Chapter Text
The lecture hall smelled like coffee and overworked ambition. Faint traces of whiteboard markers clung to the air, even though nobody had touched one in hours. Jinsol rolled her pen between her fingers, her elbow leaning loosely on the long desk, chin nearly sinking into the crook of her palm. Her shoulders slouched slightly under the oversized gray hoodie she’d tossed on before rushing to this meeting—drama club’s unofficial mascot of comfy clothes and unbothered charm.
She shouldn’t have volunteered.
"I’m just saying, the musical arts club is going to overcomplicate the whole thing," Kyujin’s voice murmured beside her, her dark ponytail bobbing slightly as she scrolled through her phone. “They’ll make you guys rewrite everything to fit their vocal ensemble.”
"They're not that bad," Jinsol replied half-heartedly. "And besides, Lily's in both. She’d tell us if it was a disaster waiting to happen.”
At the mention of her name, Lily—two rows ahead, already in soft conversation with a girl Jinsol didn’t recognize—turned briefly and gave a small wave. Jinsol smiled back automatically, dimples twitching into place.
Lily was steady, reliable. If she was on board with this collaboration, it wouldn’t be a mess. Probably.
Still, it was hard to summon much excitement for yet another committee meeting when they could’ve been rehearsing instead. The fall festival was a big deal, sure, but the drama club had its hands full with their upcoming winter showcase. Jinsol’s schedule was already cracked at the edges from it.
“Alright, let’s get started,” a sharp voice cut across the low hum of side chatter.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop by a few degrees. Heads turned. Conversations snapped shut. Even Kyujin’s thumb froze mid-scroll.
Walking with the kind of precise, unhurried pace of someone who knew they never needed to raise their voice twice, the president approached the front of the room. She laid a stack of files onto the desk with a muted thump, her long brown hair slipping cleanly over her blazer.
Blazer. It wasn’t even an official school uniform day, and she had shown up in a blazer. Jet-black, perfectly tailored, paired with simple slacks and a cream silk blouse that caught the faintest sheen under the fluorescent lights.
She didn’t glance up as she sorted her documents. Didn’t need to. Her presence alone had already settled the entire room.
Jinsol blinked slowly. She tilted her head a few degrees in vague curiosity but didn’t straighten up.
"Who’s that?" she asked quietly.
Kyujin's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open for a beat.
“Wait. You don’t know her?”
Jinsol shook her head, brow quirking.
“That’s Seol Yoona,” Kyujin whispered, leaning closer. "Student council president. Musical arts club. Ranked #1 last year. She’s…” Kyujin exhaled softly, the barest hint of reverence. “…kinda legendary. Everyone either wants to be her or date her. Or both. Or die trying.”
Jinsol hummed under her breath, unimpressed. Titles never meant much to her. “Right. Heard about her”
Still, her gaze lingered. There was something…sharp about Yoona. Not sharp like she was trying to be intimidating—but sharp like she simply was, and anyone too slow to keep up would fall behind naturally.
Yoona finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes swept over the room like a spotlight, cool and assessing. They landed on Lily first—her expression barely softening—and then shifted, calmly passing over Kyujin and settling, for an almost imperceptible pause, on Jinsol.
For half a second, there was a flicker of something there. Narrowed focus. Calculation, maybe. Or curiosity.
And then it was gone. Yoona’s gaze moved on as though it had never stopped.
Jinsol’s brows furrowed.
…Weird.
Yoona’s nails clicked faintly against the folder in her hands. Bae Jinsol.
She didn’t know her face—but she knew the name. A name she'd seen last year, too many times to count, hovering infuriatingly close to hers on every leaderboard, every exam ranking, every project competition. A quiet competitor who'd always sat right behind her in academic standings—#2 to her #1.
She had wondered, briefly, who that person was. A "Bae Jinsol" who’d nearly unseated her in their final term’s results, the closest margin Yoona had faced in years. She had brushed it off at the time. Names were just names. Competitors came and went.
Now here she was. Hoodie-wearing, doe-eyed, too-tall-for-her-chair, nonchalant. It didn’t fit. It didn’t fit at all.
Yoona felt a faint, unfamiliar twitch behind her sternum. Annoyance? No, not quite. Discomfort? Curiosity?
Unimportant.
She clicked open her folder and began distributing the files crisply. “This collaboration between clubs is non-negotiable, as ratified by both club councils. The drama club and musical arts club will present a joint performance at the fall festival in six weeks. Themes, staging, and delegation of tasks will be determined today.”
Her tone left no room for argument.
Jinsol caught Kyujin’s side glance. Kyujin grimaced slightly as if to say I told you so.
This was going to be exhausting.