Three stories tall and with a layout that reminds Jihoon more of a maze rather than a learning institution, the school stands proudly atop a sloping street, backlit by the waking sun, making it all the more intimidating. It's also where Jihoon will be studying for the next two years before he can move onto college. (Unless his dad gets a transfer again, that is. He hopes not; it's tiring.)

 

"It's a good school, Jihoon," his mother insists. "They've sent quite a few of their graduates to SNU and I heard their facilities are all up to date. There's probably a music room for you in there." And I got a discount on your tuition because the principal is my sister, she doesn't say. Jihoon doesn't mind that she didn't.

 

"So, please," she clasps her hands together, looking pleadingly at her son. "Please stay out of trouble this time."

 

And because Jihoon doesn't actually hate his mother or anything, he agrees, all while sipping down a strawberry milk carton.

 

Only, that plan starts seeming out of his reach after spending a mere ten minutes in his new school. He's sure that whoever wrote the 5-star review his mother read didn't see the expletives scribbled on virtually every poster or teachers wearing sunglasses indoors. At least the building itself was nice.

 

Jihoon grips his backpack tighter as he passes by a wide-eyed student who blankly stares at the digital clock opposite to him, mouthing numbers as the seconds tick by. Jihoon carefully doesn't look back when he finally enters what he hopes is his classroom.

 

The first thing he notices is how a few people in the room subtly pause in whatever they were doing when he walks in. Most of the chairs have been rearranged into circles at three corners of the room, all taken up by other students doing something undoubtedly suspicious. He takes one of the few unoccupied seats in the last corner, next to a sleeping guy with a varsity jacket draped over his head.

 

The guy isn't actually sleeping, Jihoon finds out as he glances to the side and spots a pair of eyes peeking at him from under the jacket.

 

"Hi," they go, "My name's Soonyoung. What's yours?"

 

Jihoon blinks and cautiously looks around to see if there's someone behind him before turning back to him. "...Jihoon."

 

A full head of hair emerges. "Jihoon. Park Jihoon?"

 

"No."

 

"You're new, then?" Soonyoung leans back, one finger tapping his desk. "To this school."

 

"Yeah?"

 

Soonyoung leans in closer, too close, not minding the way Jihoon immediately pulls backwards. "Have you heard anything about it?" 

 

After lightly pushing Soonyoung away from him, Jihoon replies, "No, not really. I know some graduates went to SNU and that's about it." Like a switch had been flicked, Soonyoung's expression morphs into something more amicable.

 

"Oh!" He flashes a wide smile at Jihoon, who offers a blank stare in return. "Yeah, this place does that sometimes. All the names of the students who went to SKY colleges were put up for display before."

 

"Before? They're not up anymore?" 

 

Soonyoung frowns, thinking, "Someone stole the tarpaulin, and the school got too lazy to get another one made. Same thing happened to Larry, the poor guy." And before Jihoon can question the other any further, a student slaps her hand down on the bell on the teachers desk. He watches in awe as his classmate swiftly rearrange the chairs into their proper position before a man carrying a stack of papers half-a-Jihoon tall walks in.

 

The man turns out to be both their homeroom teacher and their history teacher, and gestures to the stack of papers—their syllabus—with an enthusiasm Jihoon only finds in innocent children. Or in people who actually like their job, but that was a far rarer occurrence.

 

While their teacher calls out names to check attendance, Jihoon asks his seatmate, "Is there something I should know?"

 

Soonyoung's head swivels towards him so fast Jihoon's certain he hears his neck crack. "About what?"

 

"The school."

 

"What would you need to know about the school?" Soonyoung's tone turns rushed, almost worried.

 

Jihoon quirks a brow. "I don't know, that's why I'm asking."

 

"Listen, there's nothing—"

 

"Kwon Soonyoung," the teacher calls.

 

"Here!—you need to know. For now. Probably." Jihoon narrows his eyes at him, at the bandages around his fingertips and the way he can't stop fidgeting. They're telltale signs of a condition he's encountered before, but he doesn't want to jump to conclusions.

 

"Lee Jihoon. New student? Were you there during the campus tour?" Jihoon shakes his head. "Can I get a volunteer—"

 

"I volunteer, sir!" Soonyoung's hand shoots up. "He'll have the layout memorized by tomorrow."

