How do you feel?” Lee Jungyeop asks me. He’s perched on the edge of my bed. I haven’t even had a chance to rinse Alex’s blood off my hands.

I glare at Jungyeop. I want to kill him. But he can give me something else I want more.

So I won’t.

I’ll let him live. Because I’ll do anything, anything.

But nobody said I have to pretend to enjoy it.

“Like you’ve wasted three f—ing weeks of my life,” I respond.

“Is that what you think?” When he smirks, I could rip his whole head off.

“Did you imagine that life at the academy was going to be easy? I assure you, it was just as arduous back in your father’s day. But I thought you might be pleased by the results we’ve produced in the past few weeks. Don’t you see how you’ve changed?”

He points to my reflection in the mirror. The plentiful food and nonstop exercise have made an undeniable impact. The gym clothes I was given when I first arrived are at least a size too small. My T-shirt and sweatpants are speckled with blood. I look so different.

I’m scared Sunggyu won’t be able to recognize me.

“The first time you fought Alex, I didn’t feel the need to intervene,” he confides. “I knew you weren’t capable of inflicting real damage. It wasn’t in your nature. But today, you weren’t just planning to kill him—you wanted to torture him first.”

It’s true.

“How would you know?” I snarl. “You weren’t even there.”

“Seungyeon told me she had to stop the fight. You must have seen her.”

“You mean the girl on the catwalk?”

“Yes. Pretty, don’t you think?”

His knowing look makes me sick. “I think you’re way too old to be drooling over girls her age. Who is she, anyway?”

“A very talented young lady.” His look does not disappear as he continues talking.

“You see, the best and the brightest are granted special privileges here at the Woollim Academy. Seungyeon is our Dux, the school’s top student. It’s an important position, and one that comes with quite a few perks—before and after graduation. Seungyeon acts as my ambassador to the student body, and I respect her opinion. So I always allow her a first peek at our newcomers. She was very impressed by what she saw today. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“Is that why you’re here? To play matchmaker?”

Jungyeop rises. “Your hostility is misplaced, Flick. Try to remember—you aren’t angry at me. I’m just here to help. I have only your best interests in mind.”

I couldn’t count how many times I heard my dad say the same thing. Whatever he did to me, it was always for my own good.

“Really? I seem to recall a little wager you made with my father.”

“Yes, but I can’t win the wager without you. One might say we’re teammates. No matter what happens going forward, please try to remember that. And don’t forget the reward that will be waiting for you at the end of this ordeal. In nine months, you could have all the proof you need to send your father to prison. But you won’t earn the right to graduate in September unless you set everything else aside and fight for it. That’s the best advice I can give you. I recommend that you take it to heart.”

“So you’re telling me I should do whatever it takes to help you win your bet. Is that your idea of a pep talk?”

Jungyeop hears the question and ignores the insult. “I suppose it is. But it will need to be the last for a while. Once you’re upstairs, I can’t show you too many favors, Flick. I do hope you understand.”

“I think I’ll live.” And he will stand a better chance of surviving if he stays out of my sight.

“I’m very happy to hear that. Now that we’ve had this chat, you’re free to dine with the rest of your class tonight.”

“My punishment is over?” I try not to sound as if I had been craving human interaction the entire time.

He sighs wearily. “You weren’t being punished, Flick. You may have tremendous potential, but we’ll need to work hard to tap it. You came here a weak-willed little boy. My methods may seem harsh, but this school will transform you into the man you yearn to be.”

“And what if I’ve decided I don’t want to change?” I ask just to screw with him. “What if I decide to flunk out?”

“That’s not an option you should attempt to pursue,” he advises me. “Stay and learn what I can teach you. In time, you may even come to see me as your mentor. Perhaps we’ll be as close as my mother always was with your father.”

I can’t help but snort at the thought.

