Baekhyun made the mistake of asking Mihae if she was dating Sehun at lunch on Tuesday and spent most of the rest of it hiding under the table.  Sehun looked utterly perplexed as to why this was even a question in the first place, while Mihae reacted like somebody had pressed a button for a nuclear launch and she was the missile.

“Well,” said Baekhyun after he’d managed to escape from Mihae and he and Yeonhee had sequestered themselves in a secluded corner of the library.  “From that I can deduce that they are not dating but that Mihae has a really, really bad crush on him, and I think Sehun now knows that.  Whoops.”

Beyond amused, Yeonhee patted him on the back.

“We live and learn.”

“Well, I nearly didn’t live today, and I’m not sure I particularly wanted to learn.”  With a huff, he opened the book he was reading on Aristotelian ethics.  “Has the exam timetable been released yet?”

Yeonhee started.  That was something she’d completely forgotten about, and she quickly connected her laptop to the internet (she’d disabled wireless so that she wouldn’t get distracted from working, although working with Baekhyun was usually distraction enough).  Baekhyun peered over her shoulder as she waited for the tab to load so that she could sign into the university intranet.

“Wait, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to one of the previous tabs that was also loading.  Yeonhee glanced at it, hoping that she hadn’t accidentally left Easyl open, but the tab heading said BREAKING NEWS: PRIME MINI before breaking off.  The main two news websites in Zenyu and Hanmi were ones that she often had open just in case she was contacted for statements.

“What’s what?”

“The news tab,” said Baekhyun as it began to scroll again for the full headline.  “Look.”

Yeonhee did look.

BREAKING NEWS: PRIME MINISTER HUANG SHOT WALKING INTO PARLIAMENT, it ran.

“What?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

Baekhyun reached over and clicked on the tab.

“We can confirm that just over half an hour ago—”

Yeonhee hastily muted her laptop as a video clip automatically began to play, but it had been loud enough to attract the attention of several other people studying nearby, and she got several judgemental looks.

The article itself was very short.

Prime Minister Huang Zitao has been rushed to hospital after being shot in the back on his way into Parliament this afternoon, shortly after the lunch break.  His aides say that he is currently undergoing emergency surgery, but there are no updates on his situation.  Police are asking for any witness for the 1.04 pm incident to come forward, or for anybody who may have seen a person or persons acting suspiciously in the area at the time to contact them.  Forensics are still on the scene but nothing is yet known of the gunman or his motives.  Parliament has been suspended until more is known.

“Sh*t,” Baekhyun breathed out.

“I can’t believe somebody shot the prime minister in broad daylight,” Yeonhee mumbled, numb.  “Just why. . . ?”

“Your phone’s ringing,” Baekhyun pointed out, indicating the screen, which had silently lit up with an incoming call.  Yeonhee recognised the number from one of the news stations.

“Oh God, why do they want a statement on this?” she grumbled.  “’Scuse me.”

It was the first of a number of calls, and by early afternoon Yeonhee was ready to scream at the next person ringing her to ask for a statement on behalf of the student republicans on the assassination attempt on the prime minister.  She ended up skipping a lecture to ring her co-chair of the national convention of college republicans.

“Yo,” Daehyun greeted her.  “You been bombarded by calls as well?”

“Yes,” Yeonhee grumbled.  “We probably need to meet about this.  When are you next free?”

“I’m in the middle of a bunch of medical placement exams right now, so I won’t be able to get into the capital until next week at the very earliest.  Maybe it’s best to skype, if you’re free this evening?”

It was better than nothing, and so Yeonhee spent the rest of the lecture she was missing putting together points she and Daehyun needed to discuss and get straight.  She was just reading through her points of action again when her phone rang.  Sighing, she picked up.

“Good afternoon, Miss Im!” a cheerful female voice greeted her.  “I wanted to ask if we could have your opinion on the situation with the prime minister.”

“Sure,” Yeonhee said tiredly.  “Which paper are you from?”

“Oh, I’m not from a paper.  My name’s Kim Sohye and I’m from Antiroyo.”

Yeonhee frowned.  “How come you have my number?”

“I’m the publicity officer for the group and I run the website,” Sohye gushed enthusiastically.  “We’re friendly with a couple of journalists and one from the national Hanmi Gazette passed on a list of numbers to us.  He said you were very reliable when it came to comment.”

Yeonhee made a mental note to find out which journalist it was.  She was pretty sure there was a policy of not p