Hello everyone, I’m Evelyn. Who’s Evelyn you ask? Just Evelyn, I’m someone with the six lettered name. I’m the emcee of this story, Jena’s much too awkward to communicate with her lovelies (what she calls her readers, cliché, I know *eye rolls*) so I’m here! 

I attend North Oxshire Academy (NOA), the private school home to future heirs, daddy’s little princess and momma’s boy. It doesn’t matter how I got here or why I’m here, my purpose today is to introduce the characters: Geum Himae and Yong Jae – Junhyung, Yong Junhyung.

Let’s start with Geum Himae. Geum Himae, don’t you think that’s a pretty name? Much prettier than Evelyn anyway. Okay, bitterness out of the way, let’s get back to Himae. Himae’s a girl born with a silver spoon in , surrounded by a flock of giggling girls and drooling boys. Her parents own the large Geum Cooperation who invest in almost everything – super markets, malls, even hospitals. You name it, you got it. Behind her classy handbags and strong perfume, she’s just your average girl,trying to keep her marks up to par all the while trying to impress her parents (if they’re home). She’s pretty but the sparkles don’t reach her eyes, it’s a sad thing but no one seems to notice above Himae’s fake smiles and content – just content – laughter.

Even when I see her, I get breathless but I don’t think she sees me. She never does and I think everyone feels the same – especially, Junhyung.

Junhyung’s the guy you’d find lurking in the shadows. I remember when he first entered the school, he was the buzz of the school. In the boyband ‘Xing,’ and on television frequently, the star. He was popular until a few months later when he stopped wearing contacts and opted for his glasses – nerd glasses as the school would call them. Everyone called him a ‘reject’ because he left Xing. "What a coward," people would whisper. He didn’t seem to care and carried on everyday with his life. Until there was news that the new company, CUBE Entertainment was holding an audition and there was Junhyung, memorizing the lyrics, hands shaking from the anxiety. Surprisingly, he made it, but everyone still calls him 'the reject' because he's still the reject.

NOA isn’t a bad school. The students are nice but there’s a clear distinguish between ‘Super Rich,’ ‘Rich’ and the ‘Scholars.’ Himae and her friends fall under the ‘Super Rich’ category and Junhyung’s in the ‘Scholars.’ The scholars are students with a full scholarship to the school, they’re acknowledge for their talents and the school places high hopes on their success in order to spread the school name. Junhyung must have some talent to be labelled as a scholar but the students have yet to find out. Huh? Did you ask what category I fall under? Don’t worry, it’s none of your business *smiles.*

Junhyung and Himae have to meet, but how? The scholar and super rich, how is that possible? Let alone become friends? You know what’s funny though? Junhyung and Himae have met, well everyone has already ‘met’ the princess, becoming friends is the hard part. Junhyung and Himae’s friendship started much, much longer. Three months into their freshman year, when Junhyung was being himself, earphones plugged in, head rocking to the beat and his feet dancing along. The school bells just rang and while Junhyung was heading to the school doors, hoping to catch the early bus.

He round the corner and boom! Crash! Literally, boom and crash! He crashed into the princess, Geum Himae. Mind you, her glamour has no affect on Junhyung. He would roll his eyes and sigh at the ignorance of the student body for raising the ‘super rich’ higher on their pedestal; he doesn’t do that. He counts his blessing because Himae’s heels didn’t drive themselves onto his sneakers. With stars spinning in circles, Junhyung shakes his head to snap back to reality.

“Junhyung,” is all he hears and he looks up to see Himae in front of him, holding a pile of papers in her hands. The papers hold no value to Himae but she knows they’re important to him. How does she know that? Wait, you guys don’t know? I think I forgot to give you that information.

