Chapter 21 — Proximity Rules

The fluorescent lights of the Literature Department’s main lecture hall hummed with a low-frequency buzz that usually went unnoticed by the average student. For Han Jae-in, however, that hum was nothing compared to the psychic static currently radiating from the three seats surrounding him.

He sat in the third row, purposefully choosing a spot where the desk was bolted to the floor, hoping the physical rigidity of the furniture would somehow translate into emotional boundaries. It was a futile hope. At twenty years old, Jae-in had learned that his life was no longer governed by the laws of social etiquette or personal space, but by the gravitational pull of three specific girls who seemed to view him as the center of their respective universes.

To his left was Seo Yuri. She sat with her back perfectly straight, her tablet open to a meticulously organized set of lecture notes. To the casual observer, she was the model student—the Vice President of the Student Council, poised and professional. But to Jae-in, she was a broadcast tower of cold, managerial intent.

'The current distance is exactly forty-two centimeters,' Yuri’s internal voice echoed in his mind, sounding exactly like her spoken voice but stripped of its polite veneer. 'Sub-optimal. If I shift my weight toward the left hip, I can reduce the gap to thirty-five centimeters without violating the department’s public conduct guidelines. Thirty-five centimeters is the threshold for "academic partnership." Beyond that lies "intimate collaboration." I will achieve the latter by the fifteen-minute mark of the lecture.'

Jae-in stared straight ahead at the chalkboard, his eyes glazed. He didn't move. He didn't dare. He could feel her gaze—not on his face, but on his posture, analyzing him like a piece of equipment that needed recalibration.

To his right, the energy was entirely different. Min Chaerin was not sitting; she was practically vibrating. She had wedged her chair as close to his as the floor bolts would allow, her thigh pressing firmly against the denim of his jeans. She was supposed to be looking at her textbook, but her head was tilted just enough that her hair occasionally brushed his shoulder.

'He’s so close. I can smell his laundry detergent. It smells like the day we went to the park when we were seven,' Chaerin’s thoughts were a chaotic, looping whirlwind of nostalgia and desperate hunger. 'Does he feel my leg? He hasn’t moved away. That means he likes it. He’s choosing to stay close to me. He’s telling me he loves me through silence. If I lean just a little further, I can rest my head on his shoulder. It’s a "relationship game." He’s waiting for me to make the move. Don’t be a coward, Chaerin. He wants you to claim him.'

Jae-in felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. The internal noise was a dissonant chord: Yuri’s clinical optimization clashing with Chaerin’s euphoric delusions. It was a yandere-flavored migraine.

And then there was the third presence.

Directly behind him sat Kuroe Hana. She didn't have a desk. She had simply pulled a chair from the back of the room and placed it in the aisle directly behind his head. She hadn't said a word since the lecture started. She didn't even have a notebook out.

'Blind spot secured,' Hana’s thoughts were sharp, clipped, and devoid of the fluff that occupied the others. 'Proximity: zero-range. If a threat approaches from the front, I move left. If a threat approaches from the flank, I neutralize. He is vulnerable in this seating arrangement. I must remain the anchor. Do not blink. Do not breathe too loudly. Just exist as his shadow.'

The professor, a man whose name Jae-in frequently forgot because his thoughts were never audible, began talking about the "Proximity of Narrative Voice" in 19th-century realism. The irony was not lost on Jae-in. He tried to focus on the lecture, but his ability made it impossible.

"Jae-in," Yuri whispered, her voice a silk-wrapped blade. She leaned over, pointing at a line on her tablet. "I believe you missed the secondary theme the professor mentioned. Would you like to review my notes?"

As she leaned in, her thoughts flared: 'Calculated entry. Proximity violation authorized under the guise of academic assistance. Target response: expected gratitude.'

"Oh, thanks, Yuri," Jae-in murmured, trying to keep his voice flat. He leaned slightly toward her to look at the screen, but the moment he did, the air to his right turned freezing.

