Chapter Text
The black sedan glided away from the quiet streets, leaving the warm glow of Ahjumma Kim’s restaurant behind. Inside, the world shifted back to its usual cold luxury.
Dani immediately slumped, ripping off her oversized sunglasses and tugging the scarf off her head.
“Ugh, finally.” She shook her hair out. “How do celebrities do disguises? I was suffocating.”
Minji chuckled under her breath, eyes still forward as she buckled in. “You looked ridiculous.”
“Thanks.” Dani rolled her eyes, then softened. “But… that was nice. The restaurant, I mean. And Ahjumma Kim. She kept giving us food like we were her grandkids.”
“She’s kind,” Minji murmured. “Too kind, actually.”
Dani glanced at her sideways.
Then, after a moment.
“…Minji.”
“Mm?”
“Are you helping Yujin because you feel guilty?” Dani asked quietly. “Or because this is some… chaebol chess move you’re planning?”
Minji didn’t answer at first. Her eyes were on the city lights passing by, reflected in the tinted window like small floating shards.
“I don’t feel guilty,” she finally said. “I didn’t bully her.”
“But you didn’t stop it either.”
Minji exhaled, slow, nose flaring slightly. Dani wasn’t accusing, just stating it like she always did, soft and sincere.
“No,” Minji admitted. “I didn’t.”
The car turned into the main road, neon signs painting streaks of color across Minji’s face. Dani watched the way Minji’s hands tightened on her lap, the only tell she’d give.
“It’s Wonyoung, isn’t it?” Dani said gently.
Minji closed her eyes, just for a second.
“…she’s getting worse.”
Dani’s expression softened immediately. “Her mother again?”
Minji didn’t nod, but she didn’t deny it either.
“She’s bothered,” Minji said. “She’s furious all the time. And the more unstable her home gets… the more she needs control somewhere else.” She rubbed her temple. “And Yujin became the outlet. I don’t want her to end up like her mom.”
Dani frowned, worried. “But Minji… a challenge? A bet on grades? Will that even help? What if it makes everything worse?”
“It might,” Minji said plainly. “But right now, everything is already worse.”
Silence filled the car for a beat.
Minji looked down at her hands, remembering Wonyoung laughing with Ningning earlier.
“She needs something she can win,” Minji said quietly. “Something she can focus on that isn’t destroying another person. If she and Yujin compete academically… she will feel more angry, but if she doesn’t stop, she might do things she might regret later. Her father is already worried about her, and always asked me to look after Wonyoung.”
Dani slowly nodded. “And if Yujin loses, she leaves.”
“Yes. And Wonyoung gets the closure she thinks she wants.”
“And if Yujin wins?”
Minji let out a humorless breath.
“Then maybe Wonyoung finally stops it,” she said. “Because losing in front of everyone hurts her pride more than anything.”
Dani leaned back in her seat, absorbing that.
“Do you think Yujin can really win?” she asked.
Minji didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Dani blinked. “Really?”
“Wonyoung is smart,” Minji said. “But Yujin… Yujin studies like her life depends on it. Because it does.” She exhaled. “And honestly? Yujin might be the only person who can make Wonyoung grounded.”
Dani grew quiet, chewing on her bottom lip.
“…Minji?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re not doing this just for Wonyoung, right?”
Minji looked out the window again — the reflection of her own face staring back, unreadable.
“…No,” she said finally. “I’m doing it because we all know this can’t continue. Someone will get hurt. And I’m not letting it be someone innocent.”
Dani nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Then… I’ll help.”
Minji turned to her, surprised. “You will?”
“Yeah.” Dani gave a small, lopsided smile. “Just tell me what to do.”
The car continued down the road toward Janghwa’s wealthy district, two elite girls sitting in silence — both knowing that the party would be a battlefield, and that they had just chosen their side.
***
The walk home felt longer than usual.
Maybe it was the cold air, maybe it was the weight in her chest, or maybe it was Minji’s voice replaying in her head — “dare Wonyoung… top 1… she’ll leave you alone.”
By the time Yujin and Hanni reached their tiny apartment, the hallway lights flickering above them, Yujin’s palms were sweating.
Inside, the cramped room felt safe. Familiar. Shoes by the door, Hanni’s hair clips scattered on their single desk, the faint scent of laundry detergent clinging to their drying uniforms.
Hanni flopped onto her bed with a sigh, but the second she saw Yujin’s expression, she sat up straight.
“Yujin… what happened?”
Yujin swallowed, clutching the strap of her bag. “There’s… something I have to tell you.”
Hanni’s eyes sharpened immediately — worry first, then suspicion.
“What did they do this time?”
Yujin sat beside her, staring at her hands. “You remember Ningning’s party this Saturday?”
“Yes.” Hanni’s face twisted. “Obviously. The whole school won’t shut up about it.”
Yujin nodded. “Well… Minji and Dani came to ahjumma Kim’s shop tonight.”
Hanni’s jaw dropped. “They what?”
Yujin held up both hands quickly. “They weren’t rude. They didn’t do anything bad. They just… talked.”
Hanni’s brows furrowed, her voice rising. “Yujin, that is suspicious. Why would they go to your workplace? What if it’s a setup? What if they want you to feel safe so you’ll go to the party? What if they’re doing this for Wonyoung?”
Yujin looked down. “Minji said she paid for the one-million won chicken prank.”
“What?” Hanni’s eyes widened. “She paid for it?”
“And Dani apologized.”
Hanni stood up, pacing the length of their tiny room — three steps one way, three steps back.
“Yujin, this is bad. I don’t like this. What if this is all Ningning’s idea? Or worse, what if Wonyoung told them to lure you?”
Yujin’s stomach twisted. “I know. I thought about that too.”
“So why are you even thinking about going?” Hanni asked, voice shaking. “It’s a club full of drunk teenagers, and they already hate us. What if they do something to you? Or to me? What if—”
“Hanni.” Yujin’s voice was quiet.
Hanni stopped pacing.
Yujin exhaled shakily. “Minji… asked me to challenge Wonyoung.”
Hanni stared. “…challenge her? For what?”
“For the top exam score.” Yujin rubbed her palms together. “If I get top 1, Wonyoung and her friends leave us alone. Completely. But if Wonyoung wins… I leave Janghwa.”
Hanni froze, horror dawning.
“No.” Her voice cracked. “Yujin, no. That’s insane.”
“I know,” Yujin whispered. “I know.”
“What if you lose? What if they cheat? What if—”
“Hanni.” Yujin’s voice trembled now. “I’m tired.”
Hanni’s anger deflated into something softer — hurt, worry, love.
Yujin’s fingers shook as she spoke. “I’m tired of walking through the halls knowing something might happen every second. I’m tired of having things thrown at me. I’m tired of seeing you hurt and scared. I’m tired of feeling like we don’t belong anywhere.” Her eyes glistened faintly. “I just… want it to end.”
The room was quiet except for the faint buzz of their old refrigerator.
Hanni sat beside her slowly, gripping Yujin’s hand.
“But risking everything?” Hanni whispered. “You could be expelled. You could lose everything you’ve worked for since Cheongha-ri.”
Yujin nodded, swallowing. “I know.”
Hanni squeezed her hand tighter, almost painfully tight.
“Then don’t go,” Hanni said. “We’ll survive with two uniforms. We’ll survive the bullying. But I can’t lose you. I won’t let Wonyoung take Janghwa from you.”
Yujin looked at her, conflicted, torn in half.
Minji’s words echoed in her head. “If you want this to stop, the party is the only place to do it.”
Hanni’s voice echoed too.
“I won’t let Wonyoung take Janghwa from you.”
Yujin closed her eyes.
The weight settled on her chest like a stone.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to choose. She just knew the choice was coming.
