Chapter 8 Tutoring

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A rhythmic thwack echoed through the library, momentarily breaking the studious silence. Heads swivelled in annoyance, but most students simply furrowed their brows before returning to their study materials or books. Disgruntled students were a dime a dozen in the library, but this rhythmic thumping was a new one.

Just then, Hyun Woo, alerted by Hae-in's earlier text about being in the library, pushed open the door and scanned the room with eager eyes

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Just then, Hyun Woo, alerted by Hae-in's earlier text about being in the library, pushed open the door and scanned the room with eager eyes. Row and rows of sepia and monochrome greeted him with the scent of old paper. As he navigated the study area in search of her, Hyun Woo couldn't help but jump in alarm when he heard the rather peculiar thumps that were so out of place for a school library.

Oh God, what on earth was that sound?

Hyun Woo circled the study area a few more times before his eyes finally landed on a familiar black leather bag nestled amongst a pile of books on a deserted table in a corner. Relief flooded him momentarily, but it was quickly replaced by renewed confusion. Hae-in wasn't there.

No wonder he had trouble finding her.

Where did she go?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

There it was again – louder this time.

Did a machine break down or something?

Hyun Woo, ever the curious soul, followed the sound like a pied piper. It led him past towering shelves of reference books and diligently note-taking students until he reached a secluded corner near the photocopiers.

And there she was, a picture of frustration personified, her foot connecting squarely with the side of the offending machine with each resounding thump.

The source of the racket was undeniable – it was Hong Hae-in.

Every fibre of her being seemed to be poured into each forceful kick. Hyun Woo stood frozen as he tried to process what was happening, a silent witness to this bizarre moment.

Was she...having a fight with the printer?

"Wae wae wae?" Hyun Woo rushed over, concern etched on his face. He reached out a hand to gently stop her mid-kick, worried she might hurt herself on the unforgiving metal of the photocopier.

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