Perfect. He was pure perfection. 

               In the wide dancing studio, a 16-year-old-boy danced with flawless grace, moving his body with the beat of the music, and nothing could describe him more than "perfect." The other students watched him in awe, silenced by the amazement they felt for him. The girls screamed and moaned as they took photos and videos of him. The boys felt jealousy that the girls were all liking him, and at the same time, they also admired him. But all this reaction of appreciation was nothing but a ruckus to the guy dancing. It wasn't the first time.

              As the bell rang, signifying that it was the class' end, he stopped, took his backpack and went away. Everyone was still astonished by his performance that the ringing of the bell didn't register to their minds. He smirked as everyone suddenly ran to him, girls, guys, and even nobodies. "Hey, can I have your number?" Rin, the school's head cheerleader said, twirling her jet black hair. "Hey Bro, party at my house this friday!" Eric, the hot transferee told him as he walked away. A lot of people crowded him as if he was some kind of a Hollywood star, asking him for his number, and telling him whatever things. 

               From the shadows of the hall, the silhouette of a teenage girl formed. She stared at all the people creating a traffic in the hall. She stared at the crowd trying to get a grasp of the handsome dancer. He stared at Kim Jong In. 

    He's so cute as always, with his ruffled hair and that charismatic smile. Now that he's so much more popular than before, I'll never get him to know me. I'll always be in this shadowy hall, stealing glances of him, wishing he'll notice me someday, even if I know he won't. He doesn't remember me. He doesn't know me. I'll always be non-existent in his world.

    With a last glance at the guy he always liked, she went away, knowing that her heart will only ache more if she stayed and watch him go away, reminding her that he doesn't even know her.