And she was terrified.
***
At the Kim family estate, sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows as Winter stood in front of her walk-in closet — a literal glass-walled room bigger than Yujin’s whole apartment.
Dozens of dresses hung in perfect color gradients — icy blues, silvers, velvets, satin.
Winter chewed her lower lip, holding two dresses up to her reflection.
A white silk one-shoulder. A navy velvet slip.
“Hm,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Which one says ‘I’m better than you but I don’t need to try’…”
She tossed the navy one aside.
Her phone buzzed.
Ningning – ‘Be ready by 8. Don’t look cheap.’
Winter scoffed. “Since when have I ever?”
She slipped into the white dress, the fabric shimmering like fresh snow, and gave herself a small satisfied smile.
***
Meanwhile, in a luxury mall, Yuna strutted through a designer store with three shopping bags already in hand.
She stopped in front of a display of glittering stilettos.
“Show me these in a size 240,” she told the staff, pointing at a pair with crystal straps. “Actually—all the colors.”
Her phone lit up with the group chat.
Winter: Which lipstick are you using tonight?
Yuna: Depends which boy I’m ruining after the party.
She smirked as staff laid out five boxes for her. She bought all of them without blinking.
***
At Dani’s house, her room looked like a bomb of clothes had exploded.
Dresses on the bed, shoes on the carpet, hangers hanging off the lamp.
Dani twirled in front of Minji wearing a sparkly lavender top and ripped white jeans.
“What about this?” Dani asked, grinning. “We would look cute matching!”
Minji sprawled on the bed, unimpressed. “You look cute. I will not wear lavender.”
“But Minjiiii, it’s pastel night!” Dani whined, shoving another outfit at her. “Please? Just try it?”
Minji rolled her eyes so hard it was audible.
“Dani. No. I’m not dressing like a K-pop dancer for Ningning’s sake.”
Dani pouted. “You’re no fun.”
Minji sat up, smoothing her hair. “I’m focused. Tonight is important.”
***
At an upscale salon, Ningning lounged in a chair with foils in her hair and three stylists attending to her.
She flipped through her phone lazily, checking the status updates from her party staff.
Food? Imported wagyu sliders, done.
Drinks? Eight crates of champagne, done.
DJ? Booked.
Security? Briefed to let in only who she personally approves.
Ningning smirked slightly.
“Make the curls bigger,” she told the stylist. “Tonight needs main-character energy.”
Her phone buzzed again:
Winter: “Is Wonyoung okay for tonight?”
Ningning: “She will be. She just needs… monitoring.”
Yuna: “Monitoring? She’s not a toddler.”
Ningning: “No, but she’s dramatic.”
She smiled wider.
Tonight was going to be fun.
***
In her penthouse bedroom, Wonyoung sat perfectly still with a cold gel face mask hugging her skin. Her long hair was pinned back.
She stared at her reflection — glowing skin, soft lips, eyes sharp even without makeup.
Her phone sat on the vanity, dozens of messages from her clique lighting up the screen.
She didn’t look at them.
She didn’t need to.
Tonight, everything would fall into place.
She touched the mask lightly, her expression unreadable.
“Finally,” she whispered to herself, “you’ll be gone.”
***
Their tiny dorm apartment was the complete opposite of the elite girls’ worlds — cramped, warm, and cluttered.
Yujin and Hanni sat cross-legged on the floor in front of their small cabinet, the doors wide open.
Inside were maybe six shirts, two skirts, three sweaters, and a couple of jeans.
Hanni held up a simple black cardigan. “Should we just… go like this?”
Yujin bit her lip. “It’s too plain. They’ll laugh.”
Hanni tossed it aside and pulled out her nicest dress — a simple cream one she wore to the entrance exam. “What about this?”
Yujin hesitated. “Isn’t that too formal?”
“Ugh. I don’t know.” Hanni flopped back on the floor. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
Yujin nodded slowly. “Yeah… maybe we shouldn’t.”
They sat in silence for two seconds.
Then Yujin got up again. “Maybe just a sweater and skirt is fine?”
But as soon as she held it up, her confidence deflated.
“No. This looks like we’re going to church.”
Hanni groaned loudly. “This is hopeless!”
They paced, sat down, stood up again.
Go?
Don’t go?
Go?
Don’t go?
It looped endlessly.
Yujin scratched the back of her neck, looking at the mess of clothes at their feet.
“We don’t have anything nice to wear,” she whispered. “And even if we did… I don’t know what’s waiting for us there.”
Hanni nodded slowly. “And we only have an hour left to decide.”
They both sank to the floor again — a pair of exhausted teenagers stuck between fear, pride, and the crushing desire to survive.
Outside, the world of the rich spun on in glitter and confidence.
Inside, two girls sat on the floor of their tiny room, paralyzed by a decision that could change everything.
The sun was already dipping behind the dorm buildings when the landline phone in their tiny room suddenly rang — a sharp, unexpected sound that made both Yujin and Hanni flinch.
Hanni, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by rejected outfit options, blinked. “…who would call us?”
Yujin crossed the room and lifted the receiver.
“There are deliveries here under An Yujin’s name. Several bags.”
Yujin froze. Deliveries? For her?
“Yes—yes, I’ll come down,” she said quickly.
Hanni scrambled to her feet. “Yujin, what? Deliveries? From who?”
Yujin could only shrug, a knot tightening in her stomach. “Maybe… clothes? Or Ningning’s uniforms?”
They both exchanged a nervous look.
***
When Yujin stepped out of the elevator, the receptionist pointed at the front desk.
A small mountain of branded paper bags sat neatly arranged — glossy, heavy, expensive-looking.
“Sign here,” the receptionist said.
Yujin bowed awkwardly, collected the bags, and walked back to the elevator with her arms full.
By the time she reached the room, she was breathless.
Hanni opened the door fast. “Holy—Yujin, that’s a lot!”
They carried everything inside, dumping the bags on the bed.
Yujin pulled open the first paper bag. Her eyes widened.
Inside, a pair of white minimalist sandals, a sleek pair of black sneakers with a tiny designer logo. Even Yujin who never cared about brands recognized how expensive they looked.
Hanni checked another bag and gasped. “Yujin… this is foundation. Real foundation. The expensive one. And blush. And lip tint. And—oh my god, this isn’t convenience store makeup.”
Yujin opened a long box containing carefully folded clothing.
Black fitted pants. A crisp white top and a leather jacket, with a small bottle of perfume tucked beside it.
She touched the jacket like it was a holy relic.
“This… this is too much,” she whispered.
Then Hanni found the last bag — and pulled out a dress.
“Yujin… this is my size.”
“Try it,” Yujin said.
“I’m scared to touch it.”
Hanni noticed it first, a small envelope tucked between the clothes. She pulled it out and opened it.
Inside, a card with neat handwriting.
For tonight. these seem your style. -Minji & Dani.
The girls froze.
Hanni inhaled sharply. “You’re joking.”
Yujin wasn’t joking. She sat down on the bed, staring at the outfits — the sneakers, the jacket, the perfume and felt her heartbeat spike.
“I—uh…” Yujin scratched the back of her neck, overwhelmed. “These are all branded… real ones. They probably cost more than our entire dorm room.”
Hanni nodded slowly, eyes wide as she held the dress up against herself. “It’s beautiful. But… why are they giving us these?”
Yujin let out a shaky exhale.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But we should take care of everything. Very carefully.” She ran her fingers over the leather jacket again. “We’ll… we’ll have to return them later.”
Hanni sat beside her, holding the dress in her lap.
“Yujin,” she said gently. “These aren’t rented. Nobody returns clothes like this.”
