The hallway outside the Performance Building still smelled faintly of industrial cleaner and stale air-conditioning when Kaija stepped through the glass doors the next morning.
Her body felt heavy.
Not physically—though the lack of sleep certainly wasn't helping—but mentally. Like her brain had been wrung dry overnight and shoved back into her skull half-functional.
'Stupid Juho.'
The memory alone made heat crawl up her neck again.
His mouth against hers.
That soft voice.
That laugh afterward.
Kaija clenched her jaw and took another aggressive sip from the oversized cup of boba tea in her hand, pearls knocking loudly against the plastic.
'Forget it. Forget him. He's trash. Attractive trash, but still trash.'
By the time she reached the dance studio, her mood had only worsened.
The door creaked open.
Inside, Antony was already there.
The man sat cross-legged on the polished wooden floor near the mirror wall, one elbow resting loosely against his knee. His chestnut hair looked messier than yesterday, strands falling over his forehead as though he had barely bothered to tame it after waking up. His eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion.
He looked like someone who had lost a fight against sleep and was still bitter about it.
Those golden eyes shifted toward the sound of the opening door.
Immediately, displeasure sharpened across his face.
Then his gaze dropped toward the giant cup in Kaija's hand.
His expression darkened into outright contempt.
"Stop right there," Antony ordered coldly. "Get out. Now. No drinks allowed inside."
Kaija blinked at him slowly, straw still between her lips.
The two stared at each other for a brief moment in mutual irritation.
Then, without argument, Kaija turned around and walked straight back out.
Antony's eyes widened slightly.
"Wait!" he barked suddenly, voice rising louder than intended. "Come back here right after you finish that drink! Don't you dare just leave like yesterday!"
Kaija paused mid-step and glanced over her shoulder with the deadest expression imaginable.
"Oh, you're not kicking me out anymore?" she mumbled flatly. "Hm, kay. I'd rather you kick me out like yesterday, honestly."
Then she disappeared behind the door.
Silence flooded the studio.
Antony stared blankly at the closed door for several seconds before dragging a hand down his face.
'What the hell is wrong with this girl?'
Most trainees clung to him like desperate parasites.
This one treated being expelled from class like she'd won the lottery.
Fifteen minutes later, Antony's patience finally snapped.
He pushed himself up from the floor and strode toward the hallway with growing irritation.
The moment he stepped outside, he found Kaija leaning casually against the wall exactly where he had left her.
Still drinking.
Very slowly.
The cup remained half-full.
Antony's eye twitched.
"What on earth is taking you so long?" he grumbled.
Kaija lifted the drink lazily toward him as if presenting evidence in court.
"My tea," she replied curtly. "Full topping, full sugar, full ice. Want a sip?"
"No, thank you," Antony muttered immediately, horrified. "Cold drinks at this hour? Are you even in your right mind?"
His eyes narrowed further.
"Don't tell me that's your breakfast."
"It is," Kaija said with a shrug. "It helps me stay perfectly sane in this mad place, which is obviously filled with weird, overly chatty, cocky, rude, touchy, or just straight-up grumpy people like you."
Antony's frown deepened.
"Is that how you speak to your instructor?"
"Depends," Kaija replied calmly around another sip. "Is that how instructors usually throw trainees out of class?"
A dangerous look crossed Antony's face.
"Finish that within five minutes," he said coldly, "or I'm marking you failed for Beginner Dancing and saying goodbye to whatever career you ever dreamed of in this mad place."
Then he slammed the studio door shut before she could answer.
Kaija stared at the door.
"Tch."
She took another deliberately slow sip.
"As if I ever dreamed of being here in the first place."
The mutter faded into silence.
Unfortunately, the moment silence came, so did thoughts.
And with thoughts came Juho.
His lips.
His hands.
That stupid gentle voice whispering in her ear.
Kaija's cheeks burned instantly.
"Stupid Juho," she muttered, squeezing the cup hard enough to crinkle the plastic. "Get out of my head. Fucking get out."
The worst part was that her body had reacted.
That was what irritated her most.
Not the kiss itself.
Not even the humiliation afterward.
It was the fact she'd genuinely believed that kiss meant something.
'God, I'm an idiot.'
With sudden disgust, Kaija tossed the unfinished drink straight into the nearby trash can and marched back into the studio.
Antony looked up the moment she entered.
"So, mister… Antony?" Kaija asked, shutting the door behind her. "What made you change your mind about this class? I thought you said you didn't want to teach a one-person class, and definitely not with me in it."
"I did say that," Antony replied flatly.
He leaned back against the mirror wall, arms folding across his chest.
"But apparently, you've got yourself quite an efficient manager, that green-haired guy."
His tone turned drier with every word.
"That guy reported the case to the Performance Department, and now I, the Lead Instructor of this place, have to take responsibility for checking in the class hours while letting a trainee sneak away to enjoy tea in a café somewhere near this building."
