Mornings at Seonghwa High had always looked polish, smelled expensive and wealth. But not of perfume nor flowers. The floors were waxed, reflecting the vaulted glass ceilings.
It's trimmed hedges, sculpted in a mathematical precision. The kind that stands out. Its marbled steps washed before sunrise. Even the air, felt filtered, refined, curated and selective though it wasn't.
But somehow, Eun-chae Park found herself here despite her social class. Stepping through the iron gates, she adjusted the strap of her worn leather satchel. Students strolled around in an effortless waves in navy blazers and sharply tailored skirts. Chauffeured cars idled briefly before pullying away from the curb in a neat procession.
As she approached the glass doors, it parted automatically. Ushering her into the bustling hallways of students. Their laughter and voices echoing freely against the walls. But amist them, Eun-chae walked alone. Her blazer altered twice by her mother's careful hands.
The thread stood out somehow, when looked closely, exposing the unprofessionalism of it. What's even funnier, was the hem of her skirt. It had been let out a fraction, just to follow regulational length. Her shoes were polished to a shine, masking their age.
Despite all this, no one said anything outright. They never did, but eyes lingered from behind whenever she walked by. But she kept her gaze forward, grown used to the stares. Coming to terms that becoming remarkable at Seonghwa High meant survival.
Three escalators rose in parallel toward the upper levels at the center of the atrium. Their brushed steel sides clean. At the base, students gathered in quiet a formation. Athletes beneath the championship banners suspended from the mezzanine.
Student council executives near the transparent digital directory, and the legacy families positioned by the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the private courtyard.
Eun-chae walked past them all. Trying her best to be invisible. But her name sat at the top of the academic rankings screen anyway. First in her year, highlighted in restrained gold. It had been there since freshman year.
Park, Eun-chae.
Scholarship – Full Merit.
Even the small line beneath her name was as well engraved in neon.
Full Merit.
Not a donor. Not legacy. And not parent-funded.
It was earned.
Somehow, that made her more visible than her social status ever could.
Briefly, she stopped in front of the board. Not out of pride, but calculation. Checking from last terms report, her average was 98.4. From what she could remember, it needed to stay above 97 to secure her scholarship's renewal without review.
She inhaled slowly. " Just endure, Eun-chae. Survive quietly and just graduate."
At that moment, a voice slipped into her thoughts. "Still pretending you belong?"
Eun-chae didn't turn immediately. Not that out of pride, but she didn't need to. Because she knew it all too well. The laughter that followed instantly, carried its usual tone. Totally designed for an audience.
And there was no other person that holds it, than Seo Min-ji . She leaned against the announcement board the moment she neared Eun-chae. Her dark hair falling over her shoulders in glossy waves. Unlike Eun-chae's, her blazer was tailored sharper than the set regulations. Staring at Eun-chae, she wore an amused expression. Two girls, Yura and Hae-in flanked her. Looking polished and perfectly bored.
Min-ji's father had always funded the east wing. She was daughter and heir of a conglomerate. Never had she needed to survive quietly. Not in her entire life.
"Good morning." Eun-chae offered a polite nod.
Min-ji's smile widened, enjoying every bit of it. "It's so cute how formal you are." She laughed.
Yura leaned closer, eyes scanning Eun-chae's shoes. "Are those vintage?... Or just… old?" Laughter immediately erupted from the three of them, irritative enough to provoke.
Eun-chae felt the heat crawl up her neck but kept her voice steady. "I have class." She said, trying to avoid their trouble.
"Of course you do," Min-ji replied sweetly. " You wouldn't want to lose that precious scholarship." The word 'precious' see. to carry teeth that dug deep into Eun-chae's skin.
But she shook it off. Intutively, she inclined her head as she walked past them.
Rule one: Never react. They feed on reaction.. This had always been like an anchor to her.
For some reason, Min-ji and her sidekicks just watch her go. Though they wore a smug expression before turning on their heels in the other direction.
·
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Life on campus had been like this since Eun-chae could remember. But with time, she had learnt to swallow it in. Down the west hallway, the lockers lined the walls in gray uniform. As she got to hers, she slid the key into the lock. The metal resisted slightly since it was older than the rest.
But as usual, it opened. Eun-chae instantly froze, her heart throbbing against her chest as stared at her textbooks. It laid soaked. Water dripped from the pages, pooling at the bottom of the locker.
The ink had bled into distorted shadows. Her meticulously written notes for Advanced Calculus were sagged in warped layers with the edges torn.
For a moment, the hallway noise disappeared. The only thing she could hear, was the sound of water dripping from her book.
Plink.
…plip.
Plink… plink…
Her pulse thudded in her ears. Carefully, She reached into the locker, lifting one notebook. The pages separated in a damp, fragile sheets. The entire formulas were gone. Her weeks of preparation, blurred beyond recovery.
From behind, footsteps echoes in slowed pace. They were familiar, without a glance, she knew who they were.
"Oops," Min-ji's voice floated down the hall. "Did it rain in your locker?"
Yura giggled at her remark. "Maybe scholarships don't come with maintenance."
A few nearby students who were present, pretended not to look. And neither did anyone intervened. Eun-chae swallowed, though her throat felt tight.
"It's fine," she said softly, more to herself than them. But that didn't cut it.
Min-ji stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You know, if you're struggling, you could just transfer. I can feel how exhausting it must be, trying to keep up."
The implication of her words hung heavier. "Trying?" The word rang in Eun-chae's mind. Carefully, she closed the locker.
"I'm not struggling," she replied.
Min-ji studied her for a long second, searching for a crack, a tiny spark of weakness.
"Midterms are next week," she said lightly. "I wouldn't want accidents happening." She mocked and walked away.
The sound of the hallway returned all at once. But Eun-chae stood still exactly three seconds long. Before gathering the ruined notebooks. Pressed them flat against her chest, and headed toward the restroom.
Walking into the farthest stall, she locked the door. With no one to see her vulnerability, her hands trembled. She sat on the closed lid, letting the damp papers rest on her lap. She stared at the damage.
Calculus problems she had solved at 2 a.m. The History essays she had rewritten three times for precision, and the
Physics derivations she had memorized line by line. All gone.
A sharp sting gathered behind her eyes.
"No, not here. This was not the time." She told herself.
She pressed her lips together, forcing the tears back. Crying would not restore ink. Neither would it protect her GPA. Nor keep the scholarship.
After a while, she pulled out her phone and opened the cloud backup app. Fortunately,
half of her notes were saved digitally. And half weren't. Her breath steadied. It wasn't a total loss after all.
Just a setback. She could rewrite everything all over again. It wasn't something new to her. She had always done it.