The Festival's Reward
It was the season of reading, and the school library event held in honor of autumn. The commotion kicked up by the intermission's pocky-stick game had rippled on for days afterward.
By the time that fuss finally settled, the school arrived at a holiday reserved for high schoolers alone.
Today was the day of the CSAT — the one day of the year when even the airplanes briefly paused.
Perhaps the nervous sighs of seniors across the whole country had summoned a chill of their own, but the dawn was cold enough to make one's breath visible.
Among the teachers and students gathered to cheer on the test-takers filing in one by one with tense faces, a head of sky-blue hair caught the first light and gleamed.
'Ha... why am I even here...'
While everyone else was off enjoying the break from exams, Yeoncheong stood in her school uniform in front of Hwaryeong High School's front gate.
It was thanks to the cheering culture — not what it used to be, but not entirely gone either.
'The only mistake was living so close to school.'
Teacher Jisu had pressed her with a "you're absolutely coming, aren't you?" that left no room for refusal, so here she was.
Just like at the festival — grumble as she might, the woman quietly did everything anyone asked of her.
She had been waving her cheering sign while gazing at her own not-so-distant future when a familiar voice called her name.
"Yeoncheong! Been a while, huh?"
Seoyun approached with her eyes curved into crescents.
"You? Showing up to cheer? That's a miracle."
Yeoncheong glanced sideways at her homeroom teacher, who was exchanging greetings with another student, and whispered.
"I wanted to just sleep in too, honestly. But Teacher Jisu said that since I live so close, she wouldn't let it slide if I didn't come..."
"Ah-ha~"
Seoyun gave the younger girl's homeroom teacher a single look, then turned back and flashed a wide grin.
"Well, either way, you're here to cheer. So cheer for me too."
"I was working hard until you showed up, sunbae."
Seoyun pointed at herself with her index finger.
"Me?"
"You're good at studying, sunbae. You'll do fine regardless."
"Cheer anyway. Who knows, maybe I'll do even better if it comes from you."
As if to say she wasn't setting foot inside until she got one, Seoyun planted both feet firmly on the ground.
Swallowing an inward what a pain, Yeoncheong hesitated, then let the words slip from her lips.
"You've got this. I'm rooting for you."
"Aw, come on, can't you give me something cuter? Like at the festival?"
"That girl died at the festival."
Knowing exactly what Seoyun was fishing for, Yeoncheong drew a hard line.
Seoyun nodded as if she had no choice. And though her turning feet seemed headed naturally back toward the school, her hand suddenly flew toward Yeoncheong's face.
"Hyeek!"
"Ah, yes. That soft, squishy feel. Yep, still exactly the same as the festival."
Massaging Yeoncheong's cheek with her chilled fingers, Seoyun finally let go with a satisfied smile.
Hands clapped over her cheek, Yeoncheong glared at her senior.
"Seriously... you're doing this on exam day?"
"Thanks to you, all my nerves are gone. And I mean that?"
But when she grinned like that and strolled off toward the school, Yeoncheong couldn't bring herself to say anything mean.
Whether it was sincere or just a lie to escape the situation, Yeoncheong couldn't tell. All she could manage was a hollow laugh.
The gate swung shut as the appointed hour passed, and Teacher Jisu came over to her.
"Yeoncheong, thanks for coming out early. Don't forget we're meeting for lunch later. And don't even think about claiming you're too sleepy from waking up so early."
"Teacher, of course I remember. When I think about everything Hasol and I went through to earn that... don't worry."
And so, promising to meet at lunch, Yeoncheong parted ways with Teacher Jisu.
For all her confident promises...
Yeoncheong was late. And just as Teacher Jisu had predicted — she'd fallen back asleep.
'I've lost my mind! I told myself I'd just close my eyes for a second!'
She had her excuses ready.
She wasn't heading straight back out, so she'd changed into comfortable clothes. She'd woken up at dawn, so she was running a bit short on sleep. And finally — the inside of her blanket had simply been too warm.
Drifting off had been an act of God.
Of course, by the time she was actually late, all of it had long since curdled into cowardly rationalization.
Taking a taxi to the restaurant where everyone was waiting, Yeoncheong stepped inside.
"Oh, Teacher! Yeoncheong's here!"
The moment the latecomer was spotted, the restaurant burst into a commotion. Her homeroom teacher looked at Yeoncheong as she scratched her head and offered a single remark.
