Monday morning running club felt different knowing the LEET was only thirteen days away.
Every day was countable now. Every practice session mattered.
"You're quiet," Bok-Jin observed as we ran.
"Just thinking about everything I need to do in the next two weeks."
"Which is?"
"Practice five logic games daily. Full reading comp sections three times a week. Logical reasoning sections twice a week. Review all my weak areas. Not have a mental breakdown."
"That last one seems important."
"It's definitely on the list."
We ran in comfortable silence for a while, and I tried to focus on just this—the rhythm of my feet, the morning air, the simple act of moving forward.
After the run, Ji-Yeon caught up with me during cooldown.
"Unnie, are you okay? You seem stressed."
"Big test in two weeks. Just trying to prepare."
"The law school entrance exam, right? My roommate took it last year. She said it was brutal."
"Very encouraging, Ji-Yeon."
"Oh! Sorry! I mean—she passed! She got into Korea University! So it's possible!"
"Thanks. I think."
She bounced away, and Bok-Jin appeared at my elbow.
"Want company studying today?" he asked.
"Don't you have your own work?"
"I have a light week. Plus, I like helping you. It makes me feel useful."
"You are useful. Very useful."
"Good. Library at 7 tonight?"
"I have LEET prep until 9."
"I'll bring dinner. We can do logic games after."
"You really don't have to—"
"I want to. Stop trying to talk me out of being a supportive boyfriend."
"Okay. Yeah. Thank you."
Constitutional Law II was my last class of the semester—Professor Kwon was wrapping up with a discussion of judicial philosophy and interpretation.
"Ms. Han," she said near the end of class, "I read your paper over the weekend."
My stomach dropped. "And?"
"It's excellent work. Your argument for heightened scrutiny in cases of irreversible environmental harm is well-reasoned and persuasively presented. I'm submitting it for the department's outstanding paper award."
I blinked. "Really?"
"Really. You should consider publishing it in one of the student law journals." She looked at me over her glasses. "You have real talent for environmental law analysis. Don't waste it."
"Thank you, Professor. That means a lot."
After class, Seung-Ho caught up with me in the hallway.
"Outstanding paper award? That's huge."
"She's submitting it. Doesn't mean I'll win."
"You'll win. Your paper was better than mine, and mine was good."
"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it. I'm still competitive." He hesitated. "But for real—good work. You've earned it."
He walked away before I could respond, leaving me standing there processing the weirdest character arc of the semester.
Tuesday evening LEET prep was focused entirely on timing strategies.
"The real test is in less than two weeks," Professor Jung said. "At this point, you know the material. What you need is efficiency. Speed without sacrificing accuracy."
She had us do rapid-fire drills—twenty questions, fifteen minutes, no time to overthink.
I got through eighteen questions, got sixteen right.
"Better," Professor Jung said. "But you're still pausing too long on questions you're unsure about. Make an educated guess and move on. You can always come back if you have time."
After class, Su-Jin pulled me aside.
"How are you feeling? About the test?"
"Terrified. You?"
"Same. But also ready? I just want it to be over."
"God, same."
"We should do one last group study session. Friday night. Nothing intense—just review, moral support, mild panic together."
"That actually sounds perfect."
We made plans, and I headed to the library to meet Bok-Jin.
He was waiting with kimbap, soup, and a stack of printed logic games.
"You're very prepared," I said, sitting down.
"I take your education very seriously."
We ate first, then dove into logic games. He'd gotten better at coaching me through my process—knowing when to let me work and when to interrupt if I was going down a wrong path.
"Stop," he said on the third game. "You're making an assumption that's not supported by the rules."
"What assumption?"
"You assumed Person A and Person B can't be together. But the rule only says they can't be on the same team if Person C is also on that team. Person C isn't on that team in your scenario."
I looked at my work and realized he was right. "Dammit."
"It's fine. That's why we practice. So you catch those mistakes before the real test."
We worked until almost 11 PM, and by the end I was exhausted but felt sharper.
"Thank you," I said as we packed up. "For doing this. For being patient with my stress."
"You don't have to thank me. I like helping you."
"Still. It means a lot."
He walked me home, and we stopped outside my building.
"Twelve days," I said.
"Twelve days. You've got this."
"I hope so."
"I know so."
He kissed me goodnight, and I went upstairs to find both roommates still awake despite the late hour.
"We're having an emergency meeting," Min-Ji announced.
"About what?"
"About the fact that you've been studying nonstop and you need to take a break before your brain explodes."
"I can't take a break. The test is in less than two weeks."
"Which is exactly why you need a break," Yoo-Na said. "One night off. Thursday. We're going to noraebang."
"I have logic games to practice—"
"One night," Min-Ji said firmly. "Three hours. Singing badly and eating fried food and not thinking about the LEET. You'll study better if you give your brain a rest."
I wanted to argue. But they were probably right.
"Okay. Thursday. But only three hours."
"We'll take it," Yoo-Na said.
Wednesday was a blur of classes, library shift, and practice sections.
Reading comprehension in the afternoon—33/35. Good but not great.
Logical reasoning in the evening—26/28. Better.
Five logic games before bed—all correct but took thirty-two minutes instead of thirty.
I was getting there. Slowly but definitely improving.
Thursday morning I woke up to a text from Bok-Jin.
Bok-Jin: 10 days. You're in the single digits now. How are you feeling?
Me: Like I'm running out of time.
Bok-Jin: Or like you're almost there?
Me: That's very optimistic of you.
Bok-Jin: One of us has to be. Want to grab lunch?
Me: Can't. Study group at noon. But tonight I'm going to noraebang with my roommates.
Bok-Jin: That sounds fun. You should have fun.
Me: I'm supposed to be studying.
Bok-Jin: You're allowed to have a life outside of studying. One night won't hurt your score.
Me: I know. I just feel guilty.
Bok-Jin: Don't. Take the break. I'll see you tomorrow at running club?
Me: Yeah. See you tomorrow.
The study group at noon was productive—me, Su-Jin, Tae-Min, and Min-Seo going through our weakest question types and teaching each other strategies.
"I'm so nervous," Min-Seo admitted. "What if we all studied this hard and still don't get the scores we need?"
"Then we take it again," Su-Jin said. "But we're not going to need to. We've all improved so much."
"Have we improved enough though?"
"We won't know until test day. So until then, we work and trust the process."
It was both reassuring and terrifying.
That evening, Yoo-Na dragged me and Min-Ji to a noraebang near campus.
"Ground rules," she said as we ordered drinks and fried chicken. "No talking about tests, no talking about internships, no talking about family drama. Tonight is about bad singing and worse life choices."
"I can work with that," Min-Ji said.
We started with classics—ballads we all knew from dramas, girl group songs from high school, old rock songs that were perfect for screaming.
By the second hour, I'd forgotten about LEET scores and law school admissions and was just singing badly with my friends.
"You're smiling," Min-Ji observed between songs. "It's nice."
"I'm allowed to smile."
"You are. You've just been so stressed lately. It's good to see you relaxed."
Around 9 PM, Yoo-Na's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and groaned.
"It's Min-Woo. Again."
"Don't answer," I said.
"I have to. We have that project meeting tomorrow." She answered. "Hello? ...Yes, I know about the meeting. ...No, I can't meet for coffee before the meeting. ...Because I'm busy. ...Min-Woo, I really have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
She hung up and threw her phone onto the couch.
"He won't take a hint."
"Have you explicitly told him you're not interested?" Min-Ji asked.
"Multiple times! But he keeps saying things like 'you're playing hard to get' or 'you'll change your mind.'"
"That's not persistence, that's not respecting your boundaries," I said.
"I know. But he's my father's business partner's son. If I'm too blunt, it creates problems for my father."
"Your father should handle it then. Tell him Min-Woo won't back off."
"My father thinks Min-Woo is a 'nice young man with good prospects.' He'd probably encourage me to give him a chance."
"That's so frustrating."
"Welcome to my life."
We ordered more fried chicken and sang more songs, and by 10 PM I felt more human than I had in days.
"Thank you," I said as we walked back to the apartment. "For forcing me to take a break."
"You're welcome. Now you can go back to studying with slightly better mental health."
"Slightly better. That's all I can hope for."
Friday morning running club, I felt lighter.
Bok-Jin noticed immediately. "You seem less stressed."
"Noraebang therapy. Very effective."
"I'm glad. You needed a break."
"Everyone keeps telling me that."
"Because it's true."
We ran our usual route, and I felt strong. Fast. Like my body remembered what it was like to just move without anxiety weighing me down.
After the run, Bok-Jin pulled me aside.
"So, nine days until the test."
"Don't remind me."
"I'm reminding you because I want to help. What do you need this week?"
I thought about it. "I need to do a full practice test tomorrow. See where I'm at. Then next week is just review and staying sharp."
"Want company for the practice test?"
"It's three hours of me sitting silently in a study room."
"I can bring a book. Sit nearby. Make sure you take your breaks properly."
"You really want to spend your Saturday watching me take a practice test?"
"I really want to support you however I can. If that means being there while you test, then yes."
Something warm settled in my chest. "Okay. Yeah. That would actually help."
Friday night study group was exactly what I needed—light review, moral support, shared panic.
"Raise your hand if you're terrified," Su-Jin said.
All five of us raised our hands.
"Okay, good. We're all equally panicked. That's healthy."
"Is it though?" Tae-Min asked.
"Probably not. But we're pretending it is."
We went through strategy one more time—timing techniques, question prioritization, what to do if we hit a hard question.
"Remember," Su-Jin said, "the test is designed to have questions you can't answer. That's normal. Don't let one hard question derail you."
"Easier said than done," Min-Seo said.
"Everything about this test is easier said than done. That's the whole problem."
Around 9 PM, we called it a night with plans to meet one more time Wednesday for a final light review.
"Nine days," Su-Jin said. "We're so close."
"So close," I agreed.
Walking home, I felt the weight of it—nine days until everything I'd been working toward for months culminated in one three-hour test.
No pressure.
My phone buzzed.
Bok-Jin: How was study group?
Me: Good. Panic-inducing but good.
Bok-Jin: Want to call?
Me: Yeah. Give me ten minutes to get home.
When I got to the apartment, I went straight to my room and called him.
"Hey," he answered. "How are you really?"
"Scared. Excited? I don't know. I just want it to be over."
"That's normal. You've been preparing for months. Of course you want to get to the actual event."
"What if I don't get 165? What if 163 is as good as I can do?"
"Then you got 163, which is still an excellent score that will get you into good law schools."
"But not SNU."
"Maybe not SNU. But you'd have other excellent options. And you could always retake it."
"I don't want to retake it. I want to do well enough the first time."
"I know. And you might. You've improved seven points in one week. Why can't you improve two more in two weeks?"
"Because maybe that's not how it works. Maybe I'm plateauing."
"Or maybe you're right on the edge of a breakthrough." He paused. "Tomorrow's practice test will tell you where you really are. Then you can adjust accordingly."
"You're very rational about this."
"One of us has to be."
"I hate that everyone keeps saying that."
He laughed. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's a big day."
"Okay. Goodnight, Bok-Jin."
"Goodnight, Ji-Mang. I love you."
"Love you too."
I hung up and stared at my ceiling.
Nine days.
One more practice test tomorrow to see if I was really ready.
Then just final review and the actual test.
I could do this.
I had to.