The halls of Vanderheim University were squeaky clean to the point of absurdity. The kind of spotless that reeks of industrial-grade bleach and half-hearted moral absolution. The kind of clean that feels more like a symptom of the disease than its cure. But what does one expect from a campus whose endowment is so massive it practically has its own goddamn area code? In the wake of every scandal, every hushed-up suicide, or the odd bit of light rape, the solution is always the same: scrub the fucking place down and call it a day.

  Jin-Ho Wei, second year and certified misanthrope, knew the routine all too well. The administration was like an alcoholic with a seltzer in hand and a smirk on his lips—just because it looked clean didn't mean there wasn't poison running through its veins. Jin-Ho knew that the best lies are the ones we tell ourselves, and if anyone was going to get one over on this damn place, it was him. Because let's be honest, he had nothing but time, no friends to speak of, and a chip on his shoulder the size of a fucking textbook.

  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

  The first day back from winter break and the place was still practically comatose, as if the whole campus was hungover from a New Year's bender. Jin-Ho had spent his holidays in a state of self-enforced exile, as per fucking usual, so his break had been about as exciting as a night spent in a morgue. And that wasn't just him being a drama queen; that was the objective truth, no matter which way you sliced it. But here he was, back on campus and already feeling the familiar itch of irritation crawling across his skin.

  The halls were nearly silent as he made his way towards his first lecture, his boots echoing off the sterile floors like the footsteps of some grim, post-modern fucking reaper. He could hear the muffled conversations of students in the lecture halls as he passed by, their voices blending into a white-noise drone that sounded suspiciously like a swarm of insects. He was sure they were talking about him. Hell, even when he was younger, before his life turned into the shitshow that it was, people were always talking about him. It was his own personal brand of background noise, and he was sick of it.

  The thing was, he had always known that the world was a cesspit. A fucking fetid hole where everyone was out to either fuck you over or fuck you in general. But knowing it and experiencing it first-hand were two entirely different things, as he had come to learn the hard way. His father, the great and powerful Ji-Woo Wei, was supposed to have been his knight in shining armor, the one person he could trust. But that fucker had turned out to be just another piece of garbage floating in the human cesspool.

  And then there was his mother, Ai-Li Wei. Oh boy, where to start with her? She had married his dad for money, and she had stayed with him for the exact same reason. Jin-Ho didn't remember a time when she wasn't either high on pills or drunk on wine. It had gotten to the point where her face was a constant mask of either boredom or anger, as if she couldn't quite understand why her son even existed.

  So, when he'd moved out, you'd think that would have been the end of it. He could just start over and forget the whole sorry mess. But no. His parents had managed to worm their way back into his life, and this time, they'd done it in a way he could never have imagined. They had sent him here, to this damn school, to make connections. To network. To be a good little soldier in the family business and ensure the future prosperity of the Wei fucking legacy. And he hated it.

  But here he was. And he was going to have to deal with it. But how? That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it?

  As Jin-Ho walked into his first lecture, he was struck by the sudden feeling of being thrust into a spotlight he had never asked for and didn't particularly want. The professor at the front of the room was droning on about some dead white guy and the significance of his work, but Jin-Ho wasn't paying attention. His gaze was fixed on a girl in the front row, who was staring at the professor with a look of absolute adoration. Her eyes were wide and bright, and she seemed to be hanging on to every word the professor said, as if it was the most interesting thing she'd ever heard.

  Jin-Ho had never seen this girl before. He would have remembered. She was beautiful, with smooth caramel skin that glowed healthily. Her black curls were piled on top of her head in a messy bun, held together by a pencil, and her eyes were the color of warm honey. She wore a simple, navy blue sweater, oversized, that looked so soft that Jin-Ho's fingers itched to touch it. It hung loosely off her right shoulder, exposing an undershirt and a bra strap. The whole ensemble made her look like she'd just rolled out of bed.

  "What a joke," Jin-Ho muttered under his breath, turning away from the girl and the professor. He took a seat all the way in the back and slumped down, folding his arms over his chest and staring at the clock. He had no idea what the lecture was even about, but he didn't care whatsoever.

  "How nice of you to join us, Mr. Wei," the professor said dryly. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in the usual tweed and elbow patches. He had the kind of face that was both condescending and smug at the same time. Jin-Ho hated him immediately.

  "It took you five minutes to notice," Jin-Ho said without even bothering to look up.

  There was a ripple of laughter from the other students, but it quickly died out. Everyone in this class was trying to kiss the professor's ass. Especially the girl in the front row.