"Huh," Kaija muttered. "So that's your problem."
Clearly displeased, she shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket.
"So what am I supposed to do now, then?"
"That part is simple."
Antony jabbed a finger sharply toward the opposite corner of the room.
"You come here on time, tap your card, sit properly inside this room for the whole time slot, until I manage to pass you off to some other instructor."
Kaija blinked.
"So you're basically telling me to come here and… do absolutely nothing at all?"
"Exactly."
He pointed again.
"Go over there, sit your ass down, do whatever you like."
His face remained utterly serious.
"Play games, chat with your friends, read books, nap, whatever. I don't care."
Then his gaze sharpened.
"Just stay over there, don't come anywhere within a two-meter radius of me, and keep your mouth shut to your talkative manager."
Without hesitation, Kaija walked to the designated corner, plopped onto the floor, and immediately pulled out her phone.
Antony stared.
She really obeyed him.
Just like that.
No argument.
No bargaining.
No fake smiling.
No flirting.
Nothing.
The complete lack of resistance somehow unsettled him more than the resistance itself.
"Are you also this obedient to your parents at home?" Antony muttered at last, lowering himself back into his own corner.
"Just one parent," Kaija replied absentmindedly, already opening her racing game. "Me and dancing don't get along well, so as long as you're not going to make me dance, I'll listen to whatever you say, mister."
"Instructor," Antony corrected automatically. "Call me Instructor, not Mister. It sounds weird."
"Tsk."
Kaija fought down a yawn.
"Cool, cool. Instructor, then."
Her thumbs tapped lazily across the screen.
"As if you're going to instruct anything to me at all yourself, Instructor."
The next two hours passed in a silence so awkward it practically gained physical form.
Or at least, awkward for Antony.
Kaija seemed perfectly content.
At some point, she stretched out flat on the floor, holding her phone above her face with both hands while continuing her game.
Completely relaxed.
Completely defenseless.
Completely uninterested in him.
Antony's gaze drifted toward her again and again despite himself.
Something about her bothered him.
No—confused him.
Ever since he'd joined the Performance Department, female trainees had constantly thrown themselves at him. Some subtly. Some embarrassingly obviously.
They invented excuses to touch him.
Brushed against him.
Pretended to stumble.
Pretended to cry.
Pretended to need help stretching.
It disgusted him.
Every single time.
And he hated himself for instinctively comparing them all to Charles.
To that cursed face they shared.
To the attention that face attracted.
Yet this girl—
Nothing.
Barely a glance.
Barely any reaction.
If anything, she seemed vaguely annoyed by his existence.
'That's suspicious.'
The thought only made him more certain she had to be planning something worse.
Some elaborate trick.
Some slow game.
Because there was simply no way a woman could look at him with such complete indifference.
The clock finally struck ten.
Kaija immediately sat up.
No hesitation.
No goodbye smile.
No attempt at conversation.
She simply shoved her phone into her pocket and headed for the door.
"Bye, Instructor."
"Wait!"
The word left Antony's mouth before he could stop himself.
Kaija turned.
"Yeah?"
Antony straightened slightly.
"You said you're bad at dancing?"
"Let's say totally helpless," Kaija answered without hesitation.
Her tone carried absolute conviction.
Antony's brow twitched faintly.
'Totally helpless?'
How bad could someone possibly be?
"Okay, noted," he replied flatly. "You can go now."
Kaija nodded once and turned again.
Then suddenly paused.
"You've got something on your face."
Before Antony could even process the sentence, Kaija had already crossed the room in quick strides.
His body stiffened instantly.
"There," she said casually.
Her fingers brushed lightly against his skin.
A tiny black speck flicked away.
Gone.
Antony froze completely.
The warmth of her fingertips lingered against his cheek like a brand.
Golden eyes widened.
For one impossible second, his mind went entirely blank.
No anger came.
No disgust.
No instinctive fury.
Nothing.
Just shock.
Pure shock.
"Bye, now," Kaija said curtly.
Then she turned and walked out the door.
The studio fell silent again.
One minute passed.
Then another.
Antony still sat there motionless, staring toward the door she had exited through.
Finally, his lips twitched faintly.
"Ha… fuck, I knew it," he muttered under his breath. "I knew she was up to something…"
Yet even as he said it, disbelief lingered heavily across his face.
Because the thing disturbing him most wasn't the touch itself.
It was his own reaction to it.
Usually, the moment someone crossed his boundaries, rage came instantly.
Sharp. Violent. Suffocating.
But facing those strange blue eyes—
Empty and calm and detached in a way that felt painfully familiar—
all that fury had simply… disappeared.
Slowly, unwillingly, Antony's mouth curved upward.
The hollowness in her gaze mirrored the emptiness he had known his entire life far too perfectly.