Rika tried to focus on the lecture, but her eyes kept drifting toward Naoto.
He was two rows away, head bowed over his notes, his expression calm as ever. Too calm. It irritated her—and not because he was ignoring her. It was something else. Something she couldn't name.
The comments from yesterday still echoed in her head. "Peasant." "Servant."
She clenched her pen. Not because of what they'd said—she was used to cruelty disguised as gossip. But because he hadn't reacted at all. He never did. As if he was above it, or too far removed to care.
And that infuriated her.
During lunch, she sat with her group, laughing when she was supposed to, nodding when expected. But her mind wandered.
Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he look angry? Why doesn't he ever look angry?
One of her friends nudged her. "Hey, Rika. You good?"
She blinked. "Yeah. Just tired."
That night, during study time, the room was quiet again.
Naoto was already writing something in her notebook—vocabulary corrections, probably. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in quiet focus.
"Why don't you ever get mad?" Rika asked suddenly.
He didn't look up. "What?"
"At school. Yesterday. Today. People talk. People lie. You just take it. Why?"
He paused, pen in hand. "Because anger doesn't make them stop."
"But doesn't it bother you?"
He finally looked at her.
"It does," he said softly. "But I don't want to waste myself on people who don't matter."
That struck something in her chest—sharp and uncomfortable.
She looked away. "You're weird."
Naoto smiled faintly. "I get that a lot."
She hated that smile.
No—she hated that it made her heart feel... uneven.