The first thing Kang Ma Yeon thought when she arrived at her new school was:
This place looks tired as hell.
The school gate stood tall but sad, like it had seen too many exams and too little maintenance. Rust hugged the metal bars. The paint on the walls was cracked like dry skin.
Ma Yeon stared at it with zero emotion.
"This is it? The legendary high school? Looks like it needs a retirement plan."
Her mom side-eyed her. "Watch your mouth. Be grateful."
"For what? The tetanus infection I'm about to get from touching that gate?"
Her mom ignored that. Standard procedure when dealing with Kang Ma Yeon's personality.
"First impressions matter," her mom said, brushing imaginary dust from her blazer. "Don't do anything weird."
"I am the definition of normal," Ma Yeon said with a fake angelic smile.
Her mom didn't believe that for a second but she had work, so she hugged her once and left.
The moment she disappeared, Ma Yeon dropped the smile.
"…Why does this place feel like it's staring at me?" she muttered, staring up at the windows like they had eyes.
Inside the school, life was already chaotic.
Students ran around, talking, laughing, screaming about snacks and notebooks and who stole whose pencil case.
One guy was chasing his friend down the hall.
"HEY! GIVE ME BACK MY NOTEBOOK!"
"THEN COME GET IT, LOSER!"
Ma Yeon watched them run past and exhaled slowly.
So this school is a zoo. Good to know.
She walked further inside and slowed down when she spotted someone at the end of the hallway.
A boy stood by his locker, quietly arranging his books with weird precision. His glasses sat neatly on his nose. His hair was trimmed properly. His tie was straight. He looked like the human version of a clean desk.
Neat freak vibes… but kinda cute, she thought.
Then she shrugged and walked past. Irrelevant.
She stopped at a notice board and unfolded the crumpled schedule in her hand.
"Class 2A… highest floor," she read.
Her eye twitched.
"…Highest floor? Why. Why me."
She glared at the stairway ahead like it personally offended her.
"Three floors? On day one? They want me dead."
With the suffering of a 97-year-old grandma, she dragged herself upstairs.
Halfway up the staircase, heavy footsteps echoed above her.
She looked up—and paused.
A boy was coming down the stairs. Hands in his pockets. Shirt untucked, no tie, collar loose. Hair messy. Expression bored to death. He gave off one specific energy:
Delinquent.
He stopped a few steps above her and looked down lazily.
"…Transfer student?" he asked.
Ma Yeon raised an eyebrow. "Got a problem?"
He held her stare for one long second—then clicked his tongue and walked past her without another word.
She turned to watch him go.
"…The hell is wrong with that guy?"
She reached the teacher's office and knocked.
"Come in," a woman's voice said.
Inside, teachers were drinking coffee and grading papers. The air smelled like caffeine and exhaustion. One teacher—mid-30s, glasses, tidy bun—looked up.
"You must be Kang Ma Yeon," she said.
"Yup. New transfer. Professional heartbreaker. Future millionaire. That's me."
The teacher stared at her for two seconds, processing, then smiled anyway.
"I'm Ms. Han, your homeroom teacher. Class 2A is on the third floor."
"Yeah, I know. I already walked through hell to get here."
She handed Ma Yeon a booklet and explained the basics. School rules, clubs, schedule, blah blah.
"Any questions?" Ms. Han asked.
"Yes," Ma Yeon said seriously.
"Important question."
"Go ahead."
"Is there an elevator?"
"No."
"…I'm suing this school."
Finally, she stood in front of Class 2A.
She could already hear voices from inside. Students laughing. Someone arguing. A desk being dragged.
She exhaled.
"Alright, Kang Ma Yeon," she muttered to herself, tying her hair tighter. "Good first impressions. Be normal for once."
She opened the door.
Then changed her mind.
She SLAMMED the door open instead.
"HELLOOO~ YOUR STAR HAS ARRIVED!"