Junhyung and Himae both entered NOA in the same year, of course with their titles setting a concrete line between them that Junhyung did not dare cross. They both enrol in the school’s literature course, one of the school’s specialties. On the first day, Himae sat in the front – beside the ‘scholars’ a.k.a. nerds of the school. It’s weird, eh? Seeing the princess sandwich between four eyes and bookworms. She’s actually a diligent person but no one seems to know that (I didn’t either).

Junhyung was in the same class as her but he sat in the back, to become one with the shadows, no doubt. Both of them didn’t know they were in the same class until the second day, when the boy sitting beside Himae, was intimated by her mere presence and moved to the back, while Junhyung moved to the front due to the amount of spit balls thrown at him. On the third day, the teachers moved the desks together to form groups of two, and coincidently, Junhyung's and Himae’s desks became a group of two. So for a whole year, Junhyung and Himae sat next to each other.

Through Himae’s humble questions and Junhyung’s profound answers, some sort of comfort bonded the two and a strange relationship form. 

Let’s get back to Junhyung and Himae knocking into each other. Remember that Himae’s still holding onto his papers.

“Thanks,” he muttered, took the papers, and hurried past her. For some time now, he’s been hit with inspiration to write. Lyrics, composition, anything that gave him some connection to music. He turns around to walk away but hesitates. He would never hesitate, let alone, have second thoughts but because it’s Himae, he hesitates. He looks back at her and smiles, “Thanks Himae.”

She smiles. She understands Junhyung for being grumpy most of the time. Practices late into the night makes Junhyung’s glare stronger, more pungent and it scares the students even more. She understands when she hears him snoring during the lectures or when he comes running in, hair dishevel and she would smile and fill him in on the lesson. He understands her when she doesn’t understand the analytical meaning of a passage or when this perplex look knits itself on her face and he smiles, mutters a single word to help string her broken thoughts.

“Junhyung.”

He looks back, “Hmm?”

“Your lyrics are great; I can’t wait for your debut. You’ll be amazing.”

A grateful smile graces his lips, “Thanks.” This was the first time anyone’s ever mention debut and Junhyung in the same sentence, and it made him really happy to hear that. No one’s given him encouragement aside from his parents and his friends at the company, so Himae’s outspoken words secure her a spot in Junhyung’s heart. 

So, here’s the very brief introduction to our two protagonists and their timid friendship. The fanfic takes place two years later and their friendship has grew just a little bit, a small increment of it. Also, the title, “Killing Butterflies” is quite interesting, no? Here’s a little hint (with Jena’s approval): the butterfly goes through four stages of life. The egg, the caterpillar, the chrysalis, and the adult. Some get stuck in a particular stage, some fly past it. *winks* That’s it for now; don’t be shy to direct your commentstowards me (Evelyn) and my little commentary session. If you don’t, then Jena will shorten my session and you won’t see me anymore. *cries*

-Evelyn





PART I: The Egg
Sometimes, if you look close enough, you can see the caterpillars growing inside of it. The eggs are laid on leaves so when the caterpillars hatch, they have the leaf to feed on. The caterpillars grow without their mother’s warmth. 



Himae stares at the clock. Tic toc tic toc. It tells her in its own language that it’s one tic closer to morning. She’s nervous about tomorrow’s test, contradictory to what the other princesses – the daughters of families with rich backgrounds like hers – would worry about. Makeup, clothing, celebrity news. She could care less. That’s what made her different.




She comes to philosophy with her head held high, faking the confidence. She will do well, she is the princess, she has to. Philosophy, where she feels some degree of normalcy. There’s really no lessons, no notes that need to be taken. The point is to hurt your brain. Her closest description of this complex course is: What we know and what we don’t know.

Her eyes repeat the philosophy notes over and over again, trying to engrave these bits into her mind when Junhyung walks in; the lack of sleep taking forms of the heavy bags under his eyes, the distraught look on his face, and his lollygagged gait.

He plops down, his head hitting the desk and grumbles a low hello. She stifles a laugh. “You’re awfully tired.”

“Practice. Late. Tired, sleepy.”

“We have a test today,” she watches as it dawns on him.

He sits up abruptly, suddenly awake and worried. “WHAT?! Are you – Oh my gosh, what am –” Then he looks at her with pleading eyes, “How about we share notes?”

She rolls her eyes but slides her notes towards him and he slides closer.

She remembers Junhyung being quiet and unspoken in their freshman year, when they first sat beside each other in Literature. Now, he’s more vocal and well, happier. She could only assume it was because he got accepted into Cube Entertainment as a trainee a year and a half ago. Now, they’re moving into the end of their sophomore years and a complicated friendship form between them.

Junhyung comes from a normal family, his parents work. They don’t loft around in office, signing paperwork and yelling over the phone line – not all CEOs are like this, it’s just the example her parents showed her at ‘take your child to work day.’ He greets her with an honest smile, a nod sometimes. No underlying meaning, no greed to climb the social ladder, just him and his genuine self.




Contrary to her blissful morning, she spends her lunch with the other ‘princesses.’ Gossiping away as the minutes go by, trivial things like fashion, the latest parties and people. Some of these girls are daughters to parents who own umbrella companies under her parents, so she grows use to the unnecessary compliments, exaggerated comments. She nods her head, says her thank you and a gentle smile gracing her lips. She doesn’t know why she’s like this.




As she grows older, she sees her parents less. Her parents know that as she grows older, responsibility and ability to take care of oneself comes naturally, so they accept more overseas projects. She doesn’t mind. Her decisions won’t matter anyway.

Her parents still remember to dump the bills on the table and leave a note, telling her to call them if she ever needs more, as if her credit cards and bank cards didn’t exist. They still call on important dates to ask her ‘How is your day? Are doing well?’ But lately, their phone calls are decreasing by the seconds from both sides. She still loves them nevertheless; she just wants to see them more often.




With the bills heavy in her pocket, she walks through the disinfectant reeked place. The heavy weight of the bill equals happiness, they equal power. She doesn’t want power. She wasn’t and isn't strong enough to wield it.

“Himae,” a faint voice calls out.

Himae smiles, “Grandma, how are you doing?” She closes the door behind her and sits in the chair.

“I’m doing fine, the usual.”

She wasn’t getting better.

“Are you sleeping well? Eating well?”

Her grandma laughs, “Mae, I’m supposed to be asking that question. But I’m sleeping and eating fine. How are you, my princess?” She places a small kiss on Himae’s forehead. She misses this gesture of affection. Her grandma’s been in the hospital for over a year, fighting cancer but Himae only saw her grandma’s skin sink in to show bones, her grandma getting frailer and frailer. She’s scared of losing her.

Her grandma’s taken care of her, went to all of her graduations, her plays. The familial love her parents lack but her grandma overflowed with. So to Himae, making a daily visit to the hospital was nothing compare to her grandma’s love.




“Junhyung, you missed a beat there,” Kikwang pointed out during the video.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t tell us sorry, tell us why.” Doojoon said, throwing a clean towel at Junhyung.

Junhyung catches it, “I think I failed a test.”

They – Doojoon, Hyunseung, Yoseob, Kikwang and Dognwoon – still don’t quite understand Junhyung’s attachment to his hell hole of a school. They hear his stories about the awful students, the awful hierarchy system. It’s awful but Junhyung endures it until now, his sophomore years. Sure, the school’s rich (filthy rich), has a wide range of facility, and the name itself, is intimidating but there aren't any reasons that are enough for him to stay.

“Leave then,” Hyunseung says.

“I want to finish my schooling there,” Junhyung shrugs.

They shrug as well. They will never understand what’s keeping him at the school.




Himae loves ballet. She loves it but could live without it. Her teachers all fret that she’s wasting her talents and potentials but she just smiles and says: “Ballet’s not right for me.”

She doesn’t know why she took the apprenticeship at her company. It all happen when she went with her grandmother to watch a play when she was five? Four? And fell in love with this art and enrolled in some classes. She auditioned for a company and thought she could do it her whole life, but then school came and in all honestly, she had fun at school and knew that ballet wasn’t right for her. Never was, never will be. But because she likes to dance ballet, she continues with the training and apprenticeship. Loving ballet should be a valid reason for all of her actions, right? 

When she slings the bag over her shoulders and rid herself of the sheen of sweat, she presses down on the door handle.

“Himae, the headmistress wants to talk to you about something.” Himae looks at her dance instructor, curious.

So instead of hallowing in her bed sheets and pillows, she follows her dance instructor down the corridor to the headmistress' office. Himae has seen the headmistress' figure quite a few times but to have a ‘talk’ was the very first and her jumping heart only made her more nervous.

One knock, two dainty knocks and before the third knock, she hears a faint: “Come in.”

A little bit scared, she takes small steps to the headmistress and bows. “Good evening Headmistress.”

“Himae, how have you been doing?” she asks, gesturing for her to raise her head.

Himae smiles, “I’m doing great.”

“You’ve been in our company for almost ten years now, and you’ve already completed your training. How is the apprenticeship at our company?” Her eyes look deep into Himae’s, trying to find some fleeting look of joy at the phrase. The headmistress has difficulty finding it.

“The apprenticeship is wonderful. Even though I’ve been training for quite some time now, there’s still a lot I have to learn as a ballerina.”

“I’m aware of your dreams and I do know that you have no interest in being a ballerina. I’m going to tell you something and it is indeed an attempt on my part to change your mind.”

“Headmistress –” Himae stutters.

“Himae, don’t worry. After hearing it and if you’re still not happy, then you can always refuse. The local community is pairing up with another company to sponsor a play, with all of the profit going to charity,” the headmistress hands her a flyer. Himae stares at the flyer with its intricate waves and swirls and explosions of colors.

“They’re looking for a young lead – preferably, an inexperience one so the ballet companies can look at these individuals and hopefully, scout them, and because the experience ones aren’t willing to work without being paid. I saw the notice and recommended you. They took a look at your files and accepted immediately. So, it’s your decision to join this production. Take this as an opportunity to live the life of a prima for a short and interim month.”

With the headmistress’ eyes b with expectations and all of the effort to make her the lead, Himae couldn’t find it within her to say no. Because she loves ballet, because she doesn’t want efforts to go to waste and because she doesn’t want to disappoint others, she accepts the request with a humble heart.




“I heard you got casted,” Junhyung mumbles while fumbling with his lock. He forgets what the digits are and is running late. What a great day.

Himae quirks a brow, surprise. So the information’s already reach his ears. “Yeah, though it’s more like offered.”

She teeter tooters from her left foot, to her right foot. She’s waiting for one of her friends, Jisun, but as usual, she was late.

“Good luck though,” Junhyung slams his locker after getting everything he needed – which wasn’t much. 

“Ye –”

“Himae!”

Himae’s smile dies but is ignited at the sight of her late friend. “Jisun.”

Junhyung smiles a crooked smile. Both of them became loss in their conversations, consisting of lace apparel and eye shadow. He slung the bag over his shoulder and walked off. He clearly wasn’t needed nor would be if he had tried.

Himae sees Junhyung leaving. She fights against the urge to reach out and stop him, to continue their conversation. She found some comfort in Junhyung. He told her through his eyes that he didn’t judge her; he didn’t want anything from her but the joy of a nonchalant conversation. She liked that – a lot.

“Bye Junhyung.”

It isn’t a goodbye, just a simple bye.

He stops briefly in his track, but the moment was too brief for anyone to register. He smiles and with his back turn, he lifts his hand and waves to her.

Himae smiles and Jisun quickly catches that. “Are you friends with him?” Jisun arches a brow, her eyes sketpical.

Panic, panic, panic. “We’re acquaintances.”

