she said abruptly, standing up so fast her chair screeched against the linoleum.

She didn't wait for their reactions. She bolted.

***

The bathroom mirror didn't lie.

She stared at her reflection. She looked the same, yet different. Her skin seemed more vibrant, her eyes wider. She looked like a high-definition version of herself. She leaned over the sink, splashing cold water on her face.

"Okay," she whispered to the empty stalls. "Okay. Step one: Stop staring at the main characters. Step two: Stop being weird. Step three: Survive until the end of the semester."

She took a deep breath, smelling the faint scent of cleaning chemicals and school lunch. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small tube of strawberry lip balm—one of the few things she’d apparently brought with her from her 'real' life. She applied it with shaking fingers. The sweet, artificial scent grounded her.

She was a girl who liked strawberries, cute stationery, and peace. She was not a catalyst for drama.

When she walked back into the hallway, she tried to keep her head down. She navigated the crowded corridor, heading toward the lockers. She needed to find her assigned locker and see if there was a schedule inside.

As she turned a corner, she collided with something solid.

"Oof!"

She stumbled back, nearly losing her balance. A large hand shot out, grabbing her upper arm to steady her. The grip was firm—stronger than it needed to be.

"Watch where you’re going," a rough voice grumbled.

She looked up and felt her soul attempt to leave her body for the third time that hour.

Park Hu-min.

The legendary fighter of Eunjang. He was massive in person, his shoulders broad and his presence commanding. Beside him stood Go Hyun-tak, looking as prickly and alert as a guard dog.

"Sorry," she stammered, trying to pull her arm away. "I wasn't looking. I'm sorry."

Hu-min didn't let go immediately. He stared down at her, his eyes narrowed in confusion. He looked at her small, trembling frame, then at her face. His grip loosened, but his hand lingered on her arm for a beat too long.

"You're the new girl," Hyun-tak noted, crossing his arms. "The one everyone’s whispering about."

"Whispering?" she asked, her heart sinking. "I've been here for two hours."

"Word travels fast in Eunjang," Hu-min said. His voice had lost its edge, replaced by a strange, low timber. He leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. "You're... smaller than I thought."

"I'm a normal size!" she defended, her natural spark of indignation flickering to life despite her fear.

Hu-min blinked, then a slow, crooked smirk spread across his face. "Feisty. I like that."

"Come on, Hu-min, we’re gonna be late for lunch," Hyun-tak muttered, though he too was staring at her with an intensity that made her skin itch. "See you around, transfer."

They walked past her, but she felt their eyes on her back until they disappeared through the cafeteria doors.

She leaned against the lockers, panting. This wasn't working. Her 'background character' aura was nonexistent. It was like she was a lighthouse in a storm, and all the most dangerous ships in the sea were suddenly steering toward her.

***

Lunchtime was a minefield.

She tried to sit at a secluded table in the corner of the roof, hoping for some fresh air and silence. She unfolded a small sandwich she’d found in her bag, staring out at the gray skyline of the city.

"It's peaceful up here, isn't it?"

She jumped, nearly dropping her sandwich.

Standing by the door was a boy with glasses and a nervous, twitchy energy. Seo Jun-tae.

"Oh, hello," she said, trying to offer a small, kind smile. She remembered Jun-tae. He was the one who suffered so much, the one the others protected. Her heart ached for him. "Do you want to sit here?"

Jun-tae looked surprised. Most people ignored him or looked through him. To have a girl—especially one as pretty as her—offer him a seat was clearly world-shaking.

"I... are you sure? I don't want to intrude," he said, shuffling forward.

"Not at all. I'm new. I don't really have anyone to sit with anyway," she said softly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. She noticed Jun-tae glancing at her every few seconds, his face turning a bright shade of pink.

"You're very kind," he whispered. "Most people here... they aren't like you."

"Everyone has their reasons for being the way they are," she replied, her empathy overriding her common sense. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm just here to study."

Jun-tae stared at her hand on his sleeve. His breath hitched. "I've never... no one has ever said that to me before."

Before she could respond, the roof door creaked open again.

A boy with a brooding, dark aura walked out. He looked startled to see them there. Oh Beom-seok.

