No Strings Attached

CHAPTER 1: The App

Cheongah High's morning hallway was usually loud—sneakers squeaking, lockers slamming, students laughing too hard at nothing.

But today, the noise didn't fade.

It collapsed.

All because one girl stepped through the glass doors.

Baek Yerin.

Fourteen years old.
Transferred early.
Uniform tailored perfectly to her frame.
Long hair tied in a sleek ribbon.
A face too pretty for a school hallway and too unreadable for teenagers.

As soon as the doors closed behind her, voices started firing off like sparks:

"Holy— that's actually Baek Yerin—"
"Her skin is insane, she looks like she walked out of a drama—"
"No, but have you seen her grades? No one gets perfect perfect scores—she did."
"Her parents must be crazy strict—"
"Or she's just built different."
"She looks cold as hell though."
"Obviously. Nobody that pretty is normal."
"I heard she sleeps only two hours and studies the rest."
"No—I heard she doesn't sleep at all."
"Is that why she looks like a doll? Or a ghost?"
"A psycho doll."
"But a pretty psycho doll."

Someone dropped their water bottle.

It clattered and rolled across the floor—

—and Yerin stepped right over it without looking down.

Not rude.
Just... above it.

Like the world beneath her feet wasn't important enough to notice.

A group of girls near the lockers whispered louder:

"She's literally the definition of perfect..."
"Pretty, rich, smart—"
"My cousin said she plays piano at like a genius level—"
"And speaks English fluently—"
"And French—"
"Bro she's too much, I'd kill to be her."
"I'd kill to LOOK at her for five more seconds."

Another group whispered harsher:

"She's fake."
"No one is that perfect."
"She's hiding something."
"Rumor says she snapped on a teacher last year—"
"No proof though."
"Yeah but look at her—tell me she hasn't murdered someone."

Yerin walked past them.

She heard every word.

She reacted to none.

Her steps were quiet, controlled, almost too graceful for a fourteen-year-old.
Everything about her was neat, calculated—like she had practiced being human and perfected the performance.

A boy from Class 2-A whispered:

"She's seriously unreal... my heart actually stopped..."
"No, same, she doesn't even look like a student—she looks like an actress."
"She's prettier than half the idols in the industry."
"She walked past me and I literally forgot my own name."

Someone else murmured:

"Do you think she has a boyfriend?"
"No way. Someone like her probably doesn't even like people."
"Or she's in a secret relationship with some chaebol heir."
"I'd believe anything at this point."

The teachers noticed her too—quick glances, straightened posture, whispers among themselves.

"That's the Baek daughter..."
"The perfect one."
"Her entrance exam was the highest in Cheongah history."
"She might be the smartest student we've ever had."
"And the prettiest."
"And the most disciplined."
"She's intimidating."

Yerin kept walking.

All of Cheongah High kept watching.

Every hallway she passed through shifted its entire atmosphere—like someone important, dangerous, and untouchable had just entered the building.