Chapter 1: A Siren's Palace
Chapter Text
༊·˚ Chapter 1
February 12, 2035
Monday
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
The morning sky was different today; it was more colorful and less dreadful than usual, at least to her. The skies’ hues were merging like translucent pictures gradually blurring and overlapping, creating an almost purple-ish shade with shifting clouds. In her eyes, it felt like staring at a night sky crowded with pulsing stars—both bewitching and a spectacle.
Oddly enough, there was no sunlight despite the early hour. However, in Seoul, February was still winter. Despite the cold weather, it almost felt like something pleasant was going to occur today—on a Monday of all days.
The sound of a car door snapping shut jolted Ji-yeon out of her introspective thoughts. She flinched and glanced out the window, seeing her younger sister walking off into the middle school campus by herself, carrying a water bottle in her hand. Ji-yeon almost forgot what time of day it was and the known fact she had to go to school. Internally, she wailed. Today, she had an exam for her English II class, and she hadn’t studied the material her professor offered.
She could already kiss the ‘something pleasant’ feeling goodbye since the morning—the start of the day—was going to be horrific.
At least her father had spared time to actually take them to school. The drive had been generally quiet, with the occasional conversation between the youngest and her father, Mr. Moon. Ji-yeon, on the other hand, hadn’t spoken a word to her old man. Only did she when she was trying to locate her lunchbox. Funny enough, Mr. Moon had only answered with a “I don’t know”.
Ji-yeon shifted on the seat, feeling the car begin to drive away from the middle school. The destination was clear: to her high school, unfortunately. She was holding her lunchbox tightly on her lap, fear of losing it once more. It felt like the lunchbox wanted to run away from her with how much she lost it and it solely.
The drive was quiet as they neared the prestigious high school—Gyeongha Girls’ & Boys’ High School. Her heavy sigh, heard by Mr. Moon, broke the eerie silence, evoking a conversation from her father.
“Are your grades still as excellent as the last time I saw them?” Mr. Moon inquired, as cold and empathetic as an ice cube.
Ji-yeon peered out the window, avoiding her father’s gaze intentionally. She scoffed before replying, like words directed at him were too much of an effort to make. “Yes. You can check them for yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Mr. Moon didn’t reply right away, and the silence that followed her words wasn’t surprising. If anything, it was predictable. Ji-yeon didn’t expect praise, much less from her old man. Instead, he muttered something incoherent under his breath, perhaps a grunt or a quiet approval. Either way, she didn’t care to elucidate. That man was like a closed book with burnt pages. Any attempt to read him would result in soot covering your hands.
She rested her cheek against the cool glass of the car window, watching Seoul pass by in a winter blur: towering apartment buildings dressed in white, students hurrying across sidewalks, elderly women sweeping storefronts, and the occasional flash of crimson or cream coats breaking the monotony. Despite the season, the city was still alive, bustling even in the early hours.
The heater was on, but her fingers felt cold.
“Do you still want to study cosmetics?” Mr. Moon asked abruptly. It almost felt like the question had been weighing on him for a while. Yet it wasn’t out of curiosity but to bait her.
Her eyes flickered toward him with an almost sneer. “It’s not a want. It’s a decision.”
There was a slight pause. Mr. Moon gave a dry, dismissive laugh. “Cosmetics won’t feed you in this world, Ji-yeon. Not unless you’re at the very top.”
“I plan to be,” she said promptly and simply without hesitation. He said nothing else. Typical. Ji-yeon couldn’t tell if it was out of a sense of pride from her firm stance or irritation at her brazenness and ambition.
When the car finally rolled into the Geyongha High School parking lot, Ji-yeon felt her stomach coil with dread. Purely because of the exam. What if she failed it? Her parents would certainly be upset. But even worse, she would be upset with herself. She couldn’t handle a poor grade.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said out of courtesy, already reaching the door handle.
“Ji-yeon.”
Ji-yeon froze, her fingers still resting on the silver latch. She didn’t spare a glance. “What.”
Mr. Moon didn’t spare a glance either. However, his voice audibly warmed like a cold room slowly heating up by a fireplace. “Have a nice day at school,” he said curtly.
Ji-yeon didn’t respond. She stepped out of the car without slamming the door but without much care either, a mix between the two. Rude and polite, weirdly. The metallic click echoed faintly. The soft clunk of her chunky leather boots followed as she began her walk toward the front entrance of Gyeongha High School. Her blazer felt tighter than usual, her scarf scratchier despite the ultimately soft material, and her steps a little heavier.
Yet even with that heaviness, Ji-yeon walked with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who owned the world around her. Or at least this small kingdom of teenage prestige and private school politics.
The gates of Gyeongha Girls’ & Boys’ High School stood tall and dignified—ornate black iron laced with curling gold filigree. Beyond them, the campus looked like something out of a winter dream: modern gray-stone buildings dusted with frost, tall hedges trimmed with military precision, and banners fluttering lightly in the wind. Gyeongha didn’t just look expensive—it radiated wealth. And Ji-yeon fit perfectly in the center of it all.
She was a queen here. Everyone knew it.
Even now, her entrance caused ripples.
A group of juniors near the gate glanced over the moment they spotted her. Whispers followed, hushed but unmistakable:
“Is that Ji-yeon sunbae?”
“She’s so pretty—look at her hair.”
“Her bag is from Maison Élise. That’s like... over a thousand dollars.”
Her navy wool coat fluttered slightly behind her as she walked. She adjusted her scarf with a flick of her gloved fingers, her glossed lips forming a faint smirk. Her long black hair was sleek and untouched by the wind, cascading down her back like ink on silk. And hanging from her shoulder was a creamy-white handbag with gold hardware that shimmered subtly under the overcast sky
Then came her girls.
“Unnie!” a voice called from across the courtyard.
Ye-seul, polished and dyed blonde, half-jogged over in heeled Mary Janes. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and she held a large cup of strawberry latte in her mittened hands. Her coat was a shade lighter than Ji-yeon’s but designer nonetheless. Behind her trailed Seul-bi, bubbly and stylish, with glossy pink lipstick and pearl earrings. Her most obvious trait was her strawberry pink hair, which she dyed during middle school. Then there was Ye-bin, the nosy, arrogant one with straight black bangs and a smoky eyeliner sharp enough to kill.
“Late again,” Ye-bin teased, tossing her hair back. “You were supposed to meet us near the vending machines.”
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Tell that to my father. He wanted to play ‘How to Annoy Your Daughter Slowly’ on the drive here.”
Ye-seul gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh no, did he go silent on you again?”
“He spoke. Unfortunately,” Ji-yeon replied dryly. “Asked about my grades. Then cosmetics. Then reminded me I’m not Beyoncé.”
“Disgusting,” Ye-bin muttered with a mock glare. “You're literally the smartest person in the school. He should be bowing to you.”
“Tell him that,” Ji-yeon said, shaking her head. “Anyway. English exam. I didn’t study.”
Ye-seul looped her arm with hers. “Then manifest. You’ve done it before.”
“That’s not how English works.”
“It is if you’re Ji-yeon,” Seul-bi interjected with a shrug, already pulling out her blossom pink lip tint with a charming grin.
As the four of them walked toward the main building, students stepped aside instinctively. It wasn’t fear, exactly. More like reverence. Admiration. Maybe envy. Ji-yeon was everything most of them weren’t: beautiful, powerful, wealthy, and entirely aware of it.
The girls didn’t just walk through Gyeongha—they owned it. Like royalty surveying their courtyard, they moved in perfect sync: matching strides, flipping their hair, giggling behind cupped hands as if the world was their stage and the other students were simply background props.
“Look at them,” Ye-bin murmured, eyeing a group of boys leaning against the library windows. “Desperate little pigeons.”
“More like budget calculators,” Ye-seul muttered, narrowing her eyes at one of them. “You can see the math equations swirling in their heads.”
Ji-yeon smirked. “They all look like they’d fall in love with me faster than they could pass a spelling test.”
“Facts,” Ye-seul chirped. “I swear, one of them tripped last week just because I said ‘hi’.”
“That’s tragic!” Seul-bi exclaimed.
Ye-bin sighed heavily like she was disappointed with the men nowadays. “They’re all so... academically loyal. Like puppies with textbooks.”
“I like a guy with a big heart and high standards,” Seul-bi said, twirling her hair dreamily and thoughtfully. “Someone who doesn’t immediately hand me his heart just because I looked in his direction.”
Ji-yeon hummed. “Someone who looks at you... not up at you.”
“Exactly,” Ye-bin said. “The last guy who tried flirting with me was wearing socks with cartoon ducks.”
“I’d block him in real life,” Ji-yeon said flatly.
That made them all laugh—high, refined laughter that echoed across the hallway like the clinking of champagne glasses. As they passed the second-year boys' lockers, a few brave souls tried to steal glances. One even managed a feeble, nervous wave. Ye-seul waved back with a grin that could’ve made a weaker boy faint on sight.
“Do they even try anymore?” Ye-bin muttered under her breath.
“Nope,” Ji-yeon said. “And they shouldn’t.”
They reached the language wing just as the warning bell rang again, vibrating softly through the air. The four girls slowed their steps in the hallway, their movements dripping with disinterest—like queens far too important to be rushed by something as mundane as time.
“Here we are,” Ye-seul said sweetly, gesturing to Ji-yeon’s classroom like she was presenting a throne.
“Do well!” Seul-bi added, adjusting Ji-yeon’s scarf like a stylist preparing her for the runway.
“Or at least don’t fail,” Ye-bin said, blowing her a kiss. “Because if you do, I’ll pretend I’ve never met you.”
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes again, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “You’d cry if I stopped showing up to lunch.”
Ye-bin winked. “I’d cry because the table would look uglier without you.”
Ji-yeon didn’t respond since she didn’t need to. That was far more obvious than anything she’d ever seen. She turned toward the door, hand on the handle, but paused. Today still felt odd, like something would happen, but she couldn’t determine what. She shook off the thought and entered the classroom. Immediately, all eyes were on her. Even the pigeon outside the classroom’s windows couldn’t help but stare.
She smiled and trailed to her seat like a queen to her fancy throne. She sat down with the grace of a ballerina, purposely ignoring the stares she received. It almost felt like she was playing hard to get naturally.
She pulled out her mechanical pencil and flipped open her pastel pink binder, the pages lined with sparkly tabs and color-coded notes. Her signature floral perfume drifted faintly in the air, light and deliberate, like a trademark. Ji-yeon didn’t have to speak to command attention. She simply existed in a way that made the room bend slightly around her.
Behind her, the hum of low chatter resumed, but it was tinged with nervous energy. She knew why.
Her presence meant the temperature of the class shifted. Boys sat straighter. Girls eyed her outfit for ideas. The hierarchy in the room reestablished itself the moment she walked in.
But Ji-yeon wasn’t interested in any of them. Not today at least. She rested her chin lightly in her hand and lazily skimmed through a few vocabulary flashcards she hadn’t even looked at over the weekend. They weren’t ugly words. She just hadn’t been in the mood.
She let her gaze trail over the teacher’s form. Funny enough, here at Gyeongha, the teachers were more attractive than the students. At the very least, some selective few had appealing physical appearances, such as the young athletes or the seniors.
There was only one thought in her head when she saw her English teacher: “Why can’t I have a boyfriend like that?”
She tilted her head slightly as she watched the teacher scribble something on the whiteboard, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal a leather watch and toned forearms. His hair was styled neatly, but not too neatly—messy enough to suggest he didn’t care too much about appearances, which only added to the allure.
He was tall, sharp-featured, and spoke with a smooth, even tone. His name was Mr. Yoon, but everyone referred to him as “Professor” because it felt more dramatic. He was in his late twenties, rumored to have studied literature in London, and every time he quoted poetry aloud, half the class stared at him with stars in their eyes.
Ji-yeon leaned her cheek against her palm with a soft sigh. “Too bad no boy here impresses me the same.” She had almost forgotten the fact that same teacher had given them an exam on Monday, two days before Valentine’s Day.
She leaned back in her chair, exhaling quietly through her nose as she flicked through her notes again—not really reading them, just admiring her own handwriting and the glittery pen she’d used to underline key phrases. It was impressive, honestly, how even her notes looked expensive.
Valentine’s Day, she thought with a dramatic internal sigh. The national holiday of cheap chocolate and desperate confessions.
At Gyeongha, Valentine’s Day wasn’t cute. It was dramatic. Over-the-top. Designer chocolates in silk-wrapped boxes. Love letters sprayed with perfume and carefully written with fountain pens. Some students even hired florists to deliver bouquets during class. Others, mainly boys trying to climb the social ladder, resorted to handmade cards and convenience store candy. Ji-yeon usually received so much she didn’t bother taking half of it home.
But this year? She already knew it would be boring. There wasn’t a single boy in school who stood a chance with her. Not even close.
Especially not the one seated in front of her who was currently chewing his pencil like a kindergartener in distress.
She side-eyed him, unimpressed.
The bell rang. Mr. Yoon clapped his hands once, efficiently. “Alright, class. English II midterm. As you all know, this counts for thirty percent of your grade, so I suggest you give it your full attention.” He passed stacks of papers down each row.
There were a few groans, one audible whisper of “kill me now,” and a dramatic head-thunk on the desk from the guy with the pencil problem. Ji-yeon didn’t flinch. Instead, she smoothed out her sleeves, accepted the paper with a dainty nod, and placed it perfectly aligned on her desk. Her mechanical pencil clicked softly as she prepped it like a weapon. Let’s get this over with.
The first page was a breeze: vocabulary, sentence structure, fill-in-the-blanks. Ji-yeon skimmed through with the calm, confident ease of someone who’d been absorbing English like osmosis through K-dramas and British skincare commercials since she was eight.
By the second page, she was humming faintly under her breath.
By the third, she had already forgotten she hadn’t studied.
Halfway through, she caught movement from her peripheral vision—a guy a few seats over was looking at her. Not subtly. Not discreetly. Just… looking. Like he couldn’t help it.
Ji-yeon glanced up slowly, one brow raised, and met his gaze directly.
He blushed. Hard. Then whipped his head back toward his paper like he’d been burned.
She almost laughed. So predictable. It was always the same—boys who stared, thinking they were subtle, then panicked the moment her eyes locked with theirs. She didn’t even have to try to make them sweat.
The rest of the exam was easy. Too easy. When she finished, she flipped her paper over with a small flourish and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes to spare, she thought to herself. Mr. Yoon was seated at his desk, flipping through something, probably grading or rereading poetry for fun. With casual confidence, Ji-yeon called out, “Sir? I’m finished.”
Mr. Yoon looked up, mildly surprised. He offered a professional nod and stood, his footsteps soundless against the polished floor as he made his way over. His crisp white shirt was buttoned to the collar, a silver pen clipped in his chest pocket. He didn’t speak right away, merely took her paper.
“Thank you, Ji-yeon,” he said in that low, deliberate tone that always made half the class straighten their backs or hold their breath. Ji-yeon tilted her head and smiled—polite, perfect. Just enough to make him wonder if it was genuine.
“You always finish quickly,” he added.
She let her fingers rest delicately under her chin. “It’s either that or pretend I didn’t already know the answers.”
Mr. Yoon gave a quiet, amused exhale. “Confidence looks good on you. Now rest your eyes. No phones.”
She nodded like a princess being granted a royal command and folded her arms neatly across her desk. Of course she wouldn’t take out her phone. She didn’t need to. Watching the rest of the class struggle was entertainment enough.
Around her, the scratching of pencils and soft flipping of pages resumed in waves. Some kids were sweating, some sighing, and a few clearly just guessing at this point. But Ji-yeon sat in silence, legs crossed, gaze slowly roaming the room like an empress judging her kingdom.
From her seat, she could see a girl two rows over subtly trying to copy answers from her seatmate, hunched awkwardly like a burglar in a boutique. Pathetic. Another boy across the room was chewing his eraser like it was candy. Ji-yeon wrinkled her nose slightly. Why were boys so... ungraceful?
Her eyes drifted lazily toward the window, where sunlight was just beginning to trickle through the clouds. It made her binder sparkle faintly. The sky was still tinted with a dreamy lavender, and the snow on the hedges shimmered with the softest glow. Maybe something nice really will happen this week, she thought idly. But if it does, it better come wrapped in Dior.
“Five minutes left,” Mr. Yoon called.
A collective groan floated through the room. In a few minutes, papers were being picked up by Mr. Yoon. And while he graded the exams at his desk, he eventually called out Ji-yeon’s name.
“Ji-yeon? Your test.” Mr. Yoon lingered his gaze on the test paper he was currently writing over then he peered up to Ji-yeon, who was seated near the back of the class. “Please come get it.”
Ji-yeon stood and made her way over to his desk, hips swaying to an indistinct beat only she could hear and feel. She picked up her paper with a smile and went back to her desk. She already had a winner’s smirk on her face, but when she processed the number on her paper, she nearly yelped.
A 70?!
She quietly gasped and quickly swayed her gaze around her surroundings, tilting her paper towards herself so no one could see. How did I get a 70 and not a 100?
Her manicured fingers gripped the paper tighter as her eyes scanned the circled red number again, in disbelief. A 70? Her? Moon Ji-yeon, goddess of pastel notes and effortless midterms? This must be a mistake, she thought, heart thudding once but unnecessarily hard and annoyingly.
She flipped through the pages, eyes darting over the marks Mr. Yoon had made. A few small red crosses. A missing transition word here. An idiomatic phrase slightly off there. A full deduction on the last short essay response. Ji-yeon held the paper much tighter than before, and she groaned under her breath. How could she get a seventy on an exam?! What would her father say? What would her eomeoni say?!
“They can’t find out,” she whispered, quickly stuffing the test paper into her backpack. She zipped her bag with a sharp flick of her wrist, as if sealing the entire disgrace inside and locking it with silent fury.
Her cheeks were burning—not from shame, but from indignation. A seventy was not just a low score. It was a dent. A crack in the marble statue of her reputation. Ji-yeon Moon didn’t get seventies. Seventies were for background characters. Extras. Civilians. Not her.
She sat perfectly still in her seat, legs crossed, chin lifted, as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn’t just spat on her pride. From a distance, she still looked like a goddess in control. But in her mind, tiny sirens were screaming. Okay. Deep breath.
She glanced toward the front of the class. Mr. Yoon was back to scribbling in red pen, casual as ever, sipping a paper cup of coffee like he hadn’t just committed an academic crime against her. He didn’t even look remorseful. If anything, he seemed… peaceful.
The bell rang. Ji-yeon was on her feet before the sound had fully died, her bag slung over her shoulders, her steps already sharp and decisive. Outside, the hallway buzzed with chatter, the clatter of lockers and rushed footsteps filling the air. Her girls spotted her immediately near the lockers, crowd parting slightly as they approached.
Ye-bin took one look at her face and narrowed her eyes. “What happened?”
“Don’t tell me you failed,” Seul-bi said, wide-eyed and breathless.
Ye-seul gasped. “You didn’t, right? You wouldn’t.”
Ji-yeon raised one hand, perfectly calm. “I didn’t fail.” She paused. Then added, through clenched teeth and an impeccably practiced smile, “I just… didn’t do well.”
“Define ‘not well,’” Ye-bin said flatly, already suspicious.
“I got a seventy,” Ji-yeon muttered.
The other three froze as if she’d just confessed to a felony. “Excuse me?” Ye-seul whispered, clutching her chest like she was going to faint.
“A what?!” Ye-bin shrieked.
Ji-yeon averted her gaze. “You heard me! I’m not going to repeat it.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to slice with a nail file. Ji-yeon adjusted the strap of her bag with unnecessary force and started walking, heels clicking with more attitude than usual. Her girls exchanged glances, hesitant, but no one dared push further.
Seul-bi tugged gently at Ye-seul’s sleeve, mouthing “drop it”. Ye-bin looked like she wanted to argue, but even she knew better. There were very few moments when Moon Ji-yeon was visibly shaken, and this was one of them. Besides, they had P.E. next. And nothing was worse than having to exercise in polyester gym shorts while on a period. They followed her in silence down the hallway toward the locker rooms, the late-morning buzz of students spilling out from classrooms as periods shifted.
The moment they stepped into the girls’ locker room, the familiar blend of hairspray, lavender deodorant, and body mist hit them. Laughter and gossip bounced off the walls as girls changed, fixed their hair, and complained about cardio.
Ji-yeon opened her locker with a composed snap and began changing with the fluid elegance of someone who could make even an ugly gym uniform look like something off a K-drama set. Her girls did the same nearby, chatting quietly among themselves about irrelevant things—someone’s breakup, someone else’s new sneakers—careful not to loop her back into the conversation unless she rejoined on her own.
Once changed, Ji-yeon sat on the wooden bench, legs crossed again. Seul-bi peeked over from tying her shoelaces. “At least it’s volleyball today,” she said gently. “You like volleyball.”
“I like winning,” Ji-yeon replied without looking up. Her voice was calm again—back to her normal tone, but firmer, clipped.
“That too,” Ye-seul chimed in, trying to smooth the atmosphere. “And we’re on the same team, so we’re obviously not losing.”
Ye-bin rolled her eyes dramatically and pulled her gym hoodie over her head. “Unless we’re up against those second-year athletes again. The tall one spikes like we did something to her.”
“I’ll spike her back,” Ji-yeon said, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves. “Let’s go.” Mostly everyone in the locker walked out to the court, except Ye-seul, who stayed behind to “clean up”. Ji-yeon brushed the locks of her black hair aside, fixing the bracelets in her hand absentmindedly.
The gymnasium buzzed with echoing voices and the screech of sneakers on polished floors. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, painting squares of gold on the wooden court. The volleyball net was already up, and the P.E. teacher, a former athlete turned whistle-happy tyrant, was organizing the teams with a clipboard and booming voice.
Ji-yeon walked out like she wasn’t walking into gym class, but onto a stage. Even in shapeless navy shorts and a white school T-shirt, she looked like she belonged on a billboard. Her expression was composed, blank in that “don’t talk to me unless you’re relevant” kind of way. No one dared greet her. They just made room.
Seul-bi jogged to her side immediately. “They split the teams. We’re with Ye-bin. The other side got So-min and the tall one.”
Ji-yeon’s jaw tightened just slightly. “Good.” Not great. Not perfect. Just good. Which meant someone was about to pay for her English score.
Ye-bin bounced the ball in her hands a couple times, catching it with one palm. “If I serve first, I’ll knock someone’s head off.”
“Save it,” Ji-yeon said coolly, stretching her arms behind her back. “Let me go first.”
Seul-bi blinked. “You never ask to serve first.”
“I’m in the mood to break something.”
Ye-bin and Seul-bi both stepped aside like they’d just been handed front row seats to a slow-motion explosion. When the game started, Ji-yeon took her place at the back of the court. She bounced the ball once, twice, then threw it high and launched a vicious serve over the net. It zipped past the opposing front line like a bullet, slamming into the floor untouched.
Point.
The teacher blew the whistle with surprise. “Nice, Moon!”
Ji-yeon didn’t smile. She just reset her stance and served again. Another point. This time, someone tried to dive for it and missed. Her next serve ricocheted off the wrist of a second-year who squeaked audibly before the ball spun out of bounds. She wasn’t just playing to win anymore.
“Is she okay?” someone whispered from the sidelines.
“She’s possessed,” someone else muttered.
Ye-seul returned from the locker room just in time to catch the tail end of Ji-yeon’s fourth serve. She paused mid-step, one hand still tugging at her gym shirt. “What did I miss?”
“Ji-yeon’s burning down the court,” Seul-bi said, wide-eyed. “She’s gone full Swan Lake meets Final Boss energy.”
Ye-seul blinked. “Oh. So... seventy?”
“Seventy,” Ye-bin confirmed solemnly.
On the court, Ji-yeon caught the ball again, her gaze sharp and expression unreadable. She didn’t care about whispers or stares or what her classmates thought. In this moment, she wasn’t thinking about her exam. She was feeling it—channeling every ounce of her humiliation, rage, and pride into her game. The ball was her weapon. The court, her battleground. And the scoreboard? Well, that would look exactly the way she wanted it to. Perfect.
☽˚༓･*˚⁺‧❣꧁🌠꧂❣‧⁺˚*･༓˚☾
°˖❀♡₊⊹˖⁺.˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⁺˖⊹₊♡❀˖°
✧:･⋆ ౨ৎ ˚⟡˖ ࣪🌃˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚･:✧
The winter sun had dipped low, casting a pale orange hue across Gyeongha’s elegant front courtyard. Students trickled out of the building in scattered clusters—some still in uniform, some bundled in coats and scarves, most chattering about Valentine’s Day prep or upcoming exams. The lingering scent of cafeteria breadsticks and teenage anxiety floated through the air.
But Ji-yeon was silent.
She descended the front steps of the school with measured steps, her bag slung neatly over one shoulder, coat cinched tight at the waist. Her sleek black hair framed her face like silk, barely tousled despite the day’s chaos. Though her expression was composed, her thoughts were still caught on that red-circled 70—mocking her from the depths of her backpack like a paper ghost.
The sleek black Genesis sedan was already parked at the front circle, as expected. Mr. Jeong stood by the rear passenger door, gloved hands folded neatly in front of him. Tall and dignified in his pressed gray uniform and black driver’s cap, he offered her a respectful bow as soon as she came into view. “Miss Ji-yeon,” he greeted, opening the door with practiced ease.
“Hello, Mr. Jeong,” she said, her voice soft and clipped.
He didn’t ask how her day went. He never did. That was why Ji-yeon liked him. Once she slid into the back seat, he shut the door with a gentle thud and circled back to the driver’s side. The interior smelled faintly of leather and clean air. A small white flower sat clipped to the air vent—her mother’s addition, no doubt.
Mr. Jeong started the car. “To the main residence, Miss?”
Ji-yeon hesitated. “…Yes.”
The engine purred to life, and the car glided away from the school curb with silent luxury. For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the soft rustle of Ji-yeon’s coat and the quiet hum of the heater. Outside the window, snow flurries danced through the golden haze of the streetlights. Students in cheaper coats waited for buses, their laughter distant, unbothered.
Ji-yeon leaned her temple against the glass, eyes following the outline of the hills as they passed. She hadn’t taken out the test paper since she’d buried it in her bag hours ago, but it still sat heavy in her mind, like a bruise under perfect skin.
Mr. Jeong glanced at her through the rearview mirror, noticing the slight crease between her brows. “Rough day, Miss?” he asked gently.
Ji-yeon blinked. The words caught her off guard. She didn’t look at him. She just let her breath fog on the glass and said, “Just… normal.”
Mr. Jeong nodded once. “Understood.”
The ride continued in silence, the city passing by like a blurred watercolor. Ji-yeon didn’t speak again until they pulled into the stone driveway of her family’s estate—tall gates, ivy-covered walls, and windows glowing with soft yellow light.
Before Mr. Jeong could exit the car to open her door, Ji-yeon spoke, still facing forward, “I got a seventy on my English test.” Her voice was hasty and clumsily developed like she was about to choke back her words from nervous hesitance.
Mr. Jeong paused, his hand halfway to the door handle. A beat of silence stretched between them, weighted but gentle, like fresh snow settling on untouched ground. He didn’t turn to look at her. Didn’t gasp or fumble for words like others might have. Instead, he responded as he always did—with measured calm. “I see.”
Ji-yeon stared straight ahead, her eyes glossy in the fading light. She felt silly now for saying anything at all. Why had she even brought it up? It wasn’t like she needed comfort. She didn’t do weaknesses; they were not her style. Especially not in front of people who might tell her parents. However, it felt good to get the truth out. It felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulder.
“I don’t usually get seventies,” she said after a moment, softer now, a whisper more than a statement.
“I know,” Mr. Jeong replied simply.
Another silence. Then Ji-yeon muttered, “It won’t happen again,” mostly to herself. Her nails picked at the hem of her pleated skirt, a tiny, compulsive motion she immediately stopped when she noticed it.
Mr. Jeong’s voice was low and smooth. “Miss Ji-yeon, a single gust of wind doesn’t move a mountain.”
She blinked, startled by the poetry of it. He finally turned, just slightly, to meet her eyes in the mirror. “You are… very much a mountain.” She didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever called her a mountain before. A queen, a goddess, a nightmare in heels, sure, but a mountain? That was definitely odd.
Ji-yeon gave a small, grateful nod. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to say thank you without actually saying it. Mr. Jeong exited the car and opened her door. The cold air rushed in, brushing her cheeks like a slap to remind her the world still expected perfection. Ji-yeon stepped out, chin high once again, her bag held with fresh resolve.
She walked up the steps to the grand front door with all the grace and polish of someone who had never failed a test in her life. And just before the door opened, she whispered under her breath, almost defiantly: “Next time, I’ll get a ninety-five.”
The entryway of the Moon residence greeted her with warmth, light, and silence—the kind of curated hush that came from money, not peace. Gleaming marble floors, tall vases of winter roses, and golden sconces flickering along the walls. A domestic staff member bowed as she entered and took her coat without a word. Ji-yeon barely noticed. She was already walking, heels clicking across polished tile as she made her way to the grand staircase.
“Miss Ji-yeon,” the housekeeper called gently behind her, “your eomeonim is in the conservatory.”
Ji-yeon paused only long enough to nod. “I’ll be upstairs.” She didn’t go to the conservatory. Her bedroom was waiting—perched on the east wing of the estate like a glass tower, walls of pale cream and blush, everything curated, soft, quiet. A haven designed for perfection. She tossed her bag onto the velvet settee by the window, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed backward onto her bed with a quiet, elegant oof.
For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling. No music. No texts. No group chat banter. Just her, the leftover anxiety, and the faint floral scent from her perfume lingering on her scarf. Eventually, she rolled onto her side and dragged her backpack closer. Slowly, as if afraid to disturb a ghost, she unzipped it.
The test was still there. Crisp. Folded. Red-marked. She held it in her hands again, re-reading every note, every deduction, every mark Mr. Yoon had made. Her eyes narrowed at the essay critique: “Strong voice, but lacking clarity in argument.”
Next time, she wouldn’t just make it look good. She’d make it hit. She’d write something so sharp, so devastating, so undeniably excellent, he’d have no choice but to scrawl a perfect 100 and maybe—maybe—even offer praise. She tucked the paper back into her folder, smoothed the creases flat with the back of her hand, then rose from the bed and crossed the room to her bathroom. A nice shower would ease her nerves, which were still bubbling because she knew her parents would find out about the grade one way or the other.
Steam still curled faintly from her collarbone as Ji-yeon stepped back into her bedroom, dressed now in one of her silkier, more relaxed outfits—cream cashmere lounge pants and a long-sleeved top that hung off one shoulder just so. She padded across the room barefoot, her hair still damp and clipped at the nape of her neck. Everything around her smelled of rosewater and bergamot.
She moved to the mirror.
It wasn’t vanity. It was routine. Every day, she checked herself the same way a queen might inspect her throne before sitting. But tonight, her eyes weren’t drawn to the lines of her makeup or the faint pink gloss still shining on her mouth.
They caught on her neck.
A faint blur of color. Then another. And another.
Hickeys. Three of them, hidden just well enough beneath the collarbone, but still visible in the soft golden light of her vanity. Deep enough that the bruising hadn’t fully faded even after three days.
She tilted her chin to the side, inspecting the mess with a frown. Not because she was ashamed. Not even close. It just… wasn’t worth remembering.
Jae-min.
She clicked her tongue, annoyed at herself. That had been a waste. They’d hooked up after a mutual friend’s birthday dinner. He’d brought her a rose and a watch she didn’t need—cheap, flashy, overly sincere. She let him kiss her anyway. Let him trail compliments down her throat like he meant them. It hadn’t lasted long. She’d left the next morning before sunrise, stepping over his designer sneakers without a second glance.
He still messaged her. Still called her “noona,” even though they were the same age. Still thought they were something.
Ji-yeon touched the side of her neck with two fingers, then wiped the spot as if she could erase him altogether. The truth was, it hadn’t even been good. Jae-min was all talk, all flash, no technique. Moaned too much. Sweated like a marathon runner. He'd probably told his friends about it already. That he’d been the one to “have her.” She scoffed quietly. Please.
Lust was simple. Fast. Disposable.
Love, on the other hand?
She didn’t do love. Not really. Not since middle school, when she’d thought someone could make her feel something permanent. That boy had moved schools and never texted her back. She remembered the sting—but not his name.
Sex was easier. Neater. It gave her control. It made her feel powerful, wanted, seen, even if only for a night. Besides, if someone fell for her, that was their problem.
She reached for her concealer stick, tapping it expertly across the dark marks, blending with her fingers until the bruises disappeared into flawless skin again. It was second nature by now—like fixing flyaways or tying her ballet flats. She stood straighter, brushed imaginary dust off her shoulder, and turned away from the mirror with a fluid, purposeful motion.
Now that school was over for the day, she had to prepare for Wednesday, which was in one day. Ji-yeon had been talking to one guy—a third-year (same year as her) who was on the basketball team—for about two weeks now. He was handsome, like many older guys in the school when they truly catered to their appearance. His name was Si-yoon, and he was known most for his talent, athleticism, and “heartbreaker” title, similar to Ji-yeon.
Ji-yeon, for the most part, could really see them going out together, but not out of love. It was more out of perfection. They suited each other, but weren’t in love with each other (or so she thought).
Ji-yeon was about to start a call with Si-yoon but was interrupted by the door opening without a knock to announce their presence. She flinched at the suddenness and turned to see who it was. There, standing in the doorway, was her mother, Mrs. Moon. She had a nasty scowl on her face. Yeah, she definitely found out about the 70. Ji-yeon was surprised it wasn’t sooner.
Mrs. Moon stood tall, poised, dressed in a tailored navy blouse and ivory slacks that made her look like she’d walked off the cover of a luxury magazine. Her hair was pulled into a sleek chignon, makeup flawless, even though she’d been home all day. That was just her way: polish at all hours.
Ji-yeon stayed where she was, one hand still resting near her vanity, the other slowly setting down her phone. She didn’t need to ask. Her mother didn’t storm in for casual conversation, and she definitely didn’t scowl unless something had gone “wrong.” Like, say, a test score slipping out of the 90s.
“Seventy,” Mrs. Moon said sharply, like the number tasted sour in her mouth. “You got a seventy?”
Ji-yeon didn’t answer immediately. Her posture stayed relaxed, but inside, she was coiling—tightly, like a ribbon before it snaps. She turned to face her mother fully, arms folded. “I’m aware.”
Mrs. Moon’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she stepped deeper into the room. “You were aware when? When you failed it? Or when Mr. Moon’s assistant called me with the report?”
Failed. That word again.
Ji-yeon felt her nails dig slightly into the crook of her elbow but said nothing. Failed. She hadn’t failed. She just hadn’t excelled. There was a difference.
“You’ve never scored under an eighty in your life,” her mother continued, voice clipped and smooth like the edge of a pearl-handled knife. “You know how that looks? On your record? On us?”
Ah, there it was. Us. As if her test score had somehow reflected on the family’s stock portfolio. “I’ll fix it,” Ji-yeon said simply.
“You should’ve fixed it before it happened.” Her mother’s gaze swept over her—down to the silk pants, the bare shoulder, the faint scent of body oil in the air. “You’ve been distracted.”
Ji-yeon said nothing.
Mrs. Moon’s lip twitched. “Is it a boy?”
“No.” Her answer was immediate, firm.
“Then what is it? Your friends? Your phone? Your—whatever it is you do when you disappear for hours after school?” Ji-yeon’s throat tightened. Her mother didn’t ask questions. She gave them as accusations.
“You’re seventeen,” Mrs. Moon said, walking slowly toward the window. “And in a year, you’ll need university recommendations. Scholarships. Endorsements. There are ten girls with perfect scores who’d kill to sit where you’re sitting. Don’t make yourself replaceable.”
That part stung more than it should have. Replaceable. As if perfection was the only thing tethering her to value.
“I said I’d fix it,” Ji-yeon repeated, this time colder, flatter. “Next time, I’ll get a ninety-five.”
Mrs. Moon paused at the window, her back turned now. “No,” she said. “Next time, you’ll get a hundred.”
Mrs. Moon remained still for a moment longer, framed by the tall window, one manicured hand resting lightly against the sheer curtain. Then she turned, face carved in elegant disapproval. “And until you do,” she added, walking back toward the vanity, “you’re grounded.”
Ji-yeon blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.” Her mother extended one hand, palm up. “Phone.”
Ji-yeon didn’t move. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m deadly serious.”
Ji-yeon’s lips parted in disbelief. “You’re treating me like a child.”
“No,” Mrs. Moon said calmly, “I’m treating you like someone who needs a reminder of what’s at stake.” Her voice stayed soft, even pleasant, but her eyes were made of steel. “Phone. Now.”
Ji-yeon opened her mouth to protest—then closed it. What was the point? With a rigid motion, Ji-yeon reached for her phone and placed it into her mother’s hand like it was a surrender flag.
Mrs. Moon tucked the device into her coat pocket, nodded once, then turned toward the door. “Your study hours are now doubled. If I see a single grade slip again, I’ll cancel your March fashion trip to Tokyo.” She paused at the threshold. “And I’ll have Mr. Jeong take you straight to after school tutoring every day, including Fridays.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Ji-yeon muttered under her breath.
Her mother turned just slightly, one brow arched. “I’m your eomeoni. That comes with the territory.” Then she walked out, door shutting behind her with a finality that echoed through the quiet of the room.
As soon as that door closed, Ji-yeon finally let it all out. She yelled angrily and tossed the nearest object across the room until it whacked the opposing wall.
She didn’t even care when she realized what she hurled was a glass of fruit punch. Crimson liquid splattered across her ivory wallpaper like an abstract painting. The glass hit the floor and shattered, pieces skittering beneath her dresser and vanity like tiny crystal daggers. Ji-yeon stood there, chest heaving, arms stiff at her sides. Her jaw clenched so hard it ached.
For a full ten seconds, she didn’t move. Then, slowly, she let out a breath and dragged both hands down her face, fingers pressing into her temples like she could physically shove the pressure out of her skull.
Grounded.
No phone. No calls. No texting Si-yoon. No scrolling through midnight selfies. No planning what to wear for Wednesday. Her whole social life, cut off like a silk ribbon with gold scissors.
She walked to the spilled punch, staring down at it with cool detachment. The red stain was already soaking into the rug—her rug, imported from Paris, pale cream and embroidered with gold thread. A gift from her aunt. Her mother would scream when she saw it. Good, she thought. Let her scream.
With a quick pivot, Ji-yeon crossed the room and flung open the doors of her closet—not because she needed clothes, but because she needed control. Fabric calmed her. Fashion never judged. She ran her fingers over rows of pristine blouses, structured jackets, and color-coded skirts until she landed on one of her oldest items: a black knit sweater from years ago, slightly oversized and soft with age.
She tugged it on and sat cross-legged on her bed, still simmering.
She hated this feeling. Not being in charge of her own story. Not being seen as the mastermind, the icon, the one who always had the last word. Now she was just… a girl with a bad grade, no phone, and a ruined rug.
But Moon Ji-yeon wasn’t the kind of girl who stayed powerless for long.
Once she finally heard a lack of footsteps or general noise from outside her room, she reached into her nightstand—the lowest drawer—and ruffled through the stacks of phones she had as backups. She pulled out the last one. Matte pink, slightly newer model, but fully charged. She’d synced it last week out of boredom, not expecting she’d need it so soon.
Ji-yeon climbed back into bed, tucking her legs under the blanket like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t just shattered a glass, her pride, and a few house rules in a single evening. The glow of the screen lit up her face as she entered the passcode.
Immediately, it buzzed to life—seven notifications from her group chat, Dolls 💋💔. The preview alone made her smirk.
Ye-bin:
girl wtf did you DIE???
Ye-seul:
are u ignoring us or is ur mom being a dictator again
Seul-bi:
be honest did you cry over that 70
Ye-seul:
ok but wait do u still wanna match for vday??
i’m ordering hair bows rn
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes fondly, her thumb moving fast.
Ji-yeon:
im grounded
did NOT cry over the 70 btw
but yes i still want the bows
red or black?
The typing bubbles exploded into life.
Ye-seul:
lmao knew it.
Seul-bi:
red duh but you have to wear yours even if ur dead inside
Ye-bin:
si-yoon was LOOKING for u today
he said “where's noona” like all shy and hot pls respond
Ji-yeon bit her lip, fighting back a grin. Her heart thudded once. Not romantically but triumphantly. She might’ve been grounded, but she wasn’t out. The game was still hers to play.
Ji-yeon:
tell him i got detained for being too pretty and too smart
and someone BETTER send me a pic of him stretching
A photo arrived seconds later. Si-yoon, gym-lit and glowing, tank top clinging to his biceps, one knee bent mid-stretch. Hair slicked back with sweat. Ji-yeon tilted her head at the image. Objectively, he was hot. And on paper, they were perfect. If she weren’t so annoyed with life, she might’ve called him right now just to hear his voice go soft the way it always did with her.She tucked the phone under her pillow, satisfied. All she needed to know was if Si-yoon was still hooked. In the end, nothing good happened today, but it was eventful, she’ll give the universe that.
Chapter 2: A Shark's Dominance
Notes:
it's pretty late, but i haven't updated this story yet, so why not 🤭
enjoy reading 💤
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
༊·˚ Chapter 2
February 13, 2035
Tuesday
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
Today was just as horrendous as yesterday. Somehow, it was even worse. Why? Simple.
Ji-yeon’s mother was driving her to school. They were already outside Gyeongha Girls’ & Boys’ High School, waiting in the extensive line in pure silence. Not a single word was uttered in the past forty minutes, creating a rather awkward atmosphere where Ji-yeon was suffocating. If it weren’t for her rolled-down window, she would have certainly passed out.
Mrs. Moon hadn’t said even a syllable to Ji-yeon since last night’s argument and brief grounding session. Ji-yeon wasn’t sure if she was angry, irritated, or none of the above. If she wasn’t, then what was she feeling? It was so aggravating how indifferent her mother could be.
Ji-yeon glanced at Mrs. Moon through the rearview mirror and analyzed her facial expression. It was more productive if she hadn’t since she couldn’t determine anything on that face but the physical characteristics, such as her furrowed eyebrows, her sharp eyes, and her lips pressed into a thin red line. On the brighter side, it was better she stayed indifferent than offered Ji-yeon yet another lecture she didn’t ask for.
Really, this was quite nice. The silence was both asphyxiating and tranquil—an imperfect blend of the Pacific and Atlantic ocean.
Her mother tapped the steering wheel once. Ji-yeon recognized it instantly—that subtle twitch of her hand, the one she always did when her thoughts were louder than the room or the car.
Another thirty seconds passed.
Still nothing.
Ji-yeon turned her gaze out the window again. Rows of students were filtering through the school gates ahead, all dressed in variations of the same uniform—some perfectly ironed, some wrinkled with personality. They were laughing. Nudging each other. Carrying snack bags, talking about drama, love confessions, and Valentine’s gift predictions like the world was made of rose petals and candy hearts despite it being Tuesday and not Wednesday.
In the corner of her eye, she caught her mother’s lips part slightly—like she might say something, but they closed again. Only a breath was released, nothing more, nothing less.
Ji-yeon almost laughed. Wow. Forty-five minutes, and not even a “have a good day.”
Finally, the car rolled forward. It was their turn to approach the front curb. Ji-yeon reached for the door handle, already bracing herself to put on her usual mask of composure. Just as she pushed it open, Mrs. Moon spoke. “Make up the grade.”
That was it. No “good luck.” No “have a good day.” Just make up the grade. That was by far the most predictable thing yet.
Ji-yeon halted, one foot already on the pavement. She looked back at her mother who still had that identical unreadable expression, the kind she reserved for photoshoots and televised interviews. She grimaced outrightly. Her voice, on the other hand, was calm when she answered. “I will.” Then she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut without a wave goodbye.
The cold morning hit her immediately. February chill sliced through her sweater, and her breath came out in pale clouds. But she stood tall anyway—chin up, shoulders straight, expression glacial and composed. She could already feel eyes turning toward her. Some out of habit. Some because her arrival always meant something. Moon Ji-yeon was never just another student walking into school. She was a storm dressed in ribbons and diamonds.
A familiar voice called out from across the pavement.
“Yah, Ji-yeon!”
She turned and spotted Ye-seul jogging toward her, her twin braids bouncing under a fuzzy beret. Behind her was Ye-bin with a croissant in her mouth and Seul-bi clinging to her iced americano like it was holy water.
Ye-seul reached her first and linked arms like nothing in the world was wrong. “Your mom actually drove you?” she whispered. “That’s so embarrassing.”
“Tell me about it,” Ji-yeon muttered under her breath.
Ye-bin caught up, eyeing her carefully. “You okay? You look like a disaster.”
Ji-yeon glared at her. “Yes, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
All three girls exchanged glances, whispering under their breaths. It seemed like something had happened while Ji-yeon wasn’t here. What? She did not know. It was blatantly obvious with the way the three were avoiding Ji-yeon’s gaze sheepishly, as though they were keeping a secret from here.
“Alright,” Ji-yeon began, stepping forth a step. “Fess up. What happened?”
Seul-bi was the first to answer, albeit reluctantly. “Uhm… Someone was dissing you earlier… In the cafeteria for breakfast.”
Ji-yeon arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Someone?” she echoed coolly, her tone razor-sharp and lightly amused—an edge of danger dressed in velvet. “And you three just stood there?”
Ye-bin lifted her hands defensively. “We weren’t even there! It happened before we got in. We just heard about it from Jin-ah, who heard it from Minju, who overheard it from the sophomore table.”
“So basically,” Ji-yeon cut in, “the whole school’s heard it.”
Seul-bi exchanged another nervous glance with the group. Ye-seul tried to soften the blow. “It’s not that bad. I mean, you know how people talk. It’s just stupid jealousy.”
“Someone said you’ve been ‘slacking off,’” Seul-bi added. “That you’re not really top-tier anymore. That you’re… slipping.”