The air in her lungs turned to ice. Beom-seok was the most volatile variable in this entire story. He was the one whose descent into darkness broke everything.

"Beom-seok! Come sit with us," Jun-tae called out, his voice gaining a bit of confidence now that he felt 'protected' by her presence.

Beom-seok walked over slowly. His eyes were shadowed, filled with a deep-seated insecurity that broke her heart. He looked at her, then at Jun-tae, then back at her.

"Who is she?" Beom-seok asked, his voice flat.

"She's the transfer student," Jun-tae explained. "She’s really nice, Beom-seok. She even shared the table."

Beom-seok sat down across from her. He didn't eat. He just watched her. He watched the way she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He watched the way she bit her lip when she was nervous.

"You're too bright," Beom-seok said suddenly.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't belong in a place like this," he said, his voice trembling with a strange mix of resentment and admiration. "You look like you've never been hit. Like you've never been hurt."

"Everyone gets hurt, Beom-seok," she said quietly, her voice full of a sadness she couldn't hide. "Some people just hide the scars better than others."

Beom-seok flinched as if she had struck him. He stared at her, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his knees. "You... you don't know anything about me."

"I know enough," she whispered, realizing too late that she was breaking her own rule. She was interfering. She was touching the glass of the display case.

Beom-seok reached out, his hand hovering near hers on the table. He didn't touch her, but she could feel the heat radiating from him. "Don't look at me like that," he hissed, though there was no venom in it. "Don't look at me like you care."

"But I do," she said, and it was the truth. She cared about all of them. She had cried for them in another world; how could she not care for them now that they were real?

Beom-seok’s eyes widened. A strange, obsessive light flickered in the depths of his pupils. He pulled his hand back, standing up abruptly. "You're weird," he said, his voice cracking.

He turned and bolted back inside, leaving Jun-tae and her alone.

"He's just shy," Jun-tae said, though he looked troubled. "He’s had a hard time."

"I know," she murmured.

***

The end of the school day couldn't come fast enough.

She packed her bags, determined to find where 'she' lived. She had found an address in her notebook—a small apartment not far from the school.

As she walked out of the school gates, she felt a presence behind her.

She turned around and saw a silver car idling by the curb. The window rolled down, revealing a face that made her heart stop entirely.

Na Baek-jin.

The head of the Union. The ultimate antagonist. He was even more beautiful and terrifying in person—his eyes like chips of ice, his smile a razor-thin line of calculated cruelty.

"So," Baek-jin said, his voice smooth as silk. "This is the girl causing a stir in my territory."

She froze. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

Baek-jin leaned his elbow on the window sill. "Eunjang is usually a very predictable place. But today, my reports are filled with stories of a girl. A girl who Si-eun talked to. A girl who Hu-min noticed. A girl who made Beom-seok run away."

He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the strawberry lip balm she had just reapplied.

"You don't look like a threat," Baek-jin mused. "You look like a doll. Something fragile. Something that would break if I squeezed too hard."

"I'm not a doll," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "And I'm not your business."

Baek-jin laughed. It was a cold, melodic sound. "Everything in this city is my business. Especially something as... interesting as you."

He signaled to his driver, and the window began to roll up.

"I'll be seeing you again," he said. "Don't go disappearing on me, little glitch."

The car pulled away, leaving her standing in the dust.

She stood there for a long time, the scent of strawberries and the faint, lingering smell of expensive cigarettes from Baek-jin’s car swirling around her.

She had wanted to be a background character. She had wanted to stay in the shadows and watch the story unfold from a safe distance.

But as she looked down at her hands, she saw they were still shaking.

She wasn't a character in their story. She was the disruption. And in a world built on violence, strength, and obsession, being the center of attention was the most dangerous place to be.

The boys of Weak Hero were no longer just images on a screen. They were real. They were here. And for some reason she couldn't comprehend, they were all starting to look at her as if she was the only thing in their world that mattered.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered to the empty street.

But as the sun set over Eunjang, casting long, jagged shadows across the pavement, she realized that the story she knew was already gone. A new one was being written, and she was the ink.