The high of the victory was still humming in my veins as I walked through the front door, the golden trophy clutched in my hand like a holy relic.
Ha-neul followed behind me, dragging the heavy bags and looking like she was ready to collapse, but even she had a small, tired smile on her face.
We had won. We were kings of the mountain.
But the moment we stepped into the living room, the victory hum was silenced by a sudden, chilling atmospheric shift.
The lights were dimmed, except for the harsh glow of the lamp over the dining table.
Mrs. Lee was sitting there, still in her work clothes, her posture as stiff as a marble statue. In front of her, spread out like a set of tarot cards predicting my demise, were several sheets of paper and a tablet displaying a spreadsheet.
"Mom?" Ha-neul whispered, her voice losing all its sass.
Mrs. Lee didn't look up immediately. She adjusted her glasses, the lenses reflecting the cold light of the table.
"Ha-neul-ah," Mrs. Lee said, her voice terrifyingly calm. "Upstairs. Now."
"But, Mom—"
"Now."
Ha-neul didn't argue. She dropped my bags on the floor and scurried toward the stairs. As she passed me, she leaned in and whispered a single, frantic sentence: "Good luck, San-ah. I'll pray for your soul."
Then she was gone, her footsteps light and fast on the second floor.
I stood there, still in my expensive black suit, my "Comma" hair slightly windswept but still looking like a K-pop idol. I felt ridiculous. Like a clown in a tuxedo.
"Sit," Mrs. Lee commanded.
I sat.
The wooden chair felt incredibly hard.
"I heard the news," she said, finally looking at me. "I received a call from Ms. Choi. Congratulations, San. H-Wnot won the Grand Prize. It's a significant achievement for a group that was nearly disbanded."
"Thank you," I said, a small spark of hope flickering in my chest. Maybe this wasn't going to be—
"However," she interrupted, tapping a thick stack of papers. "Ms. Choi also sent over your mid-term performance evaluation and your current academic rating. San, do you know where you stand?"
I swallowed hard. "I've been... busy with the band."
"You are at rock bottom," she said, her voice rising in volume. She slapped a paper onto the table. "You are in the bottom five percent of the entire second year. Your history marks are a tragedy. Your literature scores are non-existent. San, I come home from a ten-hour shift at the Channel's office.
I am tired. I am stressed. And I have to face a report that says the student living under my roof is effectively failing out of a school that I am legally responsible for."
I looked down at the table.
The "Test Silence" I had experienced weeks ago was back, but this time, there was no pencil-scratching to drown it out.
"And then," she continued, her eyes narrowing as she picked up her tablet, "there is the matter of your expenses. I checked your card statement for the past month."
My heart did a somber backflip.
"One hundred thousand won," she read, her voice dripping with disbelief. "For a single taxi ride? On a Tuesday afternoon? San, unless that taxi flew you to Jeju Island and back, I need an explanation for it."
I couldn't tell her I was hunting for a runaway drummer. I couldn't tell her I was trying to save the band. To her, it just looked like I was throwing money away while my grades burned.
"I... I had an emergency," I managed to say.
"The only emergency here is your future," she snapped. She stood up, leaning her hands on the table. "I have made a decision. Since you clearly cannot manage your own time, I will manage it for you."
She pointed to the papers.
"Starting tomorrow, you will attend the evening cram school in Apgujeong. Jun-seo and Ha-neul are already enrolled. You will join them. You will study from 6:00 PM to 10:00 PM every night."
"But the band—"
"The band," she said, cutting me off with a sharp gesture, "will be a memory if your rating doesn't improve by the next school evaluation. If you do not move up at least twenty percentiles, I will personally call Ms. Choi and withdraw you from all extracurricular activities. H-Wnot will have to find a new frontman, because you will be spending your afternoons in a library."
She picked up her tablet and walked toward the stairs.
"Get out of that suit, San. You look like someone who has succeeded. Right now, you are failing."
She left.
I sat in the silence of the dining room, the golden trophy sitting on the floor next to my muddy shoes. The victory felt a million miles away.
I was the king of the festival, the viral "Fred," and the most popular guy in Kirin Arts.
And tomorrow, I was going to be a prisoner of the evening school.