Ji-yeon’s jaw clenched just once, not visibly, but the muscle twitched near her cheekbone. She demanded, “Who?”
“They didn’t say their name directly, but people think it was So-ra.”
Of course it was. Kwon So-ra. Two-faced, social-climbing, popularity-leech with a fake smile and a closet full of knockoff designer bags. She had always hovered at the edge of Ji-yeon’s throne, waiting for the crown to tilt—just once. And now that she’d gotten a single seventy, the wolves thought she was bleeding.
Ji-yeon gave a slow blink. Then smiled. “How cute.”
“Cute?” Ye-seul asked, eyes wide.
“She really thought this was her moment,” Ji-yeon said smoothly, brushing imaginary lint from her blazer. “That’s the funniest part.”
“Oh god. You’re gonna do something, aren’t you?”
“I don’t need to do anything,” Ji-yeon replied. “She made the mistake of talking. All I have to do is exist.”
The warning bell rang overhead, sharp and echoing across the schoolyard. Students started rushing through the gates, the usual morning chaos erupting in full force. But Ji-yeon walked slowly, arms still linked with Ye-seul, her presence cutting through the crowd like a knife through chiffon. Just before they stepped into the school, Ye-bin leaned in and whispered, “By the way… Si-yoon was asking about you again. He looked kinda annoyed since you didn’t text him back. Well, at least that’s what I think it is.”
Ji-yeon didn’t answer right away. She just laughed softly beneath her breath. Pathetic. Truly pathetic. “He didn’t text me back,” she lied through her teeth. However, lies from Ji-yeon were always truths to the world. It was almost hilarious how that functioned. “He’s probably annoyed because of what I said last night. No big deal.”
Ye-bin raised a brow, curious. “Wait, what did you say?”
Ji-yeon’s smile sharpened like glass. “That I don’t date boys who act like they’re doing me a favor.”
Seul-bi nearly choked on her drink. “You did not.”
“Oh, but I did,” Ji-yeon replied breezily, pushing open the school doors like a scene in a movie. “Someone had to remind him I’m the prize, not the other way around.”
“You’re evil. In a good way.”
“I prefer ‘efficient,’” Ji-yeon said. “Let him sweat a little. If he wants to sulk, he can do it from the sidelines.”
The hallway buzzed as students poured in, lockers slamming open and shut, the scent of perfume and cafeteria waffles lingering in the air. As the girls headed toward their lockers, the murmurs started—just faintly at first, then stronger as they walked.
“Is that Ji-yeon? I thought she was sick.”
“She bombed a test, didn’t she?”
“Apparently So-ra said she’s not ‘queen’ anymore…”
“I swear to god,” Ye-bin muttered beside her. “If I hear So-ra’s name one more time, I’m gonna dump my tray on her at lunch.”
“No,” Ji-yeon said coolly. “Let her think she’s winning.” The girls looked at her. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” she continued. “I’ll be back on top before third period.”
There was one final whisper:
“Yeah, people say she’s a whore. I believe them. Have you seen what she wears? And how often she finds a new boy toy?”
Ji-yeon hadn’t flinched from the first three whispers, but the last one earned a reaction from her. She fully stopped walking. She thought in her head, What? What did that bitch say?
She turned her head slowly, the way predators do when they've just caught the scent of blood. Her friends stopped beside her, the air around them instantly tense. The hallway noise dulled into a static hush in her ears as she scanned the crowd.
Who said it?
It hadn’t come from the front. It hadn’t come from the back. It came from somewhere to the right—near the sophomore lockers. And sure enough, that’s where she spotted the tight cluster of girls pretending not to look at her while very much looking at her. One of them—short hair, pink clips, glossy lips—whispered something and stifled a giggle behind her hand.
Ji-yeon didn’t know her name. She didn’t need to. She already had enough. With the slow grace of a swan about to drown someone, Ji-yeon pivoted on her heel and walked straight toward them.
“Shit,” Ye-seul hissed behind her. “She’s going over.”
“Should we stop her?” Seul-bi whispered.
Ye-bin snickered and watched Ji-yeon from afar. “Are you crazy? She’ll end up accidentally hitting you.”
Ji-yeon stopped just a few feet away from the group of girls. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but sharp enough to cut glass. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Could you repeat that last part? I didn’t quite catch it.”
The girl who said it scoffed and gave Ji-yeon a once-over like she was studying a disgusting reptile. “I said you’re a whore. You dress like a whore. And you let guys fuck you like a whore,” she sneered.
Ji-yeon froze—not in fear, not in shock, but in a silence so loaded it felt nuclear. Her fingers curled slowly at her sides. Her eyes, wide and shining only seconds ago, narrowed into razor slits. There was no smirk now. No condescending arch of a brow. Just quiet, cold fury ready to detonate.
The girl stood her ground. She was taller than Ji-yeon by a couple centimeters, designer earrings glittering at her lobes, her blazer pressed, her lip gloss still perfect. This wasn’t a shy underclassman hoping to blend into the lockers. No, this one had money, confidence, and—unfortunately for her—just enough audacity to think she could take Ji-yeon on.
“I don’t know who raised you,” Ji-yeon said, her voice low and laced with venom, “but they clearly forgot to teach you what happens when you bark at someone who bites.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Please. Everyone’s just too scared to say it out loud. You act like you’re so above everyone, but we all know how fast you spread your legs when some guy flashes a smile and a gym bag.”
Behind them, whispers picked up again. Phones weren’t even subtle anymore; camera lights flicked on and angles adjusted. This was no longer just a hallway moment. This was entertainment.
“You must really want attention,” Ji-yeon said slowly, stepping forward, “because this? This is a pathetic attempt to get it.”
“And you must really be desperate to feel powerful,” the girl snapped back, “because even after the test score and getting dumped, you still think you're all that.”
Ji-yeon humorlessly laughed once. “Sweetheart,” she said, “I don’t have to think to know I am ‘all that’.” Then she reached up and yanked the girl’s pink clip straight from her hair.
Gasps echoed like a ripple through the hall. The girl’s hand flew up to her head.
“You crazy bitch—!”
The girl lunged forward, and Ji-yeon didn’t step back. Not an inch. Their bodies collided in a sudden blur—fingers grabbing, voices rising, hair pulling, nails grazing. It wasn’t an elegant, soap-opera slapfest. It was vicious. Raw. Two girls at the top of their games, locked in a war over territory, image, and ego.
But before either could land anything serious—
“What is going on here?!”
The crowd broke like glass. Everyone turned in unison. The vice principal stood at the end of the corridor, clipboard in hand, gray suit crisp, eyes blazing with fury behind thin glasses.
Ji-yeon immediately let go, fixing her blazer with practiced calm like nothing had happened. The other girl stepped back too, jaw clenched, hair slightly out of place. Cameras dropped. Students scattered.
“Moon Ji-yeon. Lee Sun-hee,” the vice principal snapped, marching down the hall. “My office. Now.”
Ji-yeon’s stomach dropped.
The second she heard her full name paired with that tone, her heart lurched—no, plummeted. This wasn’t some casual scolding. This was the capital-T Trouble. The kind that involved parent phone calls and school records and permanent marks on your academic reputation.
Her first instinct wasn’t to throw another insult or flip her hair. It was panic.
Because if her mother found out—no, when her mother found out—Ji-yeon wouldn’t just be grounded. She’d be pulled from the Valentine’s Day event, blacklisted from upcoming recommendation lists, maybe even pulled from the school. The Moon reputation didn’t tolerate scandal. And this? This was a scandal, caught in 4K from five different angles.
Ji-yeon’s eyes darted toward Sun-hee—so that was her name, huh?—and she wasn’t looking so smug anymore either. In fact, Sun-hee had gone pale. Not because of Ji-yeon, but because she clearly had high-status parents too. Ones who wouldn’t take kindly to seeing their daughter brawling in the hallway like a commoner.
Ji-yeon opened her mouth—ready to talk herself out of it, to spin, to twist, to do something—but the vice principal was already storming toward them like a missile in heels.
“Follow me,” she snapped.
And suddenly Ji-yeon was twelve years old again, being dragged into the principal’s office for mouthing off in the debate club. Her legs moved before her brain caught up, heels clacking mechanically against the tile. Sun-hee walked beside her, arms stiff at her sides, eyes glued forward.
Behind them, the whispers reignited.
“Holy shit, Ji-yeon’s gonna die.”
“Both of them are dead. Like, funeral announcement dead.”
“Wait, is that clip still in her hand?”
It was. Ji-yeon glanced down and realized she was still gripping the pink hair clip, her knuckles white around it. With a trembling breath she shoved it into her pocket like a weapon being concealed, then turned forward again.
They entered the administration corridor, which felt unusually cold, silent, and sterile like a hospital. That was when the vice principal finally slowed down and opened the door to the… the principal’s office. She didn’t say a word. She just pointed.
Ji-yeon thought, To the principal?! That was even worse than the vice principal! Her face paled just as equally as Sun-hee’s. Ji-yeon hesitated for a fraction of a second at the threshold, her pulse hammering in her throat.
The principal’s office…
This wasn’t a scolding in a hallway or a written warning tucked into a file. This was where legacies were threatened and reputations went to die.
Ji-yeon wasn’t the first to enter. Sun-hee went in shakily slowly. Ji-yeon followed after her ever so reluctantly.
The room was minimalist, almost sterile, save for the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and framed certificates signed by some minister of education. Everything about it screamed discipline, not comfort. Sunlight poured in coldly through the windows, illuminating every inch of tension on Ji-yeon’s face. Instead of feeling warm inside, she felt cold as though she was out in the winter weather.
The principal sat at his desk, a thin-lipped man in his fifties whose reputation for fairness was only eclipsed by his obsession with preserving the school’s elite image. Principal Shin barely looked up when they entered. “Sit,” he said crisply, flipping a page in the folder in front of him. “Vice Principal Seo just informed me of the incident.”
Ji-yeon’s eyes traveled to the four chairs in front of the desk. She studied each one, but eventually, her eyes stopped on a pair of legs. Someone was occupying one of the seats. She lifted her gaze and saw a man seated there. And as soon as she caught a glimpse of his face, it felt like her whole world was flipped upside down.
Badump. Badump.
She had never seen a student so beautiful and handsome… She had never seen someone with such a physical charisma that made her want to explore the soul hidden beneath that body, to get to know him better.
She examined him down to the simplest detail, such as the silver rings he wore or the way the sunlight would highlight the slimmest strands of black hair.
He had possibly the softest warm ivory skin she had ever seen on a man. His lips were a soft pink shade, almost rosy red, and his long eyelashes fluttered so gracefully. She could already imagine how those perfect, gentle eyes would look when he teared up. Unfortunately, he was mainly hidden beneath an oversized navy blue sweater. He looked younger than her, maybe one or two years younger. Yet at the same time, he had this handsome, mature look to him. She couldn’t explain it, but she understood it.
Ji-yeon’s breath hitched. Not because she was lovestruck—Moon Ji-yeon didn’t do lovestruck—but because something in her gut shifted, sharp and sudden. She didn’t know his name, but she already hated that she wanted to.
And just like that, Ji-yeon forgot about the hallway cameras. About the pink clip still burning a hole in her pocket. About Sun-hee beside her, still breathing like she might faint. Even about the principal, who was now flipping through disciplinary forms with the rhythm of a firing squad.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a voice.
“Miss Moon,” Principal Shin said sharply, dragging her back to reality. “I suggest you sit. You too, Miss Lee.”
Ji-yeon and Sun-hee unintentionally shared a glance. It seemed like both of them had been staring at the boy, looking like goobers standing there while the rest were seated. Even the vice principal was sitting down, but on the shelf table to their right.
Ji-yeon swallowed hard and moved toward the chairs, carefully choosing the one farthest from the boy, who—she now realized—was the reason the room felt charged, like static electricity ready to spark. Sun-hee sat beside her, still pale and shaky, eyes darting nervously between the principal and the newcomer.
Principal Shin cleared his throat and opened a file, though his eyes kept flicking up toward the boy, as if gauging how his presence might influence the unfolding conversation.
“This,” Principal Shin began, tapping the folder, “is Kang Hae-soo.”
The name echoed in both girls’ heads like a microphone dropping on a stage.
Kang Hae-soo…
“He will be joining our school starting today. Please welcome him,” Principal Shin added casually, gesturing to Hae-soo with a simple hand.
Both girls, distraught and wide-eyed with swirling emotions like lust, amaze, and anxiety, slowly looked at Hae-soo as if the sight of him alone would have them swept off their feet.
Hae-soo, unaware of what the girls were feeling and the situation in general, just grinned charmingly and bowed lightly. “It’s nice to meet you two.”
That enthralling smile alone had Sun-hee squeaking under her breath like she had hiccups. Ji-yeon clenched her jaw, trying to steady the unexpected flutter in her chest. She reminded herself: this was a disruption she couldn’t afford—not now, not with everything on the line.
Principal Shin didn’t waste time. “Now, to the matter at hand. Miss Moon, Miss Lee—you were involved in a physical altercation on school grounds. An incident recorded and shared across multiple devices. Such behavior cannot be tolerated here, especially from students with your backgrounds.”
Principal Shin fixed them both with a stern look. “However,” he continued, “given your families’ standing and the potential repercussions, we are prepared to offer a path to resolution. Instead of immediate suspension or harsher penalties, I am assigning you both a responsibility.”
Ji-yeon and Sun-hee exchanged cautious glances, unsure whether to hope or brace for the worst.
“You will act as Kang Hae-soo’s guides during his initial weeks here,” Principal Shin said, nodding toward Hae-soo, whose charming smile deepened. “Show him the campus, introduce him to school customs, and ensure his smooth transition. In return, this incident will be officially closed without further disciplinary action, provided no other misconduct occurs.”
Hae-soo stood, bowing politely yet again. “I appreciate it, sir. It’s my first time here, so any guidance would be very helpful.”
Ji-yeon forced a small smile and said, “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.” Yes, it was an awkward response, but good enough. Sun-hee gave a shaky and nervous laugh, unsure of what to say.
Principal Shin’s tone grew firmer. “Remember, this is not a favor. This is a condition. Your behavior and attitude will be closely monitored.”
“Understood,” Ji-yeon replied coolly.
Sun-hee, too, answered, “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed. Close the door on your way out,” Principal Shin instructed curtly.
Ji-yeon and Sun-hee rose slowly. Ji-yeon’s fingers still clenched slightly in her pocket around the pink clip absentmindedly. It almost felt like the two had completely forgotten about their earlier, petty argument and physical offense.
As they turned toward the door, Ji-yeon shot a normal glare at Hae-soo. He was already on his feet as if the entire scene was just another minor inconvenience. Or perhaps he’d experienced this before. His dark brown eyes met hers briefly, and he simply smiled with an almost silent chuckle. Ji-yeon immediately averted her gaze, acting like nothing happened.
Outside the office, the vice principal was waiting, arms crossed, watching them like a hawk. “You heard the principal,” she said briskly. “Get to work. Show Kang Hae-soo around. And don’t mess this up.”
Ji-yeon nodded, though inside she was anything but certain. “Understood.”
The three of them stepped into the bright, bustling hallways where the hum of students and lockers echoed loudly—so different from the silent tension of the office. Hae-soo looked around with a mixture of interest and mild apprehension, clutching his feather-light backpack.
Ji-yeon took the lead instinctively, the familiar fire of command returning. “Alright, first stop: the cafeteria. You’ll want to know where to get the best coffee. Trust me on this.”