Yujin shook her head. “We should. These cost a fortune. And— I don’t want them to think we’re taking advantage.”
Hanni looked at her friend — tired, nervous, overwhelmed and sighed.
***
The back entrance of the club didn’t look like much from the street — just a quiet alley guarded by two men in black suits, a coded gate, and a single red light above the door.
But every Janghwa student knew. This was where Ningning’s infamous party would unfold. No outsiders. No cameras. No witnesses.
Inside, the bass thumped deep and heavy, echoing through the walls like a heartbeat. Lights flickered through the small window above the metal door — shadows dancing, bodies moving, secrets being born.
Outside, the arrival of the rich squad began.
A black Genesis G90 eased into the alley, headlights briefly illuminating the wet pavement.
Minji stepped out first — clean lines, black dress, her hair tied back neatly. Dani followed, fixing her cardigan nervously, she kept glancing around, even though the guards clearly recognized them.
Then, a white Porsche Cayenne pulled up next, loud music playing inside but muffled once the doors opened.
Winter emerged sharp and quiet, adjusting her dress. Yuna stumbled out behind her, already laughing under her breath — slightly tipsy, slightly loud for the tiny alley.
“Yuna,” Winter hissed. “Shh. Calm down.”
Yuna promptly whispered instead of talking normally. “Sorry sorry sorry— okay I’m calm now.”
They scanned their invitations at the door and slipped inside.
A Rolls-Royce Cullinan slid into the alley like royalty trying not to be seen.
Ningning got out slowly, hair glossy and curled, dress glittering under the dim alley light.
The guards straightened instantly.
“Welcome back, Miss Ning Yizhuo.”
Finally, a limousine appeared — its engine silent, its windows dark. Even in a secret alley with no audience, Wonyoung’s presence felt… heavier.
Her driver opened the door, and Wonyoung stepped out like a blade — sharp, cold, gleaming.
A champagne slip dress, minimal jewelry, hair cascading effortlessly.
Minji had already come back to the doorway, arms crossed, waiting.
“Finally,” Minji whispered.
Wonyoung didn’t answer.
She just scanned the entrance, eyes calculating, hungry with anticipation.
“Is she here yet?” Wonyoung asked.
Minji shook her head. “Yujin? No. She’s late.”
Wonyoung’s smile was slow… pleased.
“Good,” she murmured. “Let the party warm up. I want everyone ready when she finally shows her face.”
She stepped inside, swallowed by the pulsing lights.
***
Back in their small apartment room, the light overhead flickered softly, casting warm shadows against the plain walls.
Shopping bags lay open on the bed — paper rustling, plastic crinkling, luxury spilling awkwardly into a space that had never been meant for it.
Hanni stood in front of the narrow mirror first.
The dress hugged her gently, soft fabric falling neatly against her frame. Hanni tugged at the hem, clearly uncomfortable, turning slightly from side to side.
“Yujin,” she muttered, “this feels… wrong. Like I borrowed someone else’s life.”
Yujin, sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up.
She froze for half a second.
Then her expression softened.
“You’re beautiful,” Yujin said simply.
Hanni blinked. “Huh?”
Yujin stood and walked over, fixing the strap on Hanni’s shoulder with careful fingers. “Not just ‘pretty.’ You look… really beautiful.”
Hanni’s ears turned red instantly.
“Stop,” she whispered, embarrassed, trying to hide her face as she laughed nervously. “Don’t say things like that.”
Yujin grinned, satisfied, then stepped back. “I’m serious.”
They switched places.
Yujin pulled on the black pants first, the fabric fitting her easily, then shrugged into the leather jacket. It sat perfectly on her shoulders, sharp and clean. She ran a hand through her hair and glanced at her reflection.
Hanni looked up and stopped breathing for a second.
“You look…” she began, then blurted, “handsome.”
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Yujin turned slowly, eyebrow raised, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Handsome, huh?”
Her dimples appeared as she smirked, unmistakable and unfair.
Hanni covered her mouth, mortified. “I didn’t mean— I mean I did mean— I—”
Yujin laughed softly. “Relax. I’ve heard that my whole life.”
She gestured to her reflection. “People back home always said I looked like a boy anyway.”
Hanni frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
Yujin tilted her head. “Then what did you mean?”
Hanni didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Instead, she looked away, cheeks burning, heart racing in a way she didn’t understand how to explain.
The room fell into a brief, fragile silence.
Two girls. Two borrowed outfits. One decision neither of them had fully made yet.
Yujin glanced at the clock on the wall.
They were still going back and forth. Still unsure.
***
At the club, an hour had already slipped by.
The music throbbed through the floor, bass vibrating up the legs, lights cutting the dark into flashes of neon and shadow. The place was full — Janghwa students packed shoulder to shoulder, laughing too loudly, dancing too close, pretending they weren’t minors because tonight felt untouchable.
But there was a very specific absence.
Minji stood near the bar, a soda untouched in her hand. Dani lingered beside her, pretending to scroll through her phone. They kept glancing at each other — not obvious, not dramatic — just quick looks, the kind that carried a whole sentence without words.
Where is she?
Is she coming?
Every few minutes, Minji’s eyes drifted toward the entrance.
Nothing.
On the other side of the club, Wonyoung sat perched on a velvet couch, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. She looked flawless, too flawless like she’d dressed for a victory photo rather than a party. But her fingers tapped impatiently against her thigh, nails clicking in sharp, irritated beats.
Ningning leaned against the table nearby, inspecting the paper bags at her feet. Four neatly folded uniforms inside. Two sets for Yujin. Two for Hanni. Perfect sizes. Prepared in advance, like props waiting for actors who hadn’t shown up yet.
“This is boring,” Ningning muttered, glancing at the time on her phone. “What’s the point if she doesn’t come?”
She took a slow sip of her drink, eyes flicking to the entrance again, then away.
Wonyoung’s jaw tightened.
“She didn’t say she will come,” Winter corrected calmly from where she stood, arms crossed, watching the crowd like an observer rather than a participant. “She never confirmed.”
Yuna, already tipsy, flopped dramatically onto the couch beside Wonyoung, laughing a little too loud. “Maybe the farm girl chickened out,” she slurred. “Can’t blame her. This place is intimidating.”
Wonyoung shot her a sharp look. “She wouldn’t.”
Her voice was firm but there was something underneath it. Irritation. Suspicion. A creeping fear that things weren’t moving the way she wanted them to.
Across the room, Dani shifted uncomfortably.
She hated this part. The waiting. The not knowing.
Her gaze slid to the entrance, then back to Minji. Her lips pressed together, worry flickering openly across her face.
“Maybe it’s better if she doesn’t come,” Dani said quietly, almost to herself. “I don’t think I can handle watching it.”
Minji didn’t answer right away.
She followed Dani’s line of sight to the door, then checked her phone again — no new messages. Her expression stayed neutral, but her grip tightened slightly around her cup.
“She’ll come,” Minji said finally. “Yujin isn’t the type to run.”
Around them, the party kept swelling — laughter spilling over, bodies moving, drinks changing hands. To everyone else, it was just another wild night.
But for the people who knew.
This wasn’t a party.
It was a stage.
And the main character was late.
***
After thirty minutes, the heavy doors finally swung open.
For a split second, nothing changed — the bass still throbbed through the walls, lights still strobed in red and violet, bodies still pressed together on the dance floor. Then Yujin and Hanni stepped inside, and the night subtly shifted around them.
They entered slowly, fingers laced tight, knuckles almost white. It was their first time in a place like this, and it showed — not in fear, but in caution. The air was thick with perfume and alcohol. Music pounded so loud it felt less like sound and more like pressure, vibrating in Yujin’s chest, rattling behind her ribs. Hanni leaned closer instinctively, her shoulder brushing Yujin’s arm, grounding herself in that familiar presence.