“I know it must seem unlikely now. But this is only the beginning of our relationship. I have much to teach you in the months to come. You’ve made great strides during your stay in the Incubation Suites. But your real education begins in twenty-four hours.”

My calculations were off. I must have lost track of time. “Tomorrow is my last day in this hell hole?”

“This isn’t hell, Flick,” Jungyeop says with a laugh. “Though, I think you’ll find it’s much closer than you think.”

• • •

I’m dressed in proper attire for a change. The door of my cell should open any moment now. This morning will be devoted to orientation. Jungyeop gave us the news last night before dinner, then left the five of us alone to celebrate.

A lavish feast had been prepared for the occasion. There was even wine, which none of us bothered to open. When we weren’t chewing or swallowing, we all held our tongues. No one was watching from the catwalk, and there were countless questions I wanted to ask.

I’d like to know what the other students have seen since they’ve been here, and I still have no idea how much they’ve been told. But I couldn’t bring myself to break the silence. It doesn’t matter anyway.

I have a hunch I’ll be finding out soon.

The door slides open, and I make my way to the media room. This time, the academy’s mysterious set designers have furnished it to resemble a corporate boardroom. Five chairs are lined up on one side of a sleek glass table. They’re all facing the movie screen. Behind the table is a wall of windows. I know it’s just a mural painted on a canvas backdrop, but I keep expecting to see birds fly past through the clear, blue sky.

I’m the last to arrive. When I settle into my seat, a video begins to play on the screen. It’s a walk-through of the nine aboveground floors of the Woollim Academy.

I wonder why the other students seem so captivated until I remember that none of them know what the school looks like. I don’t think it would go in my favor to say that I was granted a tour.

The video ends, and an academy employee circles the table, handing out room assignments and card keys to all five students. Then he steps up to the podium at the front of the room. He’s clearing his throat when Lee Jungyeop arrives. The employee blinks like the sight confuses him. Jungyeop must not make many appearances at orientation sessions.

He’s here for me.

Jungyeop sidles up to the podium. He’s all smiles, like a game show host greeting a new panel of contestants.

“Hello, everyone!”

“Hello.” Sungjong is the only one who responds.

“As you all know, you’ll be moving upstairs this evening. It will be an experience you’ll remember for the rest of your lives. Have a look at your new schoolmates and then settle into your rooms. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning a new semester begins for all students. In a little while, you’ll be given your class schedules. The books and supplies you need are already waiting for you in your dorm rooms. Your clothing is being transferred as we speak.”

Jungyeop’s tone shifts, and the smile fades. I lean forward. I can tell his speech is about to get interesting.

“By now, you’ve gotten a sense of what the Woollim Academy can offer you. Life is a battle, and this school will teach you to win. We chose you because you possess one key advantage over other people your age. Most teenagers in this country are pampered and spoiled. They’re kept sheltered from reality and protected from unpleasant truths. But all five of you have already discovered exactly how brutal the world really is. You wouldn’t be alive if you didn’t know how to fight.

“Each of you has what it takes to win. But in order to do so, you must dismiss everything you learned outside of these walls. And you must accept no restraints. Laws and commandments are for sheep. Stereotypes are for fools. Before you arrived here, you may have been judged by your gender or the branding of your clothing. Accent, or manners may have served to keep you in your ‘place.’ Your families’ religious beliefs may have been forced upon you.

“Here, our students begin their new lives with none of these limitations. You’ll find you’ve been given the same advantages as the rest of your classmates. Your social skills are equally polished. And prejudice simply doesn’t exist at the Woollim Academy. Everyone at this school has the same chance to succeed. Starting tomorrow you will be judged solely on your talents, intelligence, and inner strength.”

He steps away from the podium and approaches our table. He’s so cool, so confident. His words flow so freely that they sound like the truth.

“To keep things fair, we must limit your access to the outside world. Everyone you’ll meet inside this building is a product of our program. The academy’s instructors and employees were once students just like you. We don’t allow guests or observers. During your stay, you will be completely immersed in the Woollim philosophy. There’s only one rule that we insist you follow: Always strive to be the best.

“Here at the Woollim Academy, the strongest and brightest students will rise to the top. The lazy or weak will quickly fall to the bottom. You’ll soon discover that the competition is fierce. Every four months, we admit six new students. Some are ready to leave after a few semesters. Others require years of instruction.

“Only the nine best students over the age of eighteen are allowed to graduate each September. If you’re among the select few who succeed, your hard work will be rewarded with power, wealth, and prestige.

“First, the academy pays for all graduates to attend a top university. In return, we expect you to earn reasonable grades—as long as they don’t come at the expense of your social life. The connections you’ll make your colleges will be far more valuable than the education you’ll receive. Then, once you receive your diplomas, your careers will begin. No matter what line of work you pursue, we guarantee a starting salary in the mid–six figures.”

I hear someone gasp. Jungyeop beams at the response.

“Our alumni dominate the worlds of business and politics—and life is good at the top of the food chain. But the journey to the top starts here. If you intend to graduate from the Woollim Academy, you will have to fight for the privilege.

“We don’t expect you to leap into battle immediately, of course. We want you to have ample time to study the lay of the land. This is why all students are granted immunity for the first month of each semester. No one is expelled during the Immunity Phase. But don’t rest on your laurels. Your instructors will be watching you, and unless you prove that you’re worthy of this school, you may soon find yourself right back where you started. On the streets or in jail, with no hope for the future.

“This might sound hard-hearted, but we refuse to coddle our students. The Woollim Academy believes in the survival of the fittest. You each possess remarkable strength. Now it’s time to see what you’re willing to do with it. I wish you all the best of luck. Does anyone have any questions?”

The room stays silent. What is there to say? That it sounds too good to be true? That I know there’s a catch?

“Wonderful. Then I will see you all upstairs!”

As soon as Jungyeop is out the door, the media room lights dim, and the academy’s headmaster reappears on the video screen. The camera is tight on his face, making every freckle appear enormous.

‘Welcome to the Woollim family! Over the next few minutes, I’m going to take you on a trip to the future. The major you’ll be assigned at the end of this video will set you on the path that you’ll follow for the rest of your life. Some paths lead to fame. Some lead to social prominence. But every path that begins at the Woollim Academy will lead you directly to fortune.’

The camera zooms out. Jungyeop is in Yeouido, on the Korean Wall Street, with the famous insignia behind him.

‘If you’re good with numbers, you may have been chosen to be a finance major. After graduation, you’ll be working with money, and Yeouido will be your stomping ground. Everyone in Korea sends their savings here, hoping the dollars will multiply. But few people understand what really happens to the funds they invest—which means no one knows who to blame if it all disappears.’

Suddenly he is strolling down the corridor of a sleek, ultra-modern office building with the Seoul city skyline in the background.

‘If you’re a business major, you’re destined for the corporate world. As the future CEO of a successful company, you’ll need to learn all the tricks to turning a profit. We’ll teach you how to gather intelligence on your competition, keep whistle-blowers in line, break whatever rules may stand in your way, and bend any laws that aren’t good for business.’

He opens a door and enters a conference room. Two teams of stony-faced, suit-clad warriors face each other across a table. None of them appear to notice Jungyeop’s arrival as he continues talking.

‘Which is one reason why law majors will always be in great demand. You’re the ones who can argue either side of an issue—and twist any facts to serve your client’s needs. You can make the guilty look innocent. The greedy appear bighearted. The unethical seem honorable. You have the temerity to inform a judge that the sky is green—and the sheer brilliance to make him believe it.’

The camera cuts to the floor of the Senator’s Office, where Woollim is sitting with his feet propped up on some senator’s desk.

‘If you happen to be both persuasive and telegenic, it’s likely you have been chosen to be a politics major. Fame and power are both perks of the job. But your primary role will be to make life a bit easier for your fellow alumni. You will craft laws that favor their businesses—and vote down any legislation that’s designed to restrict them. You will also be called upon to provide well-timed distractions. Get the whole country arguing about education or gays in the military, and Koreans will stop paying attention to all the things they should fear.’

The scene fades and Jungyeop reappears at another desk in a room lit only by a computer screen. A young man sits beside him, tapping away at a keyboard.

‘The Woollim Academy’s newest and broadest major is technology. Whether your focus ends up being computer hacking, voting machine fraud, or simple identity theft, you’ll quickly discover that your skills are of tremendous value to your fellow alumni. Technology is an excellent major for students who prefer to work in solitude—or those who find small talk and personal hygiene to be onerous chores. These days, it’s quite possible to get filthy rich without ever setting foot in a shower.’

The camera zooms in on a video that’s playing on the computer screen. He is aboard a yacht at sea. A dozen beautiful girls in string bikinis lounge in the background while a pair of glassy-eyed playboys split a mound of .

‘Another wide-ranging major is leisure studies. It’s a sad fact that many of the best things in life are currently illegal. Some of you will provide the goods and services that make existence more agreeable for our country’s ruling class. Others will work with the bottom rungs of society. Wherever your career happens to take you, you’ll find yourself in a position of great influence. Your customers will crave your wares to such a degree that they’ll willingly part with their cash—and their secrets—to obtain them.’

Jungyeop steps off the yacht and magically appears on the narrow street just outside the academy.

‘All those secrets will be of great use to our human resources majors. If you’ve been chosen to pursue this particular path, you will have the most important job of all. The academy’s human resources department ensures that the Woollim family business always runs smoothly. Should one of the alumni need assistance, you’ll know which of her colleagues is best able to provide it. If a graduate comes to you with a problem, you will instantly know how to solve it.’

He pauses outside the academy’s front doors. His expression is stoic as he addresses the camera.

‘And on those rare but unavoidable occasions when our family squabbles or faces a serious threat from the outside, enforcement majors serve a vital role. You will be trained in martial arts, weaponry, and forensic science. You are the academy’s defenders and guardians, and you’ll make sure that the Woollim family is able to prosper for the next one hundred years—and beyond.’

Jungyeop opens the academy’s front doors, revealing an interior awash with light. We follow him as he strolls across the ground floor. Then he stops, his feet planted on one of the glittering spheres in the center of the atrium, and turns to face camera. The sun has gilded his beige linen suit, and even his skin seems to glow like gold. The smile on his face couldn’t feel warmer or more radiant.

‘So! Now that you’ve had a glimpse of your future, it’s time to experience it. Congratulations! Your new lives begin today!’

The video fades to black. When the lights come on, the employee leading our orientation reappears with a stack of glossy blue folders. I focus my attention on the other four students. Their faces are blank now. I wish I could have seen the expressions they were just wearing in the dark.

“These are your schedules. Each of you has been assigned a major based on the results of your psychological assessments and the skills you’ve displayed during the Incubation Stage. Your classes have been chosen for you this semester. Next semester you will be allowed to pick your own.”

Finally—a real moment of truth. The man places a folder in front of Sungyeol. “Your major will be finance.”

He seems perfectly relaxed as he pages through the materials. He’s had time to read a few course descriptions, but I see no trace of surprise on his face.

For a moment I’m disgusted. You’d think Sungyeol was heading off on a cruise instead of embarking on a life of crime.

Then I realize that he doesn’t have a choice. None of them do. That’s why they’re here. I’m this semester’s only volunteer.

I’m “business.” I don’t need to examine my class schedule. I already know what I’ll find.

Alex’s major is “enforcement.” That should help him get into Seoul University.

Key and Sungjong’s folders are both labeled leisure studies. Key just gazes at the documents in front of him, but Sungjong opens his folder eagerly. I watch his expression shift from excitement to confusion to horror.