Sun-hee quickly trailed after them, catching up to Ji-yeon and bumping her “by accident”. She chuckled and stared at Hae-soo unabashedly. “And after that, the library. It’s quieter, and the top students practically live there.”
Ji-yeon faltered briefly. Oh, so she wants to play that way, she thought in her mind. Okay, let’s play. Competing has always been my favorite hobby anyhow. She shoved Sun-hee and peered up at Hae-soo. “We can go to the library last. It’s better to go to the cafeteria and then the lounge area since they’re close together. It’s also a nice place to rest while eating!”
Sun-hee’s eyes sparkled with a challenge as she glanced at Ji-yeon, the air between them crackling with unspoken rivalry. “Nice try,” she said with a sly smile, stepping even closer to Hae-soo, “but the lounge is kind of overrated. The library is where the real people hang out. Besides, if he wants to get a good study vibe, that’s the spot.”
Ji-yeon’s jaw tightened, but her smile only sharpened. “Real people?” She tilted her head, her voice honeyed but edged with sharp knives. “I think ‘real people’ know how to balance work and play. The cafeteria is the heart of the school—people meet, gossip, and network. Hae-soo won’t just need to study; he’ll need allies. And you can’t build alliances in a dusty library.”
“Dusty?” Sun-hee echoed. She had to agree though, the library was always full of nerds and geeks ready to share information and knowledge nobody asked for. She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t we go to the football field first? Then to the cafeteria. And then the lounge.”
Ji-yeon’s eyes narrowed with amusement. “The football field? You really want to start there? Trying to get him to look like a jock already?”
Sun-hee shrugged, unfazed. “Hey, it’s where a lot of social power is. If he wants to make a move, that’s the place to start. Plus, it’s where the real gossip happens outside of class.”
Hae-soo, who had been listening quietly, smiled and nodded thoughtfully. “I do like football. We can go to the field if you’d like, Sun-hee.”
Sun-hee squeaked once more. She nudged Ji-yeon and eyed her in triumph. “He called me by my name. Ha-ha!”
Ji-yeon’s lips twitched into an amicable smile; however, her eyes narrowed in rage. Called her by her name? Big deal. She crossed her arms defiantly. “Fine, football field first.”
Sun-hee leaned in, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial tone. “Just don’t listen to her. She’s a total snob who thinks she owns this place.”
Ji-yeon’s smirk deepened, and she shot back, “Better a snob than a desperate wannabe.”
Hae-soo chuckled sheepishly. She scratched the back of her neck. “I hate to interrupt… but we’re still in the same spot. We haven’t really moved anywhere.” He indicated the vice principal, who stood there with crossed arms, glowering down at the two girls.
Ji-yeon glanced over her shoulder and caught the vice principal’s icy stare piercing right through them. “We should probably start moving before we get another lecture,” Ji-yeon muttered, pulling a face at Sun-hee but starting to lead the way.
Sun-hee rolled her eyes but fell in step beside Ji-yeon, her competitive spark undimmed. “After you,” she said with faux politeness, stepping forward with a confident tilt of her chin.
Hae-soo trailed behind them. Ji-yeon cleared her throat and pointed ahead. “Football field it is. Let’s move.”
They navigated the winding hallways, passing clusters of students who whispered and glanced their way. Ji-yeon caught snippets—curious, amused, and definitely judgmental—but she pushed the noise aside. This was her territory, and she wasn’t about to let Sun-hee steal her thunder.
As they approached the football field, Sun-hee jabbed Ji-yeon lightly in the ribs. “Try not to embarrass yourself,” she whispered, eyes glinting with hatred and smugness.
Ji-yeon retorted, “Keep dreaming, bitch.”
The sun spilled over the vibrant green turf, where a handful of players tossed a football back and forth, laughter and shouts carrying on the cold breeze. The energy was infectious—social power pulsing in every cheer and casual nod.
Hae-soo’s gaze swept the scene with fascination. “This definitely feels like the heart of the school,” he said. “Can we head to the gym next? I want to meet the coach of the basketball team and ask if I can try out.”
Sun-hee quickly perked up. She jumped in front of Hae-soo and nodded vigorously. “Yes! We can go! I’ll lead the way! Come on.” She reached out, gripped his hand, and strode away from the football field and Ji-yeon.
Ji-yeon stood there, practically fuming. Smoke erupted from her ears comically. “How dare she…” she mumbled under her breath tightly. She stalked forward and caught up with them near the gym entrance, where the sounds of basketballs thudding and sneakers squeaking filled the air. Sun-hee squeezed Hae-soo’s hand with a triumphant grin, but Ji-yeon ignored it.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Ji-yeon said coolly, voice low enough only for them to hear. “I’m just getting started.”
Sun-hee turned, eyes sparkling with challenge. “Bring it on.”
Hae-soo wasn’t even close to being aware of how the two girls were behaving. He was more interested in himself and the gymnasium, watching the players dribble the basketballs. The two girls caught easy glimpses, seeing how Hae-soo smiled now and then. That perfect grin should be captured in a photo to safekeep, really.
Inside the gym, they found Coach Kim pacing near the bleachers. Ji-yeon stepped forward, a practiced smile on her lips. “Good morning, coach, this is Hae-soo. He’s interested in trying out for the team.”
Coach Kim glanced up, eyes trailing from Ji-yeon to Sun-hee to the tall boy beside the two. His height was the first to impress Coach Kim. He grinned. “Good to meet you, boy,” he greeted, holding out a hand.
Hae-soo took the hand and shook it with a bright, eager grin. “It’s nice to meet you too, sir. Can I ask… When are tryouts? Or did they already end?”
Coach Kim smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, my boy. Tryouts already ended two weeks ago. You’re a bit late.”
At first, there was visible disappointment in Hae-soo’s facial expression. Sun-hee and Ji-yeon noticed it, exchanging empathetic glances despite their rivalry. However, then Hae-soo simply shook it off with a genuine smile. “That’s okay. I’ll try out next year, sir. I really hope we get to see each other again, sir,” he said, bowing politely.
In Ji-yeon’s opinion, this boy was a bit too polite. She couldn’t tell if it was bad or good. Sun-hee, on the other hand, wore an overly enchanted grin. “He’s got heart,” she murmured, almost to herself. “You don’t see that everyday. How dreamy…”
Ji-yeon snorted quietly, then shook her head. “Don’t start feeling sorry for him now. This isn’t a charity case.”
Before Sun-hee could respond, Coach Kim cleared his throat. “Of course, kid. Come by next year, but make sure to practice as much as you can to make the cut. You don’t want to disappoint me, alright?”
Hae-soo nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Coach. I will.”
Sun-hee sighed, already in heaven. “He’s so cute… And nice. It’s almost illegal to be this nice… Especially in Gyeongha.”
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Cute and nice won’t get him far here, Sun-hee. This place eats nice guys for breakfast.” She glanced sharply at Hae-soo, who was still smiling brightly, completely oblivious.
Sun-hee bit her lip, trying not to smile too smugly. “‘This place’? Really? Like I’d believe that.” She scoffed to herself. “You’re the one who eats nice, stupid guys for breakfast. Whore.”
Ji-yeon’s eyes narrowed sharply, the word hanging in the air like a slap. Her jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack. “Excuse me?!” she hissed, stepping closer, voice cold as ice. “You want to call me that?” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, trembling slightly with fury.
Sun-hee’s grin only grew wider, her eyes glittering dangerously. “Oh, come on, Ji-yeon. I just called it how it is. You’re a fucking whore who loves easy guys.”
Ji-yeon’s face flushed with anger. “What did you just say to me? Say it again, sweetheart,” she said, getting even closer to Sun-hee.
Sun-hee laughed, loud and harsh. “You’re a dumbass whore who loves going after easy guys. You looove letting them fuck you.”
Ji-yeon shoved Sun-hee hard in the shoulder, but before things could escalate further, something caught both of their attention. The two girls stopped, dropping their hands to their sides, and with open mouths, watched as Hae-soo removed his sweater. That easily revealed his toned arms due to the tank top he wore. The muscles flexed as he picked up a basketball from nearby, dribbled it, and tossed it in the air until it went in the net with ease.
The girls had very different thoughts in their minds.
Ji-yeon’s was: He must’ve been let off the hook for not wearing an appropriate school uniform.
Sun-hee’s was: Oh my god! He’s so hot… I’ve never seen someone hotter than him! He’s even hotter than my boyfriend!!
Ji-yeon’s glare sharpened, lips pressing into a thin line as she crossed her arms, refusing to let her thoughts show. Focus, she told herself. Don’t get distracted by his good looks. That’s unlike you. You have eyes on someone else already.
Sun-hee, however, couldn’t tear her eyes away. She bit her lip, cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “Seriously,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else, “how does someone like that even exist?”
Before Ji-yeon could say something, Hae-soo suddenly spun on his heel, dribbling the ball hard once, twice, then launching it toward the hoop with flawless form. The ball swooshed through the net, and the sound echoed like a challenge in the gym.
Both girls fell silent for a moment, watching him.
Ji-yeon muttered indistinctly, “Isn’t it cold in here? Why take off a sweater..?”
Sun-hee squealed and gripped Ji-yeon’s arm tightly. “Oh my god!! He’s sooo handsome! And he’s good at sports! He’s even more perfect than my man!”
Ji-yeon yanked her arm free, scowling. “Focus, Sun-hee. This isn’t a dating show. We have a duty to do.”
But Sun-hee was barely listening, her eyes glued to Hae-soo’s lithe, confident movements as he casually dribbled the ball. “Perfect? No. He’s a god.”
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes again. She cupped her hands around her lips and yelled, “Hae-soo! It’s time to go! We still have more to show around!”
Sun-hee protested by shoving Ji-yeon. “No! What are you doing? He’s going to put his sweater back on! Then we won’t be able to see his muscles!” She pulled her by her arm once more, whining and staring at Ji-yeon’s pretty face. “What’s wrong with you!?”
Ji-yeon yanked her arm away again. “Shut up. He’s coming.”
Hae-soo jogged over to them, his face glowing with that same sunny brightness as always, completely unaware of the chaos his tank top had just caused. “Sorry! I got a little carried away,” he said, slipping his sweater back over his head.
Sun-hee audibly whimpered. “Nooo,” she whispered, devastated as the sweater swallowed his shoulders again. “And now the dream is gone…”
Ji-yeon crossed her arms. “Good. Now maybe we can get back to the actual tour.”
Hae-soo blinked between them. “So, uh, where to next?”
“The cafeteria,” Ji-yeon replied briskly, already walking ahead. “You need to see where to grab food between classes.”
Sun-hee rushed after her, making sure to stay right beside Hae-soo. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you where all the good snacks are. Ji-yeon only goes for bitter coffee and no-salt crackers.”
Ji-yeon didn’t bother turning around. “Because I have taste. Unlike someone who thinks rainbow sprinkles count as a food group.”
“I like to enjoy life, bitch,” Sun-hee shot back, flipping her hair.
“Enjoying it doesn’t mean shoving sugar into your bloodstream until you can’t blink.”
They rounded a corner, entering the cafeteria, which buzzed with energy. Students sat clustered at long tables, trays clattering and voices rising in conversation. The scent of baked bread and fried dumplings filled the air. “This,” Ji-yeon gestured grandly, “is where everything happens.”
“It’s not just food,” Sun-hee added, eager to insert herself again. “This is where deals are made, gossip spreads, and where you can scope out who’s dating who. Think of it as our unofficial information hub.”
Hae-soo nodded distantly, already getting a good understanding of his environment. There were a considerable number of students eating right now, but he noted everyone was in uniform, even if tweaked a little. He made a mental check: bring uniform to school. “Okay. Sounds good. A little dramatic, but good.”
Ji-yeon raised an eyebrow and glanced at the students. “You say that now. Wait until your name ends up on the wrong side of a lunch table. It’s hell.”
“Don’t worry, Hae-soo. If anything like that happens to you, I’ll protect you,” Sun-hee said, looping her arm with Hae-soo’s and staring up at him with bewitched eyes. Hae-soo just smiled awkwardly, clearly trying to put distance between them.
Ji-yeon countered, “He doesn’t need a babysitter.” She pulled Sun-hee from Hae-soo by her wrist, evoking an annoyed groan from her.
Sun-hee wiped imaginary bacteria off her wrist where Ji-yeon touched. “Yeah? Well, he needs someone to appreciate him for who he is.”
“On the outside or inside?” Ji-yeon inquired with a glare.
“Both.”
Despite the bickering, Hae-soo smiled quietly to himself. He glanced at both girls who were still arguing. Then he commented, “This school is definitely fancier than my old school.”
The two girls stopped. Sun-hee snaked up behind Hae-soo. “Really? What school did you used to go to?”
“Haneul Boys' High School.”
Ji-yeon, slightly interested in the conversation, stepped closer. “An all boys high school? So you never dated a girl?” she asked nosily.
Hae-soo shook his head casually. “No. No, I haven’t.”
Sun-hee gasped so dramatically that heads turned. “You’re joking,” she breathed, her eyes wide with disbelief and—frankly—opportunity. “You’ve never had a girlfriend? Not even, like, a middle school thing?”
Hae-soo chuckled softly and scratched the back of his neck. “Nope. Never really thought about it, I guess. I was focused on other things. Like studying. And grades. Family, too.”
Ji-yeon raised a skeptical but heavily intrigued brow. “So what, you just went through your entire teenage life completely untouched by hormones?” A pretty boy with no dating history? That was new… and very much an opportunity for her. She was beginning to get bored of Si-yoon anyway.
“Not untouched,” Hae-soo said with a shrug, “just uninterested. No one really stood out to me.”
Sun-hee’s mouth fell open slightly, but she quickly recovered with a toss of her hair. “Well,” she said sweetly, sidling closer again, “maybe you just needed to meet the right girls.”
“Girls?” Ji-yeon echoed with a conflicted grimace (maybe aggravation or jealousy). “Plural? You’re already including yourself in a list?”
Sun-hee didn’t miss a beat. “Obviously. Just look at me.” She twirled around, ensuring to show off her body to Hae-soo precisely.
“You have a boyfriend,” she reminded curtly. Ji-yeon rolled her eyes at the bug trying to look like a beautiful butterfly and looked at Hae-soo instead. “So you’ve never even kissed anyone before?”
Hae-soo blinked, surprised by how direct the question was. But he didn’t seem embarrassed. “Nope.” He smiled like it was no big deal. “I guess I’m a late bloomer.”
Sun-hee practically melted. “That’s so cute…” she whispered, eyes glazed over.
Ji-yeon, at the newly found information, held Hae-soo’s hand and smiled seductively—a common smile she shared with her fresh meat. “Too bad… You’ll lose that virginity really quick here. Even if you don’t mean to.”
Sun-hee’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” she sputtered, glaring at Ji-yeon like she’d just slapped her across the face.
Ji-yeon didn’t flinch. She tightened her grip on Hae-soo’s hand just slightly and turned her head with a sly smirk, eyes flicking toward Sun-hee. “What? I’m just saying. Gyeongha isn’t the type of place where innocence survives long. Especially with guys like him walking around looking like that.”
Hae-soo flushed a deep red, blinking down at their intertwined hands, then awkwardly glancing between the two girls. “Um… I don’t really think—”
“You don’t have to think,” Sun-hee snapped, yanking his hand away from Ji-yeon and interlocking her own fingers with his. “You just have to know that not everyone here is a predator or anything like that. You’re safe as prey. I—I mean… Y—You’re safe as a normal student.”
