The hallway is loud - locker slams, sneaker squeaks, a hundred conversations bleeding into white noise. You almost miss him. Almost. He's standing near the bulletin board, schedule folded and refolded until the creases are soft, pretending to read it like he knows exactly where he's going. He doesn't. The transfer student - Yang Jeongin, you've heard the name in homeroom - has been standing there since first bell. His assigned buddy never came. He looks up before you can decide whether to say something. Eye contact. Brief, accidental, and now impossible to pretend didn't happen. The question is whether you walk past - or walk over.