The Light in the Dark
I tilted my head, staring at him in disbelief.
“Why on earth?”
“I have work that needs to be finished by tonight.”
Work? Did he mean homework?
Evey shifted her body slightly, trying to peer through the gap in the door at the desk visible behind him.
He moved quickly, blocking her view.
“What kind of assignment are you guarding like it’s some kind of treasure?”
Evey craned her neck around the other side and asked. Once again, he blocked her line of sight.
“Sorry to say this, but…”
Watching him act like that, it was only natural for a certain suspicion to surface.
The secret reason why this outstanding male student couldn’t turn off his lights at night.
“You. Don’t tell me…”
“Don’t tell you what?”
That was when Chopin’s Nocturne began playing through the dormitory speakers.
The most famous part, of course.
It was the signal for lights-out. Cyrus looked down at Evey with an expression that said, What are you going to do about it now?
Once that melody played, students were required to switch their phones to silent and avoid entering anyone else’s room. Under normal circumstances, Evey should have returned to her own room.
Cyrus’s smug look probably came from knowing those rules so well.
What an idiot.
Evey was certain that while this four-eyed nerd might be brilliant when it came to academics, he had zero insight into people.
If he had paid even the slightest attention to Evey Underwood—or at least properly remembered everything that had happened between them—he would have known one simple fact.
She was someone who absolutely hated losing.
“Let me say it again, Quinton.”
While he was off guard, Evey used a trick she’d learned in basketball class. She slipped nimbly under Cyrus’s arm and invaded his room.
“It’s lights-out time. You need to turn off the lights.”
And she scored a perfect three-pointer.
In other words, she completely switched off his obnoxiously bright desk lamp.
It was a flawless victory for Evey.
His room plunged into total darkness. The only thing visible was Cyrus’s silhouette standing by the doorway.
Evey wondered what kind of face he was making. It would be nice if he looked frustrated by this small defeat.
Drunk on the taste of victory, she decided to push him a little further.
“This stuff here.”
Evey tapped his desk with her fingertips.
“You know you’d be in serious trouble if anyone found out about these assignments, right?”
“Maybe.”
Cyrus’s response was indifferent.
“Don’t act so calm. What if I reported you? Wouldn’t that send chills down your spine?”
“The one who should be getting chills is you, Underwood.”
“Me? I’m…”
Evey stopped mid-sentence.
No—she stopped breathing entirely. Because she could finally see Cyrus’s expression clearly.
That could only mean there was a “light” in the hallway. And after lights-out, there was only one person who would walk the dormitory corridors carrying a light without hesitation.
The dormitory supervisor, Mr. Leonard Haldane.
Evey’s face went deathly pale. She mouthed frantically at Cyrus.
Close the door! Hurry, please!
Of course, Cyrus probably couldn’t see her properly. The room was pitch black, after all.
But he would have no trouble guessing that she was desperately trying to convey that message.
Even so, he didn’t close the door.
“Cyrus Quinton.”
And then Mr. Haldane’s voice drifted in from beyond the hallway.
“Why is your door open? Don’t you know lights-out has already passed?”
Evey clasped her hands together and began begging silently. If she got caught here, it was all over.
Sneaking into another student’s room after lights-out—especially a boy’s room—wasn’t just a matter of honor.
She’d lose nearly a hundred points from her conduct score. Forget being an honor student; she’d be dragged to the principal’s office for a warning.
On top of that, she might even be forced to write a ten-page essay on the ridiculous topic of “What exactly was your intention in sneaking into Cyrus’s room?”
Every single outcome was horrifying. At this point, Evey was ready to drop flat on the floor and grovel.
Close the door! Please!
“I am aware that lights-out has passed, sir.”
Mr. Haldane’s footsteps grew steadily clearer.
“I simply left the door open because my room needed some ventilation.”
“Ventilation?”
For a brief moment, Cyrus turned his head. His gaze pierced straight through Evey in the darkness.
“…!”
Evey couldn’t even breathe anymore.
“Yes, it seems fine now. Good night, sir.”
Cyrus bowed his head in greeting and finally closed the door.
The supervisor’s footsteps receded with agonizing slowness. During that time, Evey barely managed to hold back a scream.
At last, perfect silence returned.
Even though this was the moment she had been waiting for so desperately, Evey couldn’t relax at all.
His presence drew closer in the darkness. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Underwood.”
At the low voice, Evey slowly opened her tightly closed eyes.
“Get out.”
Cyrus’s profile appeared right in front of her—far too clearly.
That meant the desk lamp had been turned back on at full brightness, pushing the darkness away.
Evey moved her still ice-cold hand and dimmed the lamp.
“Are you trying to call Mr. Haldane back?”
“I doubt he’ll return for at least thirty minutes.”
Then Cyrus pulled out a disinfectant wipe and began cleaning the lamp.
Oh my god, does he think I’m carrying germs or something?
“Anyway, what you’re doing is against the school rules. You’re giving private lessons, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m giving private lessons.”
“Did you forget that you signed a document at enrollment promising not to do any prior learning?”
It was a rule that applied to every student and parent upon admission to the school.
Of course, very few students were motivated enough to do prior learning anyway, so it was mostly just a formality.
“It’s not a violation.”
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Evey picked up one of the printed sheets stacked on his desk and spoke firmly.
“As evidence of prior learning, here’s a graph of a first-degree equation…”
Evey realized the flaw in her own words and immediately checked the paper she was holding.
It was a beautiful solution to a first-degree equation.
This was at the level of the Royal High School entrance exam. It was hardly “prior learning.”
“…Is having an excessively broad review range part of your secret? Or is it just a hobby?”
“Don’t touch other people’s things. Give it here.”
Cyrus snatched the printout from her hand.
His desk was covered with similar sheets. They covered a wide variety of subjects and difficulty levels.
The handwriting on each solved problem was also completely different.
“So when you say you’re giving private lessons, you’re not the one learning, you’re…”
“Correct. I’m the one teaching.”
He pulled out a red marker and began writing feedback on one student’s solution.
Now she understood why he insisted on keeping the light so bright. The children’s handwriting was sometimes too small or blurry. Some looked like worm tracks.
Yet he deciphered every letter with practiced ease, kindly noting what was correct, what was wrong, what needed supplementation, and even suggesting alternative approaches.
“I don’t take money for it.”
He must have guessed that Evey was about to bring up the rule against students working part-time off-campus, because he explained first, almost as if doing her a favor.
“So you kept the lamp on because of this?”
“Yeah.”
He set aside the graded printout and started on another student’s work.
Evey didn’t ask what his relationship was with these kids or why he was spending his time helping them like this.
It wouldn’t be very smart to pry into someone’s personal life when they barely knew each other.
Besides, he probably wouldn’t have told her even if she asked.
“How much longer will it take? Will you be done before the supervisor comes by again?”
More than that, she was more worried about Cyrus getting demerits.
Because, as she kept saying, his demerits would inevitably become hers.
“Usually an hour? Sometimes longer.”
“Give me half of them.”
He had been deeply focused on grading, but now he finally looked up at her.
“I have to check them carefully.”
“Are you saying I’m not careful enough?”
“You are careful enough to raise a ‘correction’ issue over a typo.”
“That was a typo…! Ugh, anyway, just let me try one first and then decide.”
When Evey’s suggestion dragged on, he handed her a printout without even bothering to hide his annoyance.
“If I don’t like it, I’m throwing you out into the hallway immediately.”
“Do as you please. You’ll end up begging me for help, though?”