"Seo-yeon!" Ae-cha called after her. Seo-yeon turned around, her smooth black hair moving with her. Her fair skin glistened in the light and her pink lips curved into a praticed smile. Her gray blazer covered her black sweater vest.
Her shirt, consisting of black and grey stripped sleeves had a white collar. Her grey and black strapped cravat was neatly tied, yet slanted to the left. Her grey, black and white plaid skirt reached her knees.
"안녕하세요," she bowed. Ae-cha bowed as well giggling.
The two girls continued walking, now side by side.
"Was class hard?" Ae-cha asked. "Not for me!" Seo-yeon joked.
The two girls laughed.
Seo-yeon loved Hana Academy Seoul. It was the best school in the whole of Seoul. And the prefect school for someone like her. She could seamlessly blend in, without a trace.
Like Big Daddy taught her.
"Your skirt is too long," Ae-cha noticed. Seo-yeon bowed her head, staring at her skirt. A frown played on her lips. She turned to Ae-cha. "I think it's an appropriate length," she countered, adjusting it slightly.
Ae-cha opens the door to their shared dorm. Seo-yeon goes to her bed and plops down, the soft mattress imprinted by her weight. For once, it felt good to be still.
Ae-cha tosses her bag onto her bed, groaning. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow," she whined as she sat at the edge.
She glanced over to see her friend, book sprawled on the bed, writing down the answer to the math equations.
Ae-cha chuckled at the sight. "Relax before you do that," Ae-cha urged.
Seo-yeon scoffed and glanced over at her friend. "I am relaxing."
Ae-cha fell backwards on her bed. "I'll start mine later," she promised lazily, scooting onto her bed more. "Okay," Seo-yeon replied.
Seo-yeon yawned, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. 10 p.m.
Seo-yeon look to her right—Ae-cha was snoring soundly, uniform still on. She sat up and moved off the bed, slipping Ae-cha's book in her bag before putting away her own homework.
Ae-cha never did her homework. She'd always fall asleep when she does so Seo-yeon took some liberties and did it for her. It was always in Ae-cha's handwriting of course.
It's happened so often, Ae-cha's started to believe the dokkaebi are helping her. Seo-yeon smiles at the thought.
She even got some questions wrong on purpose. Wouldn't want Ae-cha to surpass her, now would she?
Seo-yeon glides over to her closet and opens. Inside was a small framed picture : a much younger Seo-yeon—perhaps around twelve—sitting on primarily on a stool. Behind her stood was Big Daddy, his face out of frame, dressed in a navy blue hanbok.
Seo-yeon was dressed in a blue and pink hanbok, her hair was braided into pigtails and tied with pink soft ribbons.
Present day Seo-yeon smiled at the memory, warmth blooming in her chest. She gently adjusted the frame before closing the closet door.
Time for bed.
In class, Seo-yeon pulled out her book out as Ae-cha sank saldy into her seat. Her eyes were red. Crying, mostly likely.
Yoon Hajoon entered—stern, ridgid, mid-thirties. He never smiled. Brown spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose and freshly pressed grey suit, a brief case firmly clenched in his hand.
Seo-yeon knew his routine well.
He lived in Myeongdong but travelled to a laundry mat in Jongno District, just because he didn't just his local cleaners. A 15 minute train ride, twice a day, every day. ₩1300 per ride.
She'd follow him once. Just to see.
He'd pick up his alundry every morning, then made his way to school, seven minutes late.
She understood, sympathized even, why he was so pissed every morning. Why he didn't tolerate failure.
With a loud slam, he dropped his briefcase on his desk.
"Homework now!"
The class scrambled, slamming books on his desk like a tribute. Then, back to their seats like nothing happened.
Ae-cha opened her book forlornly and gasped softly.
She stared at perfectly filled pages like it was a miracle. Her hands clasped in a silent prayer of thanks
Seo-yeon chuckled.
Whack!
Seo-yeon grunted as her racket smacked the ball hard across the court.
Her silky smooth black hair was tied in a neat bun. A large white shirt clung to her body, soaked in sweat. Her loose black shorts shifted with every stride. White sneakers gleamed in the afternoon light, almost unnaturally clean.