“There’s got to be a mistake,” he croaks.

The man walks back to Sungjong’s chair and peers over the kid’s shoulder. “No mistake,” he announces.

“But Headmaster Jungyeop just said we’d be rich and powerful. These classes teach people how to be… be pimps!” He spits it out like it’s the nastiest word he knows. It probably is.

“Yes, well, given your talents, personality, and life experience, we feel you should pursue a career in the trade.” The man sounds blasé, as if explaining such things is the most tedious part of his job. “You’ll be on the business side from now on, of course. And I think you’ll find that it can be a very lucrative and influential line of work.”

“But . . . Headmaster Jungyeop said the academy was about new beginnings,” Sungjong argues. His delicate, pretty face is contorted with agony, but he’s still holding back his tears. “I came here to escape from my old life. Now you want me to major in it?”

The man remains unmoved. “You came here because you were arrested for ion. And I’m afraid our assessment showed that you aren’t well suited for an unrelated career. If you’re not interested in learning what we’d like to teach you, you may leave the academy as soon as the Immunity Phase is over.”

“What if I want to go now?” Sungjong asks.

“I’m afraid that will not be possible,” the man says.

Sungjong begins to sob, and the man goes about his business. Alex studies his class schedule, and I can see he’s struggling to understand some of the words. Key continues to stare at the table. Sungyeol is the only one watching the weeping boy.

I have no idea what he’s thinking.

• • •

It’s eight thirty in the evening, and we’ve all been herded onto an elevator. Someone must have had a little chat with Sungjong after orientation. His eyes are a bit puffy, but the tears have finally stopped. I glance at the elevator’s control panel. A single light is lit. All of our new dorm rooms appear to be on the eighth floor.

The gate is pulled shut, and the elevator begins to rise. We pass another underground floor, and then we emerge into open air. I know that we’re climbing the side of the atrium—the giant opening cut through the center of the building—but the lights are out on the lower levels.

With darkness all around us, it feels like we’re suspended in midair. Once we pass the classroom floors, our surroundings finally begin to take shape.

A few lights are on in the dorms. I look up and see that our schoolmates are waiting outside our rooms to greet us. They’re leaning over the balcony that circles the atrium, eager for their first look.

They’re quiet. Serious, but not solemn. They’re sizing us up. The elevator stops.

I think back to the sunny morning when I first visited the academy. The school is a very different place at night.

With the dorm room doors standing open, the eighth floor is bright enough to navigate. But the balcony itself is dimly lit, and the atrium in the center is a bottomless abyss. Right now the place more like a prison than a school.

“Line up behind me,” orders the employee. “Single file.”

We follow him like five little ducklings. All rooms open off the balcony, which is roughly the size and shape of a running track. I suspect we’re taking the long route to our lodgings so the other students have enough time to examine us. They step to the side, giving us just enough room to pass.

There must be around fifty of them, and some are crowded so close that I feel their breath on my skin. It’s not the friendliest welcome I’ve ever received. I don’t think it’s meant to be. I can’t see my fellow newbies’ faces, but I bet at least two of them are on the verge of pissing their pants.

I spot the girl named Seungyeon, and she smiles straight at me. She’s stunning.

Porcelain skin, huge round eyes the color of chicory flowers. There’s something serene about her. She doesn’t seem as hungry as the rest of them.

When she turns to the side a margin, her dark hair shimmers in the weak artificial light in a heart-wrenchingly familiar way. I try to erase all thoughts of a certain raven-haired boy from my head.

Once the other newbies and I are all ensconced in our rooms, there’s a commotion outside. I return to the doorway. Half of the academy’s students are mashed together on the opposite end of the eighth floor. They’re waving little strips of paper in the air. Someone in the center is gathering them.

I know exactly what’s happening. They’re gambling on our chances.

“How did you enjoy the Beauty Pageant?” A kid emerges from a dark patch of balcony between two dim lights. He points at the room to the left of mine.

