"We will address Ms. Yoo's outburst later." She looked back at the remaining students, her expression unreadable. "Moving on."
She cleared her throat. "Before we proceed with today's lesson on stage presence, there is one more item regarding the Autumn Festival. The 'Kirin's Got Talent' showcase. As announced in homeroom, each class must nominate one individual participant."
Kang Min-ah raised her hand again, her expression beaming with false innocence.
"Professor?" The professor sighed, a barely audible sound.
"Yes, Min-ah-ssi?"
"Well," Min-ah said brightly, "San-ssi will represent Class 2-B and Yoo Chae-rin Class 2-A."
She was indeed a gossip queen.
Wait, Yoo Chae-rin?Why she again?!
A wave of murmurs went through the room.
Professor clapped her hands.
"Mrs. Kang, I know. The thing I wanted to say is, if any of the representatives have any questions they may ask me, Mr. Harz or Mr. Oh , we are responsible of The 'Kirin's Got Talent."
She turned and clicked the remote control and projector lit up.
"Now. Stage presence..."
Jun-seo and Myung-dae joined shortly after.
The rest of the school day passed in a surreal haze.
I somehow survived the remainder of the Applied Performance lesson, acutely aware of the whispers and stares directed my way. I drifted through Music Theory, the complex terms swirling around my head like smoke. Then was Modern Music History. My brain felt like it had run a marathon while simultaneously being hit with a kimchi bomb.
Finally, the bell rang for the last period of the day: Free Study / Practice Time. Students scattered – some heading eagerly to club rooms, some dutifully to the library, others, presumably, to detention.
I needed air. I needed space. I needed to escape the pressure cooker of expectations and teenage drama. I remembered the heavy steel door in the Visual Arts wing.
Jun-seo had said it was usually open, even though it was locked when we checked. Maybe someone had unlocked it since then? It was worth a try. Anywhere was better than being down here.
I slipped out of the emptying classroom and headed back towards the Visual Arts wing, my footsteps echoing in the suddenly quiet hallway.
I reached the short corridor with the heavy, unmarked steel door.
I grabbed the handle.
I turned.
Click.
It opened.
A wave of pure relief washed over me.
A narrow, concrete stairwell led upwards into dimness. Freedom. I pushed the door open wider, slipped through, let it click softly shut behind me, and started climbing towards the roof.