***Another double update!  Yay!***

The exam timetable for the end of term was out the next morning.  It only counted for a tiny fraction of the overall grade, but everybody who wasn’t losing their minds over the three papers they needed to sit was losing their minds over the fact that the prime minister had succumbed to his injuries during the night and a few more details were out, such as the fact that it hadn’t been a single shot to the back – it had been rapid fire from an assault weapon and it was a miracle that the prime minister had actually survived long enough to get to hospital and be treated (Chenle had got the various religious groups to organise an ecumenical memorial service that evening to pray for the prime minister’s soul, which had just induced more hysteria on campus).  Parliament had shut down because the system meant there was no deputy prime minister unless a coalition was in power and all the parties were arguing over whether a general election should be called or if an emergency appointment should be made to fill the gap until a general election was called (and whether it was disrespectful to do so before the body had been interred) and how best to proceed with that.  Yeonhee didn’t know if it was only a rumour or not, but apparently somebody had suggested it was the duty of the reigning monarch to take over in this kind of situation, which had caused a furore over whether that was legitimate and whether it constituted tyranny, and half of parliament was already arguing that they needed to take a vote on that.

By lunchtime, the king had issued a statement dissolving parliament, according to the constitution from the founding of the country, and all flags, including the ones on the residential palace, were to be flown at half mast for a week in mourning for the loss of the prime minister.  Yeonhee was dragged out of the cafeteria by an emergency phone call from Daehyun, complaining that this situation was completely unanticipated.

“I have to focus on my tests this week,” he said gloomily.  “I’m going to direct anything from the media through to you.  Is that okay?”

“What do I even say to this?” Yeonhee asked helplessly.  “Even I think the king did the right thing in this situation.  The politicians are going hysterical and it’s kind of like he’s just hit some pressure points and knocked them out to de-escalate the situation.”

“Then say that.  Ah, sorry, I’ve got to go.  I promised my girlfriend I’d see her at some point this week and today was the only day, so. . .”

“Go.  Take a break,” Yeonhee told him.  “And relax, yeah?”

“You too.”  He hung up.  Yeonhee rang Sowon so that she was prepared in case they got any requests to go on air.  Daehyun’s instincts were probably right that this would be a good time for the media to get hold of them in an environment that really challenged their position.  The three most mainstream networks liked to try for balance on most arguments or controversies, getting people from either side, but only the second Hanmi one was approving of any anti-monarchist speech.  The top Hanmi and Zenyu outlets tolerated it in the name of debate and free speech.

Once Sowon was prepped, Yeonhee went to find Sehun, and then sat down to write herself a revision timetable.  It wasn’t too long before Baekhyun sent her an article that had her completely distracted.

Conspiracy theories, eh? he’d written in the email, and rolling her eyes in advance, Yeonhee clicked the link.

She wasn’t sure how surprised she was to find that her apology picture to the prince was the centre of the conspiracy theory and that some nut was now claiming that (after Kim Taehyung being on TV) the image was proof that it was done by Im Yeonhee and that she had joined the radical extremists.  Apparently the war setting and the dead bodies had been a forewarning of the prime minister’s assassination and there was supposedly carnage to come.  The author of the theory hadn’t managed to come up with something for the extended olive branch, though, and was melodramatically asserting that these were terms the radicals had demanded, and that the man had his back to the woman because he was rejecting them.

Will we ever know what those terms were? the author of the theory lamented.

Snorting, Yeonhee exited the tab.

And then opened up a new one, abruptly reminded that the prince was probably back in the country by now and therefore had access to the internet, which meant that Junmyeon would have told him about the apology picture and that he might have had a chance to see it (except, she guiltily realised, that he’d probably flown back because of the situation with the prime minister and he was probably actually pretty busy).

Still, by this point, Easyl was loaded, and she decided she might as well check since she was already on the site.  But she wouldn’t allow herself to be disappointed if he hadn’t seen it.

There wasn’t a message from Lonelyblues, but she hardly expected one.  (Part of her secretly hoped that if Junmyeon had told him to look out for the picture, he might have sent a brief message saying so and that he had received it.)  She surfed absently through his profile, about to exit it when she realised he had added a new gallery.

It was titled “brave” and it only had one picture in it.  Yeonhee was about to get annoyed that he’d been online when she recognised from the thumbnail that it was her picture (she clicked on it and was very pleased to see that he’d given it a heart), but when she saw the date of the creation of the album, she scoffed in disbelief.  He’d made it on Monday, while he was still abroad.  What was it Junmyeon had said, the prince was in a bit of a stew over her not admitting any of her mistakes?  The brat had probably delayed on this on purpose.

But she was still pleased, because from the looks of it, Junmyeon was right and he did appreciate it.  He’d put it in a gallery he’d titled brave, after all.

Somewhat to Yeonhee’s relief, most media outlets were still too caught up in the prime minister’s death and the ensuing chaos in and subsequent shut down of parliament to bother gathering statements from different corners on the situation, so over the next day and a half all she had to contend with was a request from the top Zenyu station for a representative of both the college republicans and the national republicans to join a special segment on Saturday for an hour-long discussion on what the shutdown of government meant for the rest of the country.  Yeonhee was very grateful that she could bow out of that in order to visit her grandmother and passed it on to Sowon instead, though this time she was determined that Sowon wasn’t going to make another gaff and accidentally let Taehyung loose on TV again, so she and Sowon spent Thursday evening in Yeonhee’s room so that Yeonhee could coach her on what to say and how to present herself on TV.

On Saturday morning, as she was packing to visit her grandmother and stay overnight in the hospital, there was a knock on the door.  Thinking it was Sehun, Yeonhee yanked it open, frazzled and ready to give him an earful about not being disturbed while she was getting ready to go somewhere, only to find herself facing the admissions secretary, whose name Yeonhee had long since forgotten.

“You have a visitor over in the university office,” the woman told her.

Yeonhee