  "Five minutes and twelve seconds," the girl corrected in an undertone. She didn't turn around, but her voice carried, and Jin-Ho could tell she was talking to him. "I counted."

  "Fuckin' pedant," Jin-Ho replied. The professor shot him a warning look.

  "Mr. Wei," the professor said in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that this was not the time or place for Jin-Ho to be causing trouble, but that if he insisted, there would be serious consequences, "please refrain from disrupting the class with your outbursts."

  "Sorry, what was your name again?" Jin-Ho said with a sneer.

  The professor's face turned an ugly shade of red, and Jin-Ho could see his grip tighten on the lectern. "Professor Quinn," the man said through gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed and he stared at Jin-Ho like he was a bug he wanted to squish. "Lysander Quinn."

  Jin-Ho snorted derisively. "Right, Professor Lysander Quinn," he repeated mockingly. "I'll remember to be early next time."

  Professor Quinn's mouth thinned into a tight line and his eyes were sharp as knives. "See that you do," he said in a tone that dripped with barely contained fury.

  Jin-Ho shrugged, unbothered. The rest of the lecture dragged on for what seemed like an eternity, and by the time it was over, he was more than ready to get the hell out of there.

  It was just past noon by the time his first class ended, and Jin-Ho stepped out of the lecture hall, only to be greeted by the sight of that girl again, sitting on a bench with a couple of other people, all of them laughing and talking like they were best friends or some shit. She was holding a book in her lap and smiling, and she looked so damn happy that Jin-Ho wanted to puke. What the hell was there to be happy about in this place?

  "Oh my god, you'll never believe what I just found," the girl said to her friends. "It's this amazing little bakery called 'Le Pain Quotidien' and they have these croissants that are literally to die for."

  "Ugh, that's like a thirty-minute walk from here!" one of her friends, a pale girl with a nose ring and dyed blue hair, replied. "Anastasia, you're insane."

  The girl in the sweater—Anastasia, Jin-Ho presumed—rolled her eyes, her mouth twisting into a wry grin. "Oh, come on, Kira," she replied. "Thirty minutes is nothing when it comes to these croissants."

  The third person on the bench, a lanky boy with dark hair and a beanie perched on his head, grinned lazily. "Yeah, but when the fuck did you have time to go on a thirty-minute walk?" he asked. "Don't you, like, live in the library?"

  Anastasia's grin turned into a full-fledged smirk, her eyes twinkling. "You know me too well. Fine, okay, I didn't go there. But I read a review of the place in the newspaper, and now I'm determined to try it at some point this semester." She looked over at Jin-Ho and gave him a quick once-over before turning back to her friends, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  Jin-Ho scowled, his face heating up. He turned and started walking in the opposite direction. Out of nowhere, he was snuck up on by one of those damn frat boys who was always hanging around like he was some kind of vulture, just waiting to pick the bones of his latest victim.

  "Hey, Jin-Ho! Nice to see you back!" Eli Park, second year and wannabe politician, was a real piece of work. His hair was slicked back like a 50s greaser, and his smile was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill. "How was your holiday?"

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Jin-Ho grunted in response.

  "Did you get a chance to visit any relatives in South Korea?" Eli asked, his tone so syrupy that Jin-Ho was surprised he wasn't attracting ants.

  "No," Jin-Ho said flatly. He had no interest in making small talk with Eli, and he had no intention of discussing his personal life with him.

  "That's too bad," Eli replied. "I'm sure they miss you." There was an edge to his voice that Jin-Ho didn't like.

  "They're dead," he replied. He was hoping it would be enough to make Eli drop the subject, but it wasn't.

  "Oh," Eli said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that." There was a pause before he continued. "Well, at least your parents are still around."

  Jin-Ho gritted his teeth. He could feel the familiar anger rising in him, and he clenched his fists, trying to push it back down. He had no idea why Eli was bringing up his family, or what he was trying to get at, but he knew that he didn't want to have this conversation. "What do you want, Eli?" Jin-Ho growled. He knew that Eli had some ulterior motive. He was like that, a fucking weasel. He was always sniffing around Jin-Ho's family for scraps. Jin-Ho had no doubt that he'd already been talking to Jin-Ho's dad behind his back.

  "I'm just trying to be friendly," Eli said, holding his hands up defensively. "Is there a problem with that?"

  "Cut the shit," Jin-Ho said. "What do you want?"

  "Okay, okay," Eli said, holding his hands up defensively. He grinned, revealing his perfect teeth. "Look, we got a lot in common, you and me. We're both second-years. We're both here on our parents' money. We should be friends."

  Jin-Ho didn't buy it for a second. He didn't need to be friends with someone like Eli, someone who was only interested in him because of his family name and his bank account. "I don't want friends," Jin-Ho said.