Ji-yeon’s lips parted slightly in disbelief. “Wow. You’re really calling me that? A predator?”
Sun-hee stepped in with her hand on her hip. “Predator? Yeah, but the title ‘whore’ fits you more. Maybe even slut.”
Ji-yeon flinched. There it was again. That name Sun-hee called her–”whore”. She couldn’t help but get irked each time that girl called her that. “Oh, that’s rich coming from a bitch who’s practically drooling every time Hae-soo breathes.”
“I am not drooling! I’m not a bitch either!”
“You moaned when he took off his sweater.”
“That was appreciation! It’s different!”
“I’m sure your boyfriend would love that explanation.”
“Don’t talk about Dae-won like that!”
“Then fuck off, bitch.” Ji-yeon stepped up in Sun-hee’s face and shoved her. She had this cold, icy-cold look in her eyes like she was about to start a fight all over again. However, before that could happen, Seul-bi half-jogged, half-walked up to her best friend in those platform heels she often wore to gain some inches.
“Ji-yeon!! Ji-yeon, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Seul-bi cried, hugging a designer bag and a fast food bag, which was obviously for the two of them. “I can’t believe you went to the principal’s office! Are you okay? Did anything bad happen?”
Ji-yeon’s icy stare didn’t leave Sun-hee’s face even as Seul-bi’s arms wrapped tightly around her in a brief squeeze. Her clenched jaw relaxed just a little, but her spine stayed ramrod straight—ready to pounce if Sun-hee opened her mouth again. “I’m fine,” Ji-yeon muttered, brushing her hair behind her ear as if the previous five seconds hadn’t nearly turned into a full-blown catfight. “Just dealing with pests.”
Sun-hee scoffed under her breath, arms crossed so tightly they practically cut off circulation. “Not my fault if you can’t handle competition.”
Seul-bi blinked at her, confused, then turned to look at Hae-soo—and immediately did a double take. She stumbled, nearly slipping on a burger someone tossed accidentally. “Wh—” She whispered beside Ji-yeon, “W—Who… Who’s that? Is he your new prey? Because if yes, you caught… you caught a really good one.”
Ji-yeon smirked, finally pulling her eyes away from Sun-hee and leaning slightly into Seul-bi’s space like they were in on a delicious secret. “He’s not prey,” she said, voice silky with amusement. “He’s... a special case.”
Hae-soo, completely confused but managing to stay polite, bowed a little to the newcomer. “Hi. I’m Hae-soo.”
Seul-bi blinked rapidly, cheeks tinting pink. “H-Hi! Wow. Um. Yeah. Nice to meet you.” She quickly pulled Ji-yeon aside by the arm and hissed under her breath, “You didn’t tell me Gyeongha got a transfer student who looks like that?! He’s like if sunshine had abs!”
“Abs we only saw for five seconds before this bitch over here nearly fainted,” Ji-yeon muttered back, casting a glance at her rival, who was still sulking with her arms crossed, lips pursed like she was about to combust.
“Oh my god,” Seul-bi whispered, peeking at Hae-soo again like she couldn’t help it. “And he’s polite?! Ji-yeon, you’re not allowed to hoard this one. I need at least ten minutes of flirt time.”
“Get in line,” Ji-yeon replied flatly, brushing off invisible lint from her blazer. “Sun-hee’s already embarrassing herself.”
“I heard that,” Sun-hee snapped, stepping forward again, eyes locked onto Ji-yeon. “And I’m not even trying yet. You wouldn’t survive a day if I actually flirted.”
“Sun-hee, sweetie,” Ji-yeon said smoothly, “you’ve been ‘trying’ since he smiled at you. It's been… pitiful to watch.”
“Better than hiding behind your wannabe femme fatale act like some desperate chaebol daughter with nothing better to do than collect boys like Birkin bags.”
Ji-yeon’s face twitched, that flash of cold fury returning. But before she could respond, Hae-soo raised a hand and laughed nervously, again playing the role of unintentional peacemaker. “Um… maybe we should all just eat? You guys keep saying this is the heart of the school, right?”
Everyone blinked at him.
Then Ji-yeon sighed through her nose, smoothing her hair back. “Right. Food. You’ll need energy for the rest of the tour anyway.” She gestured toward the nearest food counter. “Come on. I’ll show you which line isn’t poisoned.”
Seul-bi followed with wide eyes. “Wait, we’re eating with him? Like… right now? Should I fix my hair—”
“You look gorgeous,” Ji-yeon deadpanned.
“Oh… Thank you, Ji-yeon—”
Sun-hee rushed forward, looping her arm back through Hae-soo’s like it belonged there. “—He can sit with me!! I’ll show him which tables are safe.”
“Don’t touch him like you’re marking territory,” Ji-yeon said, not even turning around. “He’s not your dog.”
Hae-soo let out a long exhale. “I don’t mind sitting wherever, honestly.”
Too late. The war had already resumed. Ji-yeon glanced back with a smirk. “Then he’s sitting with me.”
Sun-hee narrowed her eyes. “Over my dead body.”
Seul-bi blinked between them, then sighed with a pout, stuffing a fry in her mouth. “I give him three days before he realizes this school is just a drama set with better lighting.”
☽˚༓･*˚⁺‧❣꧁🌠꧂❣‧⁺˚*･༓˚☾
☽🌺☾
꧁˚༓🍉༓˚꧂
☽❣☾
After lunch, the four of them filtered out of the cafeteria and back into the hallway—though not without a few heads turning to watch them go. Hae-soo walked in the middle, flanked on either side like he was under royal escort. Ji-yeon led with practiced elegance, while Sun-hee clung just close enough to be annoying. Seul-bi trailed behind with her soda in hand, still casting lingering glances at Hae-soo like he might suddenly sprout angel wings.
“Alright,” Ji-yeon said, heels tapping against the glossy floor tiles. “We’re hitting the music wing next. Even if you’re not planning to join the orchestra, it’s one of the quieter parts of the school.”
“That’s because most of the students there have taste,” Seul-bi chimed in, sipping her drink. “And functioning hearing. Unlike the drama department.”
“Or the cheer team,” Ji-yeon added under her breath, glancing sideways at Sun-hee.
Sun-hee rolled her eyes. “Say what you want, but I’d like to see you try a toe touch without snapping your spine, princess.”
“I’m flexible enough. Unlike you, I have full command of my spine and my dignity.”
“You literally threatened to pounce on me with a metal tray twenty minutes ago.”
“I didn’t though, did I?”
“I think you were about to,” Hae-soo muttered, then paused. “Actually, I’m... not even sure what a toe touch is.”
Seul-bi snorted. “Don’t ask. She’ll demonstrate. Probably in slow motion.”
Sun-hee, ever the performer, was already stretching her arms out. “You want me to show you? I totally can. Just hold my bag.”
“No,” Ji-yeon and Seul-bi said at the same time, while Hae-soo just blinked.
They turned a corner, and the hallway changed from chatter and chaos to gentle quiet. The air felt cleaner, smoother, and faint notes of a violin wafted from one of the nearby classrooms. Sheet music lined the walls in picture frames, and instrument lockers stretched down one side.
“Here we are,” Ji-yeon announced. “The music wing. I used to come here to nap before midterms. The soundproof practice rooms are practically divine.”
“It’s beautiful,” Hae-soo said genuinely, slowing to take in the space. “Peaceful.”
Sun-hee practically leaned into him. “Want me to serenade you?”
“No one wants that,” Ji-yeon replied immediately. “The last time you picked up a guitar, someone called the fire alarm.”
“It was one string! And it was out of tune!”
Ji-yeon ignored her and glanced over her shoulder at Hae-soo. “Do you play anything?”
He nodded. “Piano. A little. Nothing serious. Mostly by ear.”
That got everyone’s attention. Even Seul-bi perked up. “Oh my god, hot and musical? I swear this school’s never seen something so... export-worthy.”
“Play something,” Ji-yeon said casually, gesturing toward an empty room nearby. “Just one song. Think of it as a test.”
“Don’t call it that,” Sun-hee muttered. “He doesn’t need to prove himself to you.”
“I didn’t say he had to. I said he should. Big difference.”
Hae-soo smiled, amused despite himself. “Alright. One song.” He stepped into the small practice room, the door left open behind him, and sat at the upright piano inside. His fingers hovered over the keys before pressing down—soft, sure, and surprisingly graceful. The music was warm and unassuming, a gentle melody that hummed with something nostalgic. Like sunlight peeking through window blinds, or the quiet comfort of Sunday mornings. It wasn’t flashy or complicated. Just… sincere.
All three girls stood in stunned silence. Even Ji-yeon, arms crossed, found her lips parting slightly.
Seul-bi whispered, “Everyone is so screwed.”
Sun-hee whispered back, “I think I’m in love.”
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes. How could they be falling in love that quickly? “I hope it’s with your boyfriend, Dae-won.”
“Shut up, bitch,” Sun-hee whispered harshly, earning a sassy glare from Ji-yeon.
Seul-bi quietly stepped closer to the doorway, peeking at Hae-soo like she was observing a rare, endangered species. “I feel like I’m watching a drama scene. He’s the soft, quiet type who ends up being a genius, right? Like... the ‘I wrote you a love song at 2 a.m.’ kind of guy.”
Sun-hee clutched her heart dramatically. “God, I’d die.”
“You already did. You flatlined the moment he took off his sweater,” Ji-yeon sniped.
“And you didn’t?” Sun-hee hissed.
“I blinked. That’s called having restraint.” Ji-yeon didn’t move from where she stood, but she was watching Hae-soo too—maybe a little too carefully. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying the way his brow furrowed while he played, how his fingers moved without hesitation. He wasn’t showing off. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just... enjoying it. And somehow, that made it worse.
When he finally lifted his hands from the keys, the room fell back into silence.
He turned, slightly sheepish. “Sorry if that was a bit too slow. I like playing stuff that’s kind of... simple, I guess.”
Seul-bi clapped first. Loudly. “Are you kidding me? That was perfect.”
“Seriously,” Sun-hee added, walking straight into the room to stand by him. “That was so... soft.” Her voice dropped into a breathy lilt. “I didn’t even know guys could be that soft anymore.”
Hae-soo laughed lightly and stood up, brushing his hands on his baggy pants. “It’s just something I do to relax. I’m not like... amazing or anything.”
Seul-bi groaned from the doorway. “He’s like a Studio Ghibli boyfriend.”
Ji-yeon finally entered the room, arms still crossed. “Alright, calm down, both of you,” she said coolly. “We have a task to do. Unless you want us to receive actual punishment, Sun-hee. Also. We’re not handing him a Grammy.”
“Only because you’re jealous,” Sun-hee said without looking at her.
“Jealous?” Ji-yeon repeated with a raised brow. “Of what? A basic ballad and a boy who blushes every five seconds? Please.”
“You wish you had the range to be that sincere.”
“I don’t need to be sincere. Sincerity is for people who don’t know how to get what they want.”
Sun-hee turned to Hae-soo with wide eyes. “Do you hear that? That’s how villains talk.”
He scratched his cheek, slightly amused and slightly nervous. “Well... the tour’s not over yet, right?”
“Nope,” Ji-yeon said, turning on her heel. “Not by a long shot. So, Seul-bi, you better get to your next class before you’re marked tardy.”
“Understood!” Seul-bi said, quickly leaving the room.
Notes:
mb for the long chapters, idk what i was on when i made this 😴
Chapter 3: Seabound Hearts
Notes:
enjoy this chapter while i go to sleep 😴
Chapter Text
༊·˚ Chapter 3
February 14, 2035
Wednesday
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
Oddly enough, the drive to school today felt lighter and less tense than usual despite the person driving her. This time, it was her father. At least he wasn’t her mother. Her mother would have, no doubt, lectured her on boys and why she shouldn’t get so close with them anymore. Despite the lectures on dating, her mother didn’t even care about what happened to Ji-yeon unless it affected their reputation. The Moon family always had to come out on top.
There were zero exceptions.
They had already dropped off her younger sister, so it was just Ji-yeon and her father. Mr. Moon—,unlike Mrs. Moon—wasn’t lecturing her or even uttering a word except occasional curse words at people who cut him off. He was quiet today. It proved the fact he wasn’t concerned for who or what Ji-yeon indulged in as long as it wasn’t illegal, a crime, or causing a scandal.
Ji-yeon, since she had a fight yesterday, had her grounding sentence extended until next month as punishment. However, she still had her backup phone. Those two had no idea they had raised a sneaky, cunning daughter. And she preferred it like that. She liked when people were oblivious.
Valentine’s Day.
It was finally here.
Ji-yeon, however, wasn’t ecstatic or apprehensive. None of the above. She hated Valentine’s Day because she knew there would be gifts like bouquets of roses, expensive purses and perfumes, and gift cards waiting for her from desperate, feeble boys thinking they had a chance with a queen like her. Was that arrogance? No, it was simply awareness. She was aware of how boys viewed her. And to her, it was utterly pathetic.
She couldn’t bother sugarcoating it.
They were completely, unfathomably preposterous. Derisory. They were morons. And that was putting it nicely.
The car rolled to a stop outside the polished front gates of Gyeongha High. Ji-yeon barely glanced at her father as she opened the door.
“Have a good day,” he muttered, already lighting a cigarette despite the "no smoking" sticker on the dashboard.
“Sure,” she replied, stepping out without missing a beat. Her patent leather shoes clicked onto the pavement as she tugged her blazer straight. The cold morning air bit at her skin, but she barely noticed. Her heart was steady. Her posture was perfect. Her game face was immaculately in place.
She walked past the other arriving students like a breeze of perfume and privilege—chin high, expression unreadable, not even bothering to look at the ones who suddenly hushed when she passed.
She passed the gate and was immediately greeted by the usual Valentine’s spectacle: pink streamers tied to locker handles, folded notes shoved into shoes and coat pockets, an entire cart dedicated to rose bouquet deliveries.
Someone ran past squealing, holding a life-sized teddy bear.
Pathetic.
Ji-yeon’s heels clicked against the hallway floor with deliberate grace as she opened her locker—already stacked with luxury brand gift bags and cards. She pulled one open: a Chanel lipstick with a note that read, “For your perfect lips. Maybe one day they’ll say my name.”
She tossed it into the bottom of the locker without blinking.
Another note fluttered down. This one written in clumsy cursive. “I’ve liked you since the fall festival… I know I don’t have much to offer, but I mean it. Happy Valentine’s Day, Ji-yeon.”
Cute. In a dog-chasing-car kind of way.
She folded it in half and slid it into her book, not because she cared, but because she liked knowing who had the guts to try. She’d keep it as ammo later.
However, today wasn’t about them.
Today was about making sure no one—even for a second—mistook her for some love-struck fool who’d melt at a box of chocolates.
Ji-yeon smiled condescendingly, flipped her black hair over her shoulder, and walked down the corridor where even more girls’ and boys’ lockers were scattered. She thought in her mind, Today’s going to be so boring. Nothing eventful happens on Valentine’s Day. But I am excited for the chocolate. Sweets aren’t allowed in our house, so best to indulge, right?
She passed by men in their sophomore and freshman year who were gawking like perverted pigeons. She held herself like a goddess among pitiful creatures. Everything was going according to plan. Until…
Ji-yeon, with her eyes closed, didn’t see the person in front of her and bumped into them. She stumbled back a step and glanced down at her clothing. There was a large coffee stain spreading down her lavender blazer, ruining the white tie she had spent hours ironing.
