Chapter 55: The One Who Asked Why

“Uh… he should still be at school.

When I asked if he could come out for the match today, he still hadn’t finished writing his reflection letter and was in the classroom.

And knowing his personality, there’s no way he’d quietly write something like that……”

“What class?”

“Class 3.

Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going?

Just in case, I’m telling you—if you go in there, you’re not allowed…….”

Before he could even finish saying that students from other schools weren’t allowed to enter, Wooju had already dashed out of the gym.

Yoon Jaeyeon could only let out a hollow laugh as he watched his retreating figure.

“Anyway, this issue will be wrapped up here.

The victim’s parents have also agreed to the conditions.”

The spacious principal’s office was filled with countless plaques of unknown names.

Every time he came in here, he felt the same thing—someone who seemed to do nothing much using such a grand office felt strangely contradictory.

“Do you have any idea how much the school struggled to settle this?”

No.

If anything was contradictory, it was the fact that an ordinary student was sitting in the principal’s office.

Normally, the principal was someone you only saw giving moral lectures or greetings at school events.

The people who met him privately were always specific types.

Either those who had caused major trouble, or those who needed special attention.

Ji-tae stopped thinking there.

Because he fell into both categories.

“What would the principal have to struggle with?

You just covered it up with money anyway.”

“Won Ji-tae!”

His homeroom teacher, standing beside him, shouted sharply as if telling him to stop.

Yet Won Ji-tae, his face covered in bandages from the fight, remained expressionless.

The principal merely looked displeased but didn’t scold him much.

“Hm, your father contacted us this morning as well.”

Ji-tae let out a deep sigh.

His lack of effort to hide his discomfort would probably only appear to the two teachers as childish immaturity filled with shallow pride.

“Do you know how worried he is about you?”

If he were truly worried, he should have shown his face at school.

A parent’s duty would have been to defend their child first—saying there’s no way my child would do that, and even if he did, there must have been a reason.

Not slipping in money to smooth things over like this.

Thanks to that, Ji-tae had become a complete perpetrator.

He had been pushed into a position he never wanted by someone else’s authority, and now even had to bear the injustice of taking all the blame.

And though not as badly as the other student, Ji-tae was hurt too.

Of course, not a single person worried about that part.

“You must never commit such a mistake again.

Apologize to Seung-min later if you see him.

That’s enough, you may leave!”

Ji-tae walked out of the principal’s office without even bowing his head.

The soft carpet muffled his angry footsteps, but the way he slammed the door shut did not hide his emotions.

His homeroom teacher, who followed him out, was already furious.

“Won Ji-tae! What kind of attitude is that toward an adult!”

“…….”

Ji-tae said nothing.

The practice match was about to begin.

If he had to change and join the game, there might not even be time to warm up.

It was cutting close.

“This won’t do.

Submit your reflection letter before you leave today.”

“I have club practice.”

“Is that silly club activity important right now?!

Write a reflection about the trouble you caused and your behavior in front of me and the principal today!

Don’t even think about going near the gym!”

Threatening to inform the volleyball coach as well, the homeroom teacher stormed off angrily.

He didn’t particularly like the students at this school.

Most of them came from wealthy families.

Instead of offering proper guidance, he simply vented his sense of relative deprivation on them without crossing obvious lines.

He was especially harsh toward Ji-tae.

So when Ji-tae hit Park Seung-min, he scolded him without even asking what had happened.

Ji-tae slowly headed toward the classroom.

He opened his locker and roughly pulled out a scrap sheet of paper.

Just as he sat down, Jaeyeon flung the front door open at perfect timing.

“Won Ji-tae, what about club activities today?”

“Can’t go.”

“What’s that?

Don’t tell me it’s a reflection letter?

That’s f*cking hilarious.

Your homeroom teacher must be seriously pissed.”

Ji-tae didn’t bother replying.

He didn’t even make eye contact, treating him as if he didn’t exist.

Jaeyeon’s expression slowly stiffened.