“Whatever, just don’t hang around him. You wouldn’t want people to talk,” she laughs, “Or stare.”

Let them stare, let them talk. 




Her grandma’s feeble laughter echoes down the hallway. “I’m so happy for you, Himae.” Her grandma says, her hand giving a congratulatory pat on Himae’s arm.

Her mom wraps an arm around her shoulder. “We’re proud of you,” her mother cheers and her father laughs in rejoice.

Under their prideful comments, Himae feels like she shines the brightest. She misses them so much.



Ultimately, on the opening night, her grandma’s clapping the loudest along with the two vacant seats. Himae hides her sadness behind her makeup and wishes that the miniscule mistakes weren’t made and hopes that no one catches on.

She tells herself that she could be used to it, as if the plays in elementary school didn’t matter, as if all of the award ceremonies were nothing compared to their work, as if they didn’t care.




Waiting for her is a casket of flowers, colors dawn her eyes and she reaches out and a delicate petal. She smiles gratefully and knows who they're from. She opens the card and there’s a little note, apologizing for their absence and that her parents are sure that she’ll be wonderful. Albeit the explosion of colors, the wildfire of nasturtium, symbolizing victory. She wasn’t victorious in the least bits.

“Don’t worry, they wanted to come,” She turns around to face her grandma and smiles for her sake. She walks towards her grandma and pushes her wheelchair into the dressing room.

“I know,” she slips the card into her purse. She’s grown use to “Sorry Mae, we totally forgot,” “The meeting went on longer than expected,” “The planes were delayed.” She’s step past the anger stage and ease into acceptance, just relied on her grandma for all of her moral support because she’d be there for her – no matter what.

“You were wonderful on stage today, you make me so proud,” her grandma beams. Himae bends down to hug her grandma, and inhales in the sweet scent of lavender fields




Junhyung’s quiet lunch was disturbed by the congratulatory messages to Himae. He was sitting in one of the school’s many, many fields, his book – recently just a compile of papers – on his lap, a pen resting on top of the lyrics. He thinks back to Himae’s performances. It’s not like he’s interested in Ballet, but due to external forces – which are unavoidable – he’s force to attend every performance. He admits that Himae’s an amazing dancer but she lacks something.

His attention is drawn back to Himae, where there’s more laughter and squeals. He looks up and sees Himae smiling. He frowns, displease. Every day, she smiles and every day, it gets more faker and faker. She doesn’t know it herself, her friends can’t see it, but he can. It’s so obvious.




It’s midterms and everyone’s report cards come home. The ‘super rich’ and ‘rich’ mourn over their grades and throw them away; they have their mummies and daddies' corporation, who needs school. The ‘scholars’ are thumping their chests, proud of their marks or they mourn with the ‘super rich’ and ‘rich’ because their marks are too low, they’re worried of their scholarship getting stripped from them. A few selective ‘super rich’ and ‘rich’ are actually happy with their marks – Himae is an example.

Her marks aren’t worth admiring, but they’re above average and that’s an accomplishment, considering the demanding and stern competition amongst the students. She wishes her parents were home, patting her on the back with smiles on their faces, proud of their daughter – not cluster in their offices, staring at piles and piles of paperwork. She wants to talk to her friends about things she likes – photography, ballet, not shopping or latest gossip. She wants to come home, happy from her day at school, not tired from all the fake smiles and force laughter. She wants to be herself, but she can’t.

She gets a surprising phone call from her parents’ company. “Hello? Dad?”

“Himae, your report card just came home. How are they?” he chuckles.

“You remembered,” she smiles, sad and hopeful all bunch up.

“Of course I remembered.”

“They’re okay, not the best.”

“You’re being too modest, my daughter always gets the best of the best,” he encourages.

She leans back against the sofa and looks at the high ceilings, the crystal chandelier, and the abstruse patterns. It feels nice talking, having a normal conversation with her Dad. “Thanks –”

“Himae, I have to go now. Leave the report card on the dining table and we’ll be home to look at it. Bye.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say bye.




Junhyung comes to school less because he either sleeps in or practice takes longer than necessary and drags into the school hours. So, when he comes staggering into philosophy, Himae makes comments about the bags underneath his eyes, how he looks fatigue. He chuckles, “I thought we were acquaintances.”

So he heard. Explanation time. “Listen –”

Junhyung laughs and Himae frowns. “What?” Himae demands.

The flawless princess being fluster by his mere remark, that’s unheard of and a definite first. At least she’s being herself, he notes.

“You don’t understand,” she defends. He stares and this adds more pressure. “I don’t know why I said that, it was a stupid thing.”

“So we’re friends?” Junhyung teases. Fun time’s over.

“Maybe,” she smiles.

“Hopefully.”

“I hope so.”

They both like these mind games where uncertainty was certain and certainty was never a given.

“So how did your report card go?”

Junhyung laughs, “Let’s not talk about this.”




It was a nice day when she had ballet practice. The sun casted little beams of light, dancing on the floor. The tingle every time her feet landed made her happy, as if she was closer to some sort of perfection.

“It’s a nice day,” she breathes out while hauling the bag over her shoulders.

She’s greeted by a black car and the window rolls down to reveal her driver, telling her to get in quickly. It’s an emergency.




She doesn’t know how she drags herself through the big double doors, how she holds her tears when she sees the red light above the door shining. When she saw her parents, she was pulled into tight, suffocating hugs. It hurts, why. Out of all the people, why her grandma? She felt her parents’ tears and the urge to hold on to each other tighter.

They knew that they were hanging on a small, weak string of hope. That maybe her grandma will get better but Himae’s been suppressing the thoughts of death. Her suppression could only last for so long.

When the doctor came out, she couldn’t fathom his words. She sees his head shaking, his mouth moving and everything’s blurred by her tears and her hysteric sobs. Her feet take her into the surgery room, holding onto her grandma’s hand. She can almost feel it, she can feel her life slipping away.

“Grandma...Grandma,” she mutters. “How are you doing? Are you okay? You’ll make it!” doesn’t bypass the heavy lump in . Himae wills for her Grandma’s life to stop slipping away.

“Mae, my princess,” Grandma whispers, her free hand her cheeks. Don’t leave, don’t go. Please, please, please.

“Mom,” her mom whispers.

“Hyunae,” Grandma utters, “Changshik.” Both of them held her other hand.

“Take care of Himae, make her happy. Don’t make me jump out of the coffin to haunt you,” she weakly chuckles.

Himae forces a laugh but it breaks into pathetic sobs. No. No. No. “I don’t want to leave, but I’ve live my life to the fullest. I don’t regret it, live yours to the fullest.”

The frequent beeps from the heart monitor turns into a dead line.




The house cries silent tears, their silent tears. Air is pressing down on Himae, trying to see how much longer she can stand this before she collapses.

She traipses herself to her room, the emptiness of everything killing her. She looks around the spacious room, hoping to find traces of her grandma. Her scent, her voice, her jovial features but she can’t find any. Why.

“Grandma...” She looks around, the empty room stares back. She looks around some more. I need to find it, she thinks.

“Grandma...come back, please.”




Himae sees the world through bland lenses. Eating’s bland, sleeping’s torturous; the will to live is lost. The world has never look so lonely before.




Rumors spread fast within the halls of NOA. Rumors about the princess spread faster, assumptions and jealousy play a role in twisting up the bare minimum of the truth. Junhyung rolls his eyes whenever he hears one because they’re not true – anything but true. But with the absence of the princess, there wasn't any confirmations or denial. The news gets more twisted and uglier. He swears under his breath and wishes that the student body, society wasn’t so narrow-minded.