“I’m Hoya. I live next door.”

“Flick. So is that what they call it? The Beauty Pageant? Does that mean there’s a swimsuit round? Should I unpack my Speedo and give myself a bikini wax?”

Hoya isn’t laughing. Apparently this is serious business.

“I guess they’re betting on who gets to take home the crown,” I say, just to keep the conversation going.

Hoya moves a bit closer and lowers his voice. He’s a few inches shorter than me, and his skin doesn’t look like it’s seen sunlight in years. His expression is somber and his clothing unusually bland. “I don’t think there’s much debate about who will rise to the top this semester. They’re probably placing wagers on who’ll be the first to go.”

“And you’re not a gambling man?”

Hoya shakes his head. “Stakes are too high for my taste.”

“Well, do you suppose they’ll let me in on the action?” I joke. “Or do I know too much? They might say it’s not sporting.”

“I don’t think fairness matters much to anyone here,” Hoya says. “You’ve seen our school logo, haven’t you? The flaming brass balls? Place a bet on the Beauty Pageant, and they’ll probably think you have a set of your own.”

It’s dark at the bottom of the atrium, but I spot a faint glimmer of gold. “Then it’s too bad I don’t have any money to bet with.”

“Yes, you do,” the guy informs me. “Check your top desk drawer. There’s a black pouch inside. They fill it at the beginning of every semester. So go ahead—bet every last dime. Just make sure you’re back in your room by nine. You do not want to miss curfew here.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I say.

“Don’t mention it,” Hoya responds. Before I set off, he grabs my arm. “Seriously. Don’t.”

I have no idea who will be the first newbie to go—Sungjong or Key. But there’s no sport in betting against either of them. Still, I can tell first impressions are important here, and I’m planning to make one that won’t be forgotten.

Always strive to be the best, Jungyeop told us. And the game starts now.

So while the rest of the pageant contestants are settling into their rooms, I take a casual stroll around the eighth floor. I don’t see anyone who looks younger than fifteen or older than twenty. And the dorms are co-ed. At any other school, those two factors would be a recipe for chaos.

Here at the Woolim Academy, order reigns supreme. It looks like most of the bets have been placed, and only a handful of students are still milling about on the balcony across the atrium from my room. I’m making my way toward them. They know I’m coming, but they’re purposely ignoring me.

I peer into the open dorms I pass. The semester hasn’t even begun, and there are already kids hunched over their computers—or scouring books as if the word of God was hidden somewhere on the pages. One student is lying on his stomach in bed, with his face pressed into a goose-down comforter.

I’m a few feet away from the group, and one of them turns around. He’s my age, but there’s a world-weary languor about him. He leans his long, lanky body against the balcony railing, and his eyelids seem to droop with boredom. It’s as though he’s seen too much to be shocked by anything.

I can imagine him dressed in a tuxedo, standing on the deck of a sinking ship and drinking one last martini before the waves reach up to wash him away.

“Hullo.” He smiles, and his face instantly morphs. He’s no longer a jaded aristocrat. He’s the friendliest kid at camp.

His greeting appears to be the others’ cue. They’re all grinning at me now. And whatever condition they arrived in, they’ve all been polished into perfect gems. There isn’t a bad haircut or a zit in sight.

“So who’s going to give me my tiara and roses?” I demand.

“I’m sorry. Woollim Academy pageant winners have to settle for a scholarship,” says my new best friend.

“I’m Tablo. That’s Baby Soul - we call her Soul; Issac, and Justin.” There are at least ten other students that Tablo doesn’t bother to introduce. I’m guessing they aren’t part of the in-crowd.

It takes me an instant to assess the three other individuals with names. Issac is the only one who seems he could possibly pose a physical threat. He’s looks like a Ken doll on steroids.

Justin, on the other hand, is what the Japanese call kawaii. If he ever he makes it to Tokyo, the girls will be squealing before he steps off the plane.