Muttering that Ji-tae was annoying, he slammed the sliding door shut.

Reflection letter.

After writing those three neat syllables, Ji-tae felt all his energy drain away.

If he didn’t even know what he did wrong, how was he supposed to write a reflection?

He hadn’t hit someone for no reason.

There had been a reason he couldn’t endure.

But no one asked him why.

Not the homeroom teacher.

Not the principal.

Not even his parents.

They wouldn’t even listen to him—so what exactly was he supposed to reflect on?

“Ah… I won’t get to see Wooju today.”

That was the biggest reason for his helplessness.

For Ji-tae, who had been counting down the days for the practice match with Daehyeon High, this event was fatal.

He collapsed onto his desk.

Would Kang Wooju look for him when he didn’t show up on the court?

He hoped he would.

He hoped Wooju would ask someone why he wasn’t there.

With those thoughts, he closed his eyes.

Time passed meaninglessly, without a single word written on the paper.

The front door slid open again.

Was it Jaeyeon?

Had he come to mock him for not finishing yet?

Or maybe it was the homeroom teacher.

Ji-tae slowly lifted his head.

“…….”

His eyes widened as he saw who stood there.

It wasn’t Jaeyeon.

Nor was it his teacher.

Kang Wooju, wearing another school’s sports uniform, stood there panting, staring straight at him.

For a moment, Ji-tae thought it was a dream.

Had his wish for Wooju to come looking for him turned into reality within a dream?

Seeing Wooju in Daehyeon High’s uniform inside this classroom felt unreal.

“Won Ji-tae.”

When that voice—always so pleasant to hear—echoed through the room, Ji-tae realized something.

This was a painfully sweet reality.

“Kang Wooju?

How did you…….”

“Why did you do it?”

Wooju strode toward him.

“Huh?”

“I heard you hit a classmate.

Why did you hit him?

What happened?”

Ji-tae took in the sight of Wooju wiping his sweat.

His heart shook uncontrollably, like waves crashing apart.

It was the first time.

No one else had asked that question.

And at that moment, Ji-tae understood.

His helplessness wasn’t just because he couldn’t see Wooju today.

It was because no one had tried to understand him.

And the only one who always did was the person standing before him now—Kang Wooju.

“…Why are you asking that?”

Wooju glanced at the paper on the desk.

The word “Reflection” was written at the top, but nothing else filled the page.

“Because you wouldn’t do something like that without a reason.”

Wooju plopped down in the seat in front of him.

“When I heard about it, that was my first thought.

The Ji-tae I know isn’t that kind of guy.”

Ji-tae gripped his pen tightly.

Unfortunately, unlike what Wooju believed, the facts were real.

He had hit a classmate.

Quite badly.

Even if he had been hit too, he had probably thrown more punches.

“But if it’s true, then there must’ve been a reason.”

“So why?”

“Do I really need a reason to think that?

Isn’t it just obvious?”

Wooju glared at him irritably for asking why over and over.

What shone clearly in Wooju’s actions and words was trust.

Not a list of reasons proving he wouldn’t do it without cause—just simple, unwavering belief.

Kang Wooju.

Saying that firm belief didn’t need a reason was contradictory, yet somehow so very him.

It sounded simple, even foolish.

But at this moment, that powerful trust was exactly what Ji-tae needed most.

“And if someone from the sports club went around hitting people for no reason, he might not even get to play anymore.

There’s no way you’d do that.

You wouldn’t give up volleyball.”

The setting sun filtered through the windows, dyeing the classroom red.

The classroom that had always felt wide and lonely to Ji-tae now felt overwhelmingly full.

The ticking of the clock sounded unusually loud.

When he was with Kang Wooju, he often had the same thought.

That he wished time would stop.

That this moment with him would last forever.

“So stop looking so down and get up already.

I’ll make up for the practice you missed today.”

Wooju grabbed Ji-tae’s hand and pulled him up.

Just earlier, Ji-tae had been thinking absurdly that maybe he should just stay here all night because everything felt so exhausting.