They didn’t let go.
They had promised — no wandering, no separating, no matter what. Side by side, always.
As they moved forward, conversations around them stuttered. A few dancers slowed. A couple of heads turned. Someone whispered a name, unsure at first, then more confidently. Recognition spread not like a shockwave, but like heat — quiet, creeping, inevitable.
The scholar is here.
Yujin kept her gaze forward, jaw set, posture straight. The leather jacket sat stiff on her shoulders, unfamiliar but protective, like armor she wasn’t used to wearing. She could feel the looks anyway — curious, mocking, confused, anticipatory. Hanni squeezed her hand once, a silent check-in. Yujin squeezed back.
Upstairs, in the private lounge, the mood shifted instantly.
“She’s here.”
The words were enough.
Wonyoung’s head lifted first, eyes sharp and bright as they flicked toward the staircase. A slow smile curved her lips, one she didn’t bother hiding. Ningning leaned back in her seat, dessert fork pausing midair before she laughed softly, satisfied.
“Perfect,” Ningning said, like the final piece had just clicked into place.
Wonyoung’s smile widened. Certain. This was how it was supposed to go. She had imagined this moment too many times not to enjoy it now.
Across the room, Minji exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Relief washed over her first — quick and fleeting. Yujin came. She actually came.
Then tension followed immediately after, coiling tight in her chest.
Now it started.
Minji’s gaze sharpened, scanning the room below, tracking where Yujin and Hanni stood near the edge of the dance floor, close to the wall, clearly out of place and painfully aware of it. Minji straightened slightly, her instincts kicking in. From this moment on, she couldn’t afford to relax — not for a second.
One wrong move. One drink. One person getting too close.
Downstairs, the music surged again, swallowing the moment whole.
Yujin took one more step forward, still holding Hanni’s hand, unaware of how many eyes were already measuring her, waiting for her to slip.
***
Minji: I’ll find you later. Stay near the bar.
Yujin stared at the message, the letters blurring for a second. Her thumb hovered uselessly over the screen, trembling just enough that she noticed. She didn’t reply. She just slipped the phone back into her pocket and exhaled slowly through her nose, like she’d been taught to do when panic threatened to show on her face.
“Yujin?” Hanni murmured, leaning closer so she could hear her over the music.
“She says… stay near the bar,” Yujin said quietly.
Hanni nodded once, jaw tightening. Neither of them moved.
Invitations came anyway — passing students waving them over, laughing too loudly, shouting that they should dance, drink, loosen up. Yujin pretended not to hear. Hanni pretended to smile. They stayed where they were, backs near the wall, hands brushing whenever the crowd shifted too close.
That was when Ningning decided to stop waiting.
She appeared with Winter at her side, black hair gleaming under the club lights, expression sweet enough to be convincing if you didn’t know better. Ningning’s smile widened when she saw Yujin, like she’d expected this exact picture.
“You actually came,” Ningning said warmly, eyes flicking once to Hanni before settling back on Yujin. “I’m so glad.”
Winter stood just half a step behind her, quiet, observant, gaze unreadable as it skimmed over the two girls.
Upstairs, in the private lounge, Wonyoung had moved to the railing. She stood there, hands resting lightly on the glass, looking down at the dance floor below like it was a stage set just for her. Her eyes locked onto Yujin almost immediately.
She didn’t blink.
On the couch behind her, Yuna had curled onto her side, heels kicked off, eyes closed — half-asleep, tipsy and bored, the noise washing over her in waves.
Downstairs, Minji felt it before she saw it.
Her stomach dropped.
She grabbed Dani’s wrist and pulled her along, weaving through the crowd with purpose, eyes already scanning for Yujin’s leather jacket, Hanni’s dress. She needed to be close. Needed to see everything.
Ningning gestured toward the bar. “Drinks?” she offered lightly. “It’s free.”
Yujin’s shoulders stiffened. “We’re fine,” she said quickly. “We don’t really drink.”
“Oh,” Ningning said, unbothered. “We have non-alcoholic too.”
Yujin hesitated.
She could already feel it — Ningning wouldn’t let this go. Not without making it obvious. Not without turning it into something else. Around them, a few curious glances lingered, waiting to see what the scholar girl would do.
So Yujin nodded once.
“Okay,” she said. “That’s fine.”
Minji, just reaching the edge of the bar, nearly stopped breathing.
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs as she watched Ningning pass two glasses across the counter, her movements casual, practiced. Minji’s fingers twitched at her side, every instinct screaming, but she forced herself not to interfere, not yet.
Yujin took the glass, the condensation cold against her palm. She didn’t drink. She didn’t even lift it properly. She just held it there, letting it look right, letting it blend into the scene the way Ningning wanted it to.
Hanni did the same.
Ningning’s eyes lingered on them, sharp beneath the smile. Then she glanced at her phone, tapping the screen once before looking back up.
“Twenty-five minutes,” she said lightly. “That’s all you have left. Then you and your friend get the new uniforms.”
Her gaze met Yujin’s, unblinking.
“Easy, right?”
Somewhere above them, Wonyoung’s lips curved faintly as she watched.
And Minji stood close enough now to count every second, knowing that from this moment on, there was no room for mistakes.
***
A few moments later…
Yujin was still standing.
Still upright. Still moving.
From the private lounge above, Wonyoung leaned against the railing, her manicured fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. Her eyes never left Yujin — the way she swayed with the crowd, the way she laughed at something Hanni said, the way she didn’t look like someone who should’ve been gone by now.
Ningning clicked her tongue softly beside her. “…Interesting.”
Wonyoung turned, irritation sharp in her gaze. “How much has she had?”
Ningning tilted her head, counting in her mind. “Enough. More than enough for someone who claims she doesn’t drink.”
Below them, Yujin lifted her cup again.
What they didn’t see was the way her wrist angled just slightly wrong — how the liquid slid past her lips and down the side of the cup instead. How, when the crowd surged and bodies pressed in, she let the rest spill harmlessly onto the floor. Later, near the edge of the dance floor, she laughed and leaned back, tipping what remained into a potted plant tucked beside a speaker.
The plant drank more than she did.
Winter, lounging on the couch with one arm draped over the backrest, snorted as she watched. “Maybe farm girl’s built different.”
Yuna giggled from her spot, eyes half-closed. “Country tolerance, I guess.”
But Wonyoung didn’t laugh. “That’s not normal,” she said quietly. “She should be dizzy by now.”
She exhaled through her nose, annoyed. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Yujin was meant to unravel — to stumble, to embarrass herself without being asked.
Instead, she was still there.
Ningning straightened, setting her glass aside. “We switch to the special drinks.”
Winter raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
From above, Wonyoung finally smiled again. “Good,” she said. “I’m tired of waiting.”
***
Ningning leaned closer to Wonyoung, her smile never leaving her lips as the lights pulsed blue, then violet.
“Bartender’s on it,” she murmured. “And a few of the seniors too. Whatever she gets now, it’s the special batch.”
Wonyoung’s gaze stayed fixed on the dance floor below, on the tall girl in black leather who still hadn’t broken.
“One more problem,” she said quietly.
Hanni.
They both watched as Yujin instinctively angled her body toward Hanni, like a shield, every time someone passed too close. As long as they were together, nothing landed cleanly. No pressure stuck. No opening stayed open.
Winter glanced at the time on her phone. “Fifteen minutes,” she muttered. “Maybe less.”
If they did nothing, Yujin would leave. With the uniforms. With her spine straight. Untouched.
That couldn’t happen.
Downstairs, Hanni leaned close to Yujin’s ear, her voice barely audible over the bass.
