"You know those three?" Chaeryoung whispered, nudging my side.
"Unfortunately," I muttered.
The three boys swaggered toward our desk. In the center was Marcus Hallowhand, his two shadows trailing behind like hyenas. He ignored me entirely, his eyes locking onto Chaeryoung with a predatory, brazen smirk.
"What a surprise, little nerd," Marcus chirped, though his gaze never left my friend. "I was looking for you in Dream-4, but here you are in Dream-2 sitting with a pretty lady. What's your name, beautiful?"
"I don't accept mischief, and I certainly don't give my information to those who bring it," Chaeryoung deadpanned.
Marcus's cool shattered for a split second before he forced a chuckle. "I'm trying to be a nice guy, baby. Don't play hard to get. Unless you want me to skip the introductions and just call you my future wife?"
"It's Song Chaeryoung," she replied, her voice flat and cold. "And you are allowed to call me nothing. Now, pretend this scenario never happened and leave us in peace."
Marcus turned crimson. "And who are you to dictate me? My father owns this school! I could rip you apart like a sheet of paper!" He slammed his hands onto her desk, trapping her, leaning in until they were inches apart.
Chaeryoung didn't blink. "Is that all?"
Marcus snarled and grabbed her arm violently. I bolted up, trying to pry his hand away. "Stop it! You're hurting her!"
With a effortless shove, Marcus sent me sprawling to the floor. "Back off, nerd! I'll deal with you after I'm done with her!" His friends pinned me to the ground, laughing as I winced in pain—my bruises from yesterday were still fresh.
Then, Chaeryoung laughed. A soft, dangerous sound.
"How did you know my name?" Marcus stammered, his grip loosening as she stood up. She was inches taller than him, radiating an aura of lethal grace.
"My name is Song Chaeryoung," she said, her voice echoing in the quiet room. "*Sighs* I really hate bragging but if it's you why not, I'm the Daughter of the founder of Incheondong Military and the inheritor of Incheondong University. I am... slightly less than pleased to meet you."
The blood drained from Marcus's face. He stood like a statue, a bucket of ice water poured over his ego. "L-let her go," he stammered to his friends.
Marcus tried to salvage his pride. "I don't care who your father is. You're just a girl." He turned his venom back to me. "Nerd! Our assignments. Now!"
I reached for the notebooks, but Chaeryoung caught my wrist. She took the three notebooks and began flipping through them. "Assignments? Why is a 'king' like you asking a 'peasant' to do his work? Isn't that a bit... closeted of you?"
"I'm not gay!" Marcus roared, charging at her.
What happened next was a blur. Chaeryoung's reflexes were a camera flash. She caught his wrist, swatted his other hand away, and gripped his clavicle like a C-clamp. Marcus buckled to his knees, groaning in agony. When his friends tried to intervene, she lifted Marcus effortlessly and shoved him into them with a swift mid-kick to his stomach.
As they scrambled back, Chaeryoung dropped into a stance: right foot back, left foot crossing in front, one hand behind her back, the other raised like a striking serpent.
"The Dancing White Cobra's Slay stance..." Marcus whispered, sweat drenching his brow. "W-where did you learn that?...no... your father won't teach you that far" his voice cowering, completely betrayed the facade he made earlier
"Do you really want to know?" she asked with a carnivorous smile.
The bullies didn't wait for an answer. They scrambled out of the room, Marcus throwing one last weak threat over his shoulder.
"You're amazing," I breathed once they were gone. "Is that Taekwondo?"
"My dad started my training when I was four," she said, her gummy smile returning as if she hadn't just dismantled three grown boys. "He's all bark and no bite, Epione. His grip was as loose as a mussel."
Echoes of the Past
The rest of the morning was a whirlwind. Our new advisor, Ms. Connosseu, was stoic and sharp. We met the class president of Dream-2—a girl named Everdawn who seemed just as cold and dismissive as the bullies from our old section.
As the lunch bell rang, a light drizzle began to fall. "Let's get out of here," Chaeryoung said, pulling me toward a waiting black Volkswagen.
We drove to a vibrant, nature-themed diner called The Green Panlafilo. The interior was a sanctuary of hanging vines and soft led lights.
"My Lola used to take me here," Chaeryoung said softly as we sat by the window.
"Lola is Filipino for grandmother. She was the most patient person I knew. She's the reason my sister and I stopped fighting. Whenever we would visit her, I could never be not shocked on how we always have hidden pocket money's and treats"
"She sounds wonderful," I said, watching Chaeryoung's expression soften. "Is she still in the Philippines?"
Chaeryoung gazed out at the rain, her eyes reflecting the grey sky. "Yep, Afterall...It's the place where she wanted to be buried."
I froze, the words dying in my throat.
"She's dead," Chaeryoung whispered.