The entire class went silent—then burst into laughter.
Their homeroom teacher looked like he already regretted living.
But Ma Yeon was smiling.
Perfect. Attention secured.
She took center stage like it was a runway.
"Name's Kang Ma Yeon," she said.
A couple students snorted.
Then she pulled out a random cannonball toy filled with rose.
The teacher's eyes widened. "No—"
POP! POP! POP!
Fake roses EXPLODED across the classroom.
"SPREAD LOVE AND BEAUTY, PEOPLE!" she declared dramatically.
The class went WILD.
One of the roses landed in the lap of that neat-looking boy from earlier—the glasses guy. He picked it up awkwardly, cheeks slightly pink.
The teacher sighed. "Miss Kang… just pick a seat."
"Gladly," she said.
"Sit next to Kwang Taemin."
The neat boy raised his hand slightly. Ah. Baby fox had a name.
She plopped beside him like she had lived there for years.
"Hi deskmate," she said, offering a handshake.
He blinked. "I—I'm Kwang Taemin."
"Nice. You look like a fox. Baby fox."
He choked on air.
Class ended faster than Kang Ma Yeon expected. The moment the bell rang, the classroom broke into chaos—desks scraping, chairs slamming, students forming noisy clusters like migrating pigeons. The teacher reminded them to join a school club by the end of the week, but Ma Yeon already mentally threw that request into a burning trash bin.
"Clubs, huh? Sounds like a pain," she muttered, stretching lazily.
Her new deskmate, Kwang Taemin, laughed awkwardly like someone who apologized just for breathing.
"I-I think they're fun… It's how you make friends."
Ma Yeon turned to him with a half-smirk.
"Oh? So you're volunteering to drag me into one?"
His soul left his body on the spot.
Instead of going home right away, Ma Yeon stopped by the teachers' office out of pure boredom. She knocked once and walked in without waiting for permission.
The homeroom teacher looked up from a tragic mountain of paperwork. "You should be heading home by now, Miss Kang."
She sat down shamelessly. "Yeah, but I have a question. What kind of class is 2A, really? You said something weird earlier."
The teacher leaned back, hands folded. "2A is… special."
"Special how?" she asked, squinting.
"You'll understand soon." He gave a faint, unreadable smile. "For now, just keep your eyes open."
She stared at him. That sounded like forced mystery. She hated it already.
That night, her room smelled like crushed petals. Literally.
Books were scattered. Petals still clung to her clothes. Her bag had somehow lost half its contents along the way.
Her younger brother, Kang Woojin, leaned on her doorway, looking at her like she was a war criminal.
"So… you brought a cannon to school."
"A cannon of roses," she corrected.
"And you shot it at people."
"They were in range," she replied without shame.
Woojin blinked slowly. "You smelled like a florist's funeral when you got home."
"That's called aromatic trauma."
He walked in, picked up a fallen math textbook from the floor and tossed it onto her desk. "You didn't even bring half your books."
"I brought what mattered—courage, creativity, and three petals of doom."
"And zero common sense."
"That too."
Woojin sighed but sat across from her. "Everyone's probably terrified of you now."
"Good. Then no one will bother asking me for group work."
He laughed. "You're gonna get detention tomorrow."
"I already did. Teacher said, 'Next time, try words instead of warfare.'"
"He's right."
She scoffed. "No one remembers words."
Silence settled for a moment. Then Woojin asked, "What even made you think of that intro?"
"I wanted to do something memorable," she said, laying on her bed. "My brain translated that into artillery."
"You're such a hazard."
"And you're my audience. Accept your role."
Later, lying in bed with her phone, she opened her notes and typed lazily:
> Day 1
Stairs are evil
Met fox boy deskmate (cute)
Met headphone jerk (less cute)
Homeroom teacher suspicious
Entrance = legendary
She stared at the ceiling and smirked.
Not a bad start, Ma Yeon. Let's see tomorrow