I stumbled into homeroom, Room 2-B, right behind Kang Min-ah. She was still giving me a high-speed, whispered analysis of the school's social structure. "...and the band needs a new rhythm guitarist, but Myung-Dae is too proud to hold auditions, and Jun-seo won't even look at the music room, so it's all just a mess..."
She was the only one talking. The moment we stepped through the door, I felt the atmosphere drop about twenty degrees. The classroom, usually buzzing with a low murmur, was dead silent. It was a perfect, tense snapshot of the war I'd apparently triggered.
In the front row, Ha-neul was at her desk, meticulously organizing a set of colored pens . Her shoulders were rigid. A few seats over, Park Jun-seo was staring at his desk, his jaw tight. His cut lip from yesterday was a dark, angry red.
In the back row, Lee Myung-Dae was slouched in his usual spot, beanie pulled low . He wasn't asleep. His head was up, and he was staring—with those cold, cat-like eyes—right at the back of Jun-seo's head. The white plaster on his nose was stark and aggressive.
Min-ah, blissfully unbothered by the crushing tension, just skipped to her seat. "Morning, everyone!" she chirped, and it was like she'd thrown a firecracker into a library. I slid into the desk next to her, my backpack hitting the floor with a heavy thud that sounded like a drum in the quiet.
The door opened, and Ms. Choi walked in, holding a tablet. She took in the room with one, sharp, all-knowing glance.
She saw Jun-seo's lip.
She saw Myung-Dae's nose.
She saw me.
She let out a long, quiet sigh.
"Good morning, class," she said, her voice deceptively light. She did the roll call, her eyes lingering on Jun-seo and Myung-Dae, but she said nothing. "Right. Announcements," she said, tapping her tablet. "First, the Autumn Festival. It's in three weeks. As you know, Class 2-B is traditionally in charge of the main stage closing performance. However, I have yet to receive your official application." She looked up, her gaze landing squarely on the class president. "Jun-seo-ssi?"
Jun-seo's head, which had been down, slowly lifted. He turned in his seat and looked directly at the back row. "Myung-Dae and his 'band' still haven't submitted their performance plan. It's a week overdue. As class president, I can't sign off on the homeroom budget until all plans are in."
"My band?" Myung-dae chuckled.
The class went so quiet I could hear the clock tick.
Myung-Dae just smirked. It was a slow, cruel smile that didn't touch his eyes. He leaned forward in his chair. "Don't worry about it, President," he drawled, putting a toxic amount of venom on the title. "I'm sure you'll find a way to take care of it for us. You always do."
Jun-seo's jaw tightened. Next to me, Ha-neul's hand, which had been holding a mechanical pencil, clenched. There was a sharp snap. The pencil had broken in her grip. She just calmly placed the two broken pieces on her desk and took a new one from her case.
"See?" Min-ah whispered to me, her voice buzzing with excitement. "A total mess. They're going to be disbanded."
"Disbanded?" I whispered back.
"Yes! They're the best band this school has ever had, but since Jin-woo left... they're falling apart. They don't even have a rhythm guitarist anymore. And now, all the other bands are circling, just dying to take their festival slot. The spring incident... it ruined them." I remembered the gossip from the bus.
It's always about some Jin-woo.
Min-ah leaned in, her peachy scent and her intense, gossipy energy overwhelming. "You play guitar. You're good. And you're the only one here who isn't part of their stupid drama. You need to talk to them. Get them to play."
"Me? Why me? They're at war."
"Because... I was a huge fan," she said, her voice dropping for a second, almost sounding genuine. "And... because it's just so interesting to see what happens," she finished, her usual smirk returning. "Do this, and I'll owe you a favor. And trust me, 'Mountain,' you want me to owe you a favor."
"Alright. Enough about the main stage," Ms. Choi said, clearly deciding to defuse the bomb. "Let's talk about the other festival event. The school is trying something new. A 'Kirin's Got Talent' showcase. One participant from each class is required." The entire class let out a collective, pained groan.
"We need a volunteer," Ms. Choi said, scanning the room. No one moved. Then, Min-ah's hand shot up. Ms. Choi looked relieved.
"Ah, Min-ah-ssi. A question? Or are you volunteering?"
"An idea, Seonsaengnim!" Min-ah said, her voice bright and loud. She stood up. "We have a new 'Representative of Foreign Students,' don't we? What better way to represent our class and school than to show off his unique talent? I think San-ssi should do it. He can show everyone some more of that 'Ukrainian spirit'!"
She was pointing right at me. Every eye in the room turned.
"Yeah, Mountain!"
"Play the rock song again!"
"Good idea!"
"Let the newbie do it!"
The class, desperate for anyone else to take the fall, erupted in cheers and applause. I was frozen. I looked at Ms. Choi, my face a mask of pure panic. She gave me a kind, apologetic smile.
"Well, San-ssi... it seems you're popular. If the class is for it... why don't you try?" I'd been played. Perfectly.