  "Well, that's a shame," Eli replied. "I could really help you out. You know, show you the ropes. Make sure you're doing the right thing, making the right connections."

  Jin-Ho snorted, not bothering to hide his derision. "I'm not interested in being your little bitch, Eli."

  "Come on, man, don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly." The way Eli said 'friendly' made it clear that he was offering something more than just friendship.

  Jin-Ho's lip curled. "Fuck off," he snapped, pushing past Eli and walking away. He could feel Eli's gaze following him, could hear the whispered gossip as he walked past. He didn't give a shit. Let them talk. Let them think whatever they want. He didn't need anyone, especially not someone like Eli.

  He needed a distraction, something to take his mind off the bullshit of campus life and the constant pressure of his family's expectations. And he knew exactly where to find one. He walked across the quad, past the fountain, and towards the campus gym. He could see the weight room from the front door and he could already feel the stress of the first half of the day melting away.

  He changed in the locker room and headed straight for the punching bags. He wrapped his hands in white tape and started pounding away at the bag, imagining that it was Eli's smug face, or Professor Quinn's pompous ass.

  "What did that punching bag ever do to you?"

  Jin-Ho didn't stop, didn't bother to look at the male voice addressing him from behind.

  "I mean, seriously dude, it looks like you're trying to kill it," he said.

  He glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his attention to the bag. "Yeah? So what if I am?"

  "You might want to reconsider. It's school property," he teased.

  Jin-Ho chuckled dryly and paused in his assault on the punching bag to turn and look at the speaker. Riley Mendez leaned against the wall next to him, a lazy grin on his face. His brown eyes were hooded and his dark hair was pushed back under a backward baseball cap.

  Riley wasn't really athletic, just liked the feel of the gym. That was another thing Jin-Ho couldn't stand about people. They came to the gym, took selfies, and used fancy words like 'ambiance,' then went home and spent the rest of the night on Reddit. "Oh yeah, Riley, wouldn't want to disrespect anything on this fine educational establishment," Jin-Ho drawled sarcastically.

  Riley shrugged and took a step closer, eyeing Jin-Ho appraisingly. "Hey man, you're stressed," he said. "Maybe I can help with that? Heard about the commotion you caused in Quinn's lecture earlier."

  "I didn't cause a 'commotion,'" Jin-Ho said defensively. "That pretentious dickwad just can't stand criticism."

  "Yeah, well, anyway..." Riley let his sentence trail off, clearly not wanting to get into a debate about Professor Quinn. "What I meant was, maybe I can help take the edge off? Like, with you know what." He did a little wiggle with his eyebrows that might've made Jin-Ho laugh under different circumstances.

  "What're you talking about?" he snapped.

  Riley rolled his eyes. "Calm down. Don't rip my throat out," he laughed. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled joint. "For you."

  Jin-Ho snatched it from Riley and shoved it in his own pocket. "I'm throwing it out."

  "Don't waste good bud, dude," Riley chided. "You could use it. Loosen up."

  "I don't need it," Jin-Ho said, even as he felt his body twitch involuntarily. "I'm fine without it."

  Riley held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No judgment, bro. Do what you want." With a huff, Jin-Ho resumed his punching. Riley stood nearby, watching silently. Finally, he spoke again. "Seriously, though. You gotta keep calm, man. It's not worth it to lose your head over stuff."

  "Shut up, Riley."

  "It's true!"

  Jin-Ho shook his head and continued punching the bag. "You're a fucking clown," he said after a minute. "Do you even take anything seriously?"

  "I take fun seriously."

  Jin-Ho stopped punching the bag and turned to look at Riley incredulously. "Fun? That's what you care about?" he said, his voice thick with scorn. "What are you, a child?"

  Riley shrugged, unfazed by Jin-Ho's insults. "Come on, dude, don't be so serious. Life's too short to be uptight all the time." He pulled out another joint and waved it in front of Jin-Ho's face. "Let's ditch this joint." He did a jig in his sneakers. "Get it? Ditch this joint... joint?" He nodded at the drug in his hand.

  Jin-Ho sighed and shook his head, refusing to take the bait. He punched the bag harder, imagining it was Riley's face for the time being. He punched the bag until his knuckles were red and swollen and his arms burned with fatigue. When he finally stopped, sweat dripping down his face, Riley was still standing there, smoking and staring off into space. "Put that shit out. This is a gym," Jin-Ho grunted.

  Riley ignored him.

