Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zoey should have known something would go terribly wrong. The day had started off good, far too good to be natural. Jihoon, her mother’s new boyfriend, had nailed the caramel pancakes with chocolate syrup that she loved so much; the soft, sweet pieces rivaled the ones her father used to make. The omelets were perfect, the bacon crisp and golden, and even the pitcher of fresh juice was just right ,ice-cold, beads of condensation dripping down the glass.

It was too good to be real.

And yet, it wasn’t enough to trigger the danger sensors Zoey had built into her body ever since preschool, back when she first learned how cruel kids could be when something didn’t fit the familiar.

The tall, irritating figure of her new stepbrother wasn’t around , a balm for her worn-out soul, which already had to endure his presence during school breaks.

Abby had a big, broad body that took up too much space; his physical presence was almost suffocating. Add to that his offensive cologne and his love for half-buttoned shirts, and you had an annoying ,and unfortunately frequent, companion ever since their parents had moved in together.

But now, the table was waiting for her, Abby was nowhere to be seen, and her mother had even driven her to school. No crowded buses, no pedaling through traffic on her battered old “war bike” that decorated the garage like a trophy.

After a rushed smile, a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek, and a promise to behave, Zoey didn’t take long to step into the school building.

As usual, eyes turned toward her ,qquick, fleeting glances of acknowledgment. Zoey sighed inwardly, forcing a polite smile that hid her anxiety. Things weren’t bad. Not exactly.

There was no harassment or blatant cruelty like in her old schools. No one stole her notebooks or shoved her into lockers.

This was worse.

It was colder , a critical look here, a grimace there, a furrowed brow.

And the silence. The silence was worse than mockery.

She could handle words. She could fight back against insults.

But what do you do with silence?

She dragged her feet to her locker, opened it, and started looking for her books. Algebra first period. With a sigh, she pulled out the right one, shut the locker, and made her way toward the classroom   managing to arrive before the bell rang. A historical achievement, really.

The credit was all her mother’s, who had dropped her off like a neatly delivered package, right on time, right in front of the school.

Not all the desks were taken yet, and the morning sun streamed through the windows, painting golden lines across the worn linoleum floor. The classroom was already clean, so with a resigned sigh, she began walking toward her seat, ready for another dull class where her mind would wander through every possible topic except math.

But then, something strange happened.

A “Good morning” came from somewhere to her left.

She almost ignored it , surely, it wasn’t meant for her.

Then another one followed, softer this time, enough to make her pause mid-step and glance toward the voices.

When she turned, she saw two girls in the back — the same ones who usually snickered whenever she walked by ,smiling.

Smiling. At her.

Zoey blinked, confused.

Maybe the perfect bacon had opened a portal to a parallel universe.

"Uh… good morning?" she replied, unsure what to do with that unexpected kindness.

The girls just kept smiling, as if it were completely normal. Confused, but unwilling to question it, Zoey sat down quickly, opened her book, and began pulling out her notes.

The classroom gradually filled, and the weirdness only grew.

People were… friendly.

Some waved. Others whispered and glanced at her  ,not with their usual indifference, but with curiosity, even excitement.

One girl even asked if the choir club was still accepting new members.

Zoey froze.

Choir?

She blinked a few times, trying to process.

No one ever talked about the choir — except to mock it.

And now, suddenly, everyone was interested?

Before she could answer, Mistery appeared.

The boy burst into the room, his long, faded-gray hair falling over his face so completely it was a miracle he could see anything. His blazer was crooked ,which was shocking, considering he was usually obsessively neat. He carried a stack of papers and looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Zoey smiled faintly, a greeting already on her tongue, but he was faster.

Mistery dropped the papers, threw himself into the desk in front of hers, and whispered,

"Zoey… you’re not going to believe this."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You finally got that turtle tattoo? I told you it would suit you."

 "No. It’s worse. Much worse." He glanced around, as if the ceiling itself might be listening. "Everyone knows."

"Knows what?"

"The lie! The choir thing! The story about Mira Kang and Ryu Rumi!"

Zoey blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. "What?"

Her voice came out as a rough whisper, leaning closer to make it even quieter. Mistery swallowed hard.

"It’s all over the message groups, Zoey. They’re saying both of them joined the choir. The principal even mentioned it during the teachers’ meeting."

The floor seemed to sway beneath her feet.

Her perfect breakfast felt like a distant memory, burned away by the flames of reality. Of course the universe would give her something good, only to turn it to ashes.

"No…" she murmured weakly. "No, no, no..." She brought her hands to her head. "It was just to buy time, Mistery! Just a week!"

Mistery shut his eyes dramatically.

"Then congratulations. Because now you’ve got one week to make two of the most feared girls in school sing Don’t Stop Believin’ with us."

Zoey groaned in despair, the sound pitiful , like a kicked, rain-soaked puppy. "Please just kill me."

"Hm… I won’t need to, Zoey. They’ll probably do that themselves once the rumors reach them, you know?" Mistery said, his voice returning to its usual tone ,low, calm, distant.

Like a ghost’s echo.

Zoey whimpered louder. "What do I do!?"

He shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Try talking to them? Might be tough though ,they kind of hate each other, don’t they? Couldn’t you have picked someone else?"

"I needed names that carried weight. Who better than the student council president and the cheer captain?" Zoey muttered with a sigh.

Zoey and Mira were, undeniably, the two most well-known figures in the school. They used to be close, years ago, until they suddenly drifted apart. No one knew why, though malicious rumors circulated constantly. Some said there’d been a love triangle involving them and the vice president, Jinu a boy who looked like Rumi’s shadow, following her everywhere, even though they’d never admitted to dating.

Not that they’d ever denied it either.

Some people claimed the two girls had fought over him… but Zoey had never seen Mira show the slightest interest in Jinu. Honestly, she’d never seen her show interest in anyone. But it wasn’t like they were close  ,Rumi and Mira were seniors; Zoey was still a junior.

"Hm… maybe? I’ve never actually seen them be mean to each other," Zoey said, exhaling heavily.

Mistery didn’t look at her , not really  ,and Zoey honestly doubted he could see through that curtain of long, faded hair. Still, she could feel his pale blue eyes burning against her skin.

"Good luck, Zoey."

"...I’m so screwed."

"Yeah. You are."

She didn’t get the chance to argue , the teacher walked in and demanded silence. Everyone turned to face the board in perfect coordination. To make things worse: calculus.

Yeah. Zoey definitely should’ve stayed in bed.

(...)

By the time lunch break rolled around, Zoey was a melted mess ,her brain fogged from the endless topics they’d gone over. The difference between education in the U.S. ,where she’d studied most of her life , and in Korea was massive. Zoey struggled most with cultural subjects; those classes were always the hardest.

The walk to the cafeteria wasn’t long, and soon she was sitting at a table, Mistery faithfully beside her.

The pale boy ate slowly, lifting his chopsticks to his mouth with almost provocative calm , the kind of patience that felt like a challenge to anyone hungry.

Zoey pushed her rice around without enthusiasm, watching him chew in silence.

"You chew like a ninety-year-old man, you know that?" she commented, raising an eyebrow.

"It’s to savor it," he replied lazily. "Food takes so long to get ready, it’s the least I can do."

Zoey huffed, resting her chin on her hand.

"Or you just like annoying hungry people."

"That too," Mistery said flatly before pointing his chopsticks at her tray. "You gonna eat your kimchi, or can I have it?"

She slid the small bowl toward him without hesitation.

"Go ahead. It’s spicy today, and me and chili still haven’t reached a peace agreement."

He nodded, satisfied, and pulled it closer. The comfortable silence between them lasted a few seconds ,typical for Zoey. She always had something to say eventually.

"I think I’m gonna die from studying so much Korean history…" she grumbled, poking her food. "Last night I dreamed King Sejong looked at me and said, ‘You’re a disgrace to my language.’"

Mistery let out a muffled laugh, covering his mouth.

"He’d probably say that for real."

Zoey gave him a mock-offended glare, but the corner of her lips betrayed her with a smile.

Then he spoke again, a bit more animated this time:

"American girl, have you noticed that almost every Korean song lyric has at least one word about the sky or the weather?"

Zoey blinked, confused.

"Huh?"

"Sky," he repeated, mouth half-full. "Or ‘rain,’ ‘wind,’ ‘time.’ It’s like… an unwritten rule. There’s always something like that. Spring, dawn, the night that never ends. I think it’s beautiful."

Zoey chewed on the tip of her chopsticks, her mind running with his words.

"So it’s like… all a metaphor?"

"Almost always." Mistery smiled faintly. "In the U.S., songs are more about what you feel. Here, they’re about what the world makes you feel."

Zoey stayed quiet for a moment before scooping up a clump of rice between her chopsticks.

"I never noticed that before, but it makes sense now. Less ‘I,’ more ‘we.’"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Never thought I’d hear something actually profound come out of your mouth."

"Hey!" she protested, feigning offense. "I can be deep too."

"Uh-huh. Deep like a puddle."

Zoey laughed, kicking his leg lightly under the table.

"Careful, Mistery. One day I might write a song about you."

"Spare me such torment."

"Rude," she muttered, shoveling another bite into her mouth and chewing quickly.

Then she noticed it  ,Mistery’s usually neutral face twisted into something that resembled horror.

A slow, creeping kind of horror that melted over his features like candle wax.

She frowned, mouth still full.

"What now?"

"...We need to run. Now." His voice was sharp, urgent. Mistery was already standing, motioning for her to follow.

She blinked, confused, but rose too. Whatever it was, it had to be serious , Mistery never reacted to anything. If he was panicking, it was probably something close to a hurricane.

But the reason revealed itself before she could take a single step.

A large hand settled on her shoulder, firm, but not rough.

The grip was measured, almost gentle, though it carried a silent authority that made her want to bow her head and apologize for crimes she didn’t remember committing.

Then came the scent , white flowers just beginning to bloom, mingled with pink pepper.

Sweet and spicy. Heat and burn.

The perfume sank into her system like a delicate poison, sliding down her throat and leaving a soft sting in her chest.

Zoey inhaled sharply, the world narrowing until there was nothing left but that touch and that unforgettable smell.

Then a low, restrained voice spoke right behind her.

"Zoey Min-Carter. Care to tell me something?"

Her legs turned to jelly.

Panic froze her in place, like a deer caught in headlights.

She looked at Mistery, who seemed ready to bolt ,tray and all.

He shrugged his thin shoulders, eyes fixed on the floor, as if silence could make him invisible.

"...Uh… no?" Zoey squeaked, biting her lip — and nearly whimpered when the hand on her shoulder tightened just enough to make her turn around.

She shut her eyes, fists clenched, refusing to face her executioner.

"No?" The voice dripped disbelief… anger… and just a hint of dangerous amusement.

Zoey shook her head quickly, eyes still shut tight.

"You can open your eyes, Zoey. I don’t bite." The voice lowered, sharper now. "At least not without a reason."

Her heart thundered against her ribs as she cracked one eye open, then the other.

And there she was.

Mira Kang.

She was tall , taller than Zoey had realized from afar. Zoey actually had to tilt her head up to meet her gaze.

And God, what a face she had.

Sharp, angled features that looked like they could cut glass, paired with an almost ethereal grace.

Her long pink hair was tied back in a high ponytail. Her uniform ,immaculate yet daring. The white shirt unbuttoned just enough, the tie loose, the black blazer perfectly fitted.

She wore tailored slacks and shoes so polished they reflected the cafeteria lights.

But it was her eyes that made Zoey shiver.

The kind of gaze that could level a country if she wanted to.

Zoey tried a nervous smile.

"…Hi, Mira."

"‘Hi, Mira?’" she repeated, arching a razor-sharp pink brow. "That’s the best you’ve got?"

"I…" Zoey cleared her throat. "Yeah, maybe?"

Behind her, Mistery let out a quiet cough , the sound of a man apologizing to humanity for witnessing this disaster.

Mira crossed her arms.

"So explain this to me. You’ve been telling people I joined the school choir?"

Zoey froze. Mistery tried to step back quietly, but her eyes flicked toward him.

"And you’re the accomplice?"

"I’m just the pianist," Mistery said quickly, raising his hands. "Technically innocent."

Mira sighed and turned back to Zoey.

"So? You gonna explain, or should I start singing to match your little fanfiction?"

Zoey opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"I… guess I’ll start with the ‘this is all a misunderstanding’ part?"

"I’m listening."

Behind her, Mistery looked like a cat about to leap out a window.

Zoey took a deep breath and started talking way too fast.

"They were gonna shut the choir down! Because there were only two members left and nobody wanted to join! Everyone thinks it’s the losers’ club ,a social graveyard! So I thought if I said a famous senior, like you, had joined, they’d reconsider and give me a chance to put together a decent performance to prove the choir isn’t a total failure and—"

"Zoey," Mistery interrupted softly. "Breathe."

She did. A long one.

Then, smaller:

"…Do you forgive me?"

Silence.

Zoey swallowed hard. She knew Mira had every reason in the world to say no ,or worse. The Kang name wasn’t something to mess with. Owners of Kang Enterprises, her family’s power could easily erase someone’s future with a single phone call.

Congratulations, Zoey. Goodbye, life in Korea. She’d have to pray the Kang tentacles didn’t reach the U.S.

And of course, she’d dragged Mistery down with her. He already dealt with enough crap just for being who he was, chased by transphobic jerks and now he was complicit in a public lie.

The sigh that came from Mira was long enough to make Zoey squeeze her eyes shut.

"You’ve got one week to get my name out of this mess. Got it, Zoey?"

Zoey nodded quickly, nearly spilling the rest of her rice.

"Got it. One week. Cross my heart."

Mira raised a brow, giving her a half-smile , the kind that wasn’t friendly at all.

"Good. And since you’re so good with ideas…" She tilted her head, the floral-and-spice perfume wrapping the air again.

"You’ll need an even better one to actually save the choir."

Zoey blinked, dazed, and said the smartest thing she could manage.

"Huh?"

Mira was already walking away, hands in her pockets, posture flawless.

"You dragged me into this. Now I want to see if you can make it worth my time. I know the club meets Tuesdays and Fridays. I’ll be there."

She paused for a moment, turning slightly to the side.

"And next time you make up a lie with my name…"  her smile curved, sharp as a blade "I hope it’s a more interesting one."

And with that, Mira was gone — leaving behind the scent of pink pepper and Zoey’s emotional ruin.

Zoey looked at Mistery, drained.

"…I think I survived?"

"Technically." Mistery plucked a grain of rice from her hair. "But you just recruited the scariest girl in school into the choir."

Zoey’s eyes widened.

"…Mira Kang. She said she’s coming to choir practice."

Mistery nodded, spooning another bite of kimchi into his mouth.

"Like, that Mira," Zoey muttered, voice flat, the weight of reality sinking into her bones.

He nodded again, gathering the leftover rice from his plate.

"That Mira."

"In the choir. In our club."

"Tuesday and Friday," Mistery confirmed, reaching over to steal her tray.

Zoey just stared, hollow-eyed, as reality drowned her.

Oh yeah — she was so screwed.

(...)

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Teachers talking, boards filled with formulas, notes written in what might as well have been another language. Zoey absorbed everything like a tar sponge,information went in, stuck for a second, and got lost somewhere in the dark corners of her mind. Her limbs felt heavy and sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion that clung to her skin like sweat after hours of mental effort.

By the time the final bell rang, her body felt like lead, her head throbbed, and her soul was ready to abandon ship. She walked beside Mistery, dragging her feet down the hallway like two ghosts defeated by routine.

The setting sun painted the windows orange when a soft, melodic voice sliced through the air.

“Zoey Min-Carter.”

The way her name was spoken made her stomach plummet. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned.

Ryu Rumi was walking toward them.

Her uniform was immaculate,the kind that made it seem like she slept inside an iron press. Despite the long, hot day, not a single hair had escaped her tight, perfectly woven purple braid. Even her shoes gleamed so brightly they looked dangerous.

And her eyes… oh, those eyes.

Two molten golden pools simmering with the kind of polite irritation that only straight-A perfectionists could muster.

Zoey swallowed hard.

She knew that look. It was the kind of anger that came with a detailed list of rules violated and consequences that would be carried out with bureaucratic precision.

Zoey understood that life was about choices. And when the president of the student council, the school’s golden girl herself, was marching toward you looking ready to file a divine complaint, there was really only one choice.

She glanced at Mistery. He was already looking back.

No words were exchanged.

Just a silent nod of mutual understanding, the kind of communication only two doomed idiots could share.

Like a well-oiled machine, both moved at the same time.

Backpacks thudded against their spines, shoes squeaked on the polished floor, and the echo of their classmates’ voices followed them like applause from a confused audience.

“ZOEY!” Rumi’s voice rang out, cold and powerful as a royal decree, yet still undeniably melodic. “COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“Sorry, President!” Zoey yelled over her shoulder, dodging a group of freshmen and nearly knocking over a trash can. “Nothing personal!”

“It is personal!” Mistery added, tripping over a step but recovering like a true survivor.

They sprinted across the courtyard, turned past the gate, and didn’t stop running until the school was far behind them chests burning, legs trembling.

Zoey leaned against a wall, panting, trying to catch her breath.

Mistery flopped onto the grass, arms spread wide, staring at the sky.

For a moment, silence settled over them.

The wind blew softly.

A bird chirped.

And Zoey muttered between gasps, “I’m going to die. From shame, from fear… or both.”

Mistery lifted one finger, still breathless.

“If you do, warn me first… so I can rehearse the funeral song.”

Zoey kicked his arm lightly, and both burst into laughter—the kind of hysterical laughter that only comes when disaster is already inevitable.

And there, beneath the golden sunset, Zoey knew with absolute certainty: starting tomorrow, her school life was officially doomed. She had recruited Mira Kang into the choir… and then fled from Ryu Rumi.

But hey,at least the choir had a new member.

Chapter Text

Abby’s perfume was almost offensive, the woody cologne burning like a dying bonfire. It wasn’t exactly bad, but it was intense and overpowering for Zoey’s taste. And it didn’t help that Abby was so… Abby.

Sprawled across the chair, not caring that his elbow invaded Zoey’s personal space, hitting her shoulder every time he gestured wildly, flexing the long, bulky muscles of his arms. As if they weren’t already obvious.

Or the bright, dumb smile, wide across his expressive face, making him look like a mutt, half golden retriever, half pit bull. So no, Zoey didn’t like the ridiculously expensive cologne, the expansive physical presence, or the big smile he flashed at her mother.

Min Seo laughed at the boy’s antics, a genuinely satisfied smile, while Jihoon poured her more tea, also smiling at his son’s egocentric chatter.

"Being the captain of the basketball team is really amazing, Abby. When do the games start?" Min Seo asked, hands folded on the table, looking at him the way she always looked at the kids she taught: affectionate and focused, as if saying, I’m listening didn’t even need to be said, because it was obvious that she was.

Zoey almost huffed, pushing the handful of rice on her plate to the side. Part of her knew she was being petty, even feeling ashamed of the negative feelings she harbored. Her mother deserved a nice new boyfriend, and Abby wasn’t a terrible stepchild…

"Against the other schools, it’ll take a while. I’ll save the best seats for you in the bleachers!" Abby replied, taking a long sip of orange juice. "…Zoey also has news, really surprising news."

And just like that, any desire to be even remotely nice to him evaporated like water. Narrowing her eyes, she turned her face to the side, shooting him a glare.

Abby smiled, eating innocently.

Min Seo raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really, Zoey?"

Shrugging, she murmured in response, "…It’s nothing special."

"Don’t be modest! The choir was going to shut down for lack of members, and boom, Zoey snagged the two biggest fish for it." Abby interrupted, locking her eyes on Zoey in a way that was far too teasing to be harmless.

Zoey considered stabbing his hand with her chopsticks.

"The choir," her mother repeated, and something in the way she said it was enough to make Zoey bite her lip. "Not going well, dear? Maybe you should try another club?"

Zoey hated lying to her mother, but she hated even more being looked at like this: sad eyes, afraid that her little girl was being isolated again. The memories of previous school years were still fresh and haunted them both.

Zoey didn’t want to be that child again, coming home in tears because her greatest passion was never taken seriously. The story was always the same. Things were easier in Korea, of course, and she no longer dealt with cruel boys and girls harassing her between classes and breaks.

So, masking her guilt with a smile, she spoke cheerfully. "It’s fine, Mom. Mistery and I are holding it together… And as Abby said, this time we have more people."

"Mira Kang and Ryu Rumi." Abby offered the names like giving a treat to a dog. Inappropriately, like those bold people who offer chocolate to dogs and swear it’s just a treat.

This time, Zoey seriously considered stabbing his eye with her chopsticks.

"Wow." Jihoon whistled, impressed, taking a sip of his own tea. "You really caught some big fish, Zoey. Ryu Rumi is the niece of the police chief, right? Celine Laurent, that scary French girl… She’s the daughter of that famous doctor, what’s her name again, dear?"

Min Seo didn’t take long to respond, equally surprised. "Ryu Miyeong, one of Seoul’s best doctors. Are they nice to you, my little turtle?"

Zoey wanted to melt, groaning inwardly at the way Abby’s smile was wide and teasing. Her mother’s concern warmed her chest, but it was still a little embarrassing. And she kind of hated how famous the other two girls were.

Jihoon himself worked at one of the Kang companies, so Zoey hadn’t expected Mira to be unrecognized. But even Rumi? Ugh…

"They’re amazing, Mom," Zoey muttered, her left eye twitching as it always did when she lied.

Traces of a floral, spicy perfume ghosted into her nostrils, alongside the melodic echo of her name leaving the student council president’s lips.

Min Seo didn’t seem to believe her, but before she could insist, Abby spoke again. "I bet she is. I’ve been trying to be friends with Mira for years! Lucky, Zoey—maybe you can tell her about your little brother, huh?"

A no way got stuck in Zoey’s throat, making her choke on the unspoken words. She coughed, clearing her throat. "Yeah, maybe."

She muttered, standing quickly, because she definitely didn’t want to hear a lecture on how it would be nice of her if she helped her little brother be friends with Mira. That almost made her huff; it was obvious Abby didn’t want the friendship of the other girl. He had a kicked puppy look every time she passed.

And no one needed to know that the taller girl had practically intimidated her and that Rumi was probably plotting her expulsion.

"Need a ride, Mom?"

Jihoon raised a hand, asking them to wait as he finished his tea. "I’ll take you two today."

Perfect. Repressing a sigh, Zoey forced herself to smile and agree. It didn’t take long for her to find herself in the backseat of Jihoon’s car, next to Abby, who comfortably took up two seats and connected his own Bluetooth to the car stereo, blasting some generic music through the speakers.

Zoey spent the ride in almost complete silence, responding when the older man asked something. Yes, her grades were good. No, she didn’t have problems with any student. Yes, she knew she could call him in any situation.

Honestly, he was almost too nice. The kind of guy who made her suspicious, searching for the bad side. For now, she had a very short list of bad things about him: he liked unsweetened tea, had terrible taste in movies, and was a gossip.

When the car parked in front of the school buildings, Abby didn’t take long to get out, saying goodbye to her father with a pat on the shoulder. Zoey was about to get out when something outside made her yelp like a scared cat.

Pulling hard, she slammed the door violently, heart racing.

From a large black car, one Zoey didn’t recognize, Ryu Rumi emerged. She was flawless as always, beautiful in a way that made Zoey’s poor, gay heart stumble desperately.

She had that same cold, polite face as always, a frosty calm. Zoey was grateful for the tinted car windows as the golden girl looked around, her eyes scanning the parking lot.

"…Hm… Zoey? Are you okay?"

Ah, right. She wasn’t alone.

Biting her lip, Zoey’s mind raced through all possible responses, but all that came out was a stammer: "Huh?"

Jihoon furrowed his dark eyebrows, one hand touching his smooth, clean-shaven chin, looking puzzled. "Are you okay, kid?"

He repeated it, more gently this time, his brown eyes genuinely interested.

"…Yeah, I just…" Zoey began, biting her lip as she looked outside. Rumi was looking at her phone—was she waiting for someone? "I wanted to thank you for breakfast."

That made the man even more confused. "Well, your mom made it…"

"Not today, yesterday. The pancakes. I didn’t properly thank you, and I know you put a lot of effort into making them… so, thank you, Mr. Jihoon."

A surprised sparkle appeared in his brown eyes, followed by an almost shy smile. "No need to thank me, kid. The next ones will be better; I think they were a little too sweet… Now, you’re going to be late. Better go."

He said warmly, turning to the backseat and raising his fist for a friendly bump. Zoey found herself genuinely smiling as she raised her own fist and bumped his lightly. "Okay. Thanks for the ride."

Rumi had finally entered the building.

Perfect. Without thinking twice, Zoey bolted out of the car, running like her life depended on it toward her classroom.

The school was huge. She relied on her years of Dungeons & Dragons experience, calling on her rogue skills to avoid any encounter with the student council president.

She could do this.

Failure was not an option.

(...)

Avoiding Rumi during morning classes was easy; Zoey doubted the other girl would come looking for her in the classroom. As expected, she escaped unscathed. The problem now was another: lunch break.

"…Zoey, this is ridiculous." Mystery murmured beside her, looking at her with pity, as if in physical pain at the sight of her friend’s alarmed state.

"This is the only thing between me and death, Mystery." Zoey shot back, pulling her hoodie tightly over her head. Her face was hidden behind a plant she had placed on the table, her body hunched, eating as if she were a fugitive enjoying her last meal.

"You’re literally eating behind a plant." Mystery retorted, arms crossed. "A plant, Zoey. This is peak desperation. And peak ridiculousness."

"This fern gets me." Zoey replied without hesitation. "It also lives in the shadows, ignored by everyone."

Before Mystery could comment, the murmur in the cafeteria shifted. Not much, but enough. That kind of momentary silence that precedes something important.

Or someone important.

Mystery looked toward the door and let out a sigh. "Ah, great."

Zoey didn’t need to ask what it was. Her body reacted before her mind, jerking upright, a pure survival reflex.

Ryu Rumi was there. In the middle of the cafeteria. Shining as if she had her own private spotlight. Impeccable jacket, perfectly tied hair, eyes cold, serene, and alert. Like a hawk scouting for prey.

And she was looking around. Searching for someone. No… hunting. She was hunting someone, and her prey had started to sweat.

"No, no, no…" Zoey whispered, heart racing. "She can’t be looking for me, right? I’m not that important… She must be… I don’t know, checking the ceiling architecture, or… or… hunting evil spirits."

Mystery raised an eyebrow. "Sure, because the cafeteria is totally known for paranormal activity… The only abnormal thing here is you, Zoey."

"You don’t get it, Mystery!" Zoey whispered desperately, gathering her things into a messy pile. "If she finds me, it’s over. Over!"

"Over what?"

"My reputation! My pride! The choir!" she whispered, each word sharper than the last. "Did you see her look? I swear she wanted to…"

"Zoey." Mystery pointed with her chin. "She’s coming this way."

Time froze. Or at least that’s how Zoey felt. Her legs acted on instinct. A second later, she was on her feet, hoodie still over her face, clutching her tray and water bottle like survival gear.

"Zoey!" Mystery called, but it was too late.

She shot across the cafeteria like a clumsy ninja, dodging chairs, backpacks, and students who barely noticed the human tornado passing. A girl tripped, a lunch spilled, someone shouted her name, but Zoey was already at the door, panting, running down the hallway like she was fleeing a crime scene.

Outside, the sunlight hit her like a burst of divine light. Holding the tray tightly, food tossed about, she exhaled, looking at where she had ended up.

If she kept going, she’d reach the sports areas. Her legs moved on their own, fast, carrying her to the volleyball courts.

"Hey, Zoey!"

Focused on her path, she screamed in shock, tossing the tray at the person who had grabbed her from behind.

Abby blinked a few times, seaweed soup dripping from his pink hair and rice splattered across his torso.

"…Damn, ABBY! You don’t just grab people like that!" Zoey yelled, her voice high, taking a deep breath.

"I didn’t think you were crazy! Queen of drama or something…" he muttered, brushing the food off his face. "Damn, I need a shower."

"…Sorry." Zoey sighed the apology, regretting the wasted food. She’d go without lunch… and she had tried so hard not to spill the tray in her rush. "But what was that about?"

Abby’s eyes sparkled, excited like a child. "I have a favor. It’s something simple… and we have to help each other, right? Siblings and all that."

Zoey crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t have money."

The boy made a face. "What? I don’t want your money, Zoey!"

"Hm. Then what is it?"

"…Look, I’ll be honest." Abby began, sighing with a shy glance.

That was enough for Zoey to lower her guard and watch him with curiosity.

"I like Mira. For years, you know? We’ve always studied together, but I don’t think she ever really noticed me. And now she’s in the club with you, so I thought… maybe, since you’re friends, you could talk to her about me?"

Zoey blinked. Once, twice. She almost laughed.

But the problem was, Abby wasn’t joking. He really seemed hopeful.

"…Look, Abby, we’re not close. We barely talk! I’m not going to talk about you to her! I’m not getting on that ship." She replied with a sigh, beginning to step away.

He spoke faster when he noticed her intention to leave. "I’ll join your club! I’m sure if I join, a lot of the basketball team will too. And people from other clubs—I have tons of friends!"

Zoey didn’t consider herself someone who could be bought. Not at all. But some proposals were… tempting.

The choir desperately needed new members.

And if Abby could bring even half the team, maybe the club had a chance of surviving. Zoey sighed, staring at the floor, kicking a single stray grain of rice that had escaped her tray.

She didn’t want to help. The very idea of Mira looking at Abby made her stomach twist.

But, on the other hand… being nice to Abby would make everything easier. He was her mom’s boyfriend’s son, and they already spent a lot of time together. And besides… he genuinely seemed to like Mira. Interested in her since they were kids? That was… almost adorable.

Honestly, he wasn’t such a bad guy. Cute, athletic, tall, but softened by pink hair and a smug confidence that actually suited him.

Damn cute face.

Damn conscience.

Damn desperation and lack of members.

"…And what exactly would I have to do?" she asked at last.

Abby lit up instantly, smiling, which was strange considering there was soup dripping from his face and rice stuck to his clothes. "Nothing much! Just… find out what she likes, you know? She’s so reserved I’ve never been able to figure anything out. So if you help me with that, it’s enough. And maybe give one or two compliments from me, just enough to get her interested."

Zoey ran a hand over her face, exasperated.

"This is so wrong."

"It’s just a little help!" he insisted, excited. "Siblings help each other. Come on, Zoo, help me win her over!"

She looked at him. Covered in soup and rice, smiling openly and sincerely, and felt the weight of her own stubbornness. She was already in too deep. She sighed heavily, her voice thick with resignation.

"Fine. I’ll think about it."

Abby’s victorious smile appeared, but Zoey raised a finger.

"I’ll think." She reinforced. "If you show up at choir, maybe."

"Deal!" he said, extending his hand for a shake, still dripping with soup.

Zoey stared at him, horrified. "Take that hand off me, walking rice bowl."

Abby just laughed. "Good. I’ll have to change basketball practice; we train Tuesday too, but I can make it this Friday…"

"You better join, Abby." Zoey muttered, trying to suppress the creeping regret in her veins.

"Scout’s honor, Zoey. I’ll… you know, clean this up." He said, pointing to himself.

She waved goodbye and watched him leave. She’d have to clean up the mess…

She was already in too deep. With a sigh, she sidestepped the rest of the scattered tray and snuck over to the volleyball court.

It had an almost professional structure, enviable. Daewon High School was an elite, prestigious school. Zoey knew she was lucky to study somewhere this strong, where prodigy and wealthy kids came. She couldn’t risk getting expelled like this.

Should she really give up…?

Swallowing another melancholy sigh, she looked at the volleyball court as she walked to the bleachers. They had a girls’ volleyball club, good enough to compete in tournaments.

Zoey was good. Very good.

