Being a water girl for a whole week, cleaning a part of the stadium every after game, and seeing Kim Joonmyeon every freaking soccer match . . . it was no joke. 

Still, I was glad that that one week of hell passed by quickly and I was now back to my normal school routine.

I was making my way to the publication room since classes had just finished. I bumped onto running students, who were catching up with the soccer match happening right now in the stadium. Yup, soccer season was still not finished. Even so, I wouldn't really even bother to watch it although our school team was really good. Chanyeol and Baekhyun understood why I was not so eager to watch. Or maybe not. Because they thought I couldn’t bear to watch the soccer captain, whom I attacked last week. They also thought it was due to the publication-dissolving thingy. Oh derpy boys. It was much worse than that in a girl’s perspective.

I entered the publication room and found Philip alone in the room. The other members might be getting some coverage of the soccer match, particularly 'spying' at the bleachers, I thought. I settled my bag on the long table and sat down in my usual seat. It felt nice to be back.

"Quite a tough week, huh?" Philip continued to write down on his notebook.

"Tell me about it," I leaned further against my chair’s rest.

"But you know, I would have done the exact same thing to him. Probably, much worse." 

I laughed at his statement since he was probably referring to the day I assaulted Kim Joonmyeon on the soccer field. You see, only a few people knew Philip was gay and I was one of them. But, I didn't mind actually. He was probably better and more likeable than any other guy I had known. And, him being gay flooded my mind with ridiculous thoughts of him beating the crap out of Joonmyeon. Indeed, probably worse than I did.

"But, Myunjae . . . we only have three weeks left before the deadline. We still haven't found an it story. Students will lose interest in TWT if they know we're starting to be inactive. Another reason the student council can easily shut TWT off."

Why was I holding onto this publication dearly? I was never a gossip-person in the first place. 

The publication started off as a normal blog, viewed by most students using their iPads. As much as I wanted to discard the succeeding fact, it was started by my very own older sister, who was now an alumnus of this school. Yes, my older sister. I didn't know what kind of geniuses our school had but the website kept on getting hacked. Her former team hypothesised it must be the its or the victims who were doing the hacking or paying someone to do it for them. Therefore, her team resorted to the literally written publication. Hence, arose The White Tablet.

She must have been crazy to start such a crappy idea. Not only was it wrong to publicize and emphasize a humiliating act or rumor about a person, but she was also putting her name on the edge and I wouldn't be surprised if someone would take revenge on her one day. But luckily, no one still hadn't. The victims were probably enjoying the fact that the attention of the whole student body was on them. And, they probably wouldn't even care since daddy and money would be dealing with it at the end of the day.

She wasn't able to back out after the external, larger media started to pay her team a huge deal of money since stories of students, which were mostly relatives of popular figures in entertainment and politics, had also taken the interest of the public outside.

Up until now, they were paying my team.

They were paying me.

I couldn't just back out . . . not now.

My parents' financial capability was pretty much okay. But college next year? It was another thing. I had been aiming to get into one of the SKY universities to major in journalism. I was not sure if I would qualify for the scholarship. Hence, if ever I was not granted one, I would have some back-up finances to support me with.

I stood up from my seat and decided to head to the cafeteria to buy some beverage to chill these thoughts off my head.

"Philip, kindly watch my bag for me, please," I opened the door. I was hoping Mr. Two-Face wouldn't barge in and attempt to take my bag again.

Philip replied with a nod, still focused in his writing.

"The Tigers won!"

I flinched when a student came running and shouting in the hallway as if he won a million dollars in the lottery. I just came out of the cafeteria holding a bottle of water when the students in the hallway shouted in celebration here and there.

“The Tigers won!”

Another student coming from the building’s entrance also came running towards the middle of the hallway.

This Shouter Number Two looked like he won two million dollars from the lottery as he continually jumped, pumping his fist in the air, as if he was competing with Shouter Number One.

Number Two continually belted out. “The taekwondo team won!”

Taekwondo team?

Oh man, I almost forgot that the inter-school taekwondo competition was also happening this week.

Now I couldn’t forgive myself for forgetting. What a bad girlfrie…admirer I was. How I wish. But just like everyone else says, ‘dreaming is for free’.

Five guys, dressed in white V-neck shirts imprinted with the school logo on the upper right and white taekwondo pants, carrying black sports bags on their shoulders, suddenly emerged from the entrance of this school building.

It was the school’s taekwondo team.

The students came running towards the said team, which was accompanied by two coaches. It looked chaotic as if a blob of perky idol group entered the school. They started congratulating the team, with the boys hi-fiving the guys, and the girls giving shy words of appraisal. The taekwondo team received the congratulatory messages well, smiling and thanking the students surrounding them.

And yes, he was there.

Do Kyungsoo.

Oh my gosh. What do I do?

Only one option. I breathed deeply before taking a step towards the taekwondo team to congratulate them, and with the term ‘them’ I was referring to Do Kyungsoo. I don’t have a favouritism. It’s just that he’s the reddest and greenest apple of my eye.

Before I could take another step, another group of guys entered the hallway from the stadium accession. Their blue soccer jerseys were soaked in sweat. Their faces were flushed red, moist and dirty, probably due to the exhausting game that they had just played.

It was the soccer team.

The students hastily ran towards the latter group. Two almost equally distributed crowds surrounded the two groups. They