“I’m just going to the restroom,” she said. “I’ll be quick.”
Yujin nodded immediately. “I’ll wait right outside.”
They moved together through the crowd, hands brushing until the hallway narrowed. The restroom door flickered under a strobe light, bodies slipping in and out. Yujin stopped just outside, planting her feet, back to the wall, eyes trained on the door like an anchor point.
She exhaled.
The hallway filled suddenly — girls laughing too loudly, someone stumbling, a group squeezing through all at once. Yujin shifted to give them space, shoulders brushing strangers. She glanced back at the restroom door.
Still closed.
Then the DJ cut the beat for half a second, just long enough to breathe—
And slammed it back in twice as loud.
The bass jumped. The walls vibrated. The hallway surged like a wave.
People poured out of the restroom, others pushed in, bodies colliding. Someone grabbed Yujin’s wrist, laughing, thinking she was part of the flow.
“Hey—” Yujin started, trying to pull back.
Another hand caught her other arm.
“Dance floor’s this way!” a voice shouted, already moving.
Yujin dug her heels in, but the floor felt strange — too slick, too tilted. She tried to call out Hanni’s name, but the music swallowed it whole. The hallway compressed, then released, and suddenly she was moving whether she wanted to or not.
She twisted, searching for the restroom door.
Gone behind bodies.
“Wait—I’m waiting for someone,” she said, louder now, but it came out rough, her tongue heavy in her mouth.
No one heard.
Hands at her elbows, her shoulders — guiding, pulling, not cruel, not kind, just careless. The crowd carried her forward, away from the wall, away from the hallway, away from the one person she hadn’t let go of all night.
The lights opened up into the main floor. Heat hit her face. The bass crawled up her spine.
Yujin stumbled once, caught herself, heart slamming hard enough to make her dizzy.
It’s fine, she told herself. Just get back. Just push through.
But the crowd closed in again, denser now, louder, and somewhere upstairs, unseen, someone smiled as the distance between Yujin and the restroom door disappeared completely.
Yujin’s chest felt tight long before Ningning appeared.
The hallway outside the restroom had turned into chaos — music bleeding through the walls, bodies pressing past each other, perfume and sweat and alcohol thick in the air. Someone had pulled her arm, laughing, dragging her toward the center of the floor like it was harmless fun. She’d shaken them off, but in the confusion, Hanni was gone.
Yujin stood there, scanning faces that blurred together, her pulse loud in her ears. She said the restroom. I was right outside. I was right there. Guilt crawled up her spine, sharp and cold. What if Hanni was looking for her now? What if she panicked?
“Yujin.”
Ningning stepped into her line of sight like she’d been there all along.
Her hair was perfect, glossy black under the lights, her expression calm in a way that felt almost unnatural against the noise. She tilted her head, eyes sweeping over Yujin with casual precision.
“You look pale,” Ningning said, already holding out a glass. “Sit. Drink this.”
Yujin stiffened.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, though the words felt thin even to her own ears.
Ningning ignored that. She glanced around, then back at Yujin, lowering her voice just enough to feel private. “Where’s Hanni?”
The question landed harder than the bass thumping through the floor.
Yujin swallowed. “She—she went to the restroom.”
Ningning hummed, as if that explained everything and nothing at the same time. “Then sit. You’re shaking.”
Yujin wasn’t shaking. She told herself she wasn’t. But when she looked down, her fingers curled too tightly around the hem of her jacket, knuckles pale.
Her instincts screamed at her to refuse. Every warning Minji had drilled into her replayed in her head — don’t drink, don’t eat, don’t trust anyone but the room felt like it was closing in. People were watching now. Not openly, but enough. Refusing a drink now, after she’d already accepted glasses earlier, would turn heads. It would invite questions. It would make Ningning linger.
And Yujin needed Ningning gone.
If Ningning left, she could look for Hanni.
“Just a few sips,” Ningning said lightly, as if reading her hesitation. “For the vibe. You don’t have to finish it.”
Yujin exhaled through her nose. Fine. She could handle that. She always had. She took the glass, the cool condensation dampening her palm.
She didn’t down it.
She lifted it, took a careful sip then another, slightly bigger, the liquid brushing her lips, warm and sharp. The taste was stronger than before, bitter beneath the sweetness, but she forced herself to swallow. Her throat felt dry. The room felt too loud.
Across from her, Ningning tipped her own glass back without hesitation, chugging it easily. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at Yujin, slow and satisfied, like this was nothing more than a friendly toast.
“See?” Ningning said. “Easy.”
Yujin nodded, even as something uneasy settled in her stomach. She handed the glass back after a few more sips, her head already feeling oddly light — not spinning yet, not enough to alarm her, just… off. Like the floor had shifted half an inch to the side.
“Okay,” she said quickly. “I’m going to find Hanni.”
Ningning stepped aside smoothly, too smoothly. “Of course. Don’t wander too far.”
Yujin didn’t reply. She was already moving, pushing through the crowd, heart thudding harder now — not from fear of Ningning, but from the growing pressure behind her eyes.
Ningning reached behind her, fingers hooking around the handle of a paper bag resting near the couch.
“Oh—before you go,” she said lightly.
Yujin paused.
Ningning placed the bag into her hands. It was heavier than she expected, the paper stiff, clean, expensive. Through the opening, Yujin caught the familiar sight of folded fabric sealed in plastic — navy blazers, skirts and more items, the Janghwa crest gleaming faintly under the lights.
“Four sets,” Ningning said. “Two for you. Two for Hanni. Tailored already.” A smile curved her lips. “A deal’s a deal. You stayed.”
Relief hit Yujin so suddenly it made her dizzy in a different way.
“Thanks,” she said, voice steady through effort. “I’ll… get Hanni. Then we’ll leave.”
Ningning waved a hand, indulgent. “Of course. Don’t rush.”
Yujin clutched the bag tighter and turned, urgency surging now. She needed Hanni, now. Needed to show her the uniforms, needed to find Minji, needed to go upstairs, face Wonyoung, end this night on her own terms before her body betrayed her.
She took two steps. The floor dipped.
Just slightly. Enough that she noticed.
She frowned, blinking, and forced herself forward, disappearing into the crowd with the paper bag pressed to her side like an anchor. She didn’t notice the way Ningning watched her go, eyes glinting under the lights, the empty glass still cool in her hand. Watched the way Yujin’s shoulders stiffened, how her walk lost a fraction of its sharpness. Watched her disappear into the mass of bodies and light and sound. Ningning exhaled, slow and satisfied.
“She won’t last,” she murmured to no one in particular. “Ten minutes, maybe less.”
She lifted her gaze to the second floor.
Wonyoung stood at the railing of the private lounge, one hand resting on the glass barrier, her silhouette elegant and still. Their eyes met across the chaos below.
Ningning picked up a fresh glass, raised it just enough to be seen, and smirked.
A toast.
To inevitability.
Upstairs, Wonyoung’s lips curved. She didn’t hesitate. She lifted her glass and drank it in one smooth motion, eyes never leaving the dance floor where Yujin had vanished.
Tonight, this finally ends.
***
Hanni pushed the restroom door open and immediately froze.
The hallway she’d left barely a minute ago was gone, swallowed by bodies and noise. The bass had been turned up so loud it vibrated in her chest, lights flashing in disorienting bursts of red and blue. Students poured in from every direction, laughing, shouting, stumbling into one another. Someone brushed past her shoulder. Another clipped her elbow. A drink sloshed dangerously close to her shoes.
“H-hey—sorry,” someone yelled, already gone.
Hanni’s eyes darted around instinctively.
“Yujin…?” she called, but her voice was eaten by the music.
Panic crept in, sharp and cold. Yujin had been right outside. She knew she had. Hanni stepped forward, craning her neck, pushing gently through the crowd, her heart pounding faster with every second that passed.
Where are you?
A body collided into her from the side, warm liquid splashing against her arm. She gasped and staggered back and nearly ran straight into someone else.
“Whoa — sorry,” Minji said, grabbing her elbow before she could lose her balance.
Hanni blinked up at her, relief flooding her face for half a second before worry snapped back in. “Minji… have you seen Yujin?”
Minji’s expression tightened instantly. “No. I was just looking for her.” Her eyes swept the hallway, sharp and scanning. “She was with you, right?”
“She was waiting outside the restroom,” Hanni said quickly, voice trembling despite herself. “But when I came out… she was gone.”
Minji swore under her breath. “Fuck.”
The word was almost lost under the music, but Hanni heard it and it scared her more than anything else.
“I lost her too I was just upstairs,” Minji said, already moving, pulling Hanni along with her. “The crowd surged all at once. Ningning’s people are everywhere.”
Hanni clutched the hem of her dress, forcing herself to keep up. “It’s almost thirty minutes,” she said, breathless. “We’re supposed to leave. Yujin said we’d leave as soon as we got the uniforms.”
“I know,” Minji replied, jaw set. “That’s why we have to find her now.”
They pushed deeper into the chaos, shoulders brushing strangers, lights flashing too bright, too fast. Somewhere nearby, people cheered. Glass clinked. Laughter broke out, careless and cruel.
Minji leaned closer so Hanni could hear her over the music. “If we don’t get to her first,” she said grimly, “Ningning will.”
Hanni swallowed hard and nodded, fear settling heavy in her chest as she scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces again.
Yujin had promised not to leave her side.
And now she was gone.
Minji leaned in close, her voice tight but steady. “Split up. You check the other hallway on the other side, check the rooms, anywhere she might’ve ducked into. I’ll go upstairs and see if I can hear anything.” Her eyes locked onto Hanni’s. “If you find her, don’t argue. Take her to the first room in the right hallway.”
Hanni nodded, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. “Okay.”
They separated into the crowd.
Hanni didn’t look at the dance floor again. She forced herself not to. Yujin wouldn’t be in the middle of that chaos, not if she had a choice. Instead, Hanni scanned the edges. Hallways half-swallowed by darkness, doors slightly ajar, places where the noise dulled just enough to breathe.
She moved fast.
The first door creaked open to a cramped room washed in neon light. Two girls were pressed together on a couch, oblivious, laughter muffled between kisses. Hanni flushed and closed it quickly.
The second room smelled sharp and sour — alcohol and something burnt. Someone lay passed out on the floor, shoes kicked off, another girl sitting against the wall scrolling through her phone like nothing was wrong.
Hanni’s stomach twisted.
The third room had smoke clinging to the ceiling, thick and bitter. A group of students lounged around, coughing, laughing, waving her away without even looking.
Then — movement.
Down the hallway, she caught sight of a familiar silhouette: long black hair, confident stride, head tilted like she owned the place.
Ningning.
Hanni’s breath caught instantly. She ducked behind a corner, pressing herself flat against the wall just as Ningning passed by, heels clicking lazily against the floor. Ningning didn’t look around.
Hanni peeked out just enough to watch her.
Ningning stopped near the far end of the corridor, at a door that looked more like a service entrance than a party room. She knocked twice and slipped inside.
Hanni’s pulse spiked.
Maybe Yujin is there.
She waited a few seconds, then crept closer but instead of following directly, she noticed a narrow backdoor slightly ajar near the end of the hall. Cool air drifted in from outside. Heart pounding, Hanni eased it open and slipped out.
The noise from the club dulled instantly.
She found herself in a narrow alley - like space, concrete under her shoes, a single window set high in the wall beside her. Light spilled through it — warm, flickering.
Hanni swallowed and rose onto her toes, carefully peeking inside.
Her stomach dropped.
Ningning stood near a low table with a few girls Hanni didn’t recognize. The room was hazy with smoke. Ashtrays overflowed. On the table lay lighters, rolled bills, thin sheets of foil — white powder dusted carelessly across the surface like it didn’t matter.
This wasn’t a regular party.
This was worse.
Hanni’s hands began to shake.
She scanned the room desperately. No Yujin. Not here.
She was about to pull away — fear screaming at her to leave, when a thought struck her so suddenly it almost made her dizzy.
Leverage.
Ningning’s face was clear in the window. Clear enough. This wasn’t something the school could ignore. This wasn’t something Wonyoung’s group could brush off if it got out.
Hanni’s jaw set.
She slid her phone out with trembling fingers, steadied it against the wall, and started recording. She didn’t zoom in too much — just enough to capture faces, the table, the smoke curling thick in the air. Ningning laughing. Someone lighting up. White powder disappearing under a careless swipe.
A moment later, Winter stepped into frame, expression unreadable as she leaned against the wall, clearly familiar with the scene.
That was enough.
Hanni stopped recording, heart racing so loud she was sure they’d hear it through the glass. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and stepped away from the window, breath coming fast and shallow.
Yujin still wasn’t found.
If they won’t tell me where Yujin is, she thought grimly, then I’ll make them.
***
Minji pushed through the heavy door of the private lounge, the bass from downstairs muffled into a distant, ominous thrum. The air up here was different — quieter, colder, perfumed with expensive alcohol and arrogance. Wonyoung stood near the railing with a glass in hand, posture relaxed, chin lifted like she was watching a play unfold exactly as rehearsed. Yuna was sprawled across a couch, half-asleep, Winter leaned against the wall scrolling idly, and Dani hovered nearby, tense, fingers wrapped too tightly around her cup.
She didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“Where’s Ningning?” she asked.
Wonyoung didn’t even turn her head at first. She simply tilted her glass downward, nodding toward the railing.
“Down there.”
Minji stepped closer, her heart already sinking before she even followed Wonyoung’s gaze.
On the dance floor below, the crowd surged and pulsed as one living thing. Lights strobed. Bodies collided. And right there, in the middle of it all, was Yujin — too still, too upright, eyes sharp but guarded. Ningning stood close to her, smiling brightly, one hand extended with a drink glinting under the lights.
Minji’s nails dug into her palm.
Wonyoung finally spoke again, amused. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect the farm girl to last this long.” A soft laugh slipped from her lips. “I thought she’d be on the floor by now.”
Winter snorted faintly. “She’s built tougher than she looks.”
Wonyoung hummed. “Still. No need to take chances.” She swirled the liquid in her glass. “So we upgraded.”
Minji’s breath hitched.
Upgraded.
Her eyes stayed locked on Yujin as Ningning said something — too close, too intimate for the noise around them and pressed the glass into Yujin’s hand. Yujin hesitated. Just for a second. Long enough for Minji’s chest to ache with hope.
Don’t drink it, Minji pleaded silently. Please.
Yujin lifted the glass.
Not all at once. Just a few careful sips. Measured. Controlled.
Ningning, meanwhile, threw her own drink back without hesitation, tilting her head and swallowing it all in one go. She grinned afterward, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand like it was a challenge.
Minji’s stomach twisted.
Wonyoung chuckled softly beside her. “Did she really think she could come here, take what she wants, and leave in peace?” She clicked her tongue, disappointed rather than angry. “Free uniforms, no consequences. How naive.”
Minji said nothing. She couldn’t. Her throat felt sealed shut.
Down below, Ningning finally stepped away, disappearing into the crowd like she’d already lost interest. Yujin lingered for a moment, scanning the room, shoulders tense then she turned and began pushing her way out of the center of the dance floor.
Minji followed her with her eyes, pulse roaring in her ears.
Go. Go now. Find Hanni.