Her father had been an Olympic athlete, after all. He’d taught her everything she knew.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—one of those lessons was to never give up on her dreams. And heavens, she really wanted the choir to succeed.

The sound of footsteps made her look up. Mystery was walking toward her, holding a small plate and a box of banana milk. He approached quietly, extending the plate with rice and kimchi as he sat beside her.

"I saw the mess you made."

There was no scolding or judgment in his voice, just his usual calm, serene tone. Zoey shrugged, shoving a handful of rice into her mouth, nibbling the tip of her chopsticks. "Abby’s joining the choir."

Mystery froze for a few seconds before speaking, skeptical. "Abby? Like, the basketball captain? Your stepbrother?"

"Yeah, that Abby. Luckily, there’s only one of him; two would be too much."

"What kind of dark ritual did you perform, Zoey? Oh my God, you didn’t involve sacrifices, right? Tell me you didn’t sacrifice anything, Zoey…"

"Mistery, obviously I didn’t do any ritual!" Zoey cut him off, elbowing him lightly before adding, "But I think I made a deal with the devil."

The boy choked, and for what Zoey swore was the first time in his life, he pushed his gray bangs back, revealing a cute face and wide, expressive blue eyes. "YOU DID WHAT!?"

The echo of his voice rang through the empty gym, making Zoey flinch and cover his mouth with her hand. "Quiet! Someone will hear us…"

She muttered, letting go, almost laughing at his flushed face. "Sorry… But you did what, Zoey?"

"…Hugh… Well… Abby wants help winning over Mira. And I might have agreed to be… a kind of cupid?"

A laugh escaped Mystery’s lips. "And when exactly did you learn anything about romance? You’re a walking disaster."

Zoey puffed her cheeks. "Hey! Not exactly! I’ve read plenty of books, okay?"

"Comics aren’t books."

"They have words. That’s a book."

"…That’s not how it works…"

"And it’s not extreme, okay? I’m just helping find out some things she likes, a little nudge. Harmless. What could go wrong?"

Mystery decided not to point out everything that could go wrong. What’s the use of kicking a dead dog? Zoey seemed determined to convince herself it would work. Sighing, he just nodded.

"If you say so, Zoey. What are we playing at the club today? She’s going to show up and expects a performance."

Her face went pale as snow, eyes widening like plates. "Damn. I forgot."

Mystery snorted. Being so hyper-focused on something that she forgot this was so Zoey. "What could go wrong, right, Zoey?"

Swallowing the rest of her food and drinking the banana milk, Zoey leapt off the bleachers, starting to run.

"Come on, Mystery! We have to actually prepare something for the club!" Then, like a deer in headlights, she shot a panicked look at her friend. "Ryu Rumi… did she talk to you?"

"No, but she sighed. Really loudly. And I think she was going to run, but the student council vice president stopped her."

The answer made her sigh in relief. She knew she couldn’t avoid her forever, but hoped she could at least escape today. She had to actually organize something for the club this time.

Alright, Zoey, let’s do this. Easy.

What could go wrong?

Chapter Text

It turns out that a lot of things could go wrong. And one of them was that organizing even the smallest performance was an enormous challenge when a club had only two members.

With a deep, defeated sigh, Zoey completely gave up trying, letting her face collapse onto the piano keys, high notes echoing like a melancholic, off-key wail.

Mistery looked at the instrument,his favorite,with pity, as if afraid it might break under the weight of Zoey. "....So, no ideas?"

The girl just raised a finger, striking a harsh, dramatic note that sounded like a no.

After classes and studying, they had cleaned all the instruments in the choir room, swept the floor, and made sure the lighting was good. The room was surprisingly large, with plenty of space and various musical instruments scattered around. The acoustics were flawless.

"We should just give up, Mistery."

"But we’re already here. It’s humiliating in every way."

Zoey whined, hiding her face in her arm pressed against the keys, producing a horrible sound in the process. "We don’t even have an advisor, Mistery. It’s literally just us."

"Well… then we have nothing to lose?" the boy said, sighing as he moved closer to Zoey and sat on the bench beside her.

He raised his hands, fingers skilled and guided by muscle memory, playing notes that echoed like a gentle song, using the keys that weren’t buried under Zoey. It wasn’t common for his friend,always optimistic and bright, like a hyperactive puppy,to show so much pessimism. "…We just need to sing, right?"

Sitting up, though her shoulders remained low and slumped, Zoey sighed, releasing the air she had been holding slowly. "Yeah, I think so."

She was anxious. The bad kind of butterflies swirled in her stomach, making her want to vomit. Not a good idea,Mistery would never forgive her if she ruined the piano with the remains of her lunch.

The tick-tock of the old clock mounted on the wall didn’t help the anxiety coursing through her veins. Was Mira really going to show up? Maybe she was just joking.

Zoey didn’t know which alternative was worse: it being a joke or the cheerleader actually being there.

With the piano now free, Mistery didn’t take long to stretch his hands, playing calm, slow notes that sounded classical. Mozart, maybe, or Beethoven?

Zoey couldn’t tell, but the notes were clear, steady, and secure enough to hold her in the moment, wrapping her in a gentle, soft embrace. Her eyes rested on Mistery, watching him.

There was something magical about watching him play.

The way his hands,even though short,always reached the keys at the right time, and how his face softened, serene and calm. At peace. His posture relaxed, free from the tension that swallowed his body and always made him want to disappear, avoid attention.

Clear blue eyes that didn’t retreat, looking straight ahead with the confidence of someone who knew what they were doing.

Zoey really loved music.

How it embraced her,without judgment, warm and comforting. The way it freed the soul, released fears, and was so… magical. That was why she loved choir.

Blinking, she forced herself to take a deep breath, stretching her arms above her head in a stretch, grumbling in the process like a cat. "Play with me."

She asked, standing up and walking to the corner of the room where some instruments were. She picked up a guitar, looking around before deciding to simply sit just under the window, enjoying the traces of sunlight that filtered through the glass, painting the room with a comforting orange glow.

Biting her lip, she checked the tuning of the strings before exhaling and starting to strum chords, searching for the familiar notes that formed the song in her mind.

Bittersweet chords filled the air, undulating and vibrating in sync with her heartbeat. Mistery joined in within seconds, adjusting the notes to the rhythm,sweet and ever-present.

"Head on my pillow and they're calling for rain. It feels darker in here than it did yesterday." Zoey’s voice broke the surface, as if emerging from a deep, sincere place. "There's bones in the closet, they came out to play. But I'm way too tired to entertain them today. They want me to surrender and I could be selfish. Give up forever, but then I remember…"

Zoey swallowed, taking a deep breath, the lyrics wrapping around her like a warm, fluffy blanket,but one that was all too real. Raising her eyes, she found Mistery already watching her and offered him a smile, hopeful and bright in a way only Zoey could be.

"Birds still sing on bad days. Flowers grow around graves. Not everyone stays but the real ones do." Zoey sang, her voice raw, dripping with the perfect tone,a mix of honey, flowers, and rain. "Our Moon moves in phases. So give yourself a little grace. And if you look close where the cracks meet, we're still blooming in concrete."

When Mistery joined her, their voices intertwined as they had thousands of times before, with the same ease that the piano notes fused with the guitar chords. A brotherhood forged in childhood, surviving years apart, changes, and all the drama they had ever experienced.

At the end, when "Birds Still Sing" by Taylor Acorn,one of the American artists Zoey loved so much she made Mistery memorize lyrics and chords until his English sounded good enough,reached its finale, both of them laughed softly.

Because even if everything went wrong, they would still be there, singing…

Their bubble was burst when sharp, precise claps sounded.

Zoey felt her heart skip a beat when she saw Mira Kang standing in the choir doorway, applauding.

Zoey blinked. Once, twice.

And then a third time, just to make sure she wasn’t collectively hallucinating with Mistery.

But no,Mira was really there, her long pink hair reflecting the sunset light like a gentle fire.

Beautiful. Scarily beautiful.

The kind of beauty that looked like it came straight out of a luxury perfume commercial, and Zoey was kind of breathless because she had actually shown up. Just as she said she would.

"You sing well," Mira said, her voice calm but firm, as if evaluating. Judging.

Mistery, polite as always, tried to smile.

Zoey, on the other hand, completely forgot how vocal cords worked, even feeling her tongue melt.

"A–Ah. Thanks!" she responded too quickly, her voice two octaves higher than normal. "We… practice… a lot!"

Mistery gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t dare speak.

"Hm." Mira crossed her arms, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. Her uniform was definitely bending the dress code,Zoey was sure they weren’t allowed to wear chokers. But Mira’s glowed on her neck, black with a pink heart, as if daring someone to comment. And that serious expression made it look like she could kick someone out with a single look. "So this is the choir."

"Yep, that’s it!" Zoey said, gesturing nervously. "I mean, it’s the choir, but we’re still… under construction, you know? We’re still… ah… blooming in concrete!"

Mistery almost choked on his laugh, coughing into his hand, while Zoey wished she could just melt into the floor. But Mira merely raised a sharp eyebrow, evaluating, before starting to walk toward the piano.

The girl had a presence that seemed to fill the entire room. Her walk was controlled, each movement calculated like a dancer on a line of fire. When she sat on the edge of the bench, Zoey’s heart collapsed silently. Mistery, in a completely ungraceful way, slipped to the side like water, jumping off the bench. His clumsiness earned Mira a slightly amused, almost mischievous look.

"So this is where you rehearse." She said, running her fingers over the keys, as if testing their cleanliness. "I haven’t been in here before."

Zoey mumbled something that sounded like "yeah," trying to remember all the last-minute speeches she had practiced.

Mistery cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to seem professional. "We were just practicing a song. 'Birds Still Sing.' Know it?"

It wasn’t exactly true. They weren’t really rehearsing,it was more like a… musical venting session that turned out surprisingly well. Mistery’s English hadn’t faltered at all this time.

Mira tilted her head, thoughtful, before replying. "Yes. I know it. Taylor Acorn, right?"

Zoey froze.

Mira knew Taylor Acorn.

It was like discovering a deity also ate Nutella on toast for breakfast.

"Yes! That’s her!" Zoey said, way too excited. "I mean, yes! Taylor is amazing, right? I love how she can… sing and… talk and… exist!"

Mistery closed his eyes slowly, wishing he could disappear.

Mira chuckled softly, her eyes warm as they rested on Zoey. "You’re weird, Zoey," she said with disarming naturalness.

"It’s the charm," Zoey replied before her brain could stop her.

Silence.

Mistery let out a quiet "oh my God…" Mira just tilted her head, her lips curving into a sharp, precise smile. "Maybe."

Restarting. Zoey’s processor wasn’t built to handle this kind of thing, and she entered a state of confusion as if her motherboard were rebooting.

"…Better than I expected," Mira continued, looking around.

"A compliment?" Mistery sounded surprised, his voice higher than usual.

"…I didn’t expect much." Mira replied, crossing her arms as if the very idea of being kind and praising offended her. "It’s just… not a complete disaster."

"…So it’s a compliment." Mistery pressed, earning an eye-roll from the tall girl and a soft puff, more amused than annoyed.

"That’s… actually really nice." Zoey murmured, hugging her guitar, needing to hold onto something in the moment.

Her heart was beating faster and harder, pulsing with energy. Because Mira wasn’t mocking them. She wasn’t laughing.

Someone had said they were good.

And that was enough to make Zoey’s shy, wide smile bloom, because even if she didn’t stay, it was something. Mira said she sang well.

Riding the dopamine surge, Zoey asked, "Why aren’t you mad?"

Faced with the confused look, the shorter girl hurried to explain. "I… lied. Used your name, and instead of… I don’t know, banishing me to North Korea, you actually come to see the choir? Where’s… the chase, my one-way ticket out of the country, an arrest warrant… Is this some technique to lower my guard and catch me off guard? I saw a movie where something like this happened…"

"Send you to North Korea?" Mira looked at her like she was crazy.

Mistery knew how to pick his battles, and seeing Zoey humiliate herself was one he particularly didn’t want to witness. So, slowly, he stepped back just enough to leave the choir room, gently closing the door behind him.

Shrugging, Zoey felt like she could melt under Mira’s intense gaze, as if she were assessing her logical reasoning skills. With a sigh, she let her body relax, leaning on the piano as she looked at the younger girl. "Why the hell would I do that, Zoey?"

"…I lied. So why aren’t you mad?"

"You wanted me to be mad?"

"No! But… it would make sense." Zoey murmured, clutching the guitar tightly in her hands.

Mira averted her eyes, surveying the entire choir room as if absorbing every detail of the structure. "I was mad."

She said it simply. Zoey shrank, biting her lips. She definitely didn’t want to be the target of Mira Kang’s wrath. She looked up, meeting dark brown eyes, like melted chocolate. They were already watching her cautiously.

"…And why aren’t you anymore?"

Mira shrugged, chewing on her words before answering. "When Coach Na-yeon called me to talk privately and demanded to know what the story was about me being in the choir, I got really angry. Who was spreading that around? But I didn’t deny it. I didn’t like the way she spoke."

Zoey watched her closely, her heart galloping anxiously. She could clearly picture Na-yeon, the cheerleading coach, pulling Mira into her office and pressing her against the wall. With more medals than anyone could wear around their neck, Na-yeon forced her athletes to push beyond their limits.

The girls could offer flesh and blood; Na-yeon would want the bones too.

Ah, she certainly wasn’t happy with her star’s name circulating as if she were in the choir…

"Imagine my surprise when I found out it was little Zoey spreading lies about me?"

Now Zoey scowled. She wasn’t little! 1.61 m was the Korean average, thank you very much. Not everyone was super tall like Mira. The girl laughed, as if she knew exactly where Zoey’s thoughts had gone, judging by her grumpy expression.

"Hm… and what made you stop being angry?" Zoey asked, genuinely curious. They weren’t close. They didn’t talk. They were from different circles.

Mira’s eyes softened. "You seem to love this place."

She replied, gesturing to the room in general. "Enough to lie and cause a lot of trouble. I was curious,what could be so important in a two-person club that it’s worth a potential expulsion? I needed to see it for myself before shutting it down. Then I saw you singing and… I understood."

I understood.

Such a small sentence. So fragile.

Zoey felt something loosen in her chest, a heavy piece falling away. The fear that her dreams would be ridiculed again. With a shaky sigh, she laughed quietly. "…That was so kind. Thank you, Mira. For not mocking me or… I don’t know, shouting to the entire universe that I’m a liar and that you would never step foot in a club of failures."

Leaning her guitar against the wall beside her, Zoey finally stood, slightly embarrassed, her heart warm from realizing she wouldn’t be ridiculed. "I can go tell Coach Na-Yeon personally that it was all a misunderstanding."

Zoey would rather endure double the lessons in manners and Korean history than look into the gray, cold eyes of the coach. But hey, taking responsibility, right?

Mira made a face. “Are you kicking me out of the club?"

…

"What?"

"I may not be the best singer, but you don’t have many options, Zoey."

"No, wait, like… you… you’re really going to stay?"

Mira shrugged, feeling exposed under the puppy-dog eyes Zoey was sending her way. ",Hm… I mean, yes? If I’m not being expelled, of course…"

Zoey sniffled.

Really sniffled!

Mira started to panic, standing up, noticing the other girl’s teary eyes. What the hell? Didn’t she want me in the choir?

"Mira."

Had her name ever sounded like that before? So choked, raw, alive. It made her chest twist, and she muttered something in response, stepping back like avoiding a dangerous animal.

"Mira. This isn’t a lie, right? You’re not joking, right? Please tell me this isn’t a joke…"

Understanding settled slowly but finally over Mira. With an almost fragile sigh, she promised. "No, Zoey, I’m not joking. I… I would love to join the choir."

Mira expected a smile, or a laugh. Maybe even enthusiastic clapping. But she didn’t count on Zoey launching herself at her like a rocket, arms wrapping around her and almost knocking her over.

Zoey didn’t care how desperate she must have looked. Because suddenly, the only thing that mattered was that the choir had one more member, and the scent of pink pepper and white flowers was spreading through her nervous system like a drug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!"

