Sun's quiet sobs filled the room. The air felt still, heavy with the smell of antiseptic and the soft rustle of curtains swaying in the breeze from the small fan.
Love, moved, handed him a tissue. He took it with both hands, still trembling slightly, and wiped his face. His breathing was shallow, each breath tight in his chest.
Rin let out a soft sigh. His voice was calm, almost a whisper.
— "It's going to be okay. Just because he's here... your dad... doesn't mean you can't start fresh. This place is your new beginning."
Love and Han exchanged a glance. Quiet, but in sync, they sat beside Sun on the bed, forming a protective circle around him.
Han spoke, for once without joking.
— "We've only known each other for a few hours, but... we're here. All three of us are in the art department, right?"
Sun looked up, surprised. A small hiccup escaped him as he wiped his eyes.
— "How did you know I'm in arts?"
Han shrugged with a crooked smile.
— "You left your bag behind when you ran out. I saw your sketchbook."
Love rolled her eyes with a playful sigh.
— "Finally, you're actually useful."
A soft laugh escaped the group. Small. Fragile. But real. A small crack in the tension that surrounded them.
A few minutes passed, then Love suggested gently:
— "Should we go get something to eat? I bet you didn't have breakfast."
Sun nodded. They thanked the nurse and stepped back into the buzzing hallway. Their footsteps echoed softly as sunlight poured through the tall windows, lighting the polished floor.
Back in the amphitheater, the club presentations were still going on. Some students listened, others scrolled on their phones. The air smelled like fresh paper and air conditioning.
The principal returned to the mic.
— "Please welcome our university's pride, the swimming club. This year, it's under the direction of Coach Anurak—a man with a truly outstanding career. He was once a world-class swimmer himself, an international medalist, and later became head coach of the national team. He's led several athletes to the Olympics and still holds a world record in the 4x100 freestyle relay. We are honored to have him join our faculty this year."
A quiet wave of murmurs passed through the audience as Coach Anurak stepped onto the stage, followed by two young men. The first walked with confidence—sharp eyes, neatly styled black hair. This was Art.
Silent and focused, Art scanned the crowd with a calm, unreadable gaze. Inside, he felt the weight of the spotlight, but he was used to it. He wore the pressure like a second skin.
Just behind him came Firm, his demeanor more relaxed. He nodded slightly to the crowd, curious, observant.
— "Here is Art, the captain of our swim team. He joined last year and quickly rose to the top with his talent, discipline, and team spirit."
The audience responded with polite applause, muffled by the acoustic panels.
From the stage, Art remained still, but his thoughts flickered. Earlier, he had noticed a sudden movement in the crowd. Someone—followed by three others—had stood up and left without looking back.
He shouldn't have cared. But something about the way they left stuck with him. The pace was too fast. The energy... off. It was a moment that didn't belong. And it stayed with him.
Coach Anurak, meanwhile, swept the audience with his eyes. He had seen Sun leave the amphitheater earlier, surrounded by three students. He hadn't reacted then, but he remembered everything—how rushed it looked, how tense the group seemed.
He clenched his jaw.
He didn't need an explanation. He already knew this year wouldn't be easy.
Not with Sun.
After a brief silence, Firm leaned toward Art and nudged him gently toward the front of the stage.
— "Go on, it's your turn to explain how sign-ups will work," he whispered with a sly smile.
Art, a bit caught off guard but still composed, stepped up to the microphone.
— "Hello everyone. As every year, we'll be welcoming new members to our swim team. Registration will start—"
— "But this year, things are going to be a little different!" Firm cut in with a lively tone as he stepped forward beside him.
Art turned to him, frowning.
— "What are you doing?" he whispered through gritted teeth.
Firm answered playfully:
— "Applicants will have to race against the captain himself. Only those who can keep up with him will earn a spot."
A murmur rippled through the audience. Some students whispered with excitement, others with disbelief.
— "Race the captain?! That's impossible for beginners..."
Coach Anurak, who had remained silent until now, spoke up with a clear and solemn voice:
— "It's a brilliant idea. A perfect way to test each candidate's motivation."
Art's eyes hardened. He didn't reply, but the sharp look he shot Firm said everything—he hated being put on the spot.
Firm just smiled, cool and unreadable.
Despite it all, Art stayed calm. He took the mic again and said in a steady voice:
— "That's all for today's club presentation. The race will take place at the end of the week."
Without another word, he stepped off the stage—leaving behind a mix of admiration, confusion, and quiet tension.