I was still standing, my mouth open, the sound of the class's cheerful applause echoing in my ears. I'd been in this school for 24 hours, and I'd just been railroaded into a talent show by the school's gossip queen.
Min-ah sat down, shooting me a dazzling, innocent smile that said, You're welcome.
No way I'll fulfill what you asked me earlier, Min-ah, I thought, feeling a vein bulge on my temple. I don't even care about your favor!
"Well, that's settled then," Ms. Choi said, tapping her tablet, a faint hint of amusement in her own eyes. She knew exactly what had just happened. "San-ssi will represent Class 2-B. Thank you, Min-ah-ssi, for your... civic-mindedness."
Ms. Choi clapped her hands.
"Okay. That's all for announcements. You have this period for self-study. Please be quiet. The festival committee expects..."
Her voice droned on, but I didn't hear any of it. My mind was just a loop of talent show, talent show, what am I going to do? I'd played one song. It was a fluke. Now I had to do it... on purpose? In front of everyone?
Next to me, Min-ah was already tapping away on her pink phone, no doubt updating 'Kirin's Secrets' with the news she had just created. Across the room, Ha-neul was pointedly not looking at me, but I saw her shoulders shaking slightly. She was laughing again. Jun-seo just looked tired, as if this was just one more mess he'd eventually have to clean up. And in the back, Myung-Dae was staring at me, his expression unreadable, before he just scoffed and put his headphones on, blocking out the world.
The bell for the end of homeroom hadn't rung yet. This was just the administrative part. "Right," Ms. Choi said, finishing her notices. "I have to return to the office. Your first period teacher will be here shortly. Study quietly."
She gathered her tablet and papers. The class began to rustle, students pulling out books for their next class. I just sat there, numb. Ms. Choi walked up the aisle. As she passed my desk, she paused. "San-ssi," she said, her voice low and professional, just for me. I looked up, my heart sinking.
"Yes, seonsaengnim?"
"A word. In the faculty office, please." She didn't wait for an answer. She just continued walking out the door.
The effect was instantaneous.
The quiet rustling of the class... stopped.
Every single eye in the room snapped to me.
Being called to the office by the homeroom teacher after the morning's announcements... it was not a good sign. I saw Min-ah's eyes go wide with genuine, unadulterated curiosity. What now? I saw Ha-neul's smirk fade, replaced by a look of... confusion? I saw Jun-seo look up, his brow furrowed in concern.
My stomach, which had just settled from breakfast, did a slow, painful flip.
Was I being expelled for the kimchi? Was Chae-rin's father demanding my head now? Was it the fight? The sneaking out? Slowly, my legs feeling like they were full of wet concrete for the second time in two days, I stood up. I grabbed my new Samsung phone—the only thing I'd need—and followed Ms. Choi out into the hall.
My back was tingling.
I could feel all their eyes on me.
The walk to the faculty office was the longest of my life. The only sound was the professional, brisk click-clack of Ms. Choi's heels ahead of me.
My mind was a high-speed slideshow of every crime I'd committed.
The kimchi-jjigae assault . The "deoreowo" incident . The shoulder-check on Myung-Dae. The illegal, late-night park basketball game with Myung-Dae. The unauthorized, creepy spying on Yoo Chae-rin and her "boyfriend." The sneaking out, which Jun-seo and Ha-neul definitely knew about.
I was done. Deported. My one-year break was lasting less than two days. My mom was going to kill me.
We reached the "gyomushil". Ms. Choi pushed the door open and held it, waiting for me. I bowed my head meekly and walked in.
She didn't lead me to the principal's office. She just walked to her own neat, organized desk and gestured to the empty chair opposite it.
"Sit down, San-ssi."
I sat.
My legs were jelly. I placed my new Samsung phone face-down on her desk, my hands clasped on top of it.
I was ready for the verdict. Ms. Choi sat down, took a sip from her "keep calm" mug, and looked at me. Her expression wasn't angry. It was... something else. Appraising.
"You've had a... very eventful 24 hours," she said, her voice neutral.
"Yes, seonsaengnim," I whispered. "I'm... I'm really sorry. About Chae-rin. And the fight. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I..."
She held up a hand, cutting me off.
"Actually, that's not why I called you here."
I blinked. My entire panic-response system just... blue-screened.
"It's... not?"
"No," she said, tapping her tablet. "The principal has already spoken with Mr. Park and Mr. Lee. They're serving a week of... 'leadership detention.' And Mr. Yoo has been... placated. For now. Your apology to Ms. Yoo was... well, it was a spectacular failure, but your intentions were noted."
I couldn't breathe.
"Then... why am I here?"
"I called you here," she said, leaning forward slightly, "about your new job."
"My... my job?"
"Your position," she clarified. "Representative of Foreign Students." My stomach twisted again.
"But... seonsaengnim, I'm the only one. What am I even representing?"
"Usually, there wouldn't be any exchange students, but for some reason this year principal…," she said, and her face became serious. "Nevermind. Which is why your duties, if you were alone, would normally just be 'make one speech at the festival'. But... we have a situation. A last-minute admission." She pulled up a file on her tablet. "We have another new student. Also a scholarship. He's starting today. But he's a first-year. Class 1-C."
"A first-year?"
"Yes. He's Korean-American. From Los Angeles. He's... a special case. And his Korean is... very, very basic. He's barely conversational."
"A Korean-American... who can't speak Korean?"
"Exactly," she said, a small, tired smile on her face. "Which makes him, for all intents and purposes, a foreign student. His flight was delayed, he missed orientation, and he's completely lost."
Orientation? Did I even have one? I need to remind Jun-seo on our break!
She finally looked up, her gaze pinning me to the chair.
"As the official 'Representative of Foreign Students,' he is, quite literally, your first and only responsibility. I need you to be his guide. His 'buddy.'"
"You want... you want me to go get him?"
"I want you," she said, "to be the seonbae (senior) for him. You're the only other person in this school who knows what it's like to be thrown in here with no connections. You're the 'expert' now."
"Me? An expert? Seonsaengnim, I'm a walking disaster."
"You're also," she said with a tiny, calculating smile, "the only person who understands. You're memorable and friendly. Maybe you're exactly what he needs to feel less terrified." She stood up. "He's in the admissions waiting room. He's supposed to be in his first class right now."
She led me not to the principal's office, but to a small, private waiting room near the main entrance. A boy was slouched in a chair, staring at the floor. He was wearing an American university hoodie, ripped jeans, and a pair of old sneakers. He had headphones on, but they were hanging around his neck. His dark hair was a shaggy, unkempt mess.
Unlike me, he looked more handsome and his messy hair suited him well.
He also looked... defiant.
"He's been here for an hour," Ms. Choi whispered. "Refuses to move. His homeroom teacher is... struggling." She stepped into the room. "Excuse me. Your guide is here." The boy didn't look up. "Your guide, San-ssi, is here to take you to class."
The boy slowly, lazily, lifted his head. His eyes were sharp, dark, and annoyed.
"San-ssi," Ms. Choi said, her voice formal. "I'd like you to meet... Han Leo. From Class 1-C. He'll be in your care." Han Leo looked at me, sized me up in my un-uniformed, second-day-disaster-look, and just scoffed, looking away. Great. The walking disaster was now in charge of the angry, non-Korean-speaking teenager. This day was just getting better.