  After showering off in the communal locker room, Jin-Ho dressed and stepped outside the gym with Riley in tow, much to his distaste. The smell of skunk from the joint wafted behind him like a cloud. Jin-Ho waved his hand in front of his face, trying to disperse the smoke. "Gross," he coughed. "That reeks."

  "It's supposed to," Riley responded smugly. He sucked on the tip and held the smoke in his lungs while he passed it to Jin-Ho.

  "No," Jin-Ho mumbled, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket as he watched Riley. "I need to get to my next class."

  "How can you go straight to class after that workout?" Riley marveled aloud. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke billow out of his mouth. Jin-Ho didn't reply. He simply turned and began walking briskly towards his next class. Behind him, he heard Riley call out, "Hey! Wait up!"

  They eventually reached the lecture hall where Ji-Ho's next class was scheduled to take place: Criminal Psychology. The course was taught by Dr. Lian Zhang, a petite woman with sharp features who stood at the front of the room, writing on the board with quick, precise strokes. Jin-Ho slipped inside the classroom, hoping to avoid any attention.

  "What are you still doing here?" Jin-ho whispered to Riley as he sat down, lazily spreading his legs to occupy as much space as possible in his row. "This isn't even your class."

  "Oh." Riley looked from side to side absently, not meeting Jin-Ho's eyes. "I just sorta followed you... Guess I'm coming along for the ride." He draped his arms over the seats in front of and behind him, taking up residence as if he owned the place.

  "Get out," Jin-Ho said under his breath menacingly.

  "Alright, alright," Riley acquiesced, standing up slowly and making his way out of the lecture hall. The few students already present threw him odd looks. Before exiting, Riley gave Jin-Ho a quick two-finger salute, paired with a wink. "Good luck, man."

  Jin-Ho threw his hood over his head, covering his face. The faint, sweet scent of saccharine milk collided with his olfactory senses like a freight train. He lifted his head slowly, looking for the source. The culprit was seated right next to him: Anastasia. Jin-Ho wasted no time standing up to find another seat.

  "Is this yours?" he heard her voice ask softly as his feet carried him to a spot on the far opposite end of the lecture hall. "I saw it fall out of your pocket." Between her fingers, she rolled the joint Riley gave him. "Smoking weed on campus? That's just begging to get expelled," she tsked. "Or at the very least a suspension."

  "I don't smoke," Jin-Ho replied flatly. "It wasn't even mine."

  Anastasia hummed as if she didn't quite believe him. She twirled the joint in her hand like a little stick, watching him carefully. "I'm sure," she replied lightly. She dropped it on her desk, making sure it was within his line of sight. "Do you know the effects that marijuana can have on the human body and mind? If smoked over long periods of time, you could be looking at cognitive difficulties, chronic coughing and breathing issues... The list goes—"

  "—go talk someone else's ear off," Jin-Ho interrupted her, not caring if he was being rude. He snatched the joint off her table, shoving it into his pocket. He was getting sick and tired of her, and they had only known each other for all of one hour. Anastasia's face twitched with displeasure, and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

  As Jin-Ho turned to walk away, he could feel Anastasia's eyes on his back. "What a prick," she said quietly.

  The words were said so quietly that Jin-Ho almost didn't hear her, but he did. He whipped around to face her. "What the fuck did you just say?"

  She looked at him calmly. "I didn't say anything," she said innocently, but Jin-Ho wasn't fooled. "What's got you all worked up?" she asked innocently, cocking her head to the side. "Must be that reefer." She used her index finger and thumb to mimic smoking.

  "I don't fucking smoke!" he shouted, causing several other students to look at them.

  Dr. Lian Zhang looked over from the board, where she had been writing. Her gaze landed on Jin-Ho. "I suggest you lower your voice," she said, "or leave my class."

  Anastasia held her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Even that sounded delicate and controlled. Jin-Ho gritted his teeth, his fists clenched at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to reach over and tear that hand away from her pretty, pink lips and wrap it around her throat until he watched the light drain from those eyes. His mouth twitched with a sneer. "Whatever," he spat before storming off to take his seat in the corner of the lecture hall. "Like I give a shit."

  He plopped himself down with a huff and folded his arms across his chest. He was determined not to look at Anastasia for the remainder of the lecture, even though he could still smell the milky scent radiating off her in waves. It was like a fucking curse. No, more like a sick, twisted form of psychological torture.

  Jin-Ho's Note: "Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Neither does mine. That’s the only thing we have in common. Until I carve her open and see what else we share."

  Anastasia's Entry: "The boy in 3B breathes through his mouth when he sleeps. I bet he tastes like regret. I wonder how deep I'd have to stab before the gurgling stops."