The bulletin board outside the Applied Music office was glowing with digital names.
COMBINED PERFORMANCE EVALUATION - FINAL ROSTER
Team A: Yoo Chae-rin(2-A) & Oleksandr Motuzenko(2-B) (Duet)
Team B: Classical Tteokbokkis!(Soo Eu-ram(2-A), Lim Ha-ri(2-B), Cheong Bo-min(2-B), Oh Lye-seo(2-A, Kim Ram-go(2-A)
"We passed," Min-ah chirped, reading over my shoulder. "Obviously. But look at the fine print. Professor Kim couldn't decide on the cut, so she added Team B. A mystery group. Well they weren't so bad, I liked the symphony they played."
"Great," I mumbled, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the notice board. "More enemies."
I was beyond tired. I was existing in a state of suspended animation.
For the past ten days, I hadn't slept more than three hours a night. Between cramming for regular classes, the "Kirin's Got Talent" prep, and the grueling late-night sessions with H-Wnot, my body was staging a protest.
I hadn't even worked out.
Me.
The guy who even posted his workout videos on Ukrainian socials!
My muscles felt flat and heavy, deprived of their usual endorphin rush.
"You look like a zombie from the Walking Dead," Min-ah noted helpfully, poking my arm.
"Thank you, Min-ah," I groaned, peeling myself off the glass. "I'm going home. If I don't touch a pillow in the next hour, I'm going to hallucinate."
I walked out to the courtyard where H-Wnot was dispersing after our final pre-festival rehearsal.
It had been... intense.
We sounded good—scary good, actually—but the air in the practice room was thick enough to choke on.
Myung-dae refused to look at Jun-seo.
Jun-seo tried too hard to be accommodating, which only annoyed Myung-dae more.
Leo played his violin facing the wall, whistling the melody nervously.
Jin-hyun just laughed at the chaos, fueling the fire.
Every song run-through felt like defusing a bomb.
"Good work today," Jun-seo said, slinging his guitar case over his shoulder. He looked at me with concern. "Rest well, San. You look pale."
Bruh, how the hell Jun-seo looks so good and manages to have time for everything.
That's the question I've had all this time. Ever since I came to Korea it felt like competitive rollercoaster. It wasn't in all the k-dramas I watched.
"Yeah," I waved my hand weakly. "See you tomorrow. Don't kill each other."
"No promises," Myung-dae muttered, revving his bike and shooting off without a backward glance.
I dragged my feet toward the school gate. The sun was setting, casting long, orange shadows across the pavement. All I could think about was my bed.
Just the bed.
Maybe food, but mostly bed.
I stepped off the curb to cross the street toward the bus stop.
SCREEEEECH.
A sleek black car swerved aggressively toward the curb, cutting me off so close that the side mirror practically brushed my uniform buttons.
The tires squealed on the asphalt.
My adrenaline spiked, shattering my exhaustion.
"YAH!" I shouted, jumping back and slapping the hood of the car. "Are you blind?! Do you even look where you are driving?!"
'Why am I saying YAH, when I'm angry? I'm not even Korean,' I felt stupid.
The car idled, ominously silent.
"Did you buy your license at the supermarket?!" I yelled, my frustration boiling over. "Idiot!"
The tinted back window rolled down slowly with a mechanical whir.
I prepared to yell at some rich businessman.
Instead, I was met with a pair of oversized, designer sunglasses reflecting my own angry, disheveled face.
Yoo Chae-rin lowered the glasses just enough to peer over the rim. She looked impeccable, terrifying, and completely unbothered by my road rage.
"Get in," she commanded.
"Chae-rin?" I blinked, my anger deflating into confusion. "Your driver almost ran me over!"
"I stopped, didn't I?" she said smoothly. She unlocked the door. "Get in. We're on a schedule."
"Schedule? What schedule?" I backed away. "It's Thursday evening. I'm going to sleep. I'm dead on my feet."
She smiled.
It wasn't her polite smile.
It wasn't even her mocking smile.
It was the smile of a predator who had trapped its prey.
"You don't get to sleep," she said.
She tapped her wrist.
"Time for Condition One."
"Condition One?" I asked, my brain lagging. "I thought Condition One was forming the band? We did that. I got the steak dinner."
"That was the Number Two," she corrected.
She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my frayed cuffs, my messy hair, and my general lack of polish.
"We are going to win the Best Couple award at the festival, San. And you..." She curled her lip slightly. "...currently look like a homeless gym teacher."
She pushed the door open.
"Get in the car. We're going to Cheongdam-dong. We have a makeover to do."