 

The teacher sighs, all of a sudden lacking the energy he had earlier. "Okay, Soonyoung, just please stop...interrupting me." The hamster-faced boy salutes the teacher with a wide grin.

 

Jihoon's consent doesn't matter here, it seems, as the teacher doesn't even confirm it with him before he moves on to talking about dynasties.

 

They meet two other teachers, both of whom everyone already seems to be familiar with, and then the bell rings briefly to signal their first break time.

 

"So, when are you free for the tour?" Soonyoung crowds in on Jihoon again while he's gathering his things. The shiny lettering going down the right sleeve of his jacket spells out "DANCE" in bold. "We can start it right now if you want, but I wanna bring along some other people."

 

"Will you actually give me a tour?" Jihoon slips his backpack on, a milk carton already in hand. "I thought you were bluffing."

 

"Nah, man. This place is huge, in case you didn't notice." They leave the room and are swept away by the flow of students headed towards the canteen. Jihoon walks a little closer to Soonyoung, not liking how he's pressed in from all sides by strangers. "It's like a whole labyrinth in here. It's really easy to get lost."

 

"Why is it like this in the first place? Was this not a school originally?"

 

"I don't know. Hey, Wonu! Over here!" Soonyoung waves at a bespectacled kid on the other side of the human river, earning a few looks from the surrounding students.

 

They don't actually manage to meet in the middle, but they do once they reach the canteen. His drink has been dry by then, and now Jihoon's craving for another one.

 

Wonwoo seems to be a nice person, Jihoon thinks, and so does Junhui, who'd saved a table for them at the far end of the hall and has a jacket identical to Soonyoung's. There are big ceiling fans hanging from the high ceiling and a row of windows spanning the upper halves of the walls. The food is decent and the place is well lit, and for once the students and faculty act like normal people do. No weird cult meetings except for one group nearby, where someone's got an enticing carton of strawberry milk on their tray. Jihoon's fingers twitch on the table.

 

"I can't believe I have Mr. Chung as my language teacher again," Junhui groans into his hotdog. "It's the third year in a row."

 

"He's not that bad, Jun," Wonwoo says. "At least your classroom isn't in the basement. It's dark as in there."

 

"It's quiet at least, which is something you'd usually be happy about." Soonyoung picks off one of Wonwoo's apple slices, ignoring the other's protests. "What do you think of the school so far, Jihoon?"

 

The question goes in one ear and straight out the other. Jihoon's focused on the guy who likely owns the carton and is currently showing off a flourish, the cards bouncing off his fingers like rubber balls and not flat, rectangular objects.

 

"Are we allowed to bring playing cards?" Three heads turn to what Jihoon's been staring at, with Soonyoung making a noise of surprise right after.

 

"No, but the teachers don't care," Wonwoo answers at the same time Soonyoung asks, "Why, are you interested?"

 

Jihoon shrugs, still staring at the beverage. (It's right there.) "Not really. I don't know how to play any card games." Junhui and Soonyoung both make scandalized faces. Somehow, another hotdog has materialized in Junhui's hand, complete with all the fixings.

 

"That's sad to hear," Wonwoo says, shielding his remaining apple slices from Soonyoung's wandering hands. "They're pretty fun."

 

"Join us later." At Jihoon's creased brow, Soonyoung scoots closer to whisper in his ear. "There's someone I know who can teach you how to play some stuff if you'd like." Junhui's nodding along even if he can't possibly hear what Soonyoung's saying. (They won't notice.)

 

"That's not necessary, Soonyoung." Students begin filtering out the exit as their break comes to an end, one teacher standing guard at the double doors with a permanent scowl on his face. Jihoon bins his trash and the others follow suit, passing by the drink once more. The guy still hasn't turned around, and has moved on to doing one-handed fans while his buddies have already left. (Yes.)

 

"By the way," Jihoon starts, "is there a music room here? Like, one students can use without supervision?"

 

"Yup! There's one in the annex, but you need a permit to use it. Why?"

 

Jihoon hums as they exit the canteen, poking a straw through the little silver circle of the milk carton. "No reason."