The auditorium buzzed with restless energy—low murmurs, shifting chairs, and the occasional burst of laughter rippling through the sea of new students. The air-conditioning was a little too strong, sending shivers down arms, but no one seemed to mind much.

The orientation had already ended. Students had spent the morning touring the campus, sitting through ice-breaking activities, and pairing up for group exercises. By now, some had already formed their own cliques, chatting in hushed tones, leaning toward one another as if they had known each other for years.

In the middle of it all, Yoo Nari sat alone.

Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, shoulders slightly curled inward. She kept her head low, letting her long bangs fall over her face, a shield against the unfamiliar crowd. The white fabric mask covering her nose and mouth made it easier to stay unnoticed. Not that anyone was paying much attention to her.

At the front of the hall, a large projector screen flickered to life, displaying the university emblem. The murmurs quieted as a host stepped onto the stage, launching into the standard welcome speech.

Nari tried to focus, but her mind wandered.

Were people staring at her? Whispering about her?

She could feel the weight of the crowd around her—the press of bodies, the casual glances exchanged between seatmates, the laughter from those who had already clicked with their groups.

Had anyone noticed that she was still wearing a mask?

Almost no one wore them anymore now that the pandemic had passed. She had gotten used to hiding behind it, but now, in a hall full of strangers, she felt like an oddity. A relic from a time everyone wanted to forget.

Maybe they thought she was sick. Or worse—one of those people. The kind who were too shy to speak, the kind teachers always had to coax into participating, the kind classmates pitied or ignored altogether. 

Her fingers tightened around the hem of her sleeve.

She hated this. Hated being surrounded by so many people yet feeling completely alone. Embarrassed.

"Next, we have Kim Namjoon, president of the student council, here to say a few words."

Conversations stilled, backs straightened, and all eyes turned to the stage.

A tall figure walked up to the podium, his movements calm and assured. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. The way he carried himself—poised yet approachable—was effortlessly captivating. As he adjusted the mic, the faintest smile played on his lips, as if amused by the attention but not overwhelmed by it.

"Good morning, freshmen," Namjoon greeted, his deep voice carrying easily across the auditorium. "Welcome to the start of your university journey. I know it's overwhelming—new environment, new faces, maybe even the first time being away from home. But I hope, in the coming days, you'll find this place to be more than just a school. You'll find people who inspire you, challenge you, and maybe even change your whole life."

His words, so simple yet sincere, held a quiet authority that made people want to listen. There was no forced enthusiasm, no over-the-top performance—just a natural, steady presence that drew everyone in.

Nari sat frozen, barely breathing.

She had never paid much attention to people like him before—the ones who commanded attention without trying, the ones whose presence made the world feel a little smaller, a little warmer. But there was something about Kim Namjoon.

The way he spoke, the way his eyes scanned the crowd as if he truly meant what he said—he was more than just handsome. He was the kind of person who seemed untouchable, the kind who existed on a completely different level.

And just like that, she felt it.

That small, foolish, irrational pull.

The moment where admiration teeters on the edge of something deeper, something more dangerous.

She had fallen for him at first sight.

--- 

The speech ended with a round of applause, and Namjoon stepped away from the podium, flashing an easy smile at his fellow council members as they took over. Conversations resumed, the hum of voices returning as students shifted in their seats, glancing at their friends and exchanging quick remarks.

After the gathering, the students were ushered into their respective classrooms, where their professors gave a brief rundown of the syllabus and expectations for the semester. It was the first time they would meet their classmates properly, and before dismissing them for the day, the professor instructed everyone to introduce themselves.

Nari's stomach twisted.

One by one, students stood up, sharing their names, hobbies, and interesting facts about themselves. Some were confident, speaking with ease. Others were a little nervous but managed to push through.

A few moments later, someone stood up at the back of the room, shifting the focus of the class. His movements were effortless, his posture relaxed and confident as he rose from his seat.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook," he said, his voice clear, carrying easily across the room. "I'm from Busan. Came to Seoul for university after my family encouraged me to experience something new."

A few students nodded, smiling in response.

"They say I'm a city boy now, but honestly, nothing beats the beaches back home." Jungkook's grin was easy, his confidence infectious.

He flashed a friendly smile, making eye contact with a few classmates, and continued, "I'm into sports, photography, and I'm always up for good food. So if anyone knows where the best late-night spots are, please let me know."

Jungkook's words, though simple, made an instant impact. He didn't have to say much—his charm was in the way he spoke, the way he made everyone feel at ease. His classmates were already interested, and by the time he finished, a handful of people had already approached him, eager to chat.

But Nari wasn't thinking about any of that.

Because it was her turn.

She hesitated before rising to her feet. Her palms felt clammy.

"I-I'm... Yoo Nari," she murmured, her words rushed and clipped. "Nice to meet you..."

As she spoke, her glasses slid down her nose. She pushed them back up quickly, only for them to slip again moments later. Her movements were clumsy, her head lowered, her entire posture radiating discomfort.

She sat back down just as fast, heart hammering against her ribs.

A few classmates stole quick glances at her.

But they didn't linger on it for long. They had met people like her before—the painfully shy ones, the ones who never spoke unless called upon. It was nothing new. She was just another quiet face in the crowd.

Most of them hadn't even heard what she said. Her voice had been too soft, barely carrying past her seat. And even if they had heard her, they wouldn't have paid much attention. She looked plain, unremarkable, the kind who faded into the background the moment the next person spoke.

In a room full of chatter and overlapping voices, Nari had been nothing more than a whisper.

But that was precisely why Jungkook noticed her.

He had caught the momentary hush around her—the absence of interest, the way people instinctively tuned her out. He had seen how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeves, how her glasses kept slipping down her nose, how she seemed to shrink further into herself as soon as the attention moved elsewhere.

Quiet. Forgettable.

That's how most people would see her.

But he wasn't most people.

--- 

That evening, when the crowd had dispersed and campus had settled into a more peaceful lull, Jungkook found himself wandering the grounds, taking in the unfamiliar space.

The campus was vast, the buildings modern yet welcoming. The soft glow of street lamps cast long shadows on the pathways, and in the quiet, the world felt a little smaller.

Then, near the courtyard, he saw her again.

Nari was squatting on the pavement, still clad in her mask, with a small ginger kitten sound asleep on her lap.

Her legs were bent awkwardly beneath her, trembling ever so slightly from the strain of holding the position for so long. Despite the discomfort etched on her features, there was a quiet tenderness in her expression. Her hands gently stroked the kitten's back, a slow, rhythmic motion that seemed to calm her as much as the cat.

Her entire presence seemed different now, as though the awkwardness she wore like a second skin had dissolved. She was still the same quiet girl he'd seen earlier, but now, in the presence of the stray kitten, she was softer, more at ease.

Jungkook's gaze lingered on her, curiosity building within him. He had seen her earlier, quiet and withdrawn, practically invisible among the sea of louder, more confident students. The mask she wore had hidden part of her, but here, in this small, peaceful corner of the campus, she was different.

She was no longer trying to blend in, to hide from the world. She was present, her attention focused entirely on the kitten as if nothing else mattered.

For a moment, Jungkook wondered if anyone had ever seen this side of her. The one that wasn't hiding behind a wall of shyness or uncertainty. The one who was kind and patient, who would sit for ages just to keep a little creature company.

He couldn't help but find it... interesting.

There was a depth to her, something beyond the surface that he hadn't expected.

Jungkook turned his gaze away after a few moments, deciding it was better not to intrude. But a thought lingered in his mind. It would be interesting to see more of the person behind the mask, both literally and figuratively.