The hallway filled with boys and girls audibly silenced. Some students gasped, seeing Moon Ji-yeon, of all people, bumping into someone who dared make a mess on her designer clothes. Other students were already tensing up, preparing for the worse.
Ji-yeon flicked her wrist, sending a clump of hot cappuccino to her right, unintentionally hitting a man’s crotch. She scoffed. “How dare you,” she murmured under her breath. She slowly lifted her gaze from the stain, and in the blink of an eye, her fury withered.
Hae-soo…
Hae-soo was the one who she—… who bumped into her?
Ji-yeon couldn’t even be mad. Internally, she was conflicted. She was in shock, she was amazed, she was flabbergasted, she was enraptured. Hae-soo… looking so handsome this early in the morning? At 8:00 AM?
She finally managed to say something amidst the awkward ambience. “Hae-soo..?”
Hae-soo winced. “I—I’m sorry, miss. It was an accident. I swear. I didn’t mean to bump into you,” he apologized, hurriedly bowing down in regret. Ji-yeon was about to say something, but she halted herself, seeing Hae-soo still keeping himself stooped. It was kind of cute if it weren’t for the piping hot coffee stain over her blazer.
Hae-soo remained bent forward, hands trembling slightly from the shock—and maybe the scalding heat still burning his palm. His hair fell in soft waves over his eyes, hiding the full extent of his mortification. Around them, murmurs started picking up, a wave of whispers rippling through the hallway.
“Did he just spill coffee on her?”
“Oh my god… He’s dead.”
“Rest in peace.”
Ji-yeon didn’t move right away. For once, she was genuinely frozen—not with rage or embarrassment, but with… confusion. Something in her had short-circuited. The usual protocol in this situation was simple: verbally destroy the offender, flip her hair, and walk off like royalty.
But Hae-soo was not a typical offender. The way his voice cracked ever so slightly when he said “miss” made her heart falter in a way she hated.
She took a deep breath, composing herself again. Her fingers smoothed down the coffee-stained fabric like it didn’t bother her.
“It’s… fine,” she said slowly.
The silence that followed was so absolute, even the buzzing fluorescent lights sounded louder.
Hae-soo blinked and straightened up, stunned. “What…?”
“I said it’s fine,” Ji-yeon repeated. She stepped closer. Too close. She plucked a napkin from the pocket of her bag and dabbed at the stain delicately, even though it was pointless. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
Hae-soo’s eyes widened. “Huh?”
Ji-yeon ignored the question and offered him a pointed look. “Do you always run around with boiling liquids like a toddler with scissors?”
“I—uh—no. I mean… someone bumped me first, and then I didn’t see you, and then—” He stopped himself, realizing she wasn’t actually mad. “I really am sorry.”
Ji-yeon tilted her head, her voice softening slightly. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Hae-soo. You’re supposed to receive coffee. Not throw it on your tour guide.”
He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was actually planning to bring you one… Not wear it.”
There it was again. That soft-spoken charm. That ridiculous sincerity.
Ji-yeon hated how it disarmed her.
Before she could respond, someone came barreling through the crowd.
“Oh my GOD, are you okay!?” Seul-bi shrieked, heels clacking as she arrived on the scene. “What happened?! Did someone dare assault your uniform?!”
Ye-bin hurried behind Seul-bi, already rolling her eyes from where she was. “I can’t believe it. This early? And on Valentine’s? What spilled?”
Ye-seul ran past the two girls easily, carrying her makeup bag like it was a first aid kit. “Back up, everyone!! The queen needs her makeup fixed! I can’t have her mascara running!”
“It was just coffee,” Ji-yeon said dismissively.
“On your lavender blazer?! Girl, that’s criminal. Who did it? Was it that girl from class 1-B? Because I will end her—”
“It was Hae-soo,” Ji-yeon said.
Ye-seul paused. Her hand, which held the eyelash curler, stopped in mid-air. “Who’s Hae-soo?”
Ji-yeon stepped aside for the two girls, Ye-seul and Ye-bin, to finally get a glimpse of the boy she had to help as a tour guide. Ye-seul’s breath caught, and her makeup bag dropped to the floor, spilling its contents. Ye-bin had to do a double-take to ensure she wasn’t hallucinating.
Ye-seul blinked rapidly, like her contact lenses were fogging up from sheer disbelief. “That’s Hae-soo?” she breathed, wide-eyed. “That’s the transfer student?”
“Someone pinch me,” Ye-bin muttered. “Is he even real? Or did Cupid get bored and start designing people again?” She scoffed, brushing a lock of her hair behind her hair absentmindedly, a habit she often acted out when she saw something she liked.
Hae-soo, awkward and painfully self-aware, bowed politely. “Uh, hello… Sorry for the mess.”
Ye-seul blinked out of her daze and immediately bent down to scoop up her spilled cosmetics. “No, no, no, don’t apologize. You’re— You’re perfect. I mean, fine. I mean—wait, what?”
Ji-yeon sighed, plucking a compact from the floor and handing it back to her friend. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“I am?” Ye-seul asked, whisper-yelling. “You didn’t tell us he looked like that!”
Ye-bin crossed her arms and tilted her head, clearly analyzing Hae-soo like a painting in a gallery. “What’s your skincare routine?”
“Um… soap?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”
Ji-yeon ignored their antics and turned back to Hae-soo, who still looked like he was trying to shrink into his shoes. “You owe me a coffee,” she said flatly, brushing her now-damp tie.
Hae-soo nodded immediately. “Yes. Definitely. After school? Or… now?”
“After school,” Ji-yeon said, voice smooth like lacquer. “And you’re buying me a new tie. Designer. Not department store trash.”
He nodded again, eyes sincere. “Y—Yes, noona.”
Ye-seul squealed softly in the background. “He’s obedient, too?”
Ji-yeon flicked her gaze to them and then back to Hae-soo. “Don’t mind them. They’ve never seen sunlight that walks and talks before.”
He laughed under his breath. “You’re really not mad?”
“I’m furious,” Ji-yeon said with a small, amused smile, turning on her heel. “But you’re lucky I don’t look bad even when I’m wet.” She strode off confidently, her entourage trailing after her like ducks in luxury heels.
Ye-seul leaned in close to Hae-soo as they followed. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?” he asked, confused.
Ye-seul grinned. “You’re today’s main character.”
Ji-yeon heard that. And for the first time that morning, her smirk turned genuine. “Get me all possible information about Hae-soo. He’s my newest target. And drop off a little note for Si-yoon. Tell him I send him my deepest condolences and that we’re breaking up even though we haven’t started dating.”
Ye-bin let out a sardonic laugh. “Not the pre-breakup breakup.”
“Savage,” Ye-seul whispered, eyes wide as she pulled out her phone and immediately began typing. “Consider it done. Want me to sign it with a kiss emoji or your usual dagger?”
Ji-yeon glanced back over her shoulder, the corner of her mouth curving upward. “Use both. Let him decide what mood I’m in.”
The hallway, once frozen in tension, began to stir again as students started whispering, some clearly catching wind of the spectacle. Phones were already out. Someone had likely snapped a picture of Ji-yeon’s stained blazer and Hae-soo standing at the crime scene. The rumor mill would spin before the first bell even rang.
Hae-soo, still confused but smiling politely, walked a step behind them like a newly recruited prince into a royal court he didn’t understand. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to apologize again or ask if this was really okay, but he stopped himself.
Then he quietly called, “Miss Ji-yeon?”
Ji-yeon paused mid-stride. Her heel clicked once more against the tile as she turned her head slightly, just enough for a glossy strand of her hair to fall across her cheek. “Yes?” she asked, voice perfectly smooth, though her expression remained unreadable. She didn’t turn fully—just a calculated tilt, like she was granting him the rare privilege of her attention.
Hae-soo scratched his neck nervously, meeting her gaze with that same earnest warmth she was starting to resent how much she noticed. “Thank you. For not… making a big deal out of it. I mean, you could’ve. Most people would have.”
She studied him for a moment. The sincerity in his voice was so raw it almost irritated her. No one talked like that in this school. No one was that honest.
“Don’t thank me,” Ji-yeon said finally. “You’re not off the hook. You still owe me coffee, and now a tie, remember?”
Hae-soo nodded quickly, shoulders relaxing. “Right. I will. After school.”
She turned back around, beginning to walk again. “And make sure it’s lavender,” she called over her shoulder. “Not lilac. Not mauve. Lavender.”
Ye-bin let out a low whistle. “You’re really gonna make him hunt for the exact shade?”
“If he’s serious, he’ll figure it out,” Ji-yeon replied easily.
Ye-seul snorted. “God help him if he brings periwinkle.”
“God help me if he brings periwinkle,” Ji-yeon shot back.
The bell rang just as they reached the main stairwell, echoing down the corridor. Ji-yeon stepped aside for a moment and pulled out her compact, fixing her lips with a single, practiced swipe of clear gloss. She looked flawless. She always did—even with coffee on her.
Still, something about Hae-soo’s gaze lingered in her mind like a song you couldn’t stop humming. It annoyed her. He didn’t even try to flirt, didn’t give some smooth excuse or embarrassing compliment. He wasn’t afraid of her… but he wasn’t trying to impress her either. And that made him more dangerous than any boy who had ever confessed to her in full view of the entire courtyard.
As the girls began to split toward their classrooms, Ye-seul leaned in one last time. “You’re seriously interested in him, huh?”
Ji-yeon didn’t answer at first. Then she turned her head just slightly, her smile razor-sharp.
“I’m interested in finding out what makes someone like him walk into my life and turn it upside down.” And with that, Moon Ji-yeon vanished into her class like a queen entering her palace. Valentine’s Day has finally gotten interesting.
☽˚༓･*˚⁺‧❣꧁🌠꧂❣‧⁺˚*･༓˚☾
☽🌺☾
꧁˚༓🍉༓˚꧂
☽❣☾
The late-morning bell echoed through the halls like a sigh of relief. Hae-soo stepped out of his last class before lunch, still gripping the notebook where he’d been furiously jotting down class numbers and teacher names, trying to make sense of Gyeongha’s labyrinth of expectations.
Students bustled around him, arms full of textbooks or glittery gifts—pink ribbons, heart-shaped boxes, shimmering cards. The school practically reeked of sugar and desperation.
Valentine’s Day.
Back at his old school, it had been a few scribbled notes, maybe a piece of chocolate if you were lucky. Here? Here, it looked like a shopping mall and a perfume counter had exploded in the hallway.
He kept his head down and approached his locker, fingers reaching for the combination lock.
Click.
The door creaked open.
He froze.
The Earth tilted on its axis.
Inside his locker sat a stack—no, a mountain—of Valentine’s Day cards. Dozens of envelopes, loaded with glitter and scented and decorated with everything from pink teddy bear stickers to cursive initials. They tumbled forward like a waterfall of paper love confessions.
His mouth parted slightly in disbelief. “What… the…?”
Beneath the avalanche of cards, he spotted several high-end cologne bottles, each one in its pristine packaging. Chanel. Dior. Even a Tom Ford box wrapped in a red ribbon. On the floor beside the locker was a massive bouquet of blood-red roses, easily taller than his torso. The kind of bouquet you’d see at weddings or reality show finales.
And tucked awkwardly between two perfume boxes… was a single heart-shaped plush toy with a heart-shaped tag that read in loopy handwriting: "To the sunshine boy who plays piano like he's flirting with the universe. Happy Valentine’s Day. ♡"
Hae-soo blinked once then twice. Then he looked around.
A group of first-year girls at the end of the hallway squealed and ducked behind a wall when he met their eyes. Another trio of second-years were trying very poorly to pretend they weren’t watching him like he was a celebrity emerging from a limousine.
He gently lifted one of the cards from the pile and read the inside.
"Your eyes remind me of spring. I hope this cologne smells like how you feel."
He wasn’t even sure what that meant, but he could smell three different fragrances clashing in the air just by standing here. Hae-soo exhaled and muttered under his breath, “What is happening right now?”
Then—
He pulled out what looked like an actual rose toy. He flinched and immediately but unintentionally dropped it. Why would someone gift him a sex toy?!
“Sunshine boy!” a familiar voice sang out.
He turned, startled.
Seul-bi came skipping down the hallway, pink heels and a bag full of makeup bouncing with every step. She skidded to a stop beside him and gasped dramatically at the sight. “Oh my god. You really are the main character today.” Her eyes eventually fell to the rose toy on the floor. “Is that a sex t–”
Hae-soo quickly covered the toy with his foot, shoving it underneath the bouquet of roses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckled sheepishly. “Could you keep it down, please?”
Seul-bi gasped, smacking her glossy lips like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip this side of the Han River. “Ohhhh, sunshine boy has secrets.”
“It’s not mine,” Hae-soo hissed, crouching to shuffle the cards and gifts around in a weak attempt at hiding the more adult contribution. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t even know people here did Valentine’s this… aggressively.”
“You’re at Gyeongha, Hae-soo,” Seul-bi said, placing a manicured hand dramatically on her chest. “This school runs on status, scandals, and scented stationery.”
Hae-soo stood up again, arms already full with a few of the gifts he didn’t know where to stash. “What am I supposed to do with all of this?”
“Well, obviously,” Seul-bi said, plucking one of the Dior bottles with the finesse of a girl born for high society, “you let me sort the perfume. I have a nose for luxury.” She spritzed a sample on her wrist and hummed. “Mmm. This one smells like a tax bracket I want to marry.”
Hae-soo gave her a flat look. “You are not stealing gifts from me.”
“It’s not stealing,” she pouted. “It’s… assisting.”
He opened another card and quickly shut it again, his face flushing red. “Okay, yeah, I’m not reading that one.”
“Why? Did it include a marriage proposal or just a location for a secret kiss?”
“It had illustrations.”
Seul-bi burst out laughing, startling a few nearby students. “Oh my god, you’ve been here two days, and you’re already getting fanart?! This is some real K-drama protagonist arc.”
“I’d prefer a less dramatic arc,” Hae-soo muttered, awkwardly stuffing the more innocent cards into his backpack. “Maybe one with peace and anonymity.”
Seul-bi popped a piece of gum into her mouth and blew a heart-shaped bubble. “Wrong school for that. You’re officially a walking fantasy now. Half the student body wants to date you, and the other half wants to be you.”
“I don’t want to be anyone’s fantasy.”
“Too late,” she sang. She moved closer to his locker and pulled out whatever her arm reached. “Let me see!” Then she thrust her hand out and glanced down to see what she picked up. There, in her hand, was an actual vibrator. “WHAT THE—”
Seul-bi shrieked and nearly yeeted the thing across the hallway. “WHAT THE HELL?!” she screeched, flinging it back into the locker like it had personally insulted her bloodline. “Who the hell just casually drops a vibrator into a locker?! Is that supposed to be romantic?!”
Hae-soo turned scarlet, eyes widening in mortified horror. “Keep your voice down!” he scolded, lunging to slam the locker shut. But not before another student walking by caught a glimpse and burst into laughter, slapping their friend’s shoulder like they’d just won the lottery.
“Oh my god,” Seul-bi gasped, one hand pressed to her forehead. “You’re not the main character anymore. You’re a fanfiction trope. Someone out there is writing a love triangle about you right now.”
Hae-soo didn’t even bother countering whatever nonsense Seul-bi was spewing. “How did this even happen? I’ve only talked to five guys since I arrived.”
