I sprinted across the campus, my dress shoes slamming against the pavement. The perfectly styled "Comma" hair was probably taking a beating from the wind, but I didn't care.
The Outdoor Amphitheater was located at the edge of the school grounds, nestled against the wooded hillside. It was a massive, semi-circular stone structure reminiscent of ancient Greece, but covered in ivy and years of neglect.
Until today.
Today, it was draped in banners. A massive stage had been erected over the old concrete floor. Speakers towers loomed on either side.
But the music coming from the stage wasn't H-Wnot's rock sound. It was silence.
Tense, suffocating silence.
I skidded to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps.
The stage was occupied.
H-Wnot—Jun-seo, Myung-dae, Leo, and Jin-hyun—were standing near the drum riser, looking like cornered animals. Their instruments were piled behind them.
Facing them was a wall of Crimson Red.
About ten Hanyeong students were blocking the path to the amps. In the center stood the guy I had seen getting off the bus yesterday. The Hanyeong Student Council President.
He was tall, with slicked-back hair and a face that screamed "I own a yacht." He was holding a microphone, tapping it against his palm rhythmically.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"I don't see why you're so upset, Jun-seo," the Hanyeong President said, his voice smooth and loud enough to carry to the few students watching from the seats. "We're just doing a safety check. Given the... history of this location."
Jun-seo was pale.
Myung-dae was gripping the strap of his guitar case so hard his knuckles were white.
"We have sound check at 12:00," Jun-seo said, his voice trembling. "It's 12:05. You're blocking our slot."
He looked at the high scaffolding above the stage.
"Safety first," the President smirked, glancing up at the rusting beams. "We wouldn't want another... slip. Would we? especially with you on stage."
Myung-dae stepped forward, his fists clenched.
"Get the hell out of the way, Kang Do-jin. Before I break your jaw."
"Violence," Do-jin sighed, shaking his head at his entourage. "Typical Kirin behavior. No wonder you produce thugs instead of artists."
He took a step closer to Jun-seo.
"Tell me, Jun-seo. Does it haunt you? Standing right here? Do you see him falling every time you blink?"
Jun-seo flinched back, looking like he was about to vomit.
Do-jin laughed.
He reached out and tapped Jun-seo's chest with the microphone.
"You shouldn't be here. You should be in jail. Or at least in hell."
That was it.
Myung-dae roared and lunged.
"HEY!"
The sound cracked through the amphitheater like a whip.
Everyone froze.
I walked up the stairs onto the stage.
The "Idol" suit, the styled hair, the dark aura—I didn't look like the friendly exchange student.
I looked like the third member of the Golden Trio.
I walked straight through the line of Hanyeong students.
They parted instinctively, confused by my confidence.
I stepped between Kang Do-jin and Jun-seo. I swatted the microphone away from Jun-seo's chest.
"Who are you?" Do-jin sneered, looking me up and down. "Another backup dancer?"
"I'm the Frontman," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "And you are trespassing on my stage."
"Your stage?" Do-jin laughed. "This stage belongs to the best. And looking at this..." He gestured to our piled equipment. "...garbage collection, that isn't you."
He looked at Jin-hyun, who was sitting on the drum riser, twirling a stick, watching the scene with a bored expression.
"And you," Do-jin spat. "Park Jin-hyun. The Traitor. Running back to the sinking ship? Principal is very disappointed."
Jin-hyun stopped twirling the stick. His smile didn't waver, but his eyes went dead.
"Do-jin-ah," Jin-hyun said softly. "You talk too much for a guy who can't even sing."
Do-jin's face reddened.
He stepped forward, getting in my face.
"Listen here, foreigner. You think a haircut and a suit make you special? You're playing a game you don't understand. This isn't a talent show. This is war."
He pointed at the scaffolding.
"W-Naut died here. And today, we're going to bury the rest of you."
He signaled to his crew.
"Move the amps," Do-jin commanded. "We need to test the acoustics for our set."
Two large Hanyeong students moved to grab Jun-seo's guitar amp.
"Don't touch it," I warned.
"Or what?" Do-jin sneered. "You'll do a pull-up?"
I didn't do a pull-up.
I grabbed the wrist of the guy reaching for the amp. I didn't squeeze hard, just enough to engage the grip strength that came from holding my entire body weight on a metal bar for hours.
The guy winced, dropping his hand.
"Or we will make this festival very, very ugly," I said calmly.
"Is that a threat?" Do-jin asked.
"It's a promise."
The tension was thick enough to snap a guitar string.
Myung-dae was vibrating with rage.
Jin-hyun had stood up.
Even Leo had raised his violin bow like a weapon.
Suddenly, a voice boomed from the entrance.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"
We all turned.
Walking down the aisle was Ms. Choi.
And flanking her was the "Orange Refrigerator"— the Hanyeong PE teacher.
"Rehearsal time is sacred!" Ms. Choi barked, marching onto the stage. She glared at Do-jin. "Hanyeong's slot is at 2:00 PM. Why are you harassing my students?"
"Just checking the rigging, Ms. Choi," Do-jin lied smoothly, stepping back and fixing his blazer. "We were concerned about safety. We're leaving."
He turned to his crew.
"Let's go. The smell of desperation is getting strong here."
As he walked past me, he leaned in.
"Enjoy the show, San," he whispered. "We have a surprise for the finale. Make sure you don't blink."
He bumped my shoulder hard and walked off the stage, his red-clad army following him.
Silence returned to the stage. But it wasn't the good kind.
Jun-seo sank onto a monitor speaker, burying his face in his hands.
"I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't play here. He's right. I see him everywhere."
Myung-dae kicked a cable, cursing violently.
I looked at the scaffolding. The rusted metal looked ominous against the blue sky.
I looked at my band.
They were broken before we even started.
"Jun-seo," I said, crouching down next to him.
"I'm sorry," Jun-seo sobbed, shaking. "I'm sorry, San. I'm going to ruin it. I'm a coward."
I grabbed his shoulders.
"You're not a coward," I said firmly. "And you're not a murderer."
I looked at the rest of them.
I stood up, grabbing the microphone Do-jin had left behind.
"We are H-Wnot."
I turned to the sound booth, where a terrified student tech was hiding.
"Turn it on!" I yelled. "Sound check! Now!"
Jin-hyun laughed.
A real, sharp laugh.
He jumped behind the drum kit.
BAM-BAM.
The kick drum shook the stage.
"That's right!" Jin-hyun shouted. "Let's make some noise!"
Myung-dae grabbed his bass, plugging it in with a savage thrust.
"Fine," Myung-dae growled.
Jun-seo looked up.
He saw us.
He saw the stage.
He wiped his eyes, took a shaky breath, and picked up his guitar.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."