Mira blinked, stunned, suddenly aware that her hands were useless and she had no idea what to do with them. "Ugh… Okay, Zoey, I’d like to breathe.”

Zoey stepped back, still wearing the silliest smile she’d ever had in her life. “ Sorry! It’s just… now we’re like, a group!”

“ A group of three. “ Mira added, straightening her wrinkled blouse, a small smile on her lips.

“Three is a perfect number! “ Zoey declared, pointing excitedly. “A trio! Like… Destiny’s Child! Or ABBA!”

“ABBA had four people. “ Mira reminded her.

“ Then we’re ABBA… the economy version! “ Zoey shot back, her eyes still sparkling.

Mira just shook her head, laughing softly.

“ You’re impossible, Zoey.”

The younger girl’s smile lit up, a goofy laugh escaping her lips as she swayed on her tiptoes, excited. “ Okay, okay… calm down, this is actually happening.”

She sighed, then took a deep breath, suddenly pale as reality hit her like a splash of cold water. Mira watched the change in her expression, torn between curiosity and amusement.

“Wait… does that mean I have to plan uniforms. And opening music. And a teacher to be our advisor. And a name!”

“ Wait, there isn’t a name yet…? Or an advisor?”

“No! Mystery and I never thought that far, the choir hasn’t been active at this school for, like, ten years. “ Biting her lip, Zoey looked around, searching for ideas. “ It has to be a good name… Like… Vocal Phoenix, or Harmonious Rebels… Or… Choir of Destiny!”

“Choir of Destiny sounds like a cult. “ Mira commented dryly, crossing her arms, trying to process how the choir actually… had nothing. Just two members and a dream.

Three now, she supposed.

“Exactly! “ Zoey replied, bouncing with excitement. “A singing cult! The best one ever!”

Mira sighed, already regretting it, but the corner of her lip betrayed a small smile.

“You know what? I probably should have deported you.”

“ And miss out on my angelic voice? No, Mira, we’ll be legends. We just need… a name. Memorable. But short… Something that sticks. We’ll keep hunting for the right one. “ She paused, pressing her lips together as if weighing her words, then continued, almost shyly. “ And we also need the school’s approval; the club was officially disbanded years ago… But the principal gave me a week to get everything sorted!”

Mira stared at her, unwavering.

For a long, too-long moment, the silence pressed against the edges, swallowing Zoey until she shivered, shifting uncomfortably. So this is how frogs feel when they’re being dissected?

“What’s wrong?” she murmured, twisting her fingers in her hands, cracking them.

“One week, Zoey. You have one week to find a teacher willing to be our advisor, submit a registration form to the student council, define the club’s goals, and find enough members for it to be approved?!”

Faced with the flood of tasks, Zoey made a grimace, biting her tongue before replying. “Well, now we have one week to do it.”

Mira snorted, spinning on her heels as if ready to give up and walk away. Zoey laughed, more desperate than amused, chasing after the taller girl, stopping in front of her as if she could pin her there.

“Hey, we’re not doomed! I know the perfect teacher to take over the club! Bobby will definitely say yes. I caught him humming a ’90s ballad once, it was kinda cute. And Mystery can handle all the paperwork for the council. We need at least five members to start, but with you joining, we’ll only need one more because…”

Zoey’s words died in her throat, a bitter taste filling her mouth. Mira raised a perfect eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.

“Because Abby is joining too… “ she murmured, half-reluctantly.

That caught Mira’s attention. “Abby? The new captain of the basketball team?”

“Yeah, that’s him. We’re like siblings or something now, so, hooray for siblinghood, I guess.”

Mira didn’t need to know that the boy was only joining so Zoey could play matchmaker. Some details didn’t matter. It was harmless, right?

“ Finding another member shouldn’t be too hard…:

Zoey practically buzzed, watching Mira murmur and think about who else could be roped into the club. It was official, she was really in! Oh, Zoey definitely needed to go home and scream into her pillow.

“Yeah, let’s get started!” Zoey almost shouted, her voice loud, overflowing with excitement. “ I can already picture the performances! The events… and the choir competitions.”

Mira had a small smile on her lips, watching her with the curiosity of a child seeing a puppy for the first time. Something between finding it adorable and wanting to run away.

“Just a minute.” Zoey said, running outside, opening the door quickly and shouting. “Mystery!”

Sitting against the wall next to the door, the boy was drawing in an old, worn notebook with rough edges. He looked up, and Zoey assumed he could see her, even though his gray hair covered almost his entire face.

“ Come on, little traitor. We have planning to do!”

“ It’s not betrayal, it’s survival.”

“ That’s exactly what a traitor would say.”

“ I stayed behind to fetch your dead body, didn’t I?”

Zoey clicked her tongue, amused, as she returned to the room, Mystery following with his backpack. “ Officially underway: the very first real meeting of the choir club!”

Mira and Mystery decided not to point out that technically, they weren’t a club yet.

Zoey’s energy was too contagious to be stopped.

(….)

Hours later, the sun had completely melted away, leaving the sky a deep oil-blue, glowing under the artificial lights of Seoul. There were still students using the school facilities to study, mostly seniors preparing for the exams that would decide whether they got into their dream universities.

Zoey breathed easier every time she remembered she still had this year free.

Mira had left maybe twenty minutes ago, picked up by her family’s private driver. Mystery’s mom had come for him not long ago, offering a ride that Zoey politely declined.

Around seven in the evening, it wasn’t too late, and after spreading out musical instruments and debating basic issues like: “No, Mystery, we are not performing any Beethoven pieces because that would kill all the teenagers from boredom,” and “No, Mira, the parents wouldn’t let their kids join a club that performs songs as violent as the ones on your playlist,” and many more no’s to Zoey and her wild ideas.

After all that, Zoey wanted a moment to walk and let her thoughts drift. It all felt unreal.

It had been fun. Another voice besides hers and Mystery’s, giving opinions and helping with ideas. Mira was amazing. A little sharp and mischievous, but amazing.

Closing the club room door, she sighed, beginning to walk through the school corridors toward the exit,a path that always took a little while, because the school was really huge.

Footsteps sounded behind her, loud, but as if the person was trying not to be heard. Zoey stopped walking, hands in her pockets, listening. Slowly, she turned her head back, choking when she realized who was following her.

Zoey swallowed hard. Her heart exploded in her chest, her legs felt the weight of every step, and reality hit like a brick: she had completely forgotten about the problem called Rumi.

Ryu Rumi looked like a tiger, staring at her from a few meters away, hazel eyes shining and a face extremely serious and irritated. Under the lights, she looked like a figure from another world: dark purple hair perfectly braided, uniform flawless with not a single line out of place, covering every inch of her skin, and shoes shining from being so polished.

She was stunning. Even while looking so angry.

"Zoey Min-Carter. Don’t you dare."

Too late. Zoey bolted, running through the corridors like she was fleeing a demon.

With her brain in escape mode, she didn’t register a loud, male laugh sounding right behind her. Well, at least someone was having fun.

Definitely not her. Definitely not Rumi.

"ZOEY!"

Zoey swore the walls shook. Holy crap, had anyone ever shouted her name with that much anger before? Her short legs moved even faster.

"President, didn’t you know running in the hallways is forbidden!?" Zoey shouted back, desperate.

"Do you know what else is forbidden, Zoey!? Making up lies, especially when they involve other people! Do you think it’s acceptable to mess with my image?! Invent lies about me?!"

"It was just a misunderstanding!"

"Then why are you running!?"

Zoey bit her tongue, stopping herself from pointing out that… she wasn’t an idiot.

Okay, maybe she was, but not that much. Everyone knows that when a temperamental tiger is chasing you, you run! At least that’s what her foggy brain reminded her, even if she might have been mixing up predators…

Her lungs began to burn. What the hell, where was the exit!? She almost tripped, her heart ready to jump out of her chest.

Finally, Zoey saw the exit, leaping down the stairs, landing clumsily and shaky, hopping two more times to avoid all the steps leading into the school. Without pausing to recover, she bolted, stumbling, and froze at the sound of a loud thud behind her.

She turned her head just enough to see, horrified, that Rumi had jumped all the steps in one go. She was really human!?

"You’re going to explain yourself. Now." Rumi’s voice echoed, carrying all the discipline and coldness Zoey could never ignore.

And the next second, hot, controlled breath blew against her face, firm hands gripping her shoulders, keeping her from running while Rumi held her. Zoey gasped, her chest rising and falling as if she’d run miles. Her heart raced, her legs trembled, and Rumi looked as composed as ever. Not even a blush!

"S-s-sorry…" Zoey began, tripping over her words, trying to explain, but sounding completely ridiculous, the lack of oxygen melting her brain like butter in the sun.

"No." Rumi pressed her shoulders slightly, enough for Zoey to feel the force contained behind the touch. "There are no excuses for tarnishing my reputation. The principal himself came to tell me how I was dragging my name through the mud by joining a doomed club and I didn’t even know! I want an explanation."

Zoey looked away, red with embarrassment and exhaustion, her whole body tingling. "B-but… it was just… a misunderstanding!" Her voice came out as a trembling whisper, almost swallowed by the wind passing between the school buildings.

"Misunderstanding?" Rumi raised an eyebrow, her calm voice becoming even more terrifying. "Zoey, you lied that I joined the choir. That affects my image, you understand? My credibility." She released one shoulder but still didn’t give Zoey room to move, keeping the girl hunched. "Besides involving me, you broke so many rules. This club isn’t even allowed to exist, it doesn’t meet any requirements. You’re testing the limits of order, and I don’t tolerate that."

Zoey swallowed hard, the feeling of being completely at Rumi’s mercy almost making her tremble. "I… I just wanted to…" She tried to explain, but the words got tangled in confusion.

"Come on, Zoey. Before I simply go to the principal and tell him all the lies you spread. That and running a club without school approval are certainly good enough reasons for detention,or even expulsion."

Desperation rose in Zoey like a tsunami, every fiber of her body screaming to run, but she knew there was no escape, no trick, no lie that could outsmart the president. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart, but the heat of Rumi’s hand on her shoulder reminded her: there was no more joking.

"O-Okay… I… I’ll… explain… everything…" she murmured, almost swallowing the words.

Rumi didn’t release her shoulder, as if she didn’t trust Zoey enough to let her go. She feared the girl would bolt again if freed. "Start."

Then, before Zoey could open her mouth, a sweet, gentle voice sang behind them. "What took you so long, Rumi? Why not just call your friend to leave with us?"

Zoey watched Ryu Rumi freeze, like a statue under headlights. The hand on her shoulder tightened enough to be uncomfortable, while something like panic swam in Rumi’s yellow-brown eyes.

Looking behind Rumi, a woman who resembled the president was smiling gently at them. She had a long black braid, wore formal clothes and beautiful rings. She radiated calm as if her mere presence could contain storms.

Zoey suddenly became very aware of how close they all were, Rumi’s fresh, sweet, plum-like scent filling her lungs, her warm breath on her face and the firm hand on her shoulder. And the woman seemed aware too, the curious way she looked at them.

"I hope my daughter hasn’t kept you studying so late. Rumi doesn’t know when to stop."

The words were gentle, wrapped in maternal love and sweet affection. Zoey hesitated to respond, almost stammering. "Ah no, no, Rumi didn’t do that… I… I was at choir."

She said it awkwardly, looking back at Rumi who was still frozen.

The change was immediate: the woman gasped, surprised and delighted. "The choir? Finally, this school is investing in the choir club again! Rumi, dear, why didn’t you tell me?"

A third voice rose easily, mischievous and playful. "I think Rummie wanted to surprise you before telling you she joined the choir!"

Zoey turned her head to see Jinu. Ah, so that laugh she heard belonged to him. The boy had clearly watched the whole commotion, and now he had a cheeky smile, like the Cheshire Cat.

Rumi finally stepped back, releasing her with a jerk as if her hand had burned, eyes locked on Jinu like embers. "Jinu."

Ryu Miyeong turned her gaze to her daughter, surprised but with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes. "Rumi, dear… Is that true?" she began, her voice low and melodic, like she was reciting a song. "What a joy to hear this. I always knew you had musical talent! Your voice is so angelic. I’ve experienced so many joys in the choir myself, and now to see my daughter join…" She sighed, savoring the memory and the present at the same time. "Such immense pride."

Rumi choked, suddenly, caught between warm words and the truth threatening to slip out. No, she wasn’t in the choir! "M-mom…" she began, swallowing hard, but no words came out right.

But Miyeong was smiling, clapping her hands excitedly, turning her attention to the girl in front of her daughter. "And you, dear, what is your name?"

Zoey blinked, confused at what was happening. Why the hell did Jinu say that!? Oh heavens, how was she supposed to tell Rumi’s mom that she had put her daughter in a huge lie? "…Zoey Min-Carter. My name is Zoey."

Ryu Miyeong hummed in response, repeating the name as if she appreciated it. "Zoey Min-Carter. Dual nationality? Maybe American?"

Zoey could only nod, caught between the softness radiating from the woman and the anxious energy pouring off Rumi.

Miyeong laughed, genuinely happy, hugging her daughter by the shoulders. "I’m so proud. How’s the rehearsals going? Ah, Rumi, you should have told me sooner! Do you have everything you need? The studio at home is open, Rumi, take your friends to rehearse. I can’t wait for the performances, my little plum on stage!"

Rumi felt herself shrinking, tense, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and exasperation. Her mother smiled so proudly, eyes shining with a new light that Rumi found herself unable to dim.

Jinu grinned, like someone who had won a game before it even started. Rumi wanted to kill him.

She’d hide the bones where no one would ever find them.

"Ah, Ms. Ryu Miyeong, Rumi didn’t," Zoey immediately stopped, meeting the gaze of two eyes that burned and screamed: Silence. Swallowing hard, she finished, her voice trembling even more. "I didn’t realize you were so kind!"

Jinu laughed, "Miyeong really is the best. And she makes delicious Dasik!"

Miyeong chuckled. Jinu was one of the few who dared to eat her cooking, though she strongly suspected he only ate it for her approval. Despite loving to cook, she never quite got the measurements right.

"Well, children, let’s go. As excited as I am, it’s late. Zoey dear, where do you live?"

Jinu didn’t hesitate to agree, walking toward the white car that belonged to Ryu Miyeong. Zoey noticed absentmindedly that it wasn’t the same car that had brought her earlier. And she realized, later, that she had been included in the older woman’s invitation.

Bowing deeply in respect, Zoey almost cracked her back. "Thank you, Miss Ryu! You don’t have to, I’m already heading out!"

Miyeong just clicked her tongue, "Nonsense, get in the car."

Then she turned and started walking, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Zoey looked back at Rumi, panicked. The president seemed to be in limbo. As if someone had ripped her soul from her body, she was now… just an empty shell.

An empty shell that slowly filled with anger as she glared back at Zoey.

Raising her hands defensively, the shorter girl hurried to speak. "I didn’t do anything!"

"...It’s all your fault! You started this!"

"Maybe! But… I was going to deny it, but then you looked at me like that!"

Rumi snorted, and there was something incredible about seeing the always-perfect student council president completely unhinged.

"Girls! Hurry up." Miyeong’s voice called them, making Zoey shrug and glance at Rumi again.

With a defeated sigh, Rumi began walking toward the car. "Just… don’t make it worse."

With a nod, Zoey followed, feeling like she was walking beside a wild animal dressed in fancy clothes. She watched curiously as Jinu opened the door for Rumi, a smile far too gentle for someone who had pushed the other girl into fire.

With a sharp glance, Rumi got into the car, forcing her face calm in her mother’s presence. Zoey sat in the back seat next to Jinu, who smiled at the window, clearly enjoying the other’s misfortune.

Rumi stared out the window, her expression neutral,too neutral, which was even scarier. Zoey looked at the seatbelt, wondering if it was strong enough to stop a sudden assassination attempt.

Zoey promised herself: she would never lie again.

No more lies. She would learn another way to defend herself.

"So, girls," Rumi’s mother said cheerfully, "will you be performing any songs in the next few weeks?"