Her keen eyes watched her opponent smack the ball—left. She dashed towards it, her muscles coiled and ready, her sneakers digging into the ground. She returned the hit in a clean swift arc.
The ball flew past her opponent and struck the far corner. Point.
The coach blew the whistle. Match over.
Seo-yeon gave a quick fist pump as her opponent threw their racket in frustration.
Big Daddy would be proud of her. She'd been following the Three Rules.
Rule #1: Blend in.
"Good job!" Ae-cha cheered, running across the court. Their hands met in a loud, echoing high five. "Thank you," Seo-yeon said, smiling as she exhaled heavily.
The two moved across the court, entering the building seamlessly.
Blending in was important, even if it meant faking a smile, or a friendship.
Seo-yeon did care for Ae-cha—she really did. Ae-cha was kind, funny and trustworthy.
But trust had limits. Big Daddy taught her that.
"Ready for tomorrow?" Ae-cha asked, bouncing on her heels. Seo-yeon nodded, reserved. "I'm excited for tomorrow," she replied, lips curling into a practiced grin.
Seo-yeon raised her hand to the ceiling, or at least tried to.
Slowly, she bent down, palms brushing her feet before lifitng her body again. Then she moved—gliding across the floor like silk on water.
Elegant. Controlled. Soft.
But not enough.
"More, Seo-yeon!" Her dance teacher, Im Bong, barked from the front.
Seo-yeon froze. The words had struck like a whip, shattering her rhythm, upheaving her thoughts. Her composure cracked for a moment. She swallowed hard, thoughts scrambling. What had she done wrong? Where had she slipped?
If Big Daddy was here...he'd be disappointed.
"Seo-yeon."
She nervously glanced over to her teacher.
Im Bong's frown softened but her brows deepened. "You're moving but...I feel like you're standing still," she said. "You aren't all there, Seo-yeon."
Seo-yeon gave a quiet nod and quietly returned to her place. "Again. From the top," Bong commanded.
Seo-yeon could see the eyes on her. The glares from her teammates burned into her back like spotlight. She ignored them. Inhaled. Stretched.
Just like she did before every missions.
All she's missing to complete the ritual....
Are the pills....
The next day, Seo-yeon flipped the page of the music sheet. Ae-cha groaned, scratching her head.
Today, they were playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons—Winter. Her favorite.
Their music teacher, Choi Sang-wook, adjusted his tie and raised his hands.
Seo-yeon rested her chin on the chinrest and waited. Ae-cha followed.
With a flick of his wrist, the players began. Seo-yeon closed her eyes, listening intently.
No disrespect but Ae-cha an awful player, so Seo-yeon would often play louder...or sabotage someone else. Let the blame fall elsewhere.
Sang-wook bobbed his head, a smile growing on his face.
Then came the wrong note from Ae-cha.
Without missing a beat, Seo-yeon subtly reached out and smacked Baek Duri's ankle with her foot.
"Ow!" Duri cried, glaring directly at her.
Sang-wook smile dropped.
"Stop. Stop!" he barked.
The orchestra froze. Knowing glances flickered between students.
Choi looked like he was about to lose it.
"This," he said, voice shaking with frustration, "is a very important piece and last time I checked, ow isn't part of the score!"
"But sir—" Duri tried.
"Enough!" He jabbed a finger towards the door. "The exit is that way!"
Duri stood up, fury bruning in her gaze. She shot a glare at Seo-yeon, then Ae-cha— who lifted her violin to hide her face.
With a final huff, Duri stormed out. The door slammed shut. Choi straightened tie and took a deep breath.
Seo-yeon smiled calmly, placing her chin to her rest. Her classmates knew exactly who's responsible and none of them would dare call out the star student.
Returning to her dorm room, she set down her bag. Ae-cha was with a teacher, discussing her Biology project.
That left her all alone.
She sat at the edge, stretching—until her phone buzzed.
She froze. Slowly, she turned to the buzzing device.
No-one had her number.
Rule #2: Don't show your emotions.
You can smile. You can laugh. You can even pretend to be shocked.
But never let anyone see how you truly feel.
They'll use it against you.
She reached out, she grabbed the phone, and answered.
"Hello?"
There was a pause. Then—
"Hello, Kim Seo-yeon."
Her heart thudded
Rule #3: Never tell anyone your name.