THE OTHER SIDE OF YOU

CHAPTER 7: THE OFFICE HOURS

Wednesday arrived with the kind of heavy, humid heat that made the air feel like it was made of wool.

Nari sat at her desk, her gaze fixed on the digital clock in the corner of her monitor. 2:59 PM. Office hours officially began at three. Usually, she spent this time grading papers in peace, but today, every tick of the clock felt like a hammer hitting a nail.

She had rearranged her desk twice. She had moved her stack of research papers to the left, then back to the right. She had checked her reflection in the darkened screen of her laptop, smoothing away stray hair that didn't exist.

"You are acting like a schoolgirl," she whispered, her voice tight.

A sharp, confident knock echoed through the door.

Nari’s spine went rigid. She cleared her throat, adjusted her glasses, and forced her hands to rest flat on the mahogany surface of her desk. "Come in."

The door opened.

Kang Dae stepped inside, and the small office immediately felt overcrowded. It wasn't just his height, though he seemed to tower over her bookshelves. It was the sheer, unadulterated weight of his presence. He carried the atmosphere of a boardroom into a faculty closet.

"Professor," he said. He didn't wait for her to invite him to sit. He pulled out the chair across from her and settled into it with the grace of a man who owned the building.

"Mr. Kang," Nari replied. She took a slow, steadying breath, trying to ignore the scent of sandalwood that followed him. "You said you needed guidance on the missed introductory materials."

"I did," Dae said. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. He wasn't carrying a notebook. He wasn't carrying a pen. He was just looking at her. "But I find myself more interested in the person teaching the material than the material itself."

Nari’s eyes snapped to his. "This is a place of learning, Mr. Kang. If you are here to flirt, I suggest you find a different department."

Dae’s expression didn't change. His eyes remained dark and unreadable behind his glasses. "Flirting implies a lack of seriousness, Professor. I assure you, everything I do is serious."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular box wrapped in matte black paper. He slid it across the desk toward her.

Nari stared at it as if it were a live explosive. "What is this?"

"A thank you," Dae said. "For the pen. I realized later that it was quite an expensive piece of stationary. I felt it was only right to return the favor."

"I told you, I don't accept gifts from students."

"Open it," he commanded. It wasn't a request. It was the tone of a man used to being obeyed, a tone that sent a strange, forbidden thrill through Nari’s chest.

She hesitated, then reached out. Her fingers brushed the paper, the texture cool and expensive. She unwrapped it slowly, revealing a small, vintage compass made of brass and mother-of-pearl. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, the needle spinning lazily before settling on North.

"It’s an 18th-century mariner’s compass," Dae said softly. "I thought a Geography lecturer might appreciate a tool that helps people find their way when they feel... lost."

Nari looked up at him, her pulse thundering. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I..." She stopped herself. She couldn't tell him that Ren had sent her a message just last night, asking if she ever felt like she was drifting without a map. "It’s too much. I can't take this."

"Keep it," Dae said. He stood up, the movement sudden and imposing. He leaned over the desk, his face inches from hers. Nari could see the gold flecks in his dark irises. She could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Think of it as a reminder, Professor. Even when the stars are hidden, there is always a way back to where you belong."

He turned and walked toward the door, stopping only when his hand was on the handle.

"See you in class, Nari."

He was gone before she could correct him on the use of her first name.

Nari sat in the silence of her office, her hand trembling as she touched the cold brass of the compass. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of coincidences.

She grabbed her phone, her fingers fumbling as she opened the Butterfly app.

[Nari]: Ren, something is happening. I feel like the walls are closing in.

[Ren]: Take a breath, Butterfly. I’m right here. Tell me everything.

Nari began to type, but she stopped. She looked at the compass. She looked at the door. For the first time, the digital world felt like it was leaking into the real one, and she was no longer sure which side was the safest.