Rumi closed her eyes. Jinu held back a laugh, pretending to cough.

"Yes, we will." Zoey replied with the tensest smile in the history of humanity.

Rumi turned her face slowly, a cold smile spreading with the patience of a predator, as if sentencing Zoey to the electric chair.

Zoey swore the car grew colder. Maybe it was the air conditioning. Or the presence of pure hatred. She was sure that if she disappeared mysteriously in the next few days, Ryu Rumi would be the prime suspect. And no one would dare blame her.

Jinu’s laughter filled the car, while Zoey pressed her face against the window, silently begging for her life.

Chapter Text

“Tell them to look for my body in the last locker of the swimming gym, got it, Donatello?” Zoey’s voice was serious, her eyes focused as she pointed a finger at the little turtle.

The reptile bit into a kale leaf slowly, chewing as if he had all the time in the world. Which, unlike his owner, who looked like she was about to face her own execution, he probably did.

“It’s jammed, so no one’s used it in centuries. It’s the perfect place for Rumi to hide pieces of Zoey. I’m counting on you, buddy.”

Picking up the small cold-blooded creature, she kissed his shell affectionately before placing him back on the dry part of the terrarium and setting a few green leaves in front of him. “Wish me luck.”

Donatello stared at her for a few seconds, as if saying, You’re so screwed I actually feel bad for you,and luck won’t cut it. You’re gonna need divine intervention.

Zoey took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs, willing her muscles to melt and relax as much as possible.

It wasn’t the end of the world. It was just another school day.

Just another school day after Ryu Miyeong had dropped her off at her house, cheerfully waving to her mother, who’d received her with a curious look and a dish towel hanging from her shoulder. The thing about Ryu Miyeong was that she was painfully social, and it didn’t take long before she was engaged in a lively conversation with Min Seo about how happy she was that Zoey had joined the choir with her.

Rumi had stared at Zoey the entire time, as if trying to shatter her soul into pieces through sheer willpower while the adults chatted. When Min Seo invited them to stay for dinner, Zoey had genuinely feared for her life.

Especially because Ryu Miyeong looked this close to accepting and simply walking in,before Rumi reminded her they already had plans.

So yes, Zoey had plenty of reasons to want to skip school.

Taking another deep breath, she gave Donatello one last look, letting him fulfill his role as her emotional support system,which basically consisted of being painfully cute and blissfully unconcerned.

He was really good at that.

Finally, Zoey grabbed her backpack from the corner of the room and dashed outside, quickly reaching the car. Her mother was already waiting, patient behind the wheel, while Abby sat in the back seat, eyes glued to her phone as she sent a few text messages.

“Sorry, I was just giving Donatello some last-minute instructions,” Zoey said as she opened the car door and flopped down next to Abby.

Min Seo hummed in acknowledgment, unsurprised, while Abby shuddered at the mention of the little water tiger. He had bitten her the last,and only,time she’d tried to pick him up.

The drive to school was quick, filled with a comfortable silence and the slow beat of the instrumental track Min Seo had put on. The calm rhythm lulled Zoey into a sleepy daze, her head resting against the cool glass as her eyelids grew heavy.

Abby jabbed her between the ribs, fingertips shaking her out of her drowsy state when they pulled up in front of the school. With a slow yawn, Zoey kissed her mother’s cheek goodbye and dragged herself out of the car. It was going to be a long day.

(...)

Lunch break took forever to arrive,or at least it felt that way for Zoey, whose mind was bubbling with all the letters and numbers blending together in the teachers’ explanations.

“You look awful,” Mistery pointed out, stabbing his milk carton with a straw.

The two were sitting at one of the cafeteria tables near the large tempered glass windows that filled the place with bright, airy light.

“I feel awful,” Zoey muttered, poking her own milk carton to make a hole, frowning at the flimsy plastic straw.

“Well, I think it’s about to get worse then.”

Blinking, Zoey lifted her head, curious. Mistery was looking past her shoulder, so she turned to see what he was staring at.

Ah, yes. Her death sentence.

Rumi walked with light but deliberate steps, like a tiger approaching its prey. Her hazel eyes burned with restrained anger, molten and alive, as if she were forcing herself not to let it show. But her jaw was tight, eyebrows furrowed, her whole posture radiating determination as she advanced toward Zoey.

“My life was good, Mistery. Tell my mom I loved her very much,and tell my dad I’m sorry I never became a volleyball star like he wanted.”

“Huh? But you don’t even like volleyball, Zoey…”

“But he wanted me to follow that path!” Zoey shot back, eyes darting nervously toward Rumi.

Then, to her surprise, the president stopped walking,right before reaching her. She froze in the middle of the cafeteria courtyard like a beautiful, fragile statue. All that restrained fury melted from her eyes in seconds.

She looked like she was… hesitating?

Yes. Almost as if she were afraid now, her posture uncertain as she took a small step back. Zoey watched her bite her lip, tense, like a trapped animal. Confused, she barely registered what was happening behind her.

The scent hit her first,white flowers and pepper, sweet and spicy, burning its way through her senses. Zoey turned her head, and the world seemed to slow down.

There was Mira Kang.

She set her tray on the table with a grace that could’ve belonged to royalty. Every movement was deliberate; every glance, a silent assessment. Everyone around her seemed to straighten instinctively, as if her mere presence demanded posture.

The cafeteria didn’t fall silent, but the sound changed,like someone had switched records, and now the music was different. Conversations turned into murmurs, laughter lost its rhythm.

Mira lifted her chin, her eyes glinting with something between boredom and defiance.

Zoey’s heart skipped a beat, her brain turning to mush. Mira had an aura of danger wrapped in expensive perfume and perfect self-control.

It was impossible not to look. Like staring into an eclipse,knowing it would hurt, but unable to look away.

Zoey turned her head back toward the other girl.

Rumi was still frozen, as if she no longer knew what to do with her own body. There was something almost tragic in the way she looked at Mira,a mix of pain and restrained defiance, every muscle begging her not to move.

Mira, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice.

Or she pretended really well.

The girl twirled a strand of pink hair between her fingers, her eyes flicking briefly to the student council president before finally landing on Zoey. Mira’s gaze cut through her like a beam of cold light,sharp, intense, beautiful, but impossible to endure for long.

Zoey froze, ready to bolt,

which she would have done, if Mira hadn’t smiled right then.

A small, knowing smile.

A smile that said, “I just rebooted your brain and I don’t regret it.”

Turning her head back slowly, Zoey watched Rumi walk away, her long braid swaying behind her as she went to the table where the other student council members usually sat. She bent down, said something to Jinu, and then left the cafeteria quickly,like she was fleeing from something only she could see.

Mira just watched.

Calm.

Still.

Right up until Rumi disappeared from sight.

Then her lips curved again,this time into a softer smile. Sadder, almost.

The cafeteria returned to its usual rhythm, as if nothing had happened.

But Zoey was still there, blinking slowly, trying to figure out if she’d just witnessed a psychic attack or pure, passive intimidation.

“...Okay, are we going to talk about this?” Her voice came out rough, caught in her throat.

Mistery opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He glanced at Mira, who was now eating in silence, cutting her chicken with the delicate precision of someone who could do the same to a person’s throat,if asked nicely.

Mira lifted her face, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Zoey swallowed hard.

There was something in the girl’s gaze,not just coldness. It was like her rage had been polished so perfectly that it had turned into art. The kind of anger that made people step back without understanding why.

Mira’s presence was a restrained assault. A smiling disaster.

And now she was just… sitting at the same table as Zoey. As if that were normal.

“What?” Mira asked, biting a piece of her chicken.

Zoey held back a sigh before shrugging. So, they weren’t going to talk about it. Fine. Zoey didn’t like gossip,not exactly,but her mind still drifted to all the cruel little things she’d heard about her upperclassmen.

There wasn’t much. No one really knew why they’d drifted apart, and there had never been a single public fight between them.

Which was strange. Mira Kang carried quite a reputation on her back.

And she didn’t seem remotely interested in Jinu. Not at all. So why,?

It was a shame Zoey’s brain decided to latch onto something else entirely, the words slipping out with a sigh of relief. “I’m going to survive.”

Mistery slurped his milk loudly through the straw, watching her with an amused look.

“Survive?” Zoey raised an eyebrow, meeting his curious stare.

“Yeah. You’re like… a shield or something. One second, Rumi was about to turn you into a Zoey-fur coat, and the next, she was running for her life?”

Mira hummed softly, noncommittal, and went back to eating.

Zoey stared down at her lunch the way someone might stare at a ticking bomb,moving as little as possible, careful not to set it off. But even while she tried to focus on the food, she couldn’t ignore the weight of the presence sitting beside her.

Mira ate slowly, her chopsticks tapping against the plate in a rhythm that somehow matched the pace of Zoey’s breathing.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

She tried not to look. She really did. But it was like being told not to think about a pink elephant.

At some point between the awkward silence and the faint laughter echoing from the other side of the cafeteria, Zoey opened her mouth and asked, “Why aren’t you sitting with the other cheerleaders?”

Mira looked up slowly before replying. “What? We’re in the same club now. Can’t I sit here?”

“...You can, of course…” Zoey started, feeling like she was being dissected under that intense stare. “Are we friends now?”

Mira wrinkled her nose,it was unfairly cute,and looked at her like she’d just spoken another language. “I wouldn’t go that far. Teammates.”

“Best friends.”

“Don’t push it, Zoey.”

A soft laugh escaped Zoey’s lips as she twirled her chopsticks in her hands. Mistery took advantage of the moment to reach over and pull her plate toward him, stealing her boiled egg in one swift motion.

Zoey didn’t complain,she was used to him stealing her food by now. She propped her chin on her hand, elbow resting on the table, and watched Mira. The girl ate in silence, posture straight, eyes downcast,the picture of composure. But there was something else there, a faint tension hovering at the edges of her self-control.

Zoey recognized that kind of calm.

It was the calm of someone who knew they could destroy everything around them,

but chose not to.

“So,” she began lightly, trying to sound more confident than she felt, “do you always scare people like that, or was this a special occasion?”

Because Zoey had no doubt: it was Mira Kang who had made the president turn on her heel and flee with her tail between her legs.

Mira lifted her gaze, and it was so direct Zoey almost flinched. Almost.

But something small and electric inside her refused to back down,the same reckless spark that always made her speak when she should’ve stayed quiet.

She held Mira’s gaze. Just for a second,but enough to feel her spine straighten.

“Depends,” Mira answered, a slow smile curving her lips. “Sometimes people deserve to be scared.”

Zoey blinked, unsure if that was a threat, a joke… or a compliment. Mira let out a soft, quiet laugh,barely audible,but something in the sound made Zoey’s chest buzz with a mischievous kind of adrenaline, like she was playing with fire.

Leaning back in her chair, Zoey let a crooked smile tug at her lips. The rest of lunch passed smoothly, filled with talk about bands, songs they wanted to try, and which ones suited their vocal ranges best. Zoey was genuinely excited to hear Mira sing for the first time, even though the taller girl had warned her not to expect much.

The next choir rehearsal was going to be amazing,Zoey was sure of it.

She just had to figure out what to do about Ryu Rumi.

(...)

It was almost comical, the way Rumi looked at her.

The student council president held several folders pressed against her chest, fingers curled between the papers like claws. School matters , things that needed her attention and would surely keep her awake late into the night. Mira knew that all too well.

She’d been there, right beside her, when Rumi started her campaign for the presidency. Late nights spent working on flyers, speeches, and colorful posters. They were still freshmen then, and things were easier.

Less blurred. The lines weren’t crossed yet, the ink hadn’t bled together.

Now, Rumi looked at her with something Mira couldn’t name.

But it was enough to make her angry, her throat burning with all the poison she swallowed. Rumi had no right to look that sad.

“What is it?” her voice came out harsh, like a scratched record.

Rumi was there for a simple reason.

The cheerleaders had requested permission to train outside official hours, and as student council president, she was the one who had to supervise the use of the gym.

It was the kind of task she usually handled automatically , and only when Jinu wasn’t around to take care of it would she deliver the permissions herself.

“You’re supervising practices now?” Mira asked when she got no answer, slowly stepping closer.

Her tone was calm, polite, but there was a sharp edge of irony beneath it. “I thought the student council president had people to do that for her.”

Rumi lifted her chin, forcing her tone to stay neutral. “The athletes asked to use the gym over the weekend. I’m just delivering the form.”

“So responsible.”

The comment was sharp, dripping with acid irony, but her eyes said something else , something between anger, hurt, and a longing she refused to admit.

Rumi’s throat went dry. “Don’t start, Mira.”

“Me?” Mira gave a short laugh, tilting her head. “I’m just making an observation.”

Rumi tried to disguise the tremor in her voice. “I don’t have time for this. Just take the authorization, Mira.”

Mira took a step forward.

And another.

Now they stood just inches apart, the light from the ceiling reflecting off Rumi’s almost golden eyes and Mira’s deep brown ones, which seemed to glow under the cold brightness.

Mira extended a pale, elegant hand , long fingers, well-kept nails. The hands of a cellist, Rumi knew. In a hurry, she shoved the paper into Mira’s hand and turned, almost running out of the gym.

Mira watched her leave, face blank. With a heavy sigh, she turned to the other girls, raising an eyebrow as she caught them staring.

“If you’ve got time to gossip, I assume the routine’s perfect then?”

“Mira, a break won’t kill anyone,” one of them muttered, rolling her shoulders.

The taller girl just laughed softly, slipping the form into her folder before returning to her position and restarting the new choreography. It was muscle memory and rhythm, breath and motion. It didn’t take long for the gym door to burst open with a loud crack that echoed against the smooth walls.

“Girls!”

Na-yeon’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. The click of her sneakers hitting the wooden floor made half the cheerleaders straighten up before even looking at her.

Na-yeon entered as if the gym were the stage of a musical only she understood. Her high ponytail swayed with surgical precision, her flawless red nails clutched a clipboard filled with notes , every move radiated absolute control. She watched the dance for a few seconds before sighing in disappointment.

“I leave you alone for ten minutes, and what do I find?” She arched one perfect eyebrow, lips curving into a smile that never reached her eyes. “A choreographed disaster.”

No one spoke.

All the girls, dressed in their navy-and-white uniforms, kept their backs straight and their eyes fixed somewhere ahead, as if the smallest deviation could be fatal.

Na-yeon sighed theatrically.

“Kim Nari, you jumped a beat early. Hyejin, your arm looks like it’s trying to run away from your body. And…” her gaze landed on Mira, as though studying a precious piece that didn’t fit the puzzle. “Kang Mira, if you’re going to spin like that, at least try to look alive.”

Mira lifted her chin. “Maybe that’s just how I feel.”

A small “ohh” rippled through the girls in the back row. Na-yeon blinked slowly, her smile widening. “Good to know you’re still playful, Mira. But that won’t improve your form.”

Silence.

Mira knew she shouldn’t respond. Not when Na-yeon had a reserved seat at every dinner her parents attended. Wife of one of her father’s business partners, and , worse , a close friend of her mother, Kang Mi-Sook.

Any misstep would be reported straight to the family matriarch. It was a miracle she hadn’t mentioned the choir yet. Mira would be in trouble once that reached her mother’s ears.

The sound started again , the click of the digital metronome, the rhythmic clapping of hands, the tap of shoes against the floor.

The girls aligned, moving in near-military synchrony while Na-yeon walked among them, correcting postures with brisk touches or sharp adjustments.

Mira stayed at the end of the line, her breathing steady, her movements as precise and cold as the words she used to cut someone down.

She wasn’t just good , she was unsettlingly good.

Every turn had purpose, every snap of her fingers carried anger, and when she jumped, there was something in that motion , a threat disguised as grace.

“Perfect,” Na-yeon finally said, clapping her hands together. “Now again. From the top. With emotion this time, please. I want it to look like you have souls.”

And so, they started over. And over again. As many times as the coach deemed necessary.

Practice ended late.

