The sun rose over the Lee household with the brightness of a thousand spotlights, which was unfortunate, because half the household felt like they were dying.
I sat at the breakfast table, nursing a glass of water, my hands chapped from scrubbing the mountain of dishes until 1 AM.
Across from me, Mrs. Lee was wearing dark sunglasses inside the house. She was holding her head as if it might fall off.
"San-gun," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please... chew your toast quieter. It sounds like construction work."
"Sorry, Eomeonim," I whispered back, dipping the toast in milk to silence the crunch.
Ji-hoon, the sharp, terrifying prosecutor, walked into the kitchen. He looked like a zombie. His hair was a bird's nest, he was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt, and—I looked down—he was wearing fluffy house slippers.
He groaned and collapsed into a chair. "I am never drinking horilka again. What is that stuff made of? Rocket fuel?"
Mr. Lee, the only survivor (thanks to arriving late), was cheerfully buttering a bagel, humming a tune.
"It is made of Ukrainian soul, Ji-hoon-ah," Mr. Lee chirped. "And clearly, your soul is weak. Look at you. A prosecutor of the Republic of Korea, defeated by a beverage."
"Don't mock me, Abeoji," Ji-hoon mumbled, resting his forehead on the cool marble table.
Ha-neul marched in, fully dressed in her pristine Kirin uniform, looking annoyingly fresh. She poked her brother in the shoulder.
"Oppa," she said loudly. Ji-hoon winced. "Get up. You promised to drive us."
Ji-hoon groaned into the table. "I promised to die in peace."
"You did! Last night! While you were toasting with Myung-Dae's dad about baseball! You said, 'Ha-neul-ah, my sweet sister, I will take you to school in style!'"
"I was compromised. That statement is inadmissible in court."
Ha-neul narrowed her eyes. She leaned down to his ear.
"If you don't take us," she whispered, loudly enough for me to hear, "I'll tell Mom you're the one who accidentally broke her favorite orchid last month and blamed the cat."
Mrs. Lee, behind her sunglasses, perked up. "What about the orchid?"
Ji-hoon shot up. "I'm driving! I'm driving! Let's go!"
He grabbed his car keys, still wearing the fluffy slippers.
We headed to the foyer. Ha-neul was putting on her shoes when she looked at me with a sly grin.
"You look tired, San-ssi," she said, her voice dripping with innocence. "Almost like someone who was out... very late. Later than he said."
Mrs. Lee was in the kitchen, but the door was open. My heart stopped.
"I..."
"Where did you go again? Just a walk? Or was it—"
I didn't think. I panicked. I slapped my hand over her mouth, physically clamping it shut.
"Mmph!"
"Ha-neul is just tired too!" I yelled toward the kitchen. "She's talking nonsense! We're leaving! Bye!"
I dragged her out the front door and released her. She immediately recoiled, looking at me with pure horror. She ran to the garden tap, turned it on, and furiously washed her mouth and chin.
"You..." she sputtered, wiping her face with her sleeve.
"My hands are cleaner than your soul right now! Don't snitch!"
"Do that again," she hissed, straightening her blazer, "and you won't live to see the festival."
"Are we going or what?" Ji-hoon called from the car.
We piled into the Mercedes. Ji-hoon drove with the windows down, the cool air helping his headache. He was still in his pajamas and slippers, driving a luxury car. It was a look.
We neared the school. There was a popular coffee truck parked a block away, surrounded by students.
"Coffee," Ji-hoon croaked. "I need it. Or I will crash."
He pulled over illegally. "You guys want anything?"
"Iced Americano," Ha-neul said instantly. "Extra shot."
"San?"
"I don't really drink coffee," I said. "Maybe just water?"
Ji-hoon turned around, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. He let out a dry chuckle.
"He doesn't drink coffee. Look at him. You're going to be a rich man, San-ssi. Only people who don't need caffeine to survive the capitalist machine get rich. Saving five thousand won a day... smart."
