|Chapter Two|

Mone couldn't make it to any of her classes that same day without being called a ditz or a klutz at least once by a passer-byer from the performing arts department. Her journey from her locker and to her classes in the academics department were the worst, since the trip required passing by the Performing Arts Centre, which meant passing by the kids from that particular department.
So throughout that entire day, the poor female genius was publically scorned with name-calling, objects being thrown at her, and mock cat-calls. Even worse for her, she noticed once, on her way to her Trig class, that Kikwang participated in her unfortunate treatment. Not only that, but he was the one that started the name-calling, commencing the trend with one loud shout: "HEY, LOOK. IT'S MESSY MONE!"

The name stuck throughout the entire day, with peers calling her Messy Mone, referring to her 'messy' encounter with Kim Jong-in, Seoul Elite's current most prized student.

Mone obviously returned home that evening, tears streaking her porcelain features. She couldn't even meet her parents' or her brother's pitiful, questioning gazes; she simply ascended up her stairwell and locked herself in her room, fawning over today's incident. Bastards! Idiots! Heartless creatures, all of them!

"Noona, open the door!"
Myung Dae's knocking wasn't enough to get his noona to open the door, but as he rested his back up against the wooden surface, he heard her cries stifling. That was enough to suffice for him, and so he began to speak. "Look, I'm sorry that you had to go through that, noona, but you can't lock yourself in there forever. I'll talk to them; all of them. I'll tell them to lay off-"

"No!"

Even though her voice was muffled by the door standing in between the two, the younger sibling heard his sister perfectly and clearly. In confusion, he felt his eyebrows knit together into a puzzled look. "What do you mean, 'No'? I'm not gonna let them bully you over some stupid accident, Mone-noona," he barked. He jiggled the door handle. "I'm close friends with Kai-hyung, I'll talk to him for you, okay? Please come out, noona!"

"Let them bully me," she sniffled. "Because when they fail their auditions for JYP or YG or SM, I'll be the one conquering the financial stock markets, laughing at them." Mone sniffled, looking at her quivering hands, and let out a pathetic laugh. "And then they'll look back to their years in high school," she continued, "and wonder why they even bothered persuing the musical career. Then they'll have no choice but to apply for another job.. and then I'll become their boss," she claimed. "And then I'll show them what it's like to be humiliated constantly."
"Noona, stop saying stuff like that," Myung Dae pleaded, sighing with irritation. He swore if he had to jiggle the door handle anymore, it would break off and he'd never be able to make his way into the room.

But suddenly, he fell forward, from leaning against the surface, just as Mone opened the door, revealing her puffy red eyes, and bloated cheek bones. "Your noona can handle it, Myung Dae-ah," she whimpered. "Gwaenchanha," she mumured, letting out a breathy laugh.
By now, her parents had made their way up the steps out of curiosity and concern. "Mone-ah!"
Both siblings turned their eyes, recognizing their mother's voice. Mone simply shook her head, brushing off the worrisome atmosphere. "It's nothing, gwaenchanha." 
Though her family members sent her apocryphal gazes, she returned them with a cheery smile, streaked with her dried out tears. "It's fine," she declared, shaking her head. "It's nothing."

The next day wasn't anything better for Mone's case. The name-calling didn't stop; objects were still being thrown at her every time she made her way past the performing arts department; and people were still looking down on her. It was her daily life at Seoul Elite, but it was a great chance for her to get into a top-ranked college.. and after that, she'll be able to show them her fullest capabilities, and it would be her turn to look down on them.

She repeatedly told herself this every night, going to bed, and in the morning, but stepping into the familiar grounds of campus, her confidence would slowly wither away. Stepping into campus would make all her pep-talk results fade and vanish, and she'd feel small again.

Today was just another one of those days.

Not really.

Whilst Mone was sitting in her English class that day, she began working on her essay immediately after the teacher announced the independent study time to commence. But right when she was about to reach her main argument in her essay, she felt an unfamiliar and burly hand tap her shoulder. She looked up just to find her English professor. "Oh.. Jang seon saeng nim."

The man, adorned gracefully in his suit, nodded once, and signalled her to follow him to the front of the class, where their conversation wouldn't be overheard. None of the students cared; they simply carried on with whatever they needed to get done, taking advantage of the rare independent study time.
Mone casted her teacher a curious glance. "Mone, I need you to tutor somebody."
"Really? Who? But.. why me?"
Her teacher simply sent her an encouraging smile. "The student really struggles with English, and he requested the best. So that is exactly what I will give him, since you are still ranked our number one student in the English-class department."
Mone nodded.
Mr. Jang mimicked her actions, folding his hands across his desk. "But.. the student is from the performing arts department."

Mone's eyes instantly widened. "Seon saeng nim, choe song hamnida.. but I just can't-"
"You're not in a position to argue," Mr. Jang objected swiftly. "He requested a tutor. I have to give him a tutor. If he fails this one core class, his entire high school experience at Seoul Elite will be ruined, and he will blame you."
"Then can't you find another-"
"You're the only student in this department that I trust enough. Other students have other affairs with sports activities and such, but you're the only one who simply dedicates all her leisure time to studying. It will only be for three days a week, and for half an hour per session, Mone. Please."

Mone let out a breath, pouting; however, she knew whatever Mr. Jang was saying was true. "Where am I supposed to meet them?"

"You will report to this classroom after school every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 3 PM sharp for a half hour tutoring session. You start today," Mr. Jang reported, handing her a lesson plan to follow.
"Who.. will I be tutoring?" Mone questioned, still feeling slightly undermined.

But upon hearing the mising name, she never knew she could feel even worse than she already did.

"Kim Jong-in."