"Was the Yeoncheong I saw this morning a hallucination?"
"I'm sorry..."
In moments like these, a swift apology was the only answer. Yeoncheong bowed her head hard.
Teacher Jisu only put on the air of a mild scolding before waving it off — it wasn't as if being late caused any real problem. But there was a different problem.
"Ah, though Nayun and Suyeon might be a little upset? They said they'd wait for you to eat."
"Why are you only telling me this now!"
Just hearing those words was enough to raise goosebumps on Yeoncheong's arms.
She looked around frantically for her friends — and the moment she met the cold stares fixed squarely on her, particularly from Suyeon and Nayun, she instinctively turned her head away.
As she made her way to the table with her head practically bowed to the floor, a voice drifted over.
"Well, well. You did show up."
"Honestly, we thought you weren't coming."
"No, you guys were already eating..."
Met with such icy reactions, Yeoncheong scrambled to salvage her words.
Was there anything scarier than people made irritable by an empty stomach? Especially when the air around them was thick with a smell that had their mouths watering while they ate.
She should have been bowing her head to the floor as it was; any other words were useless. So Yeoncheong apologized again, her voice even heavier with guilt than before.
"I-I'm sorry."
"Sorry fixes everything, does it? There has to be a penalty. Want to take a forehead flick?"
The word forehead flick made Yeoncheong flinch, and she lifted her head. Three sets of hands flashed through her memory.
Getting her skull split open for being a little late felt like excessive punishment.
"I was only ten minutes late..."
"Ten? Teeen whole minutes?"
Her attempt to plead her case only provoked Nayun further.
Fine, I'll offer up my forehead quietly, Yeoncheong thought, squeezing her eyes shut as the scolding kept coming.
"Oh, so nowadays fourteen counts as ten, huh? Did you round up or something?"
Yeoncheong stared at her friend, who had apparently been timing her down to the very minute, and thought:
'Ruthless. She was actually counting.'
By the time you realize you're late, you're already too late. The sooner, the better.
Time spent doesn't come back, so Yeoncheong resolved to offer up her forehead right now and beg for mercy.
"Hah... guys. Just get it over with in one go, please."
"Look at her, trying to repay her sins with her body again."
Mimicking something Yeoncheong herself had once said long ago, Suyeon was the first to approach.
Suyeon and Nayun, one after the other, each stamped their mark onto Yeoncheong's forehead.
"Kkyaak!"
Tears trickling down, Yeoncheong turned pleading eyes on Hasol and Seoha.
"You two aren't actually going to hit me too, are you?"
Her face still flushed from rushing over.
One hand covering her burning forehead, a teardrop hanging precariously at the corner of her eye. A sight so provocative it could awaken preferences no one knew they had.
Hasol flinched, forgave her friend through heroic restraint, and Seoha lowered her eyes and shook her head.
"Sorry. But that's how you learn not to be late next time."
As Seoha approached slowly — remembering, especially, how much her friend's flick had hurt — Yeoncheong squeezed her eyes shut.
"Kkuuuaaagh...!"
That day, a barbecue restaurant rang out not with the sound of pigs or cattle being slaughtered, but of a human being.
Yeoncheong used her phone's camera as a mirror to inspect her forehead. She tried fiddling with her bangs to hide the red marks, but the mottled bruises spread too wide for that to work.
"Ha... they really got me evenly, huh."
Hiding it was a lost cause. Yeoncheong sighed and let her bangs fall wherever they pleased. Nayun, who had been diligently working through the meat, curled her lips into a smirk.
"If we'd hit the same spots twice, it would've hurt more. We were being considerate."
At the smug we-did-you-a-favor tone, Yeoncheong ground her teeth.
"Really, thanks so much."
"Don't mention it."
Picking the tongs back up, Yeoncheong poked at the meat to keep it from burning — moving the cooked pieces to the edge and laying fresh ones on the grill.
Then she addressed the friends who hadn't let go of their chopsticks for a single second.
"Hey... would it kill you to at least offer to switch with me? Out of common courtesy?"
At this table of five, manning the grill fell entirely to Yeoncheong and Hasol.
Suyeon and Nayun snatched up the meat the instant it was done, like hyenas with nothing but hunger on their minds, while only Seoha made an effort — distributing pