"What's going on?" Yeri asked, a bit wary as they gently nudged her forward.
"Someone's here for you!" the petite girl giggled, practically bouncing in place.
Yeri raised an eyebrow. Someone? A flicker of dread crawled up her spine.
It couldn't be… Shin Keir, right?
No way. He wouldn't show up in front of the girls' dorm, right? That would be too insane, even for him.
Just to be safe, Yeri quickly pulled out her phone, still attached to her power bank, and checked her messages. No new texts from Shin.
Before she could backtrack or ask more questions, the girls buzzing with gossip-thirsty energy, gently but firmly pushed her forward.
And then she saw it.
Standing outside the dorm gates was an unfamiliar guy holding a bouquet of fresh flowers, flanked by two equally well-dressed guys, maybe his friends.
Yeri "..."
The guy blinked at her, slightly stunned. She wasn't what he expected. The girl in front of him looked pale, and one cheek was oddly red yet even in casual clothes, without makeup, she was breathtaking.
A small, delicate face with clear, luminous eyes framed by dark lashes...an impossible blend of innocence and quiet allure.
For a second, he genuinely forgot his lines.
"Yeri Zhi?" he asked, smiling with unmistakable admiration, and something a bit less pure.
Yeri gave a tired blink. 'Why does this keep happening to me today?'
All she wanted was to collect whatever top-secret item Shin Keir brought and go straight back to bed with a cup of hot tea. But instead, here she was… being ambushed by some self-important guy late at night.
"For you…" the guy said, stepping forward and presenting the bouquet. "Fresh from a flower farm, picked today. It's a three-hour drive, so I apologize for being late. I hope you don't mind."
His voice was gentle, almost romantic but Yeri didn't miss the self-satisfied tilt of his chin or the glint of pride in his eyes.
'Oh, how noble. He fetched the finest bouquet like a knight on a horse. Should I faint from gratitude?' she thought flatly.
She didn't take the flowers. Instead, she stared at him like he was an obstacle on her path to peace.
"…You are?" she asked, voice calm but laced with impatience.
The guy seemed unfazed. He smirked, clearly thinking it was charming and gave her a wink that nearly made her gag.
"Right, my bad. It was rude of me not to introduce myself sooner." He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair and gave her a dazzling grin. "I'm Marco. Marco Fabian."
He said it like the name should ring bells. Like it should be carved on marble or at least whispered in admiration.
Yeri blinked again. Marco Fabian?
'Ah,' she thought. Could this be the infamous Marco, the boyfriend Tiffany was talking about? The one Tiffany is willing to throw away her future for and even commit a crime over.
The cowardly scumbag who broke up with his girlfriend and used her, the clueless bystander, as an excuse.
She fought the urge to slap him or better yet, beat him senseless.
"Marco Fabian… from the college business administration?" Yeri asked, brow slightly raised just in case she was confusing him with someone else.
But the moment she said his name, the guy practically lit up.
He smiled smugly, as if her knowing him was not just expected but well-deserved. His chest visibly puffed up with pride, and with the grace of a natural narcissist, he ran his fingers through his hair again.
"Yes, that Marco Fabian," he said smoothly. "I'm flattered the high school's beauty queen actually knows me."
Yeri "..."
"By the way, I wrote you a letter not long ago," Marco added eagerly. "Did you read it?"
Yeri tilted her head, trying to recall. A letter…?
For a moment, she recalled the thick envelope of confession letters Levi had dumped in front of her that afternoon. Was this guy's letter in there? Probably. Was she supposed to care about it?
But before she could say anything, Marco mistook her thoughtful expression as a bashful response. His smile deepened into a knowing smirk, the kind that screamed "Ah, she's into me but too shy to admit it."
His friends, standing behind him like loyal advisors, nudged him forward and whispered encouragement.
Then, without warning—Marco bent down on one knee.
Gasps and delighted squeals erupted around them.
Somewhere to the side, someone let out a drawn-out "Oh my god, is he proposing?!" and several phones were pulled out, camera flashes starting to blink.
"Yeri," Marco began with all the confidence of a man who thought he was in the middle of filming, "will you be my girlfriend?"
"To be honest," he said passionately, "I've been watching you from afar for quite some time now. Back then, you were still too young, and I didn't want anyone to misunderstand my intentions. But it hurts me to see you sick, knowing no one is there to care for you... I know you have many admirers, but none of them truly understand the pain you're going through, right? But I'm not like them. I believe in personality over appearances. You deserve everything good in this world. And if you'll allow me… let me be the one to take care of you, okay?"