Three days, Himae locks herself in her house for three days straight. On the morning of that fourth day, her parents try to have an earnest conversation about her behaviour. “Himae, you can’t continue to mope around like this,” her mother says.

Himae looks up, “I know.”

Her friends’ text messages of worry and fright increase every day, and she feels the least bit of anger. She doesn’t find a reason for this anger but when she lunges her phone across the room, she knows she’s angry.

“It’s difficult, we know,” her father says.

“But we have to be strong, for your grandma,” her mother finishes.

Thoughts of her grandma plunges her back into her messy water work. Soon, they’re all crying and bruising from the absence of their pillar that upholds the family.




The night before she goes to school, she’s practicing long and hard in the studio. Just one more performance and she’ll be done, she can stop. She has to do her best for this performance, it’s what her grandma wanted, it’s what she has to do – no matter what. Her mind wanders back to school and she wonders what will happen tomorrow. She doesn’t think she can take the murmuring, even if she can’t hear it, she knows it’s about her.

“Mae, you’re practicing too hard,” her teacher smiles sympathetically. Himae stops and stares. She feels her knees shaking but she curbs the urge to collapse.

“Can I stay a little longer?”

“Overworking yourself isn’t the key to a perfect performance, sometimes, it’s rest,” she responds, Himae’s hair.

Himae nods understandingly, “Okay, thank you.” She bows a little.




When she’s all prim and proper, fresh from the remnants of practice, she opens the door and sees Junhyung. He didn’t see her but she could recognize the (bad) posture anywhere. “Junhyung?”

He turns around and eases into a smile. “Hey.”

A week, it’s almost been a week since he’s seen her (half of it is his fault). What made it weird was that she seemed normal. Everyone knows about Himae’s grandma’s death (it’s sad how her life is everyone’s life, everyone knows every single aspect of it) and how much she depends on her. Her grandma held the key to her smiles, her laughter, her happiness. Without her, Junhyung was scared.

Act normal is all Himae’s mind is telling her. She screams back: What is normal?

“Hey,” she says.

It gets really silent, except their breathing. She smiles, hopeful, “I’m going to go now.”

“Oh, okay,” Junhyung moves aside and she walks past him.

She takes a step and sees the headmistress walking down the hallway. It’s busy today. Depress or not, manners are a must. “Hello Headmistress,” she says with a lower head.

“Himae, how are you doing?” the headmistress asks, worried, concern for their lead.

“I’m doing well,” she forces a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Himae’s a girl who has had expectations bestow on her. She wants Himae to stay in the company, so she pulled some strings, but now she regrets it. What hurts the headmistress more is that Himae doesn’t blame her but accepts it because she thinks it’s normal.

Junhyung walks up to stand beside the headmistress. “Ma, we’re already late.”

Himae stares at both of them, confused.

He looks at Himae and her dumbfounded expression. He points at the said-woman, “This is my mother.”

Himae did very little to hide the surprise on her face.

“It’s surprising, eh?” he jokes, earning a little smack behind his head.

Himae laughed, “Yeah, it is surprising.”

“How do you two know each other?” The headmistress asks.

“We’re—”

“We’re acquaintances,” Junhyung jokes with a blithe smile. Himae gives him a little look.

“I’m joking. She sits beside me in philosophy. We’re friends.” He smiles and she smiles as well.

In the span of a minute, Junhyung has managed to make Himae smile and laugh. He holds some phenomenal power.




C O M M E N T

Hello hello, back with the second update <33 How do you like Evelyn in the beginning? Since Junhyung and Mae are rather introverted later on, you don't get much of a glimpse in their mind so Evelyn's there to stimulate thoughts and drop hints here and there :D She also plays a significant role in one of the main themes in the story so keep a close eye on her :) 

@mrskwonvarshini: thank you for commenting ^^ I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D 

@Jeser0214: Ahah, unique, how so XDD? I hope you like the update.

@janale6: You're love *o* I hope you enjoy the update <3