11:00pm.

I was on the subway again. It was well past rush hour, so the car was almost completely empty except for me and a man who was clearly drunk sitting a few seats down. He was singing so loudly that I was almost embarrassed for him. I tried to ignore him to the best of my abilities, and instead diverted my gaze back to the history textbook I was reading. I have to do this, I thought, and shook my head to clear my thoughts. My college entrance exam was in less than a year now, and I didn't want my hard work throughout high school to go to waste. Every second I had had to be spent doing something useful. As I looked into my textbook, there was a thud and I looked up in surprise. The drunk man had fallen from his seat and was on the ground. He grunted to get up, but it was no easy feat in a moving subway.

I got up automatically to help the man, then felt a twinge of annoyance. Why did this man get drunk on a Wednesday night? Why was I getting up to help this man? I shot him an odious look, but I couldn't bear to watch this man struggle back to his seat.

"Sir, are you okay?" I asked, holding out my hand to grab his elbow. The smell of alcohol hit me like a ton of bricks. The man looked at me questioningly.

"Who are you?" he said, squinting his eyes.

There was a bump in the tracks, and I noticed that my history book, which I had placed temporarily on the seat that I was sitting in, had fallen to the floor. I sighed and grabbed the man's elbow again. "Sir - if you just try to get up - " I said, heaving at the same time. Unfortunately, he was being quite uncooperative.

"I asked you who you were. You young'uns now, staying out so late - no doubt in bars getting drunk and what not," he said. I almost smiled at his hypocrisy but I couldn't manage it. I had been having a terrible day and this man was not making it better.

"Work with me here," I said, heaving again. "Just a little effort." He looked at me condescendingly for a second, then when I heaved again, he gave a bit of strength. This was enough to put him back in the subway seat.

"Thank - " he started, but then his pupils dilated as he leaned his head back and started to snore.

"Unbelievable," I murmured, and walked back to my own seat and picked up my history book from the floor. I glanced at my watch. 11:08pm. Damn! This man had taken up eight minutes of my time. I buried my nose into my book and started reading.

I reached my stop at 11:32pm. It was normally a fairly busy station, but it was late. Before I left the subway car, I glanced at the man, still sound asleep. I wondered if this man knew to get off the subway, but I shook my head again and got off the subway. He'll get where he needs to. I couldn't concern myself with anything other than myself right now. I hurried off the station.

It was a beautiful spring night, but I didn't even have time to notice. I half walked, half ran towards my destination. Unfortunately, my destination wasn't home; it wasn't even the dorms. It was the management company that I had received acceptance to about four months ago, and I had started training there for almost three months now. When I reached the SM Entertainment building, I paused a little at the door. I then swiped my access card to the door and walked inside.

There were many practice rooms, but there was only a few that I was allowed to use, being one of the newcomers to SM. Across the hall, another trainee, who had been here for three years, passed me by. Although I knew he was the same age as me, the amount of respect I was to show my seniors here was unbelievable. It was a totally new world. The hierarchical world... the entertainment business. I swallowed my pride - I found that I had to do this every time - and bowed to him from my waist. "Good to see you, sunbaenim," I said as I bowed. He barely even glanced at me as he walked by. I was used to this now; this was just the way that people here dealt with competition. Newcomers were not welcome in the trainee community here - it was just one more person to compete with.

I entered the practice room at 11:46pm. The one that I was using was tiny, again, because all of the senior trainees were using the bigger ones. Thankfully though, this room was deserted. I had been given a new dance with difficult choreography to practice the day before, and I had a long way to go before I could perfect it. I unslung my bag from my shoulders and stood there, looking at myself in the mirror. I was clearly tired and worn down. Then I was reminded of the event that made me so miserable this evening.

For the first time since I entered high school, I was disappointed in a mark that I received. None of my grades were under 90 for two years then slowly but surely, they had started slipping. On this latest math test, I had received a 70%. As I received my paper, the teacher had said, "Cho Kyuhyun, stay after class." Everyone had shot me worried looks as they all knew what that meant. I felt my face blush and I bit my lip.

"Yes, sir," I replied, but by then, I was already wallowing in self-pity. I couldn't believe I had gotten such a low mark, nor that I had to stay after class.

As everyone else stood up to leave at the end of the school day, I stayed in my seat. As the students were out in the busy hallway, the teacher came towards me. This was his tactic. He never punished any of us in front of the class. He waited until everyone was out of the class, but before everyone had left the hall; this way, everyone in the class was watching through the windows, which was even more humiliating in some ways. There was something strange about being in an empty room, but knowing that people were watching. When the teacher reached my desk, I hung my head and stared into my lap.

