I shoved through the crowd like I was in a k-drama war zone. Students were flying off to the sides as I bulldozed my way to the information board, the Holy Grail of academic anxiety. Girls were squealing, people were crying-- some from happiness, some probably from existential dread-- and I was there, my heart pounding like I was about to find out if I got cast in a Netflix drama.
After pushing a boy who looked like john cena and stepping over someone's geometry box (RIP to that poor box), I reached my destination: The Board of Downfall.
There it was.
My name.
In digital, bold, black ink on white A4 paper. The font was Times New Roman, but it felt like a gothic horror title.
10th Place. Out of 60 students.
Huh.
"Not bad." I whispered to myself, like a twisted academic villain.
Okay, okay, okay… I know, 10th isn't first—but let's be honest, I wasn't exactly pulling all-nighters and drinking black coffee from a chemistry beaker. So for a caffeine-free, Netflix-bingeing, last-minute studier like me? Tenth place felt like I had climbed Mount Everest in crocs.
But…
My heart didn't feel at peace.
It was whispering, no, screaming.
"Check HIS rank."
I knew who it meant.
It wasn't about Yuna.
Yuna was a given. A born scholar. She probably studies in her sleep. Her dreams take notes.
I bet her shampoo bottle has flashcards.
So she's definitely 1st or 2nd. Whatever.
But no.
This wasn't about her.
It was about him.
Park.
Hanuel.
My long-lost academic rival.
The boy who once snatched the last slice of pizza at a group project meet and said, "Natural selection"
The boy who corrected my pronunciation of "Pythagoras" during class.
The boy who once said, "Oh wow, you scored just below me again. What a coincidence."
Coincidence, my butt.
I zoomed in on the 11th place like a hawk spying on a criminal.
Not him.
Weird.
Okay, maybe he dropped?
I checked 12th, 13th, 14th—nothing. My eyeballs were glitching from scanning names.
Maybe he failed? Oh God. What if he actually failed? Should I feel bad?
...Nah.
But also maybe yeah.
I mean, he was annoying, but no one deserves academic doom.
Then something inside me—a nosy spirit, maybe the ghost of my competitive soul—told me to check above.
I hesitated.
Then scrolled up to 9th.
Not him.
Okay, weird.
Eighth? Nope.
Seventh? Nada.
Fifth? Fourth?
WHERE. WAS. HE?
Yuna's name was third.
I blinked five times. Rubbed my eyes.
Still third.
Yuna, the unstoppable, the untouchable, the human Wikipedia—was third.
And then… like an overdramatic plot twist from a telenovela…
2nd Place: PARK HANUEL.
I choked on my own breath.
Literally gasped like someone proposed to me in public.
"WHAT—?!"
Second place?!
How?!
What kind of illegal academic ritual did he do?!
Did he summon the ghost of Einstein? Did he sacrifice his sleep to the gods of GPA?
Did he… actually study?
And wait-- WAIT--
PARK HANUEL BEAT YUNA?!?
The floor beneath me disappeared. I felt like I was floating in space, except the stars were shaped like question marks and disappointment.
My enemy… my arch-nemesis… my academic Voldemort… had risen.
He hadn't just passed me—he had shot up from 11th to 2nd like he was in a K-pop idol survival show and just got the final vote.
I couldn't take it.
My fragile ego was leaking.
I turned away from the crowd in a daze. Like a scandalized lead walking out after finding out the inheritance was fake. I needed air. Space. Therapy.
And then…
There he was.
Park Hanuel.
Leaning casually against the lockers like some anime character who's too cool for school.
Smirking like he just predicted I'd be shocked.
Which-- ugh, he probably did.
His friends were patting him on the back.
One even said, "Bro, 2nd place? You're basically the next Elon Musk."
Another one said, "Forget Elon, he's smarter and hotter."
Okay, I didn't ask for the fan club to speak.
I turned to walk away. My plan was to escape with my 10th-place dignity before he opened that annoyingly sharp mouth of his.
But then…
"Hey, Biolodgy queen."
I froze.
Not that nickname.
He had called me Biolodgy queen ever since 9th grade, when I misspelled "biology" as "biolodgy" on the board while solving a quiz.
ONE MISTAKE. JUST ONCE.
And he never let me live it down.
I took a deep breath. Inhaled peace. Exhaled vengeance.
Then turned slowly.
He was still smirking. Like he was enjoying the slow death of my pride.
"What do you want, Einstein's discount version?" I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered.
"Just wanted to check if you found my name. Or did you stop reading after yours?"
HA. Funny. But no.
"I'm surprised you managed to find second place without using black magic."
"Please. I'm naturally gifted." He flipped his imaginary hair like some beauty pageant contestant. "Unlike some people who think watching three hours of 'Crash Landing on You' is exam prep."
"Shut up!! I had subtitles on. That counts as reading comprehension."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Biolodgy queen."
I clenched my fists. "Don't call me that."
"Okay, Biolodgy Queen."
"I will throw my textbook at your face."
"Please do. I'll absorb the knowledge through impact."
Oh my god.
Why did I even try?
His friends were chuckling in the background like they were watching live stand-up. One even took out popcorn. I wanted to karate chop them all.
"I don't get how you jumped ranks," I muttered, eyeing him suspiciously. "Last term, you were 11th. Now you're suddenly 2nd? What did you do? Bribe the teachers? Sell your soul?"
He winked.
"I found motivation."
"What kind of motivation? Did academic fairy visited you in your sleep?"
He leaned forward slightly, voice lower. "Let's just say… beating you was enough."
Wha—?!
Okay, excuse me?
My brain temporarily glitched.
"YOU STUDIED TO BEAT ME?!" I shrieked. "You studied so hard you BEAT YUNA?! JUST TO OUTRANK ME?!"
He shrugged like it was no big deal. "I was bored. Needed a challenge. And watching your dramatic reactions is worth the effort."
I was about to launch into a five-minute monologue about academic ethics and moral superiority when he added:
"Besides, it's cute how worked up you get. Like a little angry squirrel."
I short-circuited.
Did he just—?
WAS THAT AN INSULT OR A FLIRTY COMPLIMENT?
His smirk widened.
He knew.
He knew my brain was spiraling.
"You need help," I muttered, turning around.
He called out, "See you at the next test, Biolodgy queen!"
"ONLY IF I DON'T STRANGLE YOU FIRST!" I yelled back, stomping away with the grace of a furious duck.
As I left, I could still hear his laugh echo behind me.
God, that boy was insufferable.
But one thing was clear—
Next exam, Park Hanuel was going DOWN.
Operation "Outrank Hanuel" had officially begun.
FLASHBACK ENDS.
Present day.
I twisted the red lipstick tube like it was a sword being unsheathed before battle. A bold red—sharp, dangerous, deliciously villainous. I applied it while glaring at myself in the mirror like a K-drama second lead on the brink of a glamorous breakdown.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall…" I whispered, admiring my reflection. "How the hell can someone be this sexy?"
The mirror said nothing because it was stunned by my beauty.
I turned my head side to side, checking angles. Chin up. Eyes narrowed. Hair—perfectly volumous, like I hadn't tried but totally had. I smirked at myself.
"Eat your heart out, Park Hanuel."
Then, for extra sass, I walked backwards while still looking into the mirror.
You know, to get that exit like a baddie vibe.
Nearly tripped on my hair straightener, but did I fall?
No.
Because bad bitches have balance.
Tight bodycon dress?
Check.
Beige blazer?
Check.
Heels high enough to kill my soul but still serve fashion?
Absolutely.
A level of confidence I didn't even have while writing my final exams?
Yes ma'am.
Operation "Outrank Hanuel" had officially begun.
I strutted out like I was walking onto a Seoul Fashion Week runway.
In reality, it was just the parking lot.
But details.
I spotted Yuna near the entrance, immediately clung to her arm like a koala being chased by emotional trauma.
"Oh my god, you look amazing," she said sweetly.
I blushed as yuna complimented me.
"Shut up, you look prettier.."
As I entered the restaurant—the glorious, pretentious, chandelier-having venue of our high school reunion—I felt like the main character walking into enemy territory. Like Regina George if she had anxiety and student debt.
I looked around at all the so-called "blast from the past" faces. Some I barely remembered. Some I actively repressed. A few looked like they'd been trapped in a corporate horror story since graduation. I sipped my wine like it was a magic potion that could erase social awkwardness.
And then...
HE WALKED IN.
Time slowed down.
The door creaked open with dramatic flair (probably automatic, but still). The wind blew—from where?! We were indoors! But it blew, making his hair ruffle like he was in an expensive shampoo commercial. If I hadn't hated him, I might've gasped.
Park Hanuel.
That tall, smug, academically annoying little—wait no, not little—okay, WHY DID HE GLOW UP?
He had the audacity to look better than he did in school. Gone were the days of crooked ties and awkward bowl cuts. The boy had evolved into a full-blown menace in a tailored black suit that hugged him in all the right places. His hair was tousled in that "I'm effortlessly hot" way. Jawline? Sharp enough to cut my self-esteem. Eyes? That mischievous sparkle was still there, like he knew he was ruining my night just by existing.
God had favourites. And apparently, He was still favouring Park Hanuel.
Didn't he peak in high school? He was supposed to get a glow DOWN. He was supposed to bald early or get beer belly or—something!
I tried to turn around and pretend I didn't see him. But of course, he saw me. Because of course, the universe lives for my humiliation.
His eyes locked on mine from across the room like we were in a historical romance drama about rival war generals who accidentally fell in love at a diplomatic tea party.
He smirked.
OH NO.
THE SMIRK...
The smirk looked like he's back here to ruin me.
The kind of smirk he gave when he stole my assignment and my first place in science fair.
The kind of smirk that said, "Oops, did I accidentally destroy your self-esteem again?"
The kind of smirk that had the audacity to be hot while emotionally devastating.
Why did my stupid heart just skip like it was auditioning as a background dancer for BTS?
No.
NO.
Remember who you are.
You are Mira Kim.
You survived calculus.
You even survived MR JEON.
You can survive this man as well.
Stay strong.