The main living room devolved into pure, unadulterated comedy as the next round of party games kicked off.
Next on Ha-neul's relentless tournament roster was Jegichagi—the traditional Korean game where players had to keep a small, tassel-attached shuttlecock in the air using only their feet. Watching a group of thoroughly tipsy teenagers attempt precise foot-eye coordination was nothing short of a masterpiece. Guys were swinging wildly into thin air, losing their balance on the carpet, and tumbling sideways onto floor cushions or right on girls while the small weighted ball dropped harmlessly to the floor after a single kick.
Even Jin-hyun's impressive drum-honed reflexes couldn't save him; he tried an overly dramatic, spinning kick that sent his shoe flying across the room and straight into a stack of empty pizza boxes.
By the time we transitioned into Sam-Yuk-Gu—the notorious 3-6-9 counting game—the alcohol was doing all the heavy lifting.
We sat in a sprawling, sloppy circle on the carpet, taking turns counting up from one to one hundred, where any number containing a 3, 6, or 9 had to be replaced by a sharp clap. It sounded simple in theory, but to a group of alcohol-soaked brains, simple arithmetic became an impossible gauntlet.
"Twenty-two..." a guy from 2-A muttered.
"Twenty-th—CLAP!" someone yelled two seconds too late.
"DRINK!" the entire circle roared in unison.
The rhythm lagged, people accidentally shouted out "Thirty-three!" instead of double-clapping, and penalty shots of beer and Makgeolli were handed out like water. By the time the game finally fizzled out, the digital clock on the wooden mantlepiece read 3:14 AM.
The wild, chaotic energy in the house abruptly collapsed into a heavy, suffocating wave of exhaustion.
Ji-min officially initiated the eviction protocol.
Armed with a broom and an unyielding, terrifying stubbornness, she marched through the bedrooms and hallways, literally shoving lingering, half-asleep students out the front door and ordering them back to their assigned villas.
I stood near the edge of the living room, leaning against a wooden support pillar and rubbing my heavy eyelids. Part of me—the part that hadn't felt this relaxed or free of academic pressure in months—wished the night could drag on for just a little longer.
But I knew that it was time to wind down before the sun came up over the mountains.
I looked across the dimly lit room and caught sight of the sofa.
Ha-neul had completely dozed off, curled sideways on the cushions, her cheek resting comfortably right on Jun-seo's lap. Jun-seo himself was knocked out cold, slumped back against the sofa frame with his cheeks burning a deep crimson, utterly oblivious to the world.
"Oh, what do we have here?"
Ji-min came sneaking out of the hallway, her eyes lighting up the moment she spotted the top two academic students of the second year in such an unprecedented position. She whipped out her smartphone, stepping forward on tiptoes to take a photo for personal use... the archives.
CLICK—
Before her camera app could focus, a long, dark sleeve blocked her lens entirely.
Myung-dae stepped into her path, his broad hand clamped right over her phone camera. His face was shadow-draped under his hood, his dark eyes narrowing down at her.
"What do you think you're doing?" Myung-dae rasped softly.
Ji-min glared up at him, exasperated.
"Yah! Let me take one picture! Do you know how historical this—"
"Get lost, Ji-min-ah," Myung-dae interrupted, his voice carrying a heavy, slightly slurred edge that made it abundantly clear he wasn't in the mood for arguments.
Ji-min huffed loudly, stamped her foot on the rug, and grumblingly retreated toward the kitchen to pack up the remaining snacks.
A loud groan echoed from the far corner of the room. Jin-hyun was staggering around, somehow managing to hoist an utterly unconscious, limp Han Leo piggyback-style onto his shoulders. Leo's head lolled uselessly against Jin-hyun's neck.
"I've got the violinist," Jin-hyun announced with a heavy, crooked grin, swaying slightly as he balanced the weight. "All the others is your problem."
Myung-dae turned away from Ji-min and walked slowly over to the sofa where Jun-seo and Ha-neul were passed out. He looked down at the Student Council President for a long, quiet second, then shifted his gaze toward me standing near the pillar.
"Mountain," Myung-dae grunted, tilting his head toward the unconscious Jun-seo. "So are you going to help or what?"
I blinked, staring at the relaxed, dark face of our bassist in mild shock.
'Wait... Lee Myung-dae is actually volunteering to carry his arch-rival?!'