Chapter 5: The Coldest Fire

The whispers began before class even started.

“He picked Min Ji’s piece.”

“No way—he never compliments her.”

“I heard he’s only choosing five for the preliminary exhibition.”

“Guess who didn’t make the cut?”

Nabi sat silently, hands locked on her sketchpad, charcoal dust smudging her fingertips. She heard every word. Every glance. Every student who shifted their gaze to her, then quickly looked away.

She hadn’t been chosen.

Professor Ryu Han had selected five students to pre-show their pieces in the university’s lead-up gallery—a prestigious stepping stone toward the Year-End Exhibition.

And Nabi’s name wasn’t on the list.

She didn’t ask why.

She already knew.

Class was cold that day.

Not in temperature, but in atmosphere. Ryu Han stood at the front like he always did—composed, pressed shirt sleeves rolled, a silver pen between his fingers as he circled each canvas, studying them with unreadable expression.

He gave Min Ji’s abstract work a nod of approval. “Controlled chaos. Better than last month.”

He paused at Jun’s realism piece. “Impressive texture. You’re finally restraining your brushwork.”

Then he reached her easel.

Her piece was called "Erosion."

A haunting mix of greys, deep violets, and empty white space that clawed at the frame. The painting was raw, jagged—her insides made visible.

Ryu Han studied it. Too long.

Then: “Overworked. And self-indulgent.”

A beat of silence. The entire class froze.

Nabi’s throat dried. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t flinch. “Emotion doesn’t equal skill. Right now, your work reads as performance. And not a compelling one.”

The words slammed into her. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, the sting behind her eyes. But he had already moved on.

Just like that.

Like she didn’t matter.

Later – The Hallway

She saw him again. Alone.

The corridor was empty, except for the two of them. Ryu Han stood by the display board, rearranging portfolio announcements, his back turned.

She approached slowly, fury brewing in her chest. “You could’ve given that critique in private.”

He didn’t turn. “Private moments don’t teach discipline.”

“You embarrassed me.”

This time, he did look at her. His eyes—cool, controlled—didn’t flinch.

“You missed your chance to work with me,” he said, voice quiet, brutal. “Now you get treated like everyone else.”

“And is that what this is?” she shot back. “Punishment?”

“No.” A pause. “Distance.”

She opened her mouth, but he had already returned to the board. His posture perfect. His expression—unchanged.

She wanted to scream. Throw something. Paint something wild and messy and unforgivable.

But she walked away instead.

Because he had drawn a line—

And dared her to cross it.

At the Dorm Room – That Night

“I hate him,” Nabi muttered, curled up under a knit blanket, a bottle of soju sweating between her palms.

“Oh no,” Seol Ah laughed, dragging on her cigarette. “That is not the voice of hate. That’s the voice of obsession.”

Nabi glared. “He tore me apart in front of the whole class.”

Seol Ah said, leaning forward. “Honestly, who cares if he didn’t pick you this round? You’ve still got the finals. Your work always gets noticed.”

“Not by him,” Nabi muttered.

The silence that followed was heavier than the night air.

Seol Ah spoke, her voice low. “You don’t need his approval to be great.”

Nabi looked at Seol Ah—and it broke her a little. Because she knew he meant it. And still… it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t about validation.

It was about him.

Ryu Han’s silence echoed louder than his critique.

And now, the thrill of being seen had turned into a punishment she hadn’t expected.

Still… part of her wanted to burn brighter.

Just to force him to look again.

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