The metronome went silent, leaving behind a heavy, humid quiet. The cheerleaders gathered their water bottles, laughing tiredly in pairs as they left, their footsteps echoing through the school’s long hallways. Mira stayed behind, collecting ribbons and stacking them on a shelf, when she heard Na-yeon’s heels strike firmly against the floor behind her.

“Kang Mira.” The tone was sweet , too sweet, like a poisoned compliment. “A minute of your time, if it’s not too much to ask.”

Mira turned slowly, sweat still sliding down her temple. “Yes, Ms. Na-yeon?”

The coach smiled , that smile that always came before the blow. “I was talking to a few people on the school board, and… they mentioned you haven’t withdrawn from the choir yet. That your name’s still on the list.”

“I am,” she replied simply.

“It’s an optional activity, ma’am. It doesn’t interfere with practice.”

“Of course not.” Na-yeon chuckled softly, feigning surprise. “And I do love seeing students engaged in new things. But, dear… I may have gotten carried away during our last conversation, but…” she stepped closer, lowering her voice, “…do you really think the choir is a good use of your time? That little project has become something of a public disaster, don’t you think?”

Mira crossed her arms, silent. The coach had already listed every reason the choir was considered inappropriate. Starting with the fact that it wasn’t even an official club.

No advisor, no approval, no members.

“I mean, it’s not your fault, of course,” Na-yeon continued sweetly. “But sometimes certain… associations can tarnish the image of a promising young woman. And you know, the Kang name carries a certain weight. It’d be a shame if the board started questioning your priorities.”

Mira took a deep breath. “You’re asking me to quit the choir again?”

She’d already said no once , that she’d see the choir for herself, regardless of anyone’s opinion. Was she really trying this approach again?

“Asking?” The woman’s smile grew wider, her tone softer still. “Oh, no, dear. Just… advising. As a friend of your mother’s, I only want what’s best for you. And honestly, I doubt she’d be happy knowing her daughter’s wasting her talent on something so… small.”

The mention of her mother fell heavy between them. Mira felt it in her throat , like sound with weight. The woman kept talking.

“You have so much potential, Mira. Being a Kang is a blessing, but also a responsibility. The world’s always watching, waiting for you to slip. That’s why we must protect…” she smiled, pressing a manicured finger against the girl’s chest, “…our good name. At any cost.”

For a moment, Mira imagined pushing her , just to see if that smile would fall.

But instead, she only nodded.

“Of course, Ms. Na-yeon. I understand.” The words tasted like blood. Bitter on her tongue.

“Good girl.” The woman smiled, satisfied. “I’m glad you understand. I won’t take up any more of your time, dear. We’ll have time to talk at the dinner your parents are hosting.”

With that, she left, the sound of her heels echoing like a clock. Tick, tock.

The gym fell silent again.

The sound of laughter had vanished, and the air felt too heavy to breathe. Mira stayed still for a moment, feeling her chest burn with something between anger and disgust. She hated that sweet voice. The way the Kang name was used like a leash.

She put away the last props and glanced at the mirror.

Perfect face, hair in place, immaculate uniform. Everything was right. Everything was as it should be.

So why did it feel like she was rotting from the inside?

“So responsible.”

“So exemplary.”

“So… Kang Mira.”

That’s what they said.

But no one asked what happened when the lights went out, when the applause ended, and she was left alone in her own head , that house of cobwebs where every interaction hung like a knife.

The mirror reflected her gaze back. A small, cracked smile adorned her face. She wanted to scream. She wanted to growl. She wanted someone to see just how much it disturbed her.

But they had taught her to swallow it all, to smile and maintain the family’s good name.

Just a perfect Kang, immaculate, not a single visible scratch.

The sound of Na-yeon’s heels still echoed in Mira’s ears, even after the woman had gone. Tick, tock, tick, tock. A reminder that nothing , not even silence , truly belonged to her.

Mira ran her hands through her hair, fingers trembling. This time, at least, the coach had been more subtle. Mira remembered how her words had sounded offensive to Zoey, the way she had spoken , mixed, unkind. Mira wouldn’t tolerate that, and both had almost fought. It had been enough to let Mira leave without further trouble, a contained scandal, like a bullet grazing its target.

No… it was only contained, temporarily.

The corridor smelled of paper and wax, with a hint of disinfectant, as her footsteps echoed. And it was there, among the hum of the lights and the distant sound of a door closing, that Mira heard her name called.

“Mira!”

She turned, and the gray world seemed to gain color. Zoey ran toward her, hair messy, a smile lighting up the entire hallway.

“I talked to Bobby, he agreed!” she blurted out, out of breath. “He’s going to be the choir advisor! And Abby is joining too, so we only need one more member. Mistery’s finishing the papers, and as soon as we have someone else, we’ll submit it to the student council.”

The flood of words hit Mira before she could react.

Zoey gestured with her hands, eyes sparkling, as if she truly believed everything could work out.

Mira sighed, watching the younger girl gesture with her hands , energy so contagious it was impossible not to be affected. Her muscles ached, tense from all the exercises she’d been forced to repeat until they reached perfection, and her mind was tired.

She would have many problems with her family.

But she didn’t want to leave the choir. There was something magical about watching Zoey sing. A depth that was beautiful, art in its purest essence. She was mesmerized.

How could someone fight so hard for a dream, even when the world said it was impossible?

“…So… can I have your number?”

Blinking, Mira watched Zoey extend a phone toward her. The case was green, decorated with pizza and turtles from some cartoon Mira didn’t recognize. Zoey bit her lip and looked anxious, her fingertips vibrating slightly over the device.

Silently, Mira reached out, taking the phone and typing her number in. “Done. Just send me a hi, and I’ll save your number.”

Zoey’s smile lit up like she’d just won a lottery ticket, enhancing the warm sparkle in her eyes and the freckles across her nose, like constellations. “Perfect! See you tomorrow, Mira!”

And before Mira could react, the younger girl hugged her , quick, but enough to bring the scent of vanilla and honey into Mira’s lungs. The fragrance was sweet and warm, clinging to her. It was… good.

“See you tomorrow, Zoey,” she whispered as the girl let go, cheeks flushed in a shy smile.

“See you, Mira.”

With a final wave, Zoey practically ran out of the school building. Alone again, Mira stood still, staring at her reflection in the school window.

The streetlights flickered outside, reflected on the glass, and for a moment, it felt like she was looking at other versions of herself , one that smiled, another that screamed, and a third that simply observed, in silence.

Na-yeon’s words still vibrated inside her.

“Protect the good name. At any cost.”

She took a deep breath, but the air felt acidic.

Closing her eyes, Mira could see people smiling, greeting her in the hallways. Every gesture rehearsed. Every word polished. The way they tensed in her presence, even while pretending not to.

They all wanted her nearby , as long as she remained quiet, beautiful, and controlled.

She could already see her mother’s gaze: cold disappointment, reproach, and the way she’d find a way to drag her through the mud if she continued with the choir. Perhaps the worst would be her father’s silent rejection.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. She should let it go.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed with a few notifications. Mira continued walking out, reading them on the device.

Zoey had added her to a group: Choir Club.

There were a few messages exchanged between her and Mistery , witty and sincere comments. Mira read the latest ones, curious:

“We should go celebrate! Skate park on Saturday?”

“My mom banned me from skating with you after last time she saw you on a Zoey… But let’s go.”

A skate park? Mira had never been to one.

Tapping her nail against the screen, she bit her lip, thinking. The cold night air chilled her skin as she finally left the school, her steps automatic toward the car waiting for her.

The echo of a joyful laugh, sweet as melted caramel, was enough to make her decision.

“Send me the address. I’ll be there.”

She sent the message, locking the phone as she sighed and got into the car.

Chapter Text

The week passed like the slow, steady dripping of a leaky faucet; the days slipped by faster than Zoey could keep track of. Between sharp turns in the hallways to avoid the student council president, awkward lunches under Mira’s constant and intense presence, and classes that left Zoey dizzy with information, she barely registered Friday’s arrival.

Now, with the mint paste still burning her tongue, the toothbrush stuck between her teeth, and her eyes blurry with sleep, Zoey wondered where she had gone wrong. Which life choices had led her to this moment?

“So, Zoey, how do I look?” Abby asked again, raising his eyebrows as he ran a hand through the pink strands shining on his head.

If she was being honest, Zoey really wanted to ask which hair products he used. How were his strands always so soft and lightweight, even with the dye?

But… Abby was, “Ridiculous,” she muttered, spitting the white foam into the sink when the burning on her tongue became too intense.

Abby frowned, confused. “Come on, Zoo, there’s no way I look ridiculous.”

He huffed, crossing his arms,an action that highlighted every hard muscle under his skin.

“Why is that shirt so tight? It looks like it’s about to rip.”

“It’s from freshman year, cool right? Makes my muscles look bigger.”

“Your tie is crooked.”

“On purpose. It’s casual.”

“It just looks ridiculous.”

Zoey murmured while rinsing her mouth, mentally trying to understand when Abby decided he could invade the bathroom and demand validation on whether he looked good enough to impress Mira Kang.

That week, Zoey had learned Mira liked sports, metal music, and spicy food. She’d taken ballet since childhood, was the best dancer in school, and had sewing as a hobby. Zoey remembered perfectly that Mira’s favorite movie was an American drama, Black Swan, and that she preferred dark chocolate.

Abby, however, had latched onto only two details: she likes sports and spicy food.

Now, on Friday, they were going to show up at the choir club, and the boy was wearing clothes so tight they put his whole physique on display, the buttons of his dress shirt practically fighting for their lives to keep the fabric closed. His hair was messy in a purposeful way and… honestly, it didn’t look bad.

But knowing it was for Mira made Zoey uncomfortable.

“Fine, Abby, you look great,” Zoey sighed, finally giving in, while he smiled at his reflection, satisfied. “I just hope waking up thirty minutes early to straighten your hair was worth it.”

“That’s called texturizing, not straightening,” Abby corrected, with the seriousness of someone discussing quantum physics. “It gives natural volume.”

“Uh-huh. Natural volume and the smell of hairspray all over the hallway.”

He shrugged, laughing. “Maybe Mira likes it.”

Zoey paused mid-brush for a second. Maybe Mira likes it. It was ridiculous to feel bothered by that,she knew that. It was just Abby being Abby: annoyingly pretty, cheerful, and completely oblivious. Still, there was something about his excitement that tightened her chest in a strange way.

Ignoring that entirely, she pointed her wet toothbrush at him. “There’s a taste for everything. Now go. Out. Leave.”

She gestured like she was shooing a stubborn dog out of the house with a rolled-up newspaper. Abby rolled his eyes, amused and self-assured, but left the bathroom with a laugh.

Twenty minutes later, Zoey was rushing down the stairs, her backpack bouncing against her back, her still-damp hair tied in a ponytail she found boring but good enough to get through the day.

“Don’t run down the stairs, Zoey,” Min Seo scolded gently, as she had done countless times before.

Now, the words carried none of the seriousness they once did,more muscle memory wrapped in quiet worry.

Zoey nodded a silent yes and took a seat beside her stepbrother at the table, dragging her chair slightly to the side to avoid his elbows bumping into her.

Adjusting her backpack on the floor, trying not to knock anything over, Zoey finally noticed the smell filling the kitchen, that warm, savory perfume her mother always managed to spread throughout the whole house. It was the kind of aroma that could wake anyone up for real.

The table was set in a classic way: steaming rice in individual bowls, a dish of doenjang guk sending up delicate spirals of vapor, golden grilled fish at the center, and several little plates of banchan spread out like small islands of color. Bright red kimchi, sweet sesame potatoes, lightly seasoned bean sprouts, crunchy seaweed strips.

Cracking her fingers, eyes scanning the spread, it didn’t take long before she shoveled a handful of rice into her mouth, chewing as she dipped her chopsticks and caught a piece of fish. Seafood was really amazing, and as she devoured the food with the hunger of a starving wolf, her eyes locked onto the other dishes like she was staring at a distant dream.

“Eat slowly,” Min Seo requested, pouring herself a cup of steaming, sweet tea before sitting down.

Jihoon chuckled softly. “Let her, honey. Young people need lots of food.”

He teased gently, standing to push another portion of fish onto Zoey’s plate, winking at her with a conspiratorial smile.

Zoey froze for a moment. It wasn’t that she disliked him… she just didn’t know how to handle him. Jihoon always seemed too kind, too patient,like he was tiptoeing around, careful not to step on anything broken inside her.

“You’re just like your mother,” he said, still smiling. “When you like something, it’s impossible to hide.”

Zoey felt her face warm up. It wasn’t embarrassment… it was that strange, comfortable heat she still didn’t know how to deal with.

Min Seo smiled at her daughter,that proud little smile that always made Zoey want to hide her face in her rice bowl. Then, as if following a familiar ritual, everyone began eating at a cozier pace. The conversation flowed easily, from the weather to the new teacher at the school where Min Seo worked, until Zoey commented, half-distracted:

“Ah, tomorrow I’m going to the skate park with Mistery and Mira.”

Abby,who had been chewing kimchi with the blank expression of a bored vegetable,lifted his head so fast he almost dropped his chopsticks.

“Mira?” he repeated, powering on like someone had plugged him into an outlet. “Like… Mira Kang?”

Zoey rolled her eyes hard. “No, Abby. The other Mira you know. Of course it’s that Mira.”

He leaned back in his chair with that smug smile Zoey always wanted to shove with the palm of her hand.

“Cool then. I’m going too.”

“No, you’re not,” Zoey shot back instantly.

“Yes, I am. I’m great at skateboarding.”

“You fell on the carpet when you tried to use mine, Abby.”

“The carpet slipped!”

Min Seo dabbed her mouth with a napkin, laughing quietly, then gave Zoey a look she knew all too well. The don’t start, please make an effort, sweetheart look.

“Zoey, take your brother with you.”

“Mom!” Zoey protested, dropping her chopsticks on the table. “He only wants to go because Mira will be there. He can’t even stand on a board without looking like a run-over flamingo!”

“Hey!” Abby raised his hands, offended,though he instinctively ran his fingers through his pink hair, not unlike flamingo feathers.

Jihoon laughed, a light sound that filled the kitchen with quiet warmth.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart. Besides…” Min Seo added, her voice gentle but firm. She smiled at Abby. “He’s trying, isn’t he?”

Abby nodded so fast he looked like a bobblehead. “I’m just a boy in love.”

Zoey squeezed her eyes shut, defeated. “Fine… fine. But I’m not catching you if you fall and break your nose.”

Abby snorted. “As if you could, Zoo.” And to prove his point, he flexed his biceps, showing off the muscles that looked seconds away from ripping his tight dress shirt.

Zoey made a face before returning to her food.

The sacrifices she made for love. Her mother really should appreciate her effort.

(....)

To Abby’s credit, Mira didn’t seem nearly as indifferent to his presence as Zoey had expected. But honestly, Zoey was already mentally calculating how many conversations about boundaries she would need to have with him before the month ended.

Not satisfied with invading the bathroom and inviting himself to Saturday, Abby also decided it was a great idea to drop his lunch tray onto Zoey’s table without asking. He just sat as if he owned the entire cafeteria, stretching his shoulders and pushing the bench back like he was expecting a personal assistant to appear at any moment.

And somehow, the two pink-haired disasters were now engaged in a conversation about… basketball.

“It’s because, like,” Abby said, pushing his pink bangs back with one hand and flexing his arm as if that were a natural part of the explanation. “The Lakers’ problem this year isn’t just defense. It’s physicality. You know? Muscle. Endurance.”

Mira raised an eyebrow, calm, wearing the expression of someone listening to a podcast she didn’t choose.

“Ah. Of course. Muscle,” she said with a polite smile, the corner of her mouth curling with a hint of sarcasm. “Something you’re apparently not trying to hide.”

Abby grinned like he’d just heard the greatest compliment ever and did another one of those subtle flexes. Or not so subtle. Honestly, someone must have wound him up like a toy.

Zoey, beside them, pushed her rice around with her fork in silence,strange enough to make anyone uneasy. Zoey and silence rarely belonged in the same sentence. Mistery noticed, of course he did, and kept eating like a cat watching humans create drama.