Seul-bi snorted and finally stopped laughing long enough to swipe a card from his backpack. She read it out loud in a breathy voice: “To the boy with the shy smile and sad eyes, I want to memorize your face like it’s the last page of my diary.” She blinked. “Okay, actually? That one’s kind of poetic. Might steal it.”
“Stop,” Hae-soo muttered, just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the screen.
[1 new message from Unknown Number]
Happy Valentine’s, Hae-soo. Meet me behind the greenhouse after school. Wear something nice. ♡
“…No,” he said, immediately locking the screen again.
Seul-bi leaned over, trying to peek. “Oooh? Who’s that from?”
“No idea,” he said flatly.
“You’re adorable when you’re panicking,” Seul-bi said, clearly enjoying every second. “Oh, also, can I have the chocolates? I’m a little hungry..”
Hae-soo pulled out a heart-shaped chocolate box from her backpack and offered it to Seul-bi. “Here. Have it. I’ll be heading off to class now.” He hastily walked away from his locker, rounding the corridor and disappearing.
Seul-bi giggled, enjoying this more than she should. She opened the chocolate box slowly, enjoying the aroma flying from the sweets, and plucked one out of the plastic. However, when she was about to plop the chocolate into her mouth, someone grappled her shoulder and hostled her, causing all the chocolates to fly out of the box and hit the ground.
“Seul-bi!” Ye-seul exclaimed with a wheeze.
Seul-bi cried, “My chocolates! Nooo!” She dropped to her knees, picking them up as quickly as possible. 5 second rule, as they say.
Ye-seul stepped back. “Oh… Oops. Sorry, Seul-bi.” She watched her greedily retrieve about half of the total chocolates. “I can always buy you a new box, you know?”
Seul-bi glared up at her, cradling a single heart-shaped chocolate in her palm like it was the last surviving puppy of a war-torn litter. “You don’t just replace Valentine’s chocolate. It’s not about the price—it’s about the drama and the calories of love.”
Ye-seul wrinkled her nose. “Drama, maybe. Calories? Absolutely not.”
“Blasphemy,” Seul-bi muttered, popping the last salvageable one into her mouth. “Mmm. Tastes like rejection, horniness, and crushed dreams. Delicious.”
Ye-seul raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of horniness, why did I hear someone say there was a vibrator in Hae-soo’s locker? Please tell me that’s a joke.”
“Oh, it was very real,” Seul-bi said, now lounging against the lockers like a satisfied villain. “Hae-soo nearly passed out. I thought his soul was about to leave his body.”
“Do we know who sent it?”
“No. But someone clearly wanted to skip to Chapter 18.”
Ye-seul gasped. “We’re still on Chapter 3!”
“I know!” Seul-bi sighed dreamily. “But honestly? I get it. He plays piano like he’s trying to cure your childhood trauma by giving it closure.”
Ye-seul sighed with crossed arms. “I wish I was serenaded by someone.”
Seul-bi gave her a sideways glance. “You were. Remember when that boy from Class 2-D wrote you a ukulele song and cried during the chorus?”
“That doesn’t count,” Ye-seul sniffed. “He was off-key and rhymed ‘love’ with ‘glove.’ Twice.”
“Still effort,” Seul-bi said, twirling a strand of hair. “Meanwhile, Hae-soo just breathes and girls drop Dior and tears at his feet.”
“Hey, now that I think about it.. They’re kind of similar.”
“Who?”
“Hae-soo and Ji-yeon.”
Seul-bi stopped to mull the comparison over. “Ohh… You’re right! They both have people dropping to their knees for them. That sounds weird but it’s true.” She giggled. “It’s almost meant to be, right? I’ve never seen a guy get that many gifts on Valentine’s Day on his second day here. He must feel sooo welcomed!”
Ye-seul paused. “Wait, is he a junior?”
Seul-bi paused too. “Wait a minute… I actually don’t know.”
Ye-seul blinked. “Are you serious? You’ve been following him around like a fangirl on a pilgrimage, and you don’t even know what grade he’s in?”
“I was distracted!” Seul-bi defended, holding up her hands. “You try focusing when someone looks like a Disney prince who got lost and ended up in an idol group.”
Ye-seul shook her head. “Girl, that boy could be in our class—or a year below. Or above. What if he’s secretly a senior repeating classes or something dramatic?”
Seul-bi gasped. “Ooh, like one of those mysterious transfer students with a tragic backstory and hidden piano trauma.”
“Exactly,” Ye-seul said, squinting as if trying to mentally calculate his life story from scratch. “He’s too polite to be a sophomore. But he also has that soft ‘I just got here, please don’t hurt me’ energy. So I’m betting junior.”
“Same year as Ji-yeon,” Seul-bi said with a grin slowly creeping back onto her face. “Coincidence?”
Ye-seul’s eyes sparkled. “Or fate?”
They stared at each other in charged silence, only for it to be destroyed by a single comment from a bystander.
“He’s a freshman.”
Both girls snapped their heads toward the voice like they’d been slapped. A short boy with glasses and a mouth full of seaweed snacks blinked at them from behind his locker door. “Yeah,” he mumbled through a chew. “I saw him getting his class schedule from the Year 1 office yesterday. Definitely a freshman.”
Seul-bi and Ye-seul froze in unison. Like statues. Like two overpriced mannequins in a luxury boutique that had just realized they’d been modeling the wrong season.
“A… freshman?” Ye-seul whispered.
“A freshman,” the boy confirmed. Then he shrugged and walked away like he hadn’t just detonated a social bomb.
“No. No, no, no,” Seul-bi muttered, turning slowly to Ye-seul. “That can’t be right. He gives off junior energy.”
“Maybe he skipped a few grades,” Ye-seul offered weakly.
“He doesn’t even look like a freshman! His bone structure alone screams third year! Fourth year!” Seul-bi gasped. “We’ve been swooning over a baby.” Seul-bi chased after the guy that dropped the mic dramatically. “Hey! Sir, are you really sure he’s a freshman? He can’t be. Have you seen him? He’s not like those twinks we’ve seen aro–”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
The boy didn’t even stop walking. He just waved over his shoulder like he was swatting away an annoying fly. “He sits in front of me in Intro to Lit. Freshman section. Assigned seat and everything. Hangs his bag on the left side of the chair like a good little new kid.”
Seul-bi stood frozen in the middle of the hallway like she’d just been declared bankrupt in front of a paparazzi wall. Ye-seul slowly approached, wide-eyed. “It’s official. We’re going to hell.”
“We can’t be accused of this,” Seul-bi whispered, gripping her forehead like she was about to faint. “This is entrapment. He should’ve come with a warning label!”
Ye-seul nodded solemnly. “Like, ‘Warning: shockingly tall first-year who plays piano like a god and looks like a Greek statue reincarnated.’ Something like that.”
“I feel like a cougar,” Seul-bi moaned. “We’ve been thirsting over someone who probably still calls his mom when he forgets his lunch.”
“Still?” Ye-seul said faintly. “I do that.” She held up her hands. “Wait. ‘We’?”
“Yes ‘we’!!”
Seul-bi didn’t laugh. She just stared off into the void, lips pressed together in absolute despair. Then she snapped out of it and grabbed Ye-seul by the shoulders. “Wait. Wait. Ji-yeon knows, right? She has to know.”
“She must,” Ye-seul said, blinking rapidly. “If not, we’ll be in serious trouble for not giving her a heads up for making a freshman her junior prey!”
Seul-bi stared at Ye-seul with horrified eyes. “We’re fried chicken.”
“Yup.”
☽˚༓･*˚⁺‧❣꧁🌠꧂❣‧⁺˚*･༓˚☾
☽🌺☾
꧁˚༓🍉༓˚꧂
☽❣☾
In the vast, polished expanse of the student lounge—where the floors shined like glass and the walls were lined with tall windows showcasing Gyeongha’s cherry blossom trees swaying in the wind—Ji-yeon sat tucked into a velvet booth that could rival any high-end hotel lounge.
She looked composed, as always.
One leg crossed over the other, her blazer folded neatly beside her, and a half-eaten pink mochi held delicately between her fingers. Her phone lay face-down on the marble tabletop. A cappuccino sat untouched beside a small porcelain plate of sliced fruit she hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. Her lips were glossed, her nails clean. Her hair, of course, looked like it had been professionally straightened even though she’d woken up late.
And she was very, very quiet.
A first-year girl walked past and bowed so deeply she nearly dropped her tray. Ji-yeon nodded without lifting her gaze.
She’d heard the whisper already. From the moment she sat down, actually.
Freshman.
Fresh. Man.
She took a slow bite of mochi and chewed with the elegance of someone calmly re-evaluating her entire strategy.
Across the table, Ye-bin slid into the booth calmly, pressing a fresh coat of red lipstick over her lips, puckering them. She pulled out her mirror and fixed her makeup languidly. She asked casually, “Did you hear?”
Ji-yeon didn’t look up. “I did.”
Ye-bin snapped her mirror shut and set it down between them like a chess piece. “And? You’re not bothered?” She leaned forward just slightly, resting her chin on the back of her manicured hand. “Your new crush is a whole two years below us. A literal first-year.”
Ji-yeon took another sip of her now-lukewarm cappuccino. “I never said he was my crush.”
Ye-bin scoffed. “Please. You don’t give up your window seat in the music hall unless you’re interested. You practically offered him your throne.”
Ji-yeon raised an eyebrow. “You of all people should know I don’t do ‘love’. Love is ridiculous.” She leaned back and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows with the calmness of a swan. “The last thing I need is to end up like my parents. In love when young but now wanting to divorce.”
Ye-bin’s expression softened, if only a little. She picked up a slice of kiwi with her fork and swirled it slowly across the plate. “Okay. Fine. Not love,” she said. “But don’t pretend you’re not curious.”
Ji-yeon said nothing at first. Her gaze stayed on the cherry blossom branches outside, petals drifting past like the seconds of a countdown. Her fingers gently pinched the edge of the porcelain cup, but she didn’t drink again. “I’m not curious,” she finally said. “I want his attention. I want him to fall in love with me.”
Ye-bin blinked. “Oh.” She leaned back, momentarily startled by the clarity of Ji-yeon’s words. “Well… damn. That’s honest.”
“I always am, Ye-bin,” Ji-yeon murmured. There was no dramatic flair to her voice, just a statement of fact, spoken like someone listing off the day's weather forecast. “I don’t want him,” she continued, now rotating the cup slightly between her fingertips. “Not really. But I want him to want me. I want to see how far he’ll go. How much of himself he’ll give up.”
Ye-bin watched her closely. “Why?”
Ji-yeon’s gaze drifted from the window to the reflections in the glass students milling about, laughing, whispering. “I think…” Ji-yeon said slowly, “he doesn’t know how powerful he is yet. He’s still sweet. He’s fresh prey; he’s a fish in an ocean. It’s rare. People like that don’t last long because there’s alway sharks swimming in the sea.”
“And you want to… shape him?”
“I want to see what happens when someone like him meets someone like me.” Ji-yeon turned her head, fully facing Ye-bin now, her dark eyes nonchalant but gleaming. “That’s all.”
Ye-bin chuckled lightly, but it wasn’t quite due to amusement. “You’re playing chess again.”
“Well, I never stopped.”
“But why him?” she pressed. “There are guys in our year who would kill for your attention. Seniors who practically audition to be your boyfriend. You could eat them without even needing to chew.”
“Exactly,” Ji-yeon said. “They’ve already been eaten. Where’s the challenge in that?”
Ye-bin stabbed the kiwi harder this time. “You’re a real bitch,” she murmured in amusement.
Ji-yeon smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth curving like a blade sliding into silk. “Only to those who deserve it.”
Ye-bin popped the kiwi slice into her mouth and chewed slowly, watching Ji-yeon with something between veneration and indignation. “You know, one of these days, someone’s going to turn the game back on you. And I don’t mean one of those desperate chaebols. I mean someone real. Someone who doesn’t play by your fucked up rules.”
“I welcome it,” Ji-yeon said with a grin. “Let him try.”
Ye-bin let out a soft snort, shaking her head. “You sound like you want to be eaten yourself.”
Ji-yeon didn’t deny it. She stared down at her cappuccino like it had dared to tell her a secret. “Maybe I do.”
“That’s fucked.”
Ji-yeon’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. “Maybe.”
“So you’re really gonna let a freshman fuck you?” Ye-bin inquired, genuinely surprised with how Ji-yeon functions. “Eat you?”
Ji-yeon’s eyes flicked up slowly, cool and unblinking. “Yes. I will. I’ll get a thrill out of it. Maybe he’ll actually be decent for a fifteen year old.”
Ye-bin stared at Ji-yeon for a long moment, eyebrows knitting together as if she was trying to decipher a complex riddle. “You really have no chill, do you?”
Ji-yeon tilted her head slightly. “Chill is overrated in my opinion.” She smirked and said quietly, “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same. Don’t lie. I know you, Ye-bin. You’d let yourself get laid by a freshman too.”
Ye-bin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden accusation—and the strange thrill in Ji-yeon’s voice. After a beat, she smirked, tossing her hair back like a queen conceding a game. “Maybe I would. But at least I wouldn’t make it some grand experiment.”
Ji-yeon’s smirk deepened. “That’s because you’re not nearly as bored.”
Ye-bin raised an eyebrow. “Bored? Baby, I’m not bored. I’ll let myself get laid by a freshman if I like ‘em. If I have a crush on him. It’s that simple.”
Ji-yeon’s eyes narrowed as if weighing every word before allowing them to settle into the space between them. “Crush,” she repeated, voice low and measured. “That’s a nice word to use when you want to pretend it’s simple. When it’s not about power, or control, or… whatever the fuck it is I’m doing.”
“You always make everything sound like a battle.”
“Because it is,” Ji-yeon said, finally setting down her cup with a faint clink. “Every glance, every smile—it’s a move on a chess board. And if you don’t think like that, you get eaten alive by that shark.”
Ye-bin shook her head. “What a way to live, Ji-yeon. You really have it all planned out.”
Ji-yeon’s gaze drifted back to the window, watching the cherry blossoms flutter outside as if their delicate descent could somehow mirror the intricate moves of her own life’s game. “I don’t have it all planned out,” Ji-yeon said softly, almost to herself. “I wish I did. But I just can’t afford to leave things to chance.”
“You’d be a fantastic gambler,” Ye-bin commented sarcastically.
“You should’ve told your father that sooner before he fucked himself over.”
Ye-bin forced out a strangled laugh, but she cut it off quickly before it could count as awkward. “Ha-ha… Funny. Yeah, I wish I could’ve stopped my dad before he gambled every little shit away.” She tapped the table rapidly. “Well, at least he left it all to chance and didn’t cheat. Though I’m surprised he didn’t know he was playing in a world full of jokers sooner. Maybe if he had, he’d know he was fucked as soon as he betted on that horse.”
Ji-yeon didn’t say anything after Ye-bin’s external monologue. Clearly, she had touched a nerve.
Ye-bin leaned back, crossing one leg over the other with the practiced grace of someone used to appearing unconcerned. There was a small scowl on her face though. “You know, not everyone falls for you, Ji-yeon.”
Ji-yeon burst out laughing, forming a smile that was both wry and genuine. “Oh, Ye-bin, you’re funny!”
Ye-bin didn’t laugh. “I’m serious,” she said flatly. “You act like everyone’s going to orbit you forever.”
Ji-yeon’s smile didn’t falter. “You don’t think they will?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Ji-yeon grinned and leaned forward like the shark she was by birth. “Watch me, Ye-bin. Watch me.”