He opened the door and shuffled out in his slippers to the truck. We watched through the window.
He got his coffee and Ha-neul's. He turned around, looking at his phone, probably checking for work emails.
He didn't see the woman walking briskly towards him, holding a stack of files.
It was Ms. Choi.
BAM.
Ji-hoon walked right into her. The hot coffee in his hand went flying. It splashed all over Ms. Choi's beige blouse.
"Oh no," I whispered.
Ms. Choi gasped, jumping back. Ji-hoon dropped his phone, looking horrified. "I am so sorry! I didn't see—"
Ha-neul ducked below the window line instantly. "Get down!"
"What? Why?"
"Why?" she exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing, "That's our homeroom teacher! And that hobo in slippers is my brother! If she sees us, I'll never hear the end of it! Go! Go!"
She opened the door on the street side and rolled out of the car like a secret agent.
I bailed out after her.
We sprinted away from the scene of the crime, leaving poor Ji-hoon to explain why a prosecutor in pajamas had just assaulted a teacher with an Americano.
We walked into the main building, trying to look casual and out of breath. The hallway was buzzing even more than usual. Every student had their phone out. Groups were huddled together, whispering excitedly.
"Did something happen?" I asked, looking around. "Is it another fight?"
"Worse," Ha-neul said, checking her own phone. She groaned. "It's the video."
"What video?"
She shoved her screen in my face. It was a YouTube video, shaky footage from a dark club. The title read: MYSTERY RAPPER AT YOUTHFUL MEMOIRS GIG?? WHO IS HE?!
My stomach dropped to my shoes.
"Youthful Memoirs performed at a club in Hongdae last night," Ha-neul explained, scrolling through the comments. "And apparently, during the 'Sing with a Star' segment, some random guy in a mask got up and... well, crushed it."
"Crushed it?" I squeaked.
"Yeah. Look at the comments. 'Who is the mask guy?', 'Is he a trainee?', 'His voice is deep!'. Everyone is trying to figure out who he is. They think he might be a Kirin student... but those are just the same theories as about the main vocalist."
Phew.
"Kirin's Secret is going crazy," she sighed. "Here."
She grabbed my phone from my hand.
"Hey!"
She tapped furiously for a few seconds, then handed it back. There was a new icon on my home screen: a little fox mask.
"I installed the shortcut," she said. "You're too slow. If you're going to survive here, you need the feed."
"Oh. Thanks," I said, feeling sweat trickle down my back. "I... I never noticed."
"Hey! San!"
We looked up. Han Leo was walking towards us, looking sleepy but slightly less hostile than yesterday. He was wearing his uniform properly, mostly.
A uniform? Why the hell has he already gotten it and I haven't? Oh, right, I'm not the grandson of the principal. I chuckled inwardly.
"Oh, Leo," I said. "How was the first day?"
"Boring," he shrugged. Then he nodded at Ha-neul. "Hey, Noona."
Ha-neul blinked. "Leo? You... you know San?"
"Yeah," Leo said. "He's my 'guide.' Mrs. Choi assigned him. He gave me the tour yesterday with Jun-seo."
"Small world," Ha-neul muttered. "Everyone knows everyone."
"Hey guys."
Park Jun-seo walked up to us. He looked... incredibly normal. Perfect hair, perfect uniform. No sign of the leather-jacket-wearing rocker from last night.
"Did you see the video?" Leo asked immediately. "The one from the club?"
Jun-seo's eyes flickered to me for a nanosecond. A tiny, imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"Yeah," Jun-seo said smoothly. "Crazy, right? The guy in the mask had... energy."
"Energy?" I laughed nervously. "Yeah. Lots of... probably."
PWAEEEEET!
The bell rang.
"English first," Jun-seo said, clapping his hands. "Let's go."
I followed them to class, clutching my phone, praying that no one would know it's me.