The next day, I planned to look for him.
Then I abandoned the idea.
If he had asked me, will you be with me, then he should be the one to look for me, not the other way around. That was what I told myself. In truth, it was mostly my pride refusing to bend so easily.
Days passed.
Whenever our paths crossed in corridors or in the canteen, he avoided me. He would turn away, disappear into crowds, or slip past without so much as a glance. Slowly, I gave up the idea of approaching him on my own.
A year passed like that.
Then I was transferred to his class.
I still remember the first day as if it were yesterday.
Ajin sat in the corner, alone.
His eyes looked nothing like the cold, intelligent ones I had seen on the stage. They looked dead. His voice, if it could be called that, was nonexistent. He didn't speak. Not once. And his lips, there was no smile, not even the hint of one. They didn't move at all.
I watched him for hours. If he hadn't blinked occasionally, I would have mistaken him for a realistic statue.
Even while my eyes were fixed on him, he was hard to notice, as if he were fading into the background, blending into the walls, the desks, the noise of the room.
That was when I realized all the rumors were true. The mystery around him wasn't exaggeration.
Days passed like that, with me watching him do nothing, simply existing, slowly dissolving into the world.
Then something changed.
A boy named Bryce walked up to Ajin with a smile and greeted him.
For the first time, I saw Ajin's face shift, just barely. That was all. His lips stayed sealed. His eyes stayed empty.
Bryce didn't seem to mind. He placed a few books on Ajin's desk, said something cheerfully, and walked away.
Ajin picked up the books and returned to being invisible.
That moment showed me a crack in the wall around him.
I went straight to Bryce.
He looked thrilled when I spoke to him, like a kid handed a new toy. When I asked about Ajin, he proudly said he was Ajin's best friend. He claimed Ajin only talked to him and no one else in the class.
I asked him to introduce me.
He did.
The first time Ajin and I properly met, something shifted.
His dead eyes lit up instantly, as if seeing me had breathed life back into them. His lips curved into a natural smile, the kind I saw on other kids all the time. And he said the same words again.
"I'm Ajin."
But this time, everything was different.
His eyes were bright, almost excited, like they had finally found something they had been searching for years. There was no coldness, no sharp intelligence. His smile was warm, alive, nothing like the prideful one I had seen on the stage. And his voice wasn't commanding anymore. It was soothing.
He felt like a completely different person.
Yet, just being beside him, listening to him, made me feel fuller than I ever had.
I felt myself resonating with him.
My sharp smile softened into an innocent one. My cold eyes melted into something lively. My voice turned lighter, cuter, just like it was with my mom and Grandpa. I talked a lot. I smiled a lot. The entire time I was with him.
I knew immediately that he was the same person from the stage.
And yet, he was not.
I tried many times to bring out that side of him again, the commanding presence, the predator's smile.
I failed every time.
Meanwhile, Bryce was living in his own fantasy.
As I kept relying on him to meet Ajin, he started behaving like I liked him. He leaned on me, grabbed my arm, dragged me along with him and others. It irritated me endlessly, but I didn't know how Ajin would react if I pushed Bryce away, his supposed best friend.
Ajin didn't react at all.
It didn't take long for me to realize Bryce had lied. He wasn't Ajin's best friend. He wasn't even a friend. Ajin never talked to him. It was always Bryce dragging him around, just like I was.
So I drew a line.
I made sure Bryce understood that I wouldn't tolerate him touching me again or pretending I belonged to him.
I expected him to lash out, like most boys who couldn't handle rejection.
He didn't.
He simply walked away without a word.
Instead, he turned his anger toward Ajin.
At first, it was small things. He would steal Ajin's lunch and leave him hungry. Lock him out of classrooms. Trap him inside bathrooms. Bump into him in hallways and pretend it was an accident.
It infuriated me.
Still, I didn't intervene.
Because Ajin wasn't reacting.
And the Ajin I thought I knew would never tolerate that. He would put someone like Bryce in their place. He was always at the top.
So I waited.
I wanted to see what he would do.
I wanted to see if he would show me his true self again.
I didn't have to wait long.
It was Bryce's birthday, and he invited everyone to his house.
He was busy showing off his house, his pool, his rooms, dragging everyone around like trophies. The other kids followed him, impressed, loud, easily distracted.
I wasn't.
I stayed where I could see Ajin.
Every time my eyes found him, something subtle happened. His gaze sharpened, as if waking from a long sleep, and his lips curved into a small, instinctive smile. But the moment someone passed between us, or he looked away, that warmth vanished. He went back to being distant, hollow, almost empty.
I noticed it. Every single time.
Then Bryce walked up to him.
I don't know what he said. I only know what I saw.
Ajin's eyes changed.
They went cold, just like they were on that stage. It wasn't just his eyes either. His presence deepened, heavy enough that even the people standing nearby stiffened without understanding why. A shiver passed through the group, instinctive, animal.
Then Ajin moved.
His fist shot forward and connected with Bryce's face. One punch. Clean and brutal. Bryce's nose broke instantly, and he stumbled back, blood spraying across the floor.
My heart leapt. For a moment, I thought this was it. That I would finally see the real Ajin.
But that hope didn't last.
Ajin stopped.
He didn't follow through. He didn't press the attack.
Bryce recovered enough to swing back, wild and furious. Then the others joined in. Six of them.
What followed was strange.
Ajin fought them all, but he never struck twice. One punch, one kick, one precise blow per person. Each attack was powerful enough to send them stumbling or collapsing. But once they got back up, Ajin didn't hit them again.
As the attacks kept coming, his movements slowed. Blood appeared on his lip, then on his brow. Someone landed a hit to his ribs.
That was when I rushed in.
Bryce tried to block me.
So I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could. He crumpled instantly.
I shoved the others away from Ajin, shouting, and this time other classmates joined me. Together, we pulled him out of the mess.
When I held his face, wiping the blood away, I didn't see fear. I didn't see pain.
He looked exactly the same as always.
And then his eyes met mine.
That small smile returned, effortless, like seeing me alone was enough. The only other expression that crossed his face was confusion, faint but unmistakable, as if something about the fight hadn't made sense to him.
Later, I understood why.
Ajin had trained in hunting.
What he used on Bryce and the others wasn't a schoolyard fight. It was the instinct of a hunter, one clean, decisive strike meant to disable prey. But these weren't animals. His blows weren't lethal. They didn't trigger fear the way they should have.
So they kept coming.
And that confused him.
After everything had settled, after I cleaned his wounds and wrapped what I could, I dropped him home.
My mother was worried the entire time but she didn't ask anything. I focused on Ajin instead.
When we reached his house, I suggested I'll take him inside.
He refused. Firmly.
He went to the washroom outside, scrubbed his face until every trace of blood was gone. He pulled his sleeves down to hide the bruises on his arms and legs. He used his hair to cover the cuts on his face, even borrowed my makeup to conceal the worst of it.
Then he straightened his posture, ignoring the way it clearly hurt.
And he walked into his house as if nothing had happened. As if he was still the same boy who had arrived at the party hours earlier.
The ride back felt longer than the ride there.
My mother kept talking, kept asking.
I stared out the window, replaying Ajin's smile, and wondered how someone could be so broken and so intact at the same time.