Hana can’t help but burst into tears when she arrives home.

 

    “Ugh, you’re finally ho- what’s wrong with you?” The drawling tone disappears from Sehun’s voice as he sees his sister sobbing into her hands. He strides over to her. “Why’re you crying? Okay, fine. You don’t have to make dinner today. Just... stop crying.”

 

    “It’s not about your stupid dinner, Oh Sedumb!” Hana sniffles, and kicks her brother. She proceeds to run away to her room- not before kicking him in the shin.

 

Sehun gapes after her.

 

    To a bystander, Hana’s actions would seem bratty and nothing more. It would look like she was immaturely venting her frustrations to an innocent person.

 

But to Sehun it’s so much more. The last time Hana kicked him and called him “Oh Sedumb” out of anger was when she was 7 years old and he stole her My Little Pony dolls.

 

But for all these other years she’s been a blank slate. Emotionless. Like a robot, like the perfect rational little prodigy she is. It’s one of the reasons Sehun loathed her so much; her lack of anger or frustration or even happiness made her seem inhuman.

 

    But now she’s furious. Just like when she was little.

 

A smile plays on Sehun's lips.

 

---

 

“Go away,” Hana mumbles into her pillow as she hears her bedroom door open.

 

“I don’t want to,” her brother replies, standing above her. His arms are crossed. “Not until telling me why you’re crying.”

 

Hana looks up and throws him a sullen look. “I’m not crying. I don’t cry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh really? Then why’re your eyes so red? And I suppose the liquid coming out of your eyes is fruit juice?”

 

“Stop being dumb, Sedumb,” Hana mutters. “All you know how to do is whine, you monkey.”

 

Sehun grabs a pillow and slams it on her head. Hana looks up in astonishment. “D-Did you really just do that?” she sputters. “How dare you! Do you wanna die?”

 

“Glad to see you’re doing better. Now get up. We’re going to get frozen yogurt.”

 

Hana’s jaw drops. “Wait... what?”

 

“Froyo. Don’t you like froyo? Now hurry up.” Sehun turns to walk out of Hana’s room. Before he leaves he is stopped by Hana.

 

“Sehun... why?” she implores confusedly. “I thought you didn’t like me... so why...,” Hana trails off uncomfortably.

 

Even he doesn’t know. Sehun still doesn’t like his brilliant, oh-so-revered sister. But...

 

“Because that’s what big brothers do when their little sisters are sad.”

 

---

 

“So your students are being mean to you?” Sehun says, taking a bite out of his vanilla yogurt. Hana nods vigorously, stuffed with green tea yogurt, gummy bears, cherries, chocolate chips, and every other topping in the store. “Are you mean to them?”

 

“I’m not that mean to them,” Hana says, chewing. “I’m just a little strict on them, but it’s for their own good! Really!”

 

Sehun groans. “How little is ‘little’ strict? Knowing you you’re probably a total Nazi to them. And jesus, Hana, swallow before you speak. Are you a kindergartener?” He winces as she sticks out her tongue, revealing gross pieces of mashed up food.

 

“But it’s okay,” Hana sighs. “I’ll be fine. Sometimes it’s kind of scary that I’m bossing around all those students older than me. Especially this one guy.”

 

“What’s so special about that guy?”

 

Hana crinkles her nose. “Well, he’s really popular and all the students like him. So everyone’s on his side. Even the teachers all like him... one of my fellow professors told me that his family’s really rich and powerful. So everyone’s nice to him.”

 

“So...?”

 

“And he’s scary.” Hana shudders. “He has blond hair and fierce eyes and he acts like he owns the world. He glares at me sometimes and it makes me afraid. I can't even grasp what he's capable of."

 

"But I’m smarter than him, so it’s okay,” she adds as an afterthought.

 

Sehun rolls his eyes. “Yes, at least you’re smarter than him.”

 

The two sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Hana asks, “So how’s life with you? I haven’t talked to you like this in a while.” She chomps loudly on her frozen yogurt.

 

“By a while, you mean 12 years,” Sehun chuckles. “It’s alright. I’m doing well in dancing. And I win a lot of freestyle competitions.”

 

“What?” Hana’s eyes widen. “You dance?”