'HE LEANED TOWARD HER!' Chaerin’s internal scream was so loud Jae-in actually winced. 'Why is she touching him with her eyes? She’s trying to steal my time. My shared time! Jae-in, look at me. Look at me!'

Under the desk, Chaerin’s hand found his knee. She didn't just touch it; she gripped it, her fingernails digging slightly into the fabric.

"Jae-in-ah," she whispered, her voice trembling with a forced, bubbly sweetness. "I don't understand this part either. Can you explain it to me instead?"

'If he looks at her notes, I’ll rip the tablet in half,' her mind added with terrifying sincerity. 'I’ll rewrite the lecture in my own blood if it means he only reads what I provide.'

Jae-in was now physically pinned. Yuri was leaning in from the left, her scent of expensive perfume and lavender laundry sheets filling his nostrils. Chaerin was gripping his right knee, her body heat radiating through his leg. And behind him, he could feel the faint, steady warmth of Hana’s breath on the back of his neck.

'Threat level rising,' Hana’s mind noted. 'Internal conflict between allies detected. If they crush him, I will have to physically remove him from the center. Calculating the force required to lift him over the desk without causing spinal injury.'

Jae-in took a slow, shaky breath. "I... I think I'll just focus on the professor's slides for now," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

The disappointment from his left was a cold wave. 'Inefficient. He is resisting the optimization,' Yuri thought.

The despair from his right was a tidal wave. 'He’s rejecting me. No, he’s just shy. He’s testing my resolve,' Chaerin rationalized.

The lecture hall felt like it was shrinking. The walls were closing in, or perhaps it was just the three girls. Jae-in tried to shift his chair, but it was bolted down. He was a captive audience to a play where the lead actresses were all fighting for a script that hadn't been written yet.

Suddenly, the door to the lecture hall creaked open. Lee Sunhee, a talkative girl from the literature department who always seemed to have too much energy, hurried in late. She scanned the room for a seat and spotted a small gap in the row in front of Jae-in.

"Hey, Jae-in!" she whispered loudly, waving a hand. She walked over and leaned against the desk in front of him, her hand casually patting his shoulder as she navigated the narrow aisle. "Did I miss the part about the mid-term? You look like you're seeing a ghost, man."

The silence that followed wasn't just physical. For a split second, the thoughts in Jae-in’s head stopped. It was the terrifying silence he had learned to fear.

Then, the explosion.

'Physical contact detected. Unscheduled. Unauthorized. Non-academic,' Yuri’s thoughts were a rapid-fire sequence of red-alert protocols. 'Lee Sunhee. Social standing: irrelevant. Threat level: nuisance. Action: Assign her to the archive digitization committee. Estimated time away from campus: three weeks. Proceed to neutralize her presence through bureaucratic isolation.'

'SHE TOUCHED HIM! SHE TOUCHED HIS SHOULDER!' Chaerin’s thoughts were no longer words; they were jagged shards of raw, red panic. 'THAT’S MY SHOULDER. THAT’S THE SHOULDER I’M SUPPOSED TO CRY ON. WHY IS SHE SMILING? SHE’S SMILING TOO MUCH. HER TEETH ARE TOO WHITE. I SHOULD PULL THEM OUT SO SHE CAN’T SMILE AT HIM ANYMORE.'

'Soft threat identified,' Hana’s thoughts were the most dangerous because they were the most calm. 'Name: Lee Sunhee. Action: Monitor for repeat offenses. If contact exceeds three seconds in the future, initiate "stumble" maneuver to create distance. Ensure no permanent damage... unless necessary for his peace of mind.'

Jae-in’s heart hammered against his ribs. He looked at Sunhee, who was still smiling, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just been mentally sentenced to exile, dental trauma, and a tactical trip-and-fall.

"Uh, Sunhee, the professor is looking," Jae-in said, his voice desperate. "You should sit down."

