Monday morning at Kirin Arts High felt less like the start of a school week and more like a funeral procession.
The air in Class 2-B was heavy. Jun-seo sat at his desk, staring at a blank application form, his pen hovering over the paper. He looked like he hadn't slept since the Club Fair.
Myung-Dae was in the back, headphones on, eyes closed, radiating a "do not disturb or I will bite" aura.
I slid into my seat next to Min-ah.
"Morning, Mountain," she whispered, looking unusually serious. "Did you see the forum? Class 2-A is already celebrating. They think the spot is theirs."
"Not yet," I muttered, gripping my backpack straps.
The bell rang. Ms. Choi walked in. She didn't waste time with pleasantries. She placed her tablet on the podium and looked straight at Jun-seo.
"President Park," she said, the silence in the room absolute. "It is Monday. Do we have a Main Stage application for Class 2-B?"
Jun-seo stood up slowly. He adjusted his blazer. He looked at the empty paper in his hand. He looked at the back of the room, at Myung-Dae, who hadn't moved.
Jun-seo took a breath. He opened his mouth to surrender. "Seonsaengnim, I—"
"Here!"
I shot up from my chair so fast my desk rattled.
Every head turned. Jun-seo looked at me, bewildered. Ms. Choi raised an eyebrow.
"San-ssi?"
"The application," I said, walking down the aisle. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but I forced my face into the mask of the 'Global Ambassador.' "President Park was just... double-checking the spelling. But we have a team."
I reached Jun-seo's desk. I grabbed the pen from his frozen hand.
"San, what are you—" Jun-seo hissed.
"Trust me," I whispered back in English.
I turned to Ms. Choi. "The band is confirmed. It's a four-piece ensemble."
"Oh?" Ms. Choi looked amused. "And the members?"
"Park Jun-seo on vocals and guitar," I announced loudly.
The class murmured. Standard.
"Lee Myung-Dae on bass."
The murmurs turned into gasps. Myung-Dae's eyes snapped open in the back row. He pulled his headphones down, staring at me with a look that promised a slow and painful death.
"And?" Ms. Choi asked, her eyes darting to Myung-Dae.
"And me," I said, tapping my chest. "Oleksandr Motuzenko. Rhythm guitar."
"And the drummer?"
I froze. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Who was the drummer? I scanned the room wildly.
"Han Leo!" I blurted out. "From Class 1-C! He's... a prodigy!"
I had no idea if Leo could play drums. I just knew he was the only other person I could drag into this mess without them calling the police.
Ms. Choi looked at me. She looked at a shell-shocked Jun-seo. She looked at a furious Myung-Dae.
"A mixed-grade band," she mused. "With the President and the... Myung-dae. And the Foreign Representative."
She tapped her tablet.
"Interesting. Very well. I will put a hold on the slot. But San-ssi?"
"Yes, Seonsaengnim?"
"Applications are just paper. I need to see a demo. If you cannot play a cohesive song by Thursday afternoon... the spot goes to Class 2-A. And you will all receive demerits for lying to a teacher."
"Wednesday," I croaked. "No problem."
"Good. Sit down."
I walked back to my seat. My legs were shaking.
As soon as the bell rang for break, my desk was surrounded.
Jun-seo was on my left, looking pale. Myung-Dae was on my right, looking homicidal.
"Are you insane?" Jun-seo whispered.
"You have a death wish, waegukin," Myung-Dae growled, grabbing my collar. "Keep my name out of your mouth."
"I did it because of the audit," I said calmly.
They both froze. Myung-Dae's grip loosened slightly.
"What?" Jun-seo asked.
"The audit," I repeated, looking Jun-seo in the eye. "If Kirin loses the Grand Prize again next year... Hanyeong triggers the audit. The five-year rule. Right?"
Jun-seo stepped back, his eyes wide. "How... how do you know that?"
"Ha-neul told me. The rivalry. The money. Besides, your band was so good that..."
I looked at Myung-Dae.
"Khm, you hate Jun-seo. Fine. But do you hate this school? Do you want those 'red barbarians' from Hanyeong to win again?"
Myung-Dae's jaw tightened.
"We have until Thursday," I said, smoothing my collar. "Just one song. If we suck, we quit. But we don't let 2-A take it without a fight."
There was a long, tense silence.
"Wednesday," Myung-Dae spat. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a crazy glare to Jun-seo.
He stormed out.
Jun-seo let out a long, shuddering breath. He looked at me with a mix of awe and terror.
"You realized you just declared war, right?"
"I'm from Ukraine," I shrugged. "We're good at holding the line."
I picked up my bag.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see Chae-rin. I fulfilled Condition Number Two. Now I need her help with Condition Number One."
"Condition One?"
I pointed to my messy bun and my generic t-shirt.
"The makeover."
"I'm sorry, but didn't you forget that the Period is not over? QUICKLY BACK ON YOUR SEATS!"