The Talent That Captivates People (6)

Hanseong Arts High School had a beautiful tradition: survival of the fittest. It was like something out of a martial arts novel's demonic cult, a cutthroat world of arts and athletics. Only the strong survived, paving their path to a future career—and above all, claiming the scholarships.

And the weak? "If you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weak, you might as well die."

The seniors said it half-jokingly, but it wasn't entirely true.

"Don't die—just switch majors."

It just meant dealing with judgmental stares at home and guilt toward your parents. "Tuition's way too expensive." "Tell me about it."

Private arts high schools like Hanseong were pricey to begin with. Add in private tutoring, equipment, lessons, and more, and the financial burden was immense.

"You know how it is—Mom and Dad are scraping by to cover tuition, so you feel like you have to prove yourself right now?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"Arts and athletics? Unless you're a real trust fund kid, it's always like that."

On top of that, the nature of arts careers piled on the pressure. Parents had bet everything on you, sending you to this expensive school. Fail to shine now? What the hell am I gonna do after graduation? That hopelessness choked you.

That's why there was an old saying among the seniors.

"You need at least one shining moment in your three years at arts high."

Prove yourself at least once. That was the bare minimum to make a living in the arts.

Back to scholarships.

"You gotta snag at least one over three years."

That was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the proof. "Whether through killer practicals, academics, or winning external competitions for a special scholarship."

Shouldn't you grab at least one?

Freshmen, hearing this from seniors, were obsessed with scholarships too. Then came the hottest opportunity for first-years: the shared first-year project, the Music Release Project.

Form teams, make a song, the school judges and supports the release. Top teams get massive scholarships and a killer line on their transcripts. Nothing better.

Everyone thought so, full of hope.

"But wasn't Bless's song from the Music Release Project?"

"Oh."

"Oh no."

Until someone remembered.

"How do we beat Vanilla Chart #3?"

"It's real."

"Ahh, there goes the scholarship."

Kim Seryeon and Kang Saero's Blue Lemon Sky. Brutally strong.

But the real cruelty?

"This dropped mid-May."

"Ah, I had a song I was working on."

"Bye-bye, my pretty scholarship..."

"Bye-bye, my pretty new guitar..."

Only one team gets the project scholarship. A full-year race, over by May. With the winner locked in before first semester's end, other freshmen had zero motivation.

"Argh, if only not for Bless."

"Heavens, why birth me and then Kim Seryeon, Kang Saero, and everyone else?!"

"Waaah, heavens!!!"

An honorable death, they called it. Like how even hell rocks, an honorable death is still death.

First-years across majors and classes turned into a funeral home.

Meanwhile, me at the back of the classroom.

Did I go too easy on them?

Sensing the vibe with my pockets fat from royalties.

"You're seriously passing on the scholarship?"

Lunchtime in the teachers' lounge. Our homeroom teacher adjusted his glasses, looking baffled. Young piano major guy. Always slicked-back hair, giving him a hip vibe.

"Why?"

"We're already raking in royalties. Taking the scholarship too feels overkill. Can we just yield it?"

"What about Saero? You here to pass too?"

Kang Saero sat beside me.

"Yeah. Talked it over with Seryeon—feels wrong to take it."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

First-year Class 1 homeroom teacher Kim Bokhyeon shook his head at his students.

"Listen, kids. One big royalty payout warps your sense of money at your age. But scholarships aren't pocket change—hundreds of thousands. Tossing them easy messes up your financial sense."

Because money sense matters. Simply put: You rich kids throwing cash on the floor?

"It's not easy—we thought it through a lot."

"Yeah, talked tons and weighed everything."

Us two? Combined age doesn't even hit teacher's. (My past life aside, on paper.)

"I get that. But hear me out."

I get Bokhyeon too. Can't just "okay, skip it" when they're so young.

"You're not stable salary workers—you're artists. Income's unpredictable. Start treating money lightly, it becomes habit."

"Say things go south later. Can't save? Oh my god, life's screwed. Parents would say take it."

"Grab cash when you can, right?"

Her long overseas life made her speech uniquely chewy. Anyway, Bokhyeon dropped a bomb.

"And... we were keeping it secret, but you can't take it anyway."

"Pardon?"

Saero's cobalt blue bold question mark popped reflexively. Unexpected for me too.

"Huh? Why not?"

Kim Bokhyeon grinned and explained.

"'Cause it's not from the Music Release Project—the foundation's giving a special scholarship."

"Then why the long lecture...?"

"Not official yet, but likely?"

"Ah..."

Somehow anticlimactic.

"Plus, no other chance to advise you success stories."

He neatly wrapped it, probing.

"Trying to make a good story?"

How'd he know?

We exchanged sly grins; he chuckled, waving it off.

"Just thinking of yielding is heartwarming enough. Project scholarship goes to others—no worries."

"Don't sweat massacring civilians, wrecking ecosystems, crushing spirits—boo hoo. Useless guilt. Take what school's giving. It's adult recognition. Okay?"

We nodded meekly.

Hanseong Arts High School is prestigious. Produced countless artists and celebs shining its name.

But coldly? That's alumni. Or idols forged under big agencies, not school system.

What about pure output inside school fences, no agency help, just students banding together?

There is. Blue Lemon Sky.

First time a current student—no external meddling—hits major chart #3 with pure creation since founding. Foundation couldn't ignore.

Days later, Hanseong Arts High School auditorium.

Filming principal speeches for broadcast? Routine. This? Massive scale.

"Now, a special awards ceremony ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for our proud student who lit up Hanseong Arts High School."

School corp chairman Kim Seongdeok himself. Local TV cameras, reporters. MC: notoriously strict academic VP.

"This honors students elevating our prestige and proving artistic achievement."

Solemn air, blinding lights, whole school's gaze. Even super social ex-middle school prez Kang Saero lost composure.

"Whoa."

Whispered softly.

"Thought I wouldn't tense up, but I am."

Lips trembling beside me.

"Yeah."

"What 'yeah'? You look chill."

"True."

I was surprisingly fine. Don't tense easy, plus callused from auditions and meetings. Even enjoying it.

Sensation of hundreds' eyes. Not bad.

Award moment arrived.

"Called students, approach the podium. Practical Music Composition 1st year, Kim Seryeon. Practical Music Vocal 1st year, Kang Saero."

We crossed auditorium carefully to stage.

"These students achieved outstanding artistry in school, elevating our honor. Thus, special scholarships and commendation."

Heavy plaque case, thick cert, flashy bouquet.

"Congratulations, both."

Click! Click!

Chairman gripped my hand, beaming benevolently at cameras.

......

Awards over, days later. Hanseong Arts High School main building 1F lobby: Hall of Fame.

Where history and pride gather. First time: uniformed current students' photo hung.