"Right, right! Catch you later!" Sunhee whispered, giving him one last friendly pat before sliding into a seat three rows down.

The "Proximity Violations" in his head didn't stop once she left. If anything, they intensified.

'We need to establish a perimeter,' Yuri decided internally. 'If the public believes he is accessible, they will continue to interrupt his development. I will revise the schedule. 1.2 meters of clearance is required for all non-essential personnel. I will sit closer tomorrow to reinforce the boundary.'

'I need to mark him,' Chaerin thought, her hand still on his knee, her thumb now tracing small, frantic circles. 'If I leave a mark, they’ll know. Maybe a hickey? No, too public. A bite? Yes. A small bite on the wrist where he can cover it with his sleeve. A secret between us. A boundary made of teeth.'

'The chairs are the problem,' Hana analyzed. 'The geometry of this room allows for too many angles of approach. I will arrive twenty minutes early for the next seminar. I will reposition the furniture to create a natural bottleneck that only I can control.'

Jae-in felt like a piece of meat being fought over by three very polite, very well-dressed sharks. He tried to rationalize it. It’s just because they care, he told himself, the familiar lie tasted like ash. They just have different ways of showing affection. Yuri is just organized. Chaerin is just emotional. Hana is just... protective.

But the thoughts told a different story. They weren't "just" anything. They were total.

As the lecture finally ended, the professor dismissed the class. Jae-in stood up so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. He needed to get to the Atria Café. He needed a wide-open space where "proximity" was a suggestion, not a mandate.

But as he moved toward the aisle, the girls moved with him.

It was like a choreographed dance. Yuri stepped out first, creating a path but staying close enough that her arm brushed his with every step. Chaerin grabbed his sleeve, her weight hanging off him like a lead weight, her head ducked low as she whispered about how "scary" the lecture was. And Hana... Hana didn't even pretend to walk normally. She fell in exactly two paces behind him, her eyes scanning the hallway like a secret service agent on a high-value escort mission.

When he turned left, they turned left. When he slowed down, they slowed down.

'Syncing pace,' Yuri thought. 'This is the ideal walking speed for heart-rate synchronization. If we walk like this for ten minutes, his subconscious will begin to associate my presence with his own breathing.'

'He’s holding my arm! He’s not pulling away!' Chaerin’s thoughts were a victory parade of delusional joy. 'Everyone is looking at us. They think we’re a couple. We are a couple. We’ve always been a couple. I’ll make sure we never let go.'

'Perimeter maintained,' Hana’s internal voice hummed. 'Crowd density: high. Increasing vigilance. Any student within a one-meter radius is a potential collision risk. Preparing to use elbows as stabilizers.'

Jae-in looked at his reflection in the glass trophy case as they passed. He saw himself—pale, tired, and looking slightly haunted. And he saw them. Yuri, smiling elegantly at a passing faculty member; Chaerin, looking like a smitten schoolgirl; and Hana, a silent shadow with eyes like a hawk.

To the rest of Seiren University, he was the luckiest guy on campus. He was the center of a beautiful, talented harem.

To himself, he was a man walking to his own execution, and the worst part was that he was starting to enjoy the feeling of the rope around his neck.

[Are you coming to the café? I ordered your usual.]

The text from Yuri popped up on his phone even though she was standing three inches away from him.

'I will show him that I am the only one who truly knows his needs,' her thoughts added as she watched him read the message.

"Yeah," Jae-in whispered, his voice disappearing into the noise of their combined obsessions. "I'm coming."

As they stepped out of the literature building and onto the sun-drenched campus paths, the "Parade" began. Jae-in walked in the center, a prisoner of a love that didn't care about his consent, hearing every heartbeat and every dark, possessive impulse that drove the girls beside him.

The silence of the afternoon was long gone. In its place was the roar of three girls who would never let him go, and the terrifying realization that Han Jae-in was finally starting to believe that this madness was the only home he had left.