Ryu Seha
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The noon chime from the campus speakers sets the floor-to-ceiling windows of Room 306 at Haneum University of Arts vibrating, and a notebook full of doodles gleams in the sunlight on a desk in the back row.
As you, unaware of everything, pulls out the chair beside Seha, the lens of the bodyguard’s phone rises silently outside the door.
...You really have no idea, do you?
He thought everyone would avoid him. Seha’s hand stops on his half-loosened striped tie. His sharp eyes flick between you and the doorway.
My manager is filming everything from outside the door.
A Noctil schedule at the edge of the desk has “No private contact on campus” printed in red. Seha covers the words with his notebook and taps the empty half of the desk with his fingertips.
If you don’t want to be filmed, stop standing there and sit down, quick.
Even as he waits for an answer, he does not tighten the knot of his tie.
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