 

Sehun says stiffly, “I’ve been dancing since I was 10.”

 

His sister’s face reddens. “O-Oh. Sorry... I never really-,”

 

“Knew? Yeah, that’s because Mom and Dad always focused on your accomplishments.” Sehun says in a biting tone. Hana looks away.

 

“Sorry,” she murmurs. Sehun shrugs.

 

“We should go. We both have to get up early tomorrow.” Sehun glances at Hana, who’s quietly finishing off her food. “Do you feel better now?”

 

A gradual smile slides Hana’s lips upwards. “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Sehun.”

 

---

 

When Kai walks into class he is mentally armored and ready to fight.

 

Professor Oh is prepared as well.

 

“You have a pop test today,” she announces to the class. “This will significantly affect your average. Time starts now.”

 

Kai doesn’t have a chance to say anything.

 

But spoken words are never needed to make a statement.

 

The bell rings and Professor Oh collects the tests. Students shuffle out of the room, throwing her disparaging glares. Kai is the last one to leave. Professor Oh crosses her arms as Kai narrows his eyes at her, his gaze burning holes into her skin.

 

“Have fun grading the tests, Professor Oh,” Kai calls as he slams the door. Furrowing her eyebrows, she takes a look at the papers she collected. What Professor Oh sees causes her to drop the tests to the ground.

 

I hate Professor Oh, is written under every single question of the test, by every student in the class.

 

Some students have compiled lists of why she is so despised, while others have drawn grotesque figures of her.

 

Professor Oh picks up the tests. Blinks back her tears. Clenches her jaw.

 

And heads straight to the dean’s office.

 

“Come in.” the dean calls. “Ah, Hana, nice to see you.”

 

“Good to see you too,” she says monotonously. “I would like to report disrespectful behavior by students in my class and hope you will take necessary action.” She slams the test papers down on the desk.

 

The dean’s eyes widen as he looks through the tests. “How dare they!” he exclaims. “This is outrageous! These students will be dealt with accordingly. This is enough for expulsion.”

 

Professor Oh’s eyes burn with vindication. “Thank you, Dean.”

 

“This is obviously an organized effort,” the dean notes, frowning. “Do you know who could have possibly orchestrated this? We can try to inflict harsher punishment on them."

 

“I do,” Hana replies. “It’s a student named Kim Jongin.”

 

The look on the dean’s face changes from incensed ire to one of doubtful alarm. “Wait... Kim Jongin? Are you sure?”

 

“Positive. In fact, he insulted me to my face during class yesterday. He’s an absolute disgrace to this school.”

 

And in the silence that ensues, Professor Oh knows something is wrong.

 

“You see... Hana... well, maybe it was a misunderstand. Maybe this-,” he gestures towards the papers, “was a prank. You know kids these days.”

 

“Are you serious right now?” she utters coldly.

 

The dean cringes. “Hana, I’m telling you right now. I’m doing this to protect you.”

 

“How is this protecting me? If anything, you’re encouraging this horrible behavior by not taking action against the students!”  

“If I kicked out Kim Jongin, the school would be in trouble, of course. But mostly, you would be in trouble.” The dean leans forward in his chair. “Do you know who his parents are?”

 

“No. Why should it matter?”

 

“His parents are Kim Soo Jin and Kim Kang Dae, the owners of Korea Oil National Company. They’re alumni of the school. And they’ve donated millions.”

 

Hana stares at the dean blankly. “I see. So Mr. Kim’s power, status, and wealth deems him immune from any sort of discipline.”

 

The dean hems, “Don’t phrase it like that.”

 

“It makes sense now.” Hana stands up, taking the vulgar test papers with her. “I’m leaving.”

 

“It’ll be alright, Hana,” the dean calls after her. “Just use the weekend to relax, cool down. Hopefully it’ll resolve itself by Monday.”

 

As Professor Oh trudges back to her classroom, her shoulder accidentally hits something. “I’m sorry,” she says, turning around, but freezes when she sees who it is.

 

“Ah, I see you’ve looked at our tests,” Kai sneers. “You won’t be doing anything about them, right?”

 

Professor Oh is silently trembling with fury.

 

“Have a nice weekend, Professor,” he cooes, and struts away snickering.