Whispers Of The Unseen

Chapter 23 - Minji's POV: Acting Odd

A few days have passed, and October is just around the corner. The air carries a distinct crispness as autumn takes hold, painting the surroundings with warm hues of red, orange, and gold. The school halls are bustling with activity as students rush to their classes, their laughter and chatter filling the air. I walk with purpose down the wide corridors, my steps carrying an air of authority that commands respect. My classroom, thankfully situated on the first floor, is my destination. I glance up at the stairwell, observing students spiraling upwards, grateful for my proximity to my teaching space.

As I enter my classroom, students part to make way for me, a silent acknowledgment of my presence. I find solace in the quiet moments before the bell rings, giving me a chance to sip my green tea and open my MacBook. I may come across as a strict professor, but truth be told, I value a respectful and open learning environment. I may not adhere to traditional teaching methods, but I refuse to tolerate blatant disrespect. After all, respect should flow both ways.

Lately, I've noticed Haerin's behavior taking a peculiar turn. Is it merely her usual demeanor, or is something more brewing beneath the surface? She's grown increasingly attached, more so than usual, and I can't help but question whether she's truly prepared for the kind of authenticity I offer. Her request to make our unique connection more exciting lingers in the back of my mind. Yet, it's clear to me that she might not be fully aware of the depths of her own desires. She craves discipline, thrives on boundaries and control, and I wonder if she can handle what she secretly yearns for.

The sound of the bell interrupts my thoughts, signaling the start of the class. Students trickle in, some engrossed in quiet conversations while others scroll through their devices. I take another sip of my tea, calm and collected as always. I'm a relatively laid-back teacher, contrary to what many might assume. However, I have a zero-tolerance policy for disrespect; it's a principle I firmly uphold. Speaking of respect, Haerin's behavior has been intriguing lately. I can't decipher if it's a facet of her personality or a more profound undercurrent at play. There's an undeniable change in her, a sense of clinging that doesn't escape my notice.

She enters the room, gliding with an air of confidence. Her eyes, those expressive orbs, search for mine almost instinctively. A soft sigh escapes me. Her fixation on me only makes it harder for us to maintain the facade of a student-teacher relationship. She takes her seat in the front row, a deliberate choice that keeps her squarely within my line of sight. Today promises to be an interesting day, perhaps even memorable.

Haerin opens her shoulder bag and retrieves a pencil, a small gesture I've come to recognize. She taps it on her head three times, a habit that has piqued my curiosity. Our eyes lock for a moment, her expression poised and ready for the lesson ahead. She offers me a smile, and I respond with a polite nod. Clearing my throat, I address the class in my usual formal tone, "Good morning, class. Happy Thursday." Some students respond with groans while others mutter their greetings.

I can't help but smirk as I continue, "You know what that means." My fingers curl around a piece of chalk, and I proceed to write the day's subject on the board in neat, precise letters: "Algebra II." Another round of groans fills the air, a familiar response to the impending topic. As I spin around to face the class, my low ponytail sways with the movement. "Who's up for solving the first equation and earning an early break?" I challenge.

Hands shoot up all around the room, but my attention is drawn to one student in particular. A girl seated at the very back catches my eye, and I nod in her direction. With purpose, she rises from her seat and begins making her way to the front of the classroom. I take this opportunity to study her attire – a layered vest with delicate floral patterns, loose bottoms, and brown Ugg boots. I can't deny that she presents herself well; there's a certain appeal to her appearance.

I offer her a small smile as I hand her the chalk, her eyes briefly meeting mine before she turns her attention to the board. Under her breath, she mutters the steps of the problem-solving process as she meticulously works through the equation. "Alright, class, let's see how Daphne tackles this equation," I announce, my tone carrying a hint of curiosity. As she completes her solution, she turns back to face me, seeking my approval.

I meet her gaze and nod in appreciation. "Well done, executed with precision," I commend her. I allow my voice to trail off momentarily before she fills in the blank, "Daphne." Her introduction is followed by a round of uninspired applause from her peers. I resume the lesson, continuing to guide the class through the intricacies of algebra. Throughout the hour, I sense a pair of distinctive, cat-like eyes tracking my every move – Haerin's gaze locked onto me with an intensity that doesn't go unnoticed.
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As the bell rings, signaling the end of the class, I release a tired sigh and allow myself to slump back into my chair. The weight of the day seems to settle in, and I let my head fall completely, my legs unconsciously spreading out in a relaxed manner. A low groan escapes my lips as I rub my eyes, feeling the exhaustion that comes with being a teacher. The room is finally empty, offering a brief respite from the demands of the students.

Suddenly, the door opens, and my senses alert me to the presence of someone else. I take a moment before peering at the visitor with my left eye, letting out another sigh when I recognize Haerin. She casually takes a seat on my desk, her attire catching my attention – a cream turtleneck paired with a long black skirt, and shoes adorned with various charms. I exhale through my nose, feeling a sense of relaxation in her company. There's still around 15 minutes before I need to prepare for the next period.

Gradually, I open both eyes, wincing at the harsh light cast by my desk lamp. Just as I'm about to reach for the switch, Haerin beats me to it, plunging the room into a more soothing ambiance. I raise my gaze to her face and voice my concern, "Are you... alright?" Her gaze seems fixed, her unwavering stillness causing a subtle unease within me. I question my safety, sensing an unsettling aura around her.

"Yes, are you?" She responds with a smile, and I nod in acknowledgment. I contemplate my impending tasks, fully aware that our interaction should be brief. "Well, you should be on your way. I need to prepare for the next class," I begin, only to be interrupted by her. "What?" she queries, squinting at me. I pause, momentarily thrown off by her confusion. "Nothing," I say, brushing off her inquiry.

Her response is swift, carrying an undercurrent of self-doubt, "You don't want me here, am I such an embarrassment?" I watch her movements, and my eyebrows furrow in concern. "Haerin," I address her gently, seeking to alleviate her worries. She stands up, an air of tension building. "I don't like Daphne. She disgusts me," she asserts, causing a slight weariness to settle over me. This topic again.

"Why?" I respond in a deadpan tone, curious to understand her perspective. "She's fake and an idiot. She's not worth your time," Haerin insists. A sigh escapes me as I let my head fall back. I've encountered this jealousy-driven argument before. "And why is that?" I raise a brow, challenging her assumption.

Haerin looks back at me, blinking slowly. I can see a mixture of emotions swirling within her gaze. In a swift motion, she opens her mouth to speak. I extend my hand, a silent gesture encouraging her to pause. "You like getting jealous, don't you?" I comment, my tone measured. I straighten up, stretching my limbs as I approach her, our proximity allowing me to lock eyes with her. I glance at the door beside her, confirming that it's locked, and then I return my focus to her.

A faint smile tugs at my lips as I continue, "Daphne is smart, pretty, and she has a nice sense of style. Oh, and did I forget to mention? She has a boyfriend." I observe her closely, awaiting her reaction to this piece of information. When she smirks, I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Well, not for long," she mutters quietly, as if her intention isn't meant to be heard. I wonder if she realizes that her thoughts aren't as private as she believes.

My curiosity piqued, I take a step closer to her, my gaze never leaving her eyes. "What's been going on with you?" I inquire.