Shizuka and Biology ②

The sun, a bleeding orange in the twilight sky, slants through the windows, spilling its dying light onto the scattered papers between us. Shizuka, ever dramatic, lets the sheet flutter from her fingers, a frown crumpling her features. 

"Not fair," she mutters. "Unfair."

I shrug, deliberately nonchalant. "Depends on what you think is fair."

"So, I don't have to do it then?" A flicker of hope in her eyes. A moment of weakness I could easily crush.

"Absolutely," I pause, watching her expression lift before I lower the hammer, "you have to do it."

The satisfaction that blossoms inside me is unspoken, but I can feel it rise. There's a thrill in holding power, however trivial, over someone so confident.

Now she can't answer the question with luck, let's see how she reacts.

She rolls her eyes in annoyance, her lips curling into a defiant smirk. "Let's see who gets the last laugh, Sunbae," she snaps, her teeth clenched as if she's biting back her frustration. 

To my surprise, she actually starts writing, attacking the page with a focus I rarely see in her. Her brow furrows, her pen scratching the surface with the fervor of someone determined to prove a point. I lean back, watching her work. It's funny, really. Luck doesn't help much with subjective questions—there's no guessing when the answer demands insight. And yet, here she is, scribbling as if the universe owes her.

"Don't worry, Shizuka," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm disguised as sweetness. "Take your time. We've still got a couple of hours until the evening ends."

Her only response is a frustrated groan, her pen moving faster.

I lean into the couch, feeling the room's warmth settle over me. For a moment, I let my thoughts wander. What do I have to worry about? The answer sheet is right here in my file... or at least it should be. I flip through the pages, my confidence faltering as the realization hits. It's not here. It's not anywhere.

Ah...

Now I too have to answer this Biology questions which I can't use my luck. I clear my throat, tugging at my collar, as if that'll cool the sudden sweat on my neck.

She scribbles something onto the paper with exaggerated slowness, then hands it over to me with a smile so sickly sweet it could rot teeth. "There. Now, my dear tutor, tell me what I did wrong. In detail."

There's no way out now. I have to bluff. I've done it before, I can do it again. First, always look confident. I lower the paper and smile at her, an infuriatingly calm smile that I know will confuse her. 

"Put yourself closer to me so you can learn better."

That shuts her up. For a moment, at least. Her playful smirk falters, and she glances down at the paper in front of her. She's weighing her options, deciding whether to push her luck or back down. I can almost see the gears turning in her head.