But then Yujin vanished from view, swallowed by bodies and flashing lights.
Minji swore under her breath.
“Shit.”
She turned abruptly, already moving toward the door.
Wonyoung’s voice stopped her. “Where are you going?”
Minji forced herself not to flinch. She turned back, schooling her expression into something casual, something bored. “Drink,” she said lightly, lifting her empty glass. “I’m out.”
Wonyoung studied her for a beat, eyes sharp, suspicious but then she smiled again, slow and lazy. “Don’t take too long.”
Minji nodded and slipped out before her composure could crack.
The moment the door closed behind her, the smile vanished.
She took the stairs two at a time, heart pounding, one thought cutting through the noise in her head.
I have to find Yujin. Before they do. Before the drugs start to take effect.
***
Yujin stumbled out of the densest part of the dance floor, the world tilting sideways the moment the music thinned just a little. It hit her all at once — not like drunken warmth, not like the slow fog she expected but a sharp, nauseating rush, as if someone had flipped a switch inside her skull.
Her head felt light. Too light. Her limbs followed half a second late, feet barely registering the floor beneath her shoes.
No. Not now.
She tightened her grip around the paper bag slung over her arm — the uniforms inside crinkling softly, absurdly loud to her ears. The sound seemed to echo. Everything echoed. The bass. The laughter. Her own breath, suddenly shallow and wrong.
Her vision blurred at the edges, lights stretching into long, smeared lines. Faces passed her — some familiar, some not and then she realized they weren’t just passing.
They were watching.
A couple of girls trailed her, phones raised casually, screens glowing. Someone laughed too loudly. Another voice slurred, “Is she okay?” in a tone that made it clear they hoped the answer was no.
“Go… away,” Yujin muttered, though it came out softer than she meant, swallowed by the music. She tried again, pushing through them. “Move.”
She caught herself against a wall, palm sliding uselessly over cool concrete. Her skin felt wrong — too hot, then too cold. Her heart hammered fast and uneven, like it couldn’t decide what rhythm to keep. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck, nausea rising sharp and sudden, her mouth filling with bitterness.
I didn’t drink that much.
The thought came with a flash of panic.
She hadn’t. She knew she hadn’t. Fake sips. Spilled drinks. Pouring them out when no one was looking. She had been careful — so careful. But now her tongue felt thick, her jaw heavy, her head buzzing like it was stuffed with cotton and static.
It dawned on her slowly, dread sinking in her chest.
All those fake sips. The liquid just touching her lips. Lingering. Swallowed without her noticing. The stronger ones. The last drink.
It had crossed some invisible line.
Yujin fumbled for her phone, hands clumsy, fingers not quite obeying her brain. The screen swam as it lit up. She squinted, blinking hard, trying to focus.
Hanni.
She knew where the name was supposed to be. Muscle memory failed her. Letters blurred into each other. She tapped the wrong contact. Then another. Her thumb slipped, sweat-slick, the phone almost sliding from her grasp.
A laugh burst out nearby.
“Look at her,” someone said. “She’s wasted.”
Another voice chimed in, cruel and delighted. “Didn’t expect that from the scholarship kid.”
Yujin’s jaw clenched. Anger flared — hot, familiar but it had nowhere to go. Her body wouldn’t follow it. Her legs shook. Her vision dimmed again, a wave of dizziness crashing through her so hard she had to bend slightly at the waist, breathing through it, teeth grit.
Minji.
The thought surfaced unbidden.
Challenge her. Don’t back down.
A bitter almost-laugh bubbled in her chest. How? She could barely stand. Going upstairs felt impossible, like climbing a mountain with her bones turned to water.
She forced herself to lift her head.
Up on the private lounge, framed by glass and light, Wonyoung stood at the railing.
Watching.
Perfectly steady. Perfectly composed. A faint smirk curved her lips, like this — this exact moment was what she’d been waiting for all night.
Something inside Yujin snapped into terrible clarity.
So this was it.
The dizziness surged again, stronger now. Her ears rang. Her heart raced, then skipped, then thudded hard enough to make her chest ache. The floor seemed to breathe beneath her feet, rising and falling. She swallowed, fighting the urge to gag, fighting the heaviness dragging her downward.
I’m going to fall, she thought distantly. Any second now. I will lose my scholarship.
Her gaze drifted — unfocused, searching for anything to anchor herself to and then she saw it.
The DJ booth.
The platform stood just a short distance away, elevated slightly above the crowd. Lights pulsed behind it. And there — mounted on the stand, gleaming under neon was the microphone.
Yujin’s fingers tightened around the bag of uniforms.
Her head swam. Her knees trembled.
But something sharp cut through the haze, cutting cleaner than fear.
I need to do it, she thought, breath hitching, before I pass out.
She took one unsteady step toward the booth.
***
Wonyoung had finally settled back into the couch, one leg crossed over the other, the tension she’d been carrying all night loosening at last. The private lounge felt warmer now. Dani sat beside her with a glass in hand, shoulders stiff, eyes flicking now and then toward the railing that overlooked the dance floor below.
Yuna had half-lifted herself from where she’d been sprawled earlier, still heavily tipsy, eyes unfocused, hair clinging to her cheek. Winter was gone, Ningning too. Wonyoung had already texted.
where are you
A few seconds passed. Then the reply came.
back soon
Wonyoung didn’t bother asking more.
She took another sip from her glass, unhurried. The burn of alcohol barely registered. Downstairs, the party roared on — lights flashing, bodies moving, music relentless. Somewhere in that chaos, Yujin was stumbling through what Wonyoung had already decided was the inevitable end. She didn’t need to watch it happen. That part was boring.
The others would do it for her.
Someone would film it. Someone would laugh. Someone would catch the moment the scholar finally cracked — vomiting into a trash can, collapsing against a wall, crying, begging, making a fool of herself. It didn’t matter which version. Any of them would work. Evidence was evidence. Humiliation was humiliation.
Free uniforms didn’t come without a price.
Wonyoung tilted her glass toward Dani. “Cheers,” she said lightly, like this was just another party, another small victory already secured.
Dani hesitated for a fraction of a second before clinking her glass against Wonyoung’s. “Cheers,” she echoed.
Wonyoung drank anyway, long and smooth, already tasting the satisfaction of tomorrow. Of silence in class. Of rumors spreading before Yujin could even defend herself. Of teachers looking away.
She was already thinking past this.
Then the music stuttered.
Not stopped — just disrupted. A sudden scrape of sound, sharp and wrong. A hand tapping metal. Once. Twice.
Feedback shrieked through the speakers.
Wonyoung frowned faintly, annoyance flickering across her face. The DJ booth lights blinked. The bass cut out entirely, leaving the room suspended in a hollow, ringing quiet.
Voices below faltered. Laughter died mid-breath.
Then through the speakers, distorted and uneven — a voice came through.
Unstable. Rough around the edges. Too close to the mic.
“Jang… Wonyoung.”
Not shouted. Not confident. But clear enough.
The glass paused halfway to Wonyoung’s lips.
For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.
Then she slowly turned her head toward the railing.
Toward the dance floor below.
***
Minji pushed through the crowd on the first floor, her expression tight, eyes constantly scanning faces that blurred together under the strobe lights. The music was still loud, still pulsing through her bones, but her mind felt strangely quiet.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Yujin wouldn’t be able to challenge Wonyoung like this. Not now. Not with whatever Ningning had slipped into that drink finally taking effect. Minji knew the signs too well — the delayed hit, the sudden dizziness, the way confidence crumpled without warning. Yujin had been strong, careful, clever. But clever only worked up to a point.
And Minji had pushed her here anyway.
She’d been the one who told Yujin she had to come. The one who framed it as strategy, as necessity. Thirty minutes. In and out. She’d promised she would watch her. That she wouldn’t let anything happen.
She failed.
Minji’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she weaved past dancing bodies, past laughing girls with flushed faces and drinks sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She checked corners, hallways, the edges of the floor where people went to hide when things got too much. Every second felt like another chance for Wonyoung or worse, her followers to get there first.
I need to find her, Minji thought. Get her home. Driver. Now. Before this turned into something that couldn’t be undone.
Across the floor, Hanni moved more cautiously, clutching her bag to her chest like it was the only solid thing in the room. Her phone was inside, heavy with what she’d seen — photos, video, proof. Leverage. But it didn’t comfort her.
All she could think about was Yujin.
Yujin who had always stood in front of her without hesitation. Yujin who chased away kids twice their size when they mocked Hanni’s accent, her clothes, her shyness. Yujin who never once let her walk home alone. And now, now Hanni was the one searching, pushing through strangers while the lights spun and the music swallowed her voice.
She felt unbearably small in the crowd. Alone in a way she hadn’t felt since they were little.
They were supposed to leave together.
Hanni turned sharply and nearly collided with someone. Minji.
“Where’s Yujin?”
“Have you seen Yujin?”
They spoke at the same time, the words overlapping, identical in panic.
They froze, staring at each other for a split second, the answer already clear in the space between them.
No.
Hanni tightened her grip on her bag, knuckles whitening. Minji swore under her breath.
Then the music broke.
A harsh screech of feedback sliced through the air, sharp enough to make people wince. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. The DJ booth lights flickered.
And through the speakers, unstable and too close, a voice echoed.
“Jang… Wonyoung.”
Hanni’s head snapped up.
Minji’s blood ran cold.
They both turned toward the booth.
There — standing under the harsh lights, hands gripping the microphone was Yujin.
She was swaying slightly. Her posture was wrong. Her face pale, eyes unfocused but burning with something raw underneath. The uniforms were clutched against her side like she’d forgotten she was holding them.
Every eye in the club was on her now.
And Minji knew, with a sick twist in her chest, that whatever happened next.
There was no stopping it anymore.
***
Wonyoung stood the moment her name cut through the air.
The private lounge had been loud just seconds ago — laughter, clinking glasses, Dani’s nervous half-smile but now everything thinned into a single point. She stepped toward the railing, one hand still holding her drink, the other already tightening at her side. Dani followed instinctively, fingers trembling as she rested them on the glass barrier, eyes wide as she looked down.
The moment her name echoed through the club, something fundamental shifted. Students sensed it before they understood it, like animals feeling pressure change before a storm. Heads turned. Conversations snapped shut. Phones lifted, not consciously at first, then deliberately — screens glowing as lenses locked onto the DJ booth.
Below them, on the DJ booth that was never meant to hold a person, Yujin stood with a microphone clutched in both hands.
She didn’t look triumphant. She didn’t look brave. She looked like she was borrowing time she didn’t have. She looked wrong there. Too tall, too still, like a figure placed where it didn’t belong. The lights washed her in harsh white and pulsing blue, catching on the sheen of sweat at her temples, the way her pupils struggled to focus. The leather jacket weighed on her shoulders like armor she’d outgrown in the last hour.
Say it, she told herself. Before your legs give out. Before your tongue does.
Her shoulders were tense, as if she were holding herself upright by force alone. The leather jacket sleeves swallowing her wrists. Her head dipped for half a second, chin nearly touching her chest, before she lifted it again — slowly, like the motion hurt.
Her fingers tightened around the mic. It vibrated faintly in her grip, feedback humming like a warning. Below her, the crowd pressed closer, curiosity sharpening into hunger.
“I—” Her voice cracked immediately.
A ripple went through the room. Someone laughed, then stopped when she didn’t recover right away.
“Is she going to sing?”
Yujin swallowed. The taste in her mouth was wrong — chemical, bitter, layered over alcohol she knew she hadn’t drunk. Her head felt light, detached, like it was floating a second behind her body. The floor tilted. She widened her stance without thinking, grounding herself the way she did on the basketball court.
One sentence at a time.
“I’ve been targeted,” she said again, louder now, forcing the words out with her breath, “since my first day here.”
Phones rose higher.
Minji stood frozen in the middle of the dance floor, her breath caught when she saw it — how Yujin’s eyes weren’t quite focusing, how her blinking lagged, how her mouth kept parting like she needed more air than she was getting.
Hanni stood beside Minji, clutching her bag. Her heart slammed against her ribs. That was Yujin’s voice but stripped raw, exposed, nothing like the steady one that used to tell her it’s okay, I’ve got it.
“I’m tired,” Yujin continued.
Her knees threatened to fold. She leaned forward, forearm braced against the booth, breath coming shallow now. The crowd leaned with her, instinctively, like they could keep her upright by watching hard enough.
“I don’t want to fight,” she said, quieter, almost swallowed by the space. “I just want to study. Graduate. Walk. Eat. Breathe without someone waiting to ruin it.”
Upstairs, Wonyoung’s expression sharpened.
Behind her, Yuna had sobered enough to stare. Dani’s lips parted, hands shaking around her glass. Ningning appeared at the edge of the first floor with Winter, irritation still on her face from the music cutting out until she saw the DJ booth. Ningning’s steps slowed. Her gaze flicked immediately to the bundle tucked under Yujin’s arm, the neatly wrapped uniforms. A student approached her if they should stop Yujin, Ningning shakes her head. Her interest on what Yujin has to say sparked instead.
Yujin lifted her head.
The movement made her dizzy — white sparks bursting at the edges of her vision but she forced her eyes upward. She found Wonyoung instantly. Of course she did. Standing above everyone else. Watching. Untouchable.
Look at her, Yujin thought. Don’t look away.
“The exams,” she said, and the word dragged, heavy on her tongue. “Next month. Before winter break.”
Her grip slipped. She re-caught the mic with a sharp inhale, fingers numb now, clumsy.
“The rankings,” she went on. “Number one.”
The club was silent enough to hear her breathing — ragged, uneven.
Her free hand lifted, fingers trembling as she braced herself against the edge of the booth. The room tilted, just a little and she waited it out, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut for a heartbeat before she forced them open again.
“Winner gets peace.”
A murmur surged, then died as quickly as it came. Phones zoomed in. Someone whispered holy shit.
“If I win,” Yujin said, voice shaking but eyes locked on Wonyoung, “you leave me and Hanni alone.”
Hanni’s breath hitched. Her eyes burned.
“You,” Yujin added, forcing the words out as her vision blurred again, “your friends. And everyone who thinks hurting people is a game.”
Wonyoung’s hand curled slowly against the railing.
Then Yujin stopped.
Too long.
Her head dipped. For a terrifying second, it looked like that was it — that she’d slump forward, that the moment would dissolve into pity.
No.
Yujin clenched her jaw until it hurt. The room spun violently now, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. She tasted bile. Her legs trembled so hard she thought they might snap.
Finish it.
She raised the mic one last time. It felt impossibly heavy.
“And if you rank higher than me,” she said, each word deliberate, carved out of what little strength she had left, “I’ll leave Janghwa High.”
The sentence landed like a blade.
For half a second, no one moved.
Wonyoung’s jaw tightened. How dare she. How dare she stand there like this, swaying, barely holding herself together, and think she could dictate terms.
Then Yujin’s fingers gave out.
The mic clattered against the booth, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Her body followed — knees buckling, vision collapsing inward as the lights smeared into colorless streaks.
Hanni screamed.
Phones captured everything — the fall, the uniforms slipping from Yujin’s arm, the way her body hit the platform and didn’t get back up.
Gasps tore through the club.