Aya’s breath hitched. His eyes, dark and intelligent, held hers across the silent expanse of the library. That intense gaze. It was the same one from the lecture hall, but now, it carried a different weight. Recognition. A spark, sharp and undeniable, passed between them, cutting through the comfortable hum of turning pages and hushed whispers.
Flustered, she dropped her head, pretending immense interest in the worn textbook before her. Her cheeks warmed. Had he heard her earlier, gossiping about him? The thought sent a fresh wave of mortification through her. His presence felt amplified, even though he was several tables away.
Seconds stretched into an eternity. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the quiet. Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her gaze again. He was gone. The chair was empty. A faint impression of where he had sat remained on the cushion.
She exhaled, a shaky puff of air she hadn't realized she was holding. He had vanished like a ghost, leaving behind a lingering sense of being seen, truly seen, for the first time. The encounter rattled her. Yoongi wasn't just the quiet, competent technician. He was something more, something complex.
All her prior assumptions shattered. She had dismissed him as just another student filling a part-time role, perhaps struggling to make ends meet, or simply lacking ambition. A wave of shame washed over her. How arrogant she had been, judging a man she knew nothing about.
His choice to work in technical support, despite his evident education, spoke volumes. It wasn't a fallback. It was a deliberate path. What kind of person, with such capabilities, chose this? The question gnawed at her, reshaping her perception of him with every passing hour.
She packed her bag, the weight of her books feeling heavier than usual. The library, once a sanctuary, now felt charged with an unspoken tension. She needed to clear her head. Outside, the cool autumn air offered little solace.
For days, Yoongi’s image lingered. His piercing gaze, the quiet efficiency of his movements, the depth she now knew lay beneath his calm exterior. She found herself subconsciously scanning the campus, half-expecting, half-dreading another encounter.
Her advanced algorithm project deadline loomed. The computational requirements were immense, demanding specialized hardware. Her professor had mentioned that the IT department had a limited number of high-performance servers available for student use, but they were rarely utilized due to their complexity.
Reluctantly, she made her way to the IT department office. A faint scent of ozone and stale coffee hung in the air. The small, windowless room felt sterile, functional. A young woman with bright pink hair was behind the counter, scrolling on her phone.
"Excuse me," Aya began, her voice a little hesitant. "I need to inquire about the HPC servers for a project."
Pink Hair barely looked up. "Ticket system online. Submit a request. Yoongi will get to it." She gestured vaguely towards a computer screen.