There was a pause.
Then the onlookers erupted into cheers, claps, and enthusiastic whistles.
"Say yes!"
"Just say yes already!"
"Oh my God, he's so sweet!"
"That's the hottest confession I've ever heard!"
Yeri stared at the kneeling Marco, flowers in hand, basking in his own melodramatic glory.
What pain was he even talking about? And watching from afar? Was he a stalker?
Besides, she wasn't an orphan or someone in desperate need of a caretaker. Why would she need him to take care of her?
She glanced around.
The crowd looked completely swept away by the romantic confession unfolding before them. The students were moved. Moved enough that if she didn't respond with tears and gratitude, she'd probably be painted as the villain.
'Am I the only one hearing how cringe this is?'
To be fair, he was decent-looking, definitely the kind of guy some girls would admire secretly. And if judged by shallow standards, his words were smooth, even swoon-worthy.
Polished, practiced, and performed in front of an audience like a school drama, he'd be the male lead, the crowd would cheer, and the heroine would blush and nod shyly.
But for Yeri, who had seen the likes of Shin Keir and Tristan Felan, and was constantly surrounded by genetically blessed men like her brother Jj Zhi, her cousins, and even Levi, her standards had been ruined beyond repair.
She also couldn't help comparing Marco's lengthy monologue to Shin Keir's simple but straightforward "I like you." No one else could understand or see the difference, but to her, this felt less like a confession to her and more like Marco Fabian self-indulging himself.
Unfortunately, there was no mirror nearby, but judging by Marco's expression, he looked like a student who just got praised for turning in his homework early.
The crowd that had gathered around them started to quiet down, holding their breath, eagerly waiting for Yeri's answer. Some already had their phones out, hoping to capture the "sweet moment" for social media clout.
But instead of blushing or stammering in surprise, Yeri simply stared at Marco with the blank expression of someone being asked if she liked pineapple on pizza, mildly horrified, mostly confused.
Her voice cut through the air like a cold knife.
"You got the wrong person."
A collective huh? seemed to ripple through the crowd.
"…Huh?"
Confused murmurs rippled through the students.
Even Marco's confident smile faltered. His knee was starting to cramp, but he held his position stubbornly. "What are you talking about? How could I mistake the girl I like? Yeri, I'm confessing to you. You're the one I like."
Yeri tilted her head slightly. He wasn't the only one who could act.
With a troubled expression, eyes shimmering and lip gently trembling, she whispered, "Senior Marco… if I remember correctly, your girlfriend is Tiffany Rhian… right? Why are you confessing to the wrong girl? Are you two pranking me? Did Tiffany ask you to do this?"
She made sure to say Tiffany clearly and sweetly, like she was announcing a raffle winner.
The effect was immediate.
It was like someone had tossed a silent grenade into the crowd. Students stared, stunned. Some looked confused, others wide-eyed, and a few were visibly trying to remember if they'd liked or commented on Tiffany's last post.
Marco's eye twitched. His confident front cracked for a second, and panic flickered in his eyes.
But like a seasoned actor, he quickly recovered. He stood up and attempted a calm smile, though his voice was slightly higher than before.
"You misunderstood. It's true that Tiffany and I dated… but that was a long time ago. We already broke up. I mean, am I not allowed to like someone new just because I was in a past relationship?"
Here we go. Yeri resisted the urge to roll her eyes so hard they'd land in next week.
A long time ago?
Tiffany had literally cornered her in the restroom earlier, shrieking like a banshee, hurling accusations and threats like a jealous villainess. From the rage in her voice and the madness in her eyes, Yeri would bet that if they did break up, it was either yesterday or hours ago.
"And how long ago exactly?" Yeri asked sweetly, though her eyes were razor-sharp. "Because Tiffany's social media says otherwise."
She had no idea what Tiffany actually posted, she didn't follow her, nor did she care to. But judging from Tiffany's earlier unhinged meltdown and the way she usually carried herself like she was a winner both in love and life, there was no way she wouldn't have documented her relationship all over the internet.
Marco's smile finally crumbled. Panic took full control of his expression as he struggled to maintain his dignity.
"W-Well… you know how girls are... sometimes they don't move on even when the guy already has. You can't blame me for that, right?"