The noise of lunch break filled the classroom after 5th period ended. However, that noise swirled particularly filthily and persistently around Song Boyun's seat. Someone spilled a half-finished milk carton over Boyun's desk. The white liquid dripped stickily, soaking the scribbles written in marker like 'Why are you even alive?' and 'Just drop out.' A few students snickered at the sight. One guy walked up behind Boyun and gave the back of his head a sharp flick as he passed by.

Boyun didn't react at all. He ignored the soaking textbook, the graffiti-covered desk, and the unpleasant sensation lingering on the back of his head. He just rested his chin on his hand and stared blankly at the playground outside the window. His gaze was fixed on empty space, his focus blurred. It was as if he didn't exist in this space, like a person living in another world beyond a glass wall.

In the nauseating air mixed with the smell of milk and dust, Boyun was trapped in a small world of his own.

There was still a long time left before lunch ended. The group that had been tormenting Boyun left the classroom, chatting amongst themselves, and the remaining students also treated him like a ghost, gathering in small groups to talk. No one wiped his wet desk or spoke to him. In the middle of the classroom, Boyun was a complete island.