"Cho Kyuhyun."

I was silent. I knew what was coming next.

"I hope you know why you're here."

I nodded, with my head still down.

"I can't hear you," he said in his trademark firm voice.

"Yes, sir," I said quietly.

"Then get up. Stand here, hands here." He indicated to a place on the floor, and tapped two spots on top of my desk. I  could feel the laughing eyes from the hallway. This couldn't be happening to me.

"Sir - I'm so sorry," I pleaded, and I looked up into his eyes for a split second.

"Now." His cold face made me look down again at my hands in my lap. I took a deep breath.

The punishment hadn't even started yet, but I could already feel my eyes well up with tears in embarrassment. My face felt hotter than it ever had. I got up slowly from my chair, and I didn't dare look at his face. walked around the desk to the place he indicated and I placed my hands on the desk. The teacher had crossed the classroom to grab his weapon, which was a long cue stick. I hung my head again to look only at my hands. In a second, I felt the stick lightly on my hips - the teacher was lining it up. I felt a shudder.

"Cho Kyuhyun. You know why you're being punished. So tell me how many you deserve."

Such a classic line. Fine. I'll give him the classic answer.

"As many as you see fit," I said. I knew this was a way for teachers to validate that we consented to the punishment that we were about to receive, but saying anything else would have labeled me disrespectful.

"You used to average around a 95. I'm giving you one for each percent you dropped. 25 in total. Do you understand?"

He lined up the stick to my hips again.

"I understand" was on the tip of my tongue, but for some reason, I took my shaking hands off the desk, pushed away the stick and I turned my head to look at him. Instead, this came out. "Sir - I can't do it. Please, I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'll do better." I regretted it as soon as I said this - I could hear the other students snickering through the windows.

"Get back on the desk," he said with a glare. "I didn't think you were like this."

I placed my hands on my desk again, and as soon as I did so, I felt the stick being lined up again. Then within a second, the first blow came. The second and third blows had landed before I could process the pain from the first blow; it wasn't until the fourth that I started feeling the pain. I felt my knees giving way after the sixth . My hips had to be on fire. How else could they burn this much?

"Stand up," said the teacher, hurrying me by whacking the stick on the desk a few times. I bit my bottom lip and stood up in position again. Again, four more blows and I had buckled again.

"Sir - please -" I started, but I felt myself being prodded back into position. This process was repeated several times until I had finally received my 25 . A few tears had fallen, but I wiped them quickly and I stood stone-faced. I stared at the floor again, not dare rubbing my hips.

"Kneel on top of the desk," said my teacher. I obeyed, but this was not easy with my stinging hips. I placed my hands on my thighs, making sure that I didn't rub my hips unconsciously.

"Cho Kyuhyun. You were such a promising student. I'm disappointed in you." I remained quiet. "I know you're practicing to become a singer and you don't have too much time to put into your schoolwork. But choose one or the other. Either give it your all to be a singer or focus on school. At this pace, you're going to get nowhere for either profession."

I looked up suddenly in surprise. This was a blow to me so much greater than the that I had just received.

"I want you to stay kneeling until I get back," he said, walking out of the classroom. As he opened the door, I could hear the other students running out, finally away from the window. Still in shock, I stayed frozen in place, not even able to respond.

When I was finally left alone in the classroom with no one watching, the tears I had tried so hard to hold in began to fall. This was not what I wanted when I entered SM. I wanted a shot at a singing career, but I hadn't realized what it would mean for my academic one.

I had stayed kneeling for two hours when my teacher finally entered the classroom again. "Go home, Cho Kyuhyun," he said, not even looking at me. He collected his papers from his desk and started putting them in his briefcase. I slowly got my aching knees off the desk and stepped down. My feet were asleep and barely strong enough to support my weight. I grabbed my bag from the floor and bowed only half-heartedly to the teacher before I left. He glanced, about to say something, then seeing how spent I was both physically and emotionally at that moment, he merely nodded  and looked away.

I would usually go to SM and practice for about five hours after class, after which I would quickly do my homework and go to bed. But the teacher's words had hit me so hard that I didn't want to. I had instead gone to the library to study for four hours before finally coming on the subway back to SM. No - I wasn't going to give up on academia. I need it. At the same time, I needed SM too. I wasn't going to throw away this opportunity to achieve my dream. I'm not.

This is why I stood in the practice room, looking at my pitiful reflection. I was still in my school uniform and looking absolutely terrible; there was no way that I would be offered to do anything if I kept showing up to the office looking like this. I realized that I had stood there looking at myself for a long time before I finally started going through the choreography alone - it was going to be a long night.