Soul is tiny, delicate, and filled with a rage that she doesn’t bother to hide. If I were worried, she’d be the one who would worry me most.

“Flick,” I say.

“We know,” Tablo responds. “Seungyeon told us all about you. I almost wish she hadn’t. It made our little pageant much less exciting. Quite a few students didn’t even bother to bet on the winner.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No need to apologize. The competition for bottom place was fierce this semester. Any insider information you’d care to share?”

The no-name kids have started to creep away. Tablo keeps his attention on me. I think I’m supposed to be flattered.

“I don’t know much about the other new students,” I say. “I’ve been in solitary confinement for the last three weeks.”

Tablo’s eyes widen. “Really? What did you do? Were you fighting?! Are you the one who destroyed that Alex guy’s face?” He steps away from the remaining members of his group and gestures for me to join him.

He wants me to feel like he’s taking me under his wing and into his confidence. But I see his three friends hurrying to hop on an elevator, and I watch it deliver them to the ninth-floor dorms. I haven’t laid eyes on a clock, but I have a hunch that curfew is a few seconds away.

My new best friend wants me to miss it.

“Tell me everything,” he insists. “I’ve never heard of a student being sentenced to solitary confinement! Now I know why Seungyeon’s so impressed! I can’t believe you were fighting in the Incubation Suites!”

“I had to teach one of my classmates a lesson,” I say. “I guess I’ll have to do the same thing up here.”

Tablo stops just outside one of the dorm rooms. I’m pretty sure it’s his. And mine is at least a hundred-yard dash away. When curfew comes, I bet Tablo plans to hop inside his room without a moment to spare—and leave me stranded outside on the balcony. I have no idea what happens to students who miss curfew, and I have no intention of finding out.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Tablo says.

“You will,” I tell him. “Looks like the first lesson up here is going to be yours.” I walk away quickly, but I don’t run. The second I’m in my room, all the doors on the floor slide shut and lock. 

• • •

I walk through the basement where the kids are sleeping, and inch past the boiler room as quietly as I can. My efforts go to waste however, when a soft voice calls me out. 

"Sunggyu-oppa, were are you going?" I sigh softly and face her. She had probably been on watching the gates tonight. I had tried to leave as swiftly as I could, but maybe this would be better. 

"Hani-ah, I'm going to be away for a few days, do you think you can watch over the little ones until then? I put enough food and necessities in the stock, so it should be fine for a while." 

I try to sound sure and confident, but I'm not sure it works.

"Sure, Oppa. Can you find Flick-oppa too? He should have visited by now - you're always happier when he's around." I keep the smile on my face and try not to tense. 

"Sure, Hani." I reassure in a gentle voice. "Go to sleep though. You don't want to be tired later, right?"

It's only when I'm sure she's gone back that I walk away from the streets and pull out the small pamphlet hidden in my sweater. The glow from the lamplight outlines the words on the cover: 'Woollim Academy'

When I had first read it, it had seemed like a joke. But it has been three weeks and Flick hasn't been back. 

I'm going to get him back.

AN: *GASP* (Sunggyu found the pamphlet Woohyun left when he was drunk!)

Heyyyyy guyssss~ I felt a bit bad for the short chapter last week, so I decided to make this one a bit longer!

Also... I feel bad for the significant lack of Sunggyu so I added this small tidbit (It was totally unplanned, but I wanted more Sunggyu too) - I broke my own rule of having one POV, but f that, I NEED SUNGGYU! 

Yeah, I got some comment about wanting more Sunggyu, and I didn't really realize because the chapters I am currently working on are full of him XD 

But yeah, Woohyun will keep thinking about him as the chapters go on, but aside from that (and maybe a few other random tidbits I most likely will enter) Sunggyu will show up after Woohyun is a bit more established in the Academy. 

Till, the next chapter~ Enjoy!