“So,” Abby continued, leaning toward Mira, voice deeper than usual as if he were dubbing an action hero, “do you like basketball too?”

“I play sometimes,” she answered, resting her chin on her hand with elegance. “But I prefer sports that require more… balance. Control. Fine coordination.”

“Like weightlifting?” Abby guessed, giving her a playful smile.

Mira blinked slowly, an edge to her own smile. “Like ballet.”

Abby’s grin froze, unsure whether he was supposed to laugh or compliment her. Mira brought a bit of kimchi to her mouth and then, without warning, glanced at Zoey,a quick look, assessing, a little amused, a little curious.

Zoey pretended she was deeply invested in her beans.

Mistery, slumped beside her, picked up his phone and texted her without even looking up.

"Are you staying quiet until I die of old age or are you going to explain what’s happening?"

Zoey replied immediately.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just eating."

" You’re chewing air."

Zoey huffed silently and shoved a mouthful of food in her mouth out of pure stubbornness.

Meanwhile, Abby continued his one-man show:

“But like… is it actually hard? Ballet stuff? Because I’ve got great balance. Like, really great. Seriously.”

Mira tilted her head slightly, observing him as if watching an animal behavior documentary. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

Abby didn’t even realize it was a tease. Her gaze drifted back to Zoey once again. A soft look Zoey didn’t understand,and chose not to decipher because her brain was already overwhelmed by the fact her rice was sticking to her fingers.

Mistery nudged her knee under the table.

“Zoey. You are literally glowing with discomfort,” he muttered.

“I’m normal,” she lied, stuffing more food into her mouth with aggressive determination.

And Mira, watching from the corner of her eye, let a tiny smile escape. The kind of smile that would’ve made Zoey even more flustered if she had noticed.

“So, do you two like basketball?” the taller girl asked, making Mistery look up at her with the expression of someone personally betrayed.

Only a few centimeters taller than Zoey and just as skinny, Mistery and basketball were not a compatible duo. He muttered, “Hm… no. I prefer calmer sports. Like chess.”

Abby frowned. “Chess is a sport?”

“It is.”

“…Cool,” Abby replied, suspicious, clearly unsure if chess actually counted as a sport.

But Mira was still looking at Zoey, waiting for an answer, which made her shrink slightly. “I don’t like basketball. I prefer volleyball.”

“Suck-up. Your dad is, like, a volleyball legend. Doesn’t count,” Abby said, pointing his chopsticks at Mistery. “It’s like asking Mistery what his favorite book is and he says The Anatomy of Silence.”

The boy blinked, surprised, lifting his head toward Abby. “You know my mother’s books?”

“Are you kidding? She was a bestseller everywhere!”

Mira agreed,Mistery’s mother was one of her favorite drama and suspense writers. But she was more interested in something else at the moment, so she let the boys talk, attention returning to Zoey.

“I like volleyball too. More than basketball.”

Zoey chuckled softly, smiling at her in a shy way. “Well, you’re perfect for both, Mira. So tall. Let me guess… you play block and pivot.”

Mira smiled, shrugging. “Good genetics. Hm… wrong. Libero.”

She said it while raising her hand slowly at her side, like answering roll call. Zoey blinked, deeply confused.

“Libero.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Of course I am.”

That made Zoey finally laugh, looser now. “Good. That would’ve been a lot of potential wasted.”

Mira raised a brow. “How so? Liberos are amazing, okay?”

Zoey smiled like a cat finally holding the bird in its paws. “Oh, I know that… It’s just that you’d be a terrible libero.”

Mira had never looked so… surprised. Almost offended, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed thin, as if the mere idea of being bad at something physically pained her. She huffed, crossing her arms. “Please. And why would I be terrible?”

Clicking her tongue, Zoey answered quickly, “Too tall. Perfect for the other roles… not ideal for libero.”

The next thing Zoey registered was an empty milk carton hitting her face. Laughter bubbled out of her chest like soda as she caught the carton with a grin. “Bad with criticism?”

“Only with the… wrong kind.”

Zoey snickered quietly but let it go. It didn’t take long for Abby to pull Mira back into another conversation anyway. Zoey watched, idly poking at her food, lost in thought. And, of course, Mistery noticed,he always did. It didn’t take long for him to switch to the one topic Zoey never stayed silent about: music.

Bobby had sent a few song recommendations, and with a new topic in place, the rest of lunch passed quickly, filled with overlapping chatter, laughter, and the scrape of chopsticks against trays.

(...)

Zoey was nervous for the first official choir club meeting.

But Bobby was apparently worse , with an anxious smile, fingers tapping too fast against the crumpled sheets in his hands, and his eyes darting around the three students like he was evaluating the odds of being attacked.

They had agreed during the week that before trying any group arrangement, Bobby would assess each of them individually to see what level they were at and what he’d be working with.

Now, on one of the stages usually used by the theater club, he sat in the front row with his eyes fixed on the stage.

Beside him, Zoey, Mistery, and Mira waited patiently for Abby. The boy had asked to go first, claiming he had a “fully rehearsed show.”

“...He is coming, right Zoey?” Mistery asked, adjusting the fringe that covered almost his entire face.

And as if summoned by the mere mention, the auditorium door flew open with a loud bang, making everyone snap their heads back.

“What the hell…” Zoey whispered, disbelief dripping from her voice as she stared, horrified and impressed, at the scene in front of her.

A spotlight blasted toward the entrance, painting Abby , and several basketball boys , in shimmering gold. They were in a familiar pose…

Zoey recognized them instantly.

Roman , or as he insisted on being called, Romance , was almost as tall as Abby, slim, with soft pink hair that made him stand out. Benjamin was the shortest and thinnest, with pale aqua-green hair and youthful features. Then there were four other tall boys Zoey vaguely recognized as upperclassmen.

The instrumental of Dynamite by BTS began to blast through the speakers, and Zoey finally recognized the pose.

“No way.” Mistery muttered beside her, just as stunned.

Mira and Bobby blinked, too shocked to speak.

Then Abby strutted in with dramatic, oversized steps, perfectly synced with the other boys as the spotlight followed them and made them glow.

“’Cause ah, ah, I’m in the stars tonight,

So watch me bring the fire and set the night alight,”

Abby's voice was incredibly good.

It slid out of him smooth and strong, like he’d been training since birth.

“Shoes on, get up in the morn’,

Cup of milk, let’s rock and roll,”

Moving with a choreography that was way too polished for someone who definitely practiced in a locker room, he flashed a smile so bright it practically caught on the lighting.

“King Kong, kick the drum,

Rolling on like a Rolling Stone,”

Abby spun on his heel, sneakers skidding against the auditorium floor like he was in a music video. The other boys followed flawlessly, opening space behind him like a tiny synchronized army. They marched toward the stage with exaggerated confidence, dramatic poses, and the kind of energy you only get from being hyped up by your own reflection.

“Sing-song when I’m walking home,

Jump up to the top, LeBron!”

Abby pointed upward, winking at the nonexistent audience as if he had just been handed his own solo camera.

And honestly? He was killing it.

His voice was steady and clean, with a light vibrato that absolutely wasn’t accidental. He was… annoyingly good.

Bobby’s eyes went wide as he nearly stood up. Mira looked away for a second , the international sign for I’m impressed and mad about it.

Mistery sighed, utterly charmed.

Zoey had a hand over her mouth , half dead, half alive, half “I’m going to kill him,” half “holy crap he was born for this.”

A complete emotional cocktail.

The basketball boys split into two lines, opening a path for Abby while clapping perfectly on tempo. They hopped, tilted their bodies, looking like they were part of a professional flashmob, and then Romance dropped a small harmonic falsetto in the back that made Bobby tap his foot in approval.

“This is getting heavy, can you hear the bass boom? I’m ready!”

Abby glided through the aisle like gravity wasn’t a concern, his shirt threatening to burst at the seams with each exaggerated move.

He jumped onto the stage with a leap that should’ve been illegal for someone his size.

And as soon as he landed, he spread his arms wide like he was embracing the Grammy audience.

The boys behind him fell into formation, each move complementing his choreography.

It was ridiculous. And beautiful.

And so ridiculous.

Zoey whispered to Mistery:

“He’s joining the choir. We need him.”

“...Damn it, Zoey. We really do.” Mistery whispered back, even sweeping the long hair from his face to watch properly, blue eyes wide.

But Zoey barely heard him.

Because Abby was finishing the verse with so much joy and force he could knock out a music critic.

“Life is sweet as honey, yeah, this beat cha-ching like money!”

He slapped a hand over his chest, then pointed directly at Mira , who blinked slowly like an elegant cat deciding whether that was flirting or a challenge.

And Zoey felt something tighten in her stomach.

Nothing she’d ever admit aloud.

But it was there.

When the chorus hit, all the boys broke into wide grins, slid into formation, and the stage officially became a musical.

“I’m diamond, you know I glow up,”

Abby crossed the stage, dancing with that mix of confidence and natural charm that felt like it had been engineered specifically for this moment.

“Let’s go!” the boys answered in perfect unison, voices full, harmonizing behind him like they’d rehearsed for weeks.

They hadn’t rehearsed.

But it looked like they had.

The chorus exploded, lights flashing to the beat.

“’Cause I,I,I’m in the stars tonight…”

And Zoey gave in completely.

“Okay,” she whispered, emotional and exasperated at the same time. “I NEED him in the choir.”

Mistery snorted quietly.

“Even if that means playing matchmaker between him and Mira?”

Zoey swallowed hard.

“If it gets us to regionals… I’ll… I’ll do whatever it takes.”

And as Abby glowed on stage with a smile bright enough to illuminate a stadium, Zoey became painfully aware that she was screwed.

So screwed.

But maybe…

just maybe…

it would be worth it.

When it ended, the lights cut dramatically for a few seconds before flicking back to normal. Abby was breathing hard, grinning like an excited puppy.

“So? What’d you think?”

Bobby clapped.

“Incredible! Seriously incredible, Abby!”

“Look… I have to admit, I didn’t know you could sing like that.” Mira murmured, genuinely impressed.

Zoey watched it all with the expression of someone pretending not to be in love with musical chaos but absolutely is.

Bobby crossed his arms, adjusted his glasses, and spoke with all the gravitas of a small-town professional maestro.

“Well… technically speaking, it was solid. On pitch, good projection, stable rhythm. You have stage presence, Abby. Natural, even. Not perfect , but nobody is on their first performance. And that energy of yours works really well.”

Abby’s smile got so wide it was a miracle his ego didn’t spill onto the floor.

“So… that’s a yes? I’m in, right?”

Zoey held back from saying he would’ve gotten in no matter what. They weren’t exactly in a position to be picky.

“You’d be an excellent addition to the choir,” Bobby concluded, with the tone of someone delivering a verdict on The Voice.

The basketball boys were already filing out, laughing, shoving each other, celebrating like they’d just won a championship, telling Abby to text them later. As they disappeared into the hallways, Zoey noticed the extra group of guys up on the lighting rig. They vanished too, leaving behind a trail of sweat, cheap cologne, and teenage energy fueled by excessive carbs.

Zoey looked at Mira.

Mira looked at Abby.

Abby looked at both of them.

Zoey made up her mind.

She was putting Abby in that choir.

Even if she had to become Cupid herself , bow, arrow, glitter included.

Then Mira turned toward her, and something in the intensity of her gaze made Zoey’s breath catch.

“I didn’t prepare anything that big, but… I guess it’s my turn.”

Mira didn’t look the slightest bit shy as she rose from her chair with the grace of a predator. Abby practically dove off the stage to get a seat.

“Show us what you’ve got, Mira,” Bobby said gently, once she stood at the center of the stage, having adjusted the speakers.

“Of course.”

Her voice as sharp as the smile curling on her lips.

A dark beat slithered through the air, like shadows crawling out of the corners. Zoey recognized the instrumental of “Monster” by Red Velvet.

“nae umjigimeun teugihae, pyeongbeomchi ana.”

Zoey was not prepared to hear Mira Kang sing.

Her voice was like red wine , velvety, cold, but unbelievably sweet. There was something dark in it, a smoky rasp that fit the haunting melody perfectly.

“1, 2, 5 to 7, 1, 2, 5 to 7, dancer

nan eodum sogui dancer, onmom ttukttuk kkeokkeo.”

It was like watching a lethal siren.

Zoey felt the air change.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Like the room had gotten smaller, warmer, more alive , all because Mira Kang stood at the center of the stage, with the kind of presence that made even the lights seem shy.

“I’m a little monster…”

She slipped into the English line, voice slicing like sharp silk. Not a trace of an accent , the fluency came out naturally.

Mira moved with the kind of animal precision usually reserved for professional dancers. Every step was calculated, every turn intentional.

Nothing cute.

Nothing soft.

It was elegant aggression, pure aesthetic violence, raw talent sharpened to a blade. She wasn’t just singing and dancing. She was claiming the stage like it had been built for her.

Zoey blinked, but every time she did, she felt like she was snapping out of a trance , and immediately wanted to fall back in.

Her bottom lip caught between her teeth without her noticing.

Because honestly?

She knew Mira was good.

She had a naturally attractive voice , of course she wouldn’t be bad.

But this?

Not this.

Zoey had not expected this.

Mira arched her neck, letting her hair fall to one side in a provocative curve, her gaze sweeping slowly across the tiny audience of four. When her eyes locked onto Zoey’s, the impact was immediate.

Zoey froze.

Like she’d been struck by an invisible spotlight.

“I’m a little monster…” Mira repeated, low, raspy, dangerous , her eyes lingering on Zoey a beat too long.

Abby squeezed Bobby’s arm, whispering like a K-pop fan discovering their new bias.

“Dude… she’s… she’s actually a monster. A good monster. A really good monster.”

Bobby could only mutter,

“That’s… that’s real stage talent.”

Mistery hummed in agreement, equally transfixed.

Zoey said nothing , because she couldn’t.She was locked in.Hypnotized.

Like one of those teen drama moments when the crush enters in slow motion, hair blowing, perfect lighting, emotional soundtrack.

Except this was live.

And way stronger.

Mira finished with one sharp final step, her arm cutting through the air like a blade.

The instrumental trembled.

Her breathing was steady, controlled.

Her smile was sharp enough to make anyone vulnerable.

Zoey let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. “Regionals are ours.”

Mira laughed softly, but the light in her eyes made it obvious she was genuinely happy with the compliment.

Bobby was the first one to recover the ability to form words. He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, like someone trying to process a natural phenomenon that had just unfolded in front of him.

When Zoey came to him begging for him to take over the club, Bobby hadn’t placed any expectations above that. A club with barely any members couldn’t possibly be promising, right?

But Bobby couldn’t say no. Not when Zoey had those bright eyes, begging for this like it was something vital, and Mistery was there, waiting, the expectation just as heavy as his silence.

Bobby knew the boy had trouble joining other clubs, that even with all the school’s “inclusion and acceptance” campaigns, it never went past that: Campaigns.

Teachers still treated him differently, purposefully messing up his name, and there were the harsh looks. Students were cruel or ignored him in the hallways. The choir club was the only place where he felt truly comfortable, not being a target for being the only openly trans boy in school.

And Zoey, the mixed-race girl dealing with her own baggage and fears, spoke so openly about her love for music.

That,combined with Bobby’s own passion for music,made it impossible to say no. But he really hadn’t expected there to be so much potential to work with.

“Mira…” he began, still half-dazed by the impact. “That wasn’t just good. That was professional. Like… I don’t even know where to begin working with something like that.”

Zoey broke into a smile that almost hurt, still looking at Mira as if she had just reinvented the concept of performance.

“I told you. Regionals are done. We won the moment she opened her mouth,” Zoey insisted, pointing at Mira with both hands like she was presenting a museum masterpiece.

Which, considering the girl had a look that could definitely inspire some works of art, wasn’t too far from the truth in Zoey’s eyes.

Mira looked away for a second, shy in just the right amount to somehow seem even more dangerous. She ran a hand through her hair, caught her breath, and raised an eyebrow at Bobby.

“So… was that enough to get into the choir?” she asked, with a light touch of irony, but underneath it was the unmistakable truth,she really wanted to know.

Bobby let out an enchanted, almost nervous laugh. “Enough? Mira, please. We’d be forced to kidnap you if you tried to leave.”

Abby, sitting on the benches, raised his hand like he was in class. “I just want to say I feel less special now, but in a good way. Like… I’m talented, but she’s like… final boss level.”

Zoey burst into laughter, finally breaking the warm, delicious tension hanging in the air. “Exactly. Mira is the final boss. And fortunately… she’s on our team.”

Mira looked back at them, her smile small but genuine. One of those rare smiles that slip out without permission. “So… I think we’re still missing two performances, right?”

Abby smiled too, glancing excitedly between Zoey and Mistery. “Oh yeah, let’s see what our leader and vice-leader prepared.”

Mistery groaned, pulling his shoulders up. “No, I don’t accept that position.”

Zoey groaned as well, letting her body fall backward against the chair, slowly melting.

She didn’t want to be the leader. She hated the paperwork, the bureaucracy, the permissions. Talking to adults, taking the lead… it was all so boring. They needed a leader.

“Go on, Mistery, give us a show,” she muttered, waving for the boy to go first.

Mistery looked like he wanted to complain, but eventually gave up and stood, walking toward the stage. Earlier, he had pushed a piano toward the back of the stage. Far enough not to interfere with performances, close enough to still be visible.

Taking a deep breath, he began to play, soft notes falling like raindrops. “I sit here to look in the sky in the evening and stuff.”

His voice was soft and low, coated in something insecure, but it was good. Good enough to make everyone fall silent, paying attention to the way his shoulders curved when he reached certain notes on the piano, and how his hair covered all of his face but somehow didn’t hide him as he kept singing Alien Waves by Cavetown, in perfect English.

The soft auditorium lights seemed to fall into rhythm with the piano, as if the whole environment was shrinking inward to listen to Mistery. The boy had that vibe of someone who hides behind their bangs but, once they speak, spills their heart with disarming honesty.

“I don't think you truly understand how much this means to me.”

His voice wasn’t big or powerful, but it had texture. A slightly rough, slightly sweet tone, the kind that felt like it belonged to someone who spent too much time talking to their own thoughts. The melody of Alien Waves slid through the room like cold water,calm, but deep.

Zoey rested her chin on her hand, watching Mistery like she was witnessing a secret being revealed in slow motion.

If Mira was an elegant, cutting storm, and Abby was a loud, confident firework show, Mistery was… a quiet bedroom lit by the glow of a computer screen. Sincere, intimate, disarming. The kind of voice that makes you realize you were holding your breath only when the music ends.

Bobby tilted his head, visibly impressed. Mira watched with genuine interest, her eyes sharp as if trying to map out the boy who always hid behind his hunched posture. Abby, in a move that surprised absolutely no one, swayed his hands with the rhythm, emotional in the big, exaggerated way only he could manage.

Mistery finished with a long final note on the piano, his fingers trembling just slightly as they left the keys. He drew in a deep breath and cleared his throat, shrinking into himself, trying to become smaller than he already was.

“That was… um…” he murmured, fidgeting with the long sleeve of his uniform. “I… uh… sorry if it was kinda depressing.”

Zoey gave him a gentle smile. “Mistery, it was beautiful. Like… really beautiful. You sang like you opened a window in your chest and let us look inside.”

He turned red all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, shut up…”

Bobby nodded, professional, but wearing the unmistakable expression of a teacher who had stumbled upon hidden treasure. “Your technique is stable, your English diction is impeccable, and you have a very sensitive melodic sense. If we work on your stage presence and project that voice a bit more… you could be one of the key pieces in the choir’s more introspective songs.”

Mistery blinked, clearly not expecting that much praise. “Key piece is an exaggeration…”

“Trust me,” Zoey said, pointing at him with conviction. “You have that vibe of ‘song that makes people cry on the bus.’ That’s a talent.”

Abby nodded so hard he nearly fell off his seat.

“Yes! And also, dude, your voice is like… comforting? I don’t know how to explain it. But it works.”

Mira just smiled, crossing her arms. “You’re better than you think.”

Mistery lowered his head, biting the corner of his lip to hide the shy smile forming there.

Zoey took a deep breath, stretching her legs and bracing herself mentally.

Now… it was her turn.

And suddenly, the stage felt much bigger than before.

Zoey stepped onto the stage as if she were just going to borrow an eraser from the classroom next door. Pretending her heart wasn’t beating so fast it seemed to sync with the music before it even began.

She let out a breath, cracked her knuckles, and looked at Bobby. “Okay… I promise I won’t blow your eardrums.”

She joked, her smile trembling with nerves, as she pressed play.

The beat dropped. Heavy. Deep.

The kind of bass that crawls up your spine and drags your body with it, sending shivers through every cell. It made everything tremble.

Zoey lowered her chin, adjusted the microphone, and in a single second… something in her changed.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Her posture sharpened.

Her eyes gained that electric spark that only appeared when she was fully in her element.

The instrumental of “Dalla Dalla” hit hard,but not the classic version. It was the remix Zoey had edited on her phone until three in the morning, with a trap beat, sharp switches, and digital echoes strong enough to make any rapper proud.

“I love myself, nan ttara ttara yeah…”

She started without hurry, her voice well-placed, steady, warm.

But when the rap dropped, Zoey became somebody else.

She leaned forward, sliding a step like someone who’d been owning the stage since the womb, and spat the lines fast, clear,so clear it didn’t match someone who’d looked anxious two seconds ago.

“Nan dalla dalla, yeah

Nan dalla dalla, yeah

They keep talkin’ I keep walkin’…”

The audience went dead silent.

Mira’s eyes widened slightly.

Abby opened his mouth like a fish pulled out of the water.

Mistery’s arm slid right off the back of his chair.

Zoey sped up her flow, her voice solid and dynamic, each syllable falling perfectly in time as if she were recording in a studio instead of a half-moldy school auditorium.

Her posture was relaxed, confident, a little cocky,every gesture calculated with terrifying precision. She marked the beat by stomping her foot on the stage, twisting her wrist, shifting her hips, all with razor-sharp energy.

And when the rap break came, Zoey simply ran it over:

“People look at me, and they tell me…

Igwa dallago, neon teukbyeolhada go!

Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

She pointed the microphone up, sliding her body down until she was nearly touching the floor, in a stance straight out of a Los Angeles rapper. The stage suddenly looked too small for her.

Her voice grew,electric and sharp.

Her flow cracked through the air.

And the smile curling at the corner of her mouth was pure defiance.

When the beat held for that final moment, Zoey lifted her chin, faced the audience, and released the last line in almost a whisper:

“I’m different from the kids.

I’m different. I’m me.”

The final note hit like a bomb.

Silence.

Then Abby clapped his hands like he had just watched the Super Bowl. “You were HIDING that from us? Zoo, what WAS that?!”

Mira… Mira looked like she had taken an emotional punch. Her gaze unfocused, pupils blown wide, a slow smile spreading,almost too slow. As if drunk on the performance, feeling the music pulse in her veins, her heart pumping blood too fast.

“That wasn’t a performance,” she murmured. “That was an attack.”

Mistery smiled. “That’s our little Zoey.”

Zoey blushed, a shy smile slipping out, unable to hide how much she wanted their approval. Bobby stood up, looking torn between laughing and applauding.

“Zoey…” he said, voice almost shaking with excitement. “If you don’t win this competition, I’m changing professions. And I really like my profession.”

The girl froze… then slowly smiled, bit her lip, and shrugged like she hadn’t just set the whole school on fire. “I told you I wouldn’t blow your eardrums.”

“Impressive,” Bobby muttered, but he no longer seemed to be speaking to them and instead to himself, his brain already spinning gears. Then he stood abruptly, clapping his hands once,sharp, like a conductor marking tempo. “Alright. I already have enough material to start structuring the first weeks. Voices, tessituras, performance potential… there’s a foundation here. A shape.”

He pointed at Abby. “You have power and presence. You need technique and breath control, but that’s fixable.”

Then he turned to Mira. “Your rhythmic sense is impeccable. You sing with your whole body, which is rare at your age. I’m going to explore that for more choreographed numbers.”

A gesture toward Mistery. “You have expression and musicality. I want to put you in pieces that require raw emotion. Your timbre works perfectly for intimate parts.”

And then to Zoey, with a small, proud smile: “And you… you have versatility. Fire. A nightmare for any director, but a gift too. We’ll talk more later about what we can do with your voice.”

He closed his notebook with a satisfied snap. “Anyway. I’m going to analyze each performance carefully, review what works as a group, who harmonizes with who, who can hold which part, where we can grow… and at the next meeting I’ll bring the first distribution draft. Nothing final yet, but a sketch.”

He took a deep breath, like someone who just drank very strong coffee. “And now… you’re dismissed. Rehearsals are officially on Mondays and Fridays.”

Abby stood quickly, smiling like a rockstar. “Great. Then I’ll see you guys. I’ve got time to catch up with the boys.”

He waved goodbye, almost shy when waving at Mira, before running off. Mistery waved more subtly, quiet, leaving shortly after.

“You sing very well, Zoey,” Mira said, voice warm and soft as she passed her.

Blinking, Zoey stammered a reply, intoxicated by the floral, spicy perfume radiating from the girl. “T-thank you, you too. Like, you sing really, really well. And dance,wow, what even was that?”

“Says the girl who set the school on fire.” Mira’s answer was calm, amused. “I have to go. We’ll see each other Saturday, right?”

Zoey nodded too fast, too eagerly. “Yes. Saturday,I’ll send you the address for the rink.”

Mira smiled at that before walking away, leaving Zoey behind with a goofy grin on her lips,something that made Bobby look at her with amusement.

Zoey was definitely not surviving Saturday.

(....)

Zoey’s board was a little worn along the edge, the wood splintered in a few places like battlefield scars, and the paint already fading where her foot always landed during ollies. The wheels squeaked when she spun them with her hand, giving that classic “I’ve seen worse” sound typical of skateboards that had survived cracked sidewalks and improvised ramps in questionable neighborhoods.

Even so, to Zoey, it was perfect. Steady. Reliable. A veteran soldier, as she liked to think. And more importantly: it still hadn’t tried to kill her, which was a huge bonus.

She tested a few half-flips and ollies on her bedroom floor, just to be sure, until her mom knocked on the door like she was the police.

“Zoey!”

The tone was pure maternal horror. “You’re going to destroy the floor! This is wood, not a championship skate park!”

Zoey immediately stepped off the board like she’d been caught committing a federal crime. She set the skateboard against the wall, proudly displaying the Adventure Time characters she had painted on it herself. Jake was a little crooked, Finn’s chin was way too big, and there were random stickers of cats wearing sunglasses slapped on top, but she thought it all looked absolutely beautiful.

She went back to getting ready, tying her hair into the two space buns she loved so much. She put on a loose green Scooby-Doo shirt, letting it fall baggy over her body, the cracked print making it look like Scooby had been silently begging for help for years. She tucked the hem slightly into her high-waisted black jeans, a faded pair that hugged her legs comfortably and gave her freedom for any risky jump.

She slipped on a pair of low-top sneakers, scuffed at the toes, with mismatched laces,one pink and one blue. Her socks peeked out just a bit, patterned with cats making judgmental faces. With a quick glance at her dresser, she grabbed the colorful band-aids she always kept around. She still remembered the last time she went out skating with Mistery,and the reason her mom had forbidden him from skating with her again.

They had a small… incident.Which was technically her fault.Or Mistery’s fault.Or the fault of the badly positioned ramp near the plaza.Or physics. Physics was always to blame.

They had been testing a new, harder ramp, when Mistery, trying to show her “something he saw on TikTok,” lost his balance at the top. Zoey tried to catch him, but tripped on her own lace and accidentally pushed him forward, sending Mistery down like a tiny comet.

Unfortunately, Mistery couldn’t stop, and at full speed, he shot out of the skate area, across the street, straight into a Korean corndog stand.

The impact was something worthy of local legend,or a viral video, if anyone had recorded it. The tent cover puffed up like a balloon about to burst and, a second later, an explosion of fried batter, hot steam, and flying sticks announced the collision.

Mistery went through the entire structure like he was made of cartoon logic and sheer stubbornness. The pans rattled, oil splashed, and the bright sign that read “핫도그 최고!” (“The best corndog!”) fell, hanging by a wire, flickering like it was contemplating its own existence.

When he finally emerged on the other side, he was unrecognizable.

His white hoodie had become an abstract expressionist masterpiece,streaks of ketchup, patches of mustard, a generous puddle of sugar crusted to his shoulder, and a piece of fried potato stuck to his eyebrow, dangling pitifully. The worst part? He was still holding the skateboard like a wounded soldier refusing to drop his weapon. He was limping, with several scrapes across his body.

The only sound heard before chaos fully erupted was the stall owner taking a deep, primal breath,the kind someone takes before awakening an ancient spirit of fury.

He began screaming like he had just lost all faith in humanity.

Zoey was so shocked she only managed to blink. Twice. The pans were still shaking. A freshly fried corndog fell beside Mistery, who tried to step away but slipped on what looked like sweet-and-sour sauce. He fell on his butt, spreading even more crushed corndog across the pavement as if trying to decorate the street with a Korean Food-Themed Disaster motif, a pained grimace twisting his face.

In despair, Zoey burst into laughter when she finally reached him. The stall owner, on the other hand, did not laugh.

Eyes wide, hand on his forehead, he began listing everything that had been destroyed: the griddle, the metal frame, the tent, the drink cooler, the entire day’s batter…

Zoey only understood the numbers. And they were not pretty.

Mistery’s mom arrived fifteen minutes later, called in a panic, crossing the plaza with the look of someone thinking, “I work way too hard for this.” She looked at Mistery, then at the ruined stall, then at the furious vendor, then at Zoey,who immediately shrank.

With a deep, heavy, hopeless sigh, Lee Eun paid for all the damages,with a generous extra amount,and banned Mistery from touching a skateboard for the rest of his life. Especially after he quietly admitted he’d been poked in the ribs by a corndog stick and they had to go to the hospital. Even so, she still took them out for dinner.

At a corndog stand.

Zoey truly adored Mistery’s mom.

Blinking, Zoey returned her attention to the band-aids she was grabbing. Mistery wouldn’t be skating, but still,it was better to be prepared. Abby would probably try something stupid to impress Mira.

Soft knocks on her door drew her attention.

“Yes?”

Her mom stepped inside a moment later. “Zoey, honey, you have a visitor.”

“A visitor? For me?” Zoey frowned, turning to look at the digital clock on her nightstand. It was only two forty in the afternoon, and she and Abby weren’t meeting Mira and Mistery at the rink until three thirty.

“Yes, your friend from the choir. Don’t keep her waiting,” her mom said, then left, closing the door gently.

Why was Mira here? They agreed to meet at the rink…

Her heart stuttered in her chest, trembling, and she looked at the mirror again, checking her appearance. Did she look pretty?

Then she slapped herself mentally. It doesn’t matter if you look pretty, it’s just Mira! Abby should be the one worrying about that. Still, despite herself, she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt before running out of her room, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Mira, I thought we were going to meet,”

Zoey stumbled on the last step when her eyes landed on the visitor standing by the couch like a statue.

“Rumi!?”

Rumi lifted her gaze, golden like warm honey. Her face was expressionless, and Zoey suddenly felt like she was standing in front of a predator.

“Zoey. We need to talk.”

Her voice was steady, cold. Not rude,just devoid of warmth. Zoey glanced at her mom, ready to beg for help, but she had already vanished.

It was just Zoey and Rumi in the room.

Me and the devil…

“R-rumi…” Zoey stuttered, pathetic, biting her tongue. “Talk. Right. Of course. I’m listening.”

Rumi looked toward the kitchen, where footsteps could be heard. Zoey bit her tongue again, understanding the hint. “We can talk in my room.”

With a small nod, Rumi moved quickly, following Zoey down the hall. Zoey swallowed hard, trying to control her nerves with a deep breath, her trembling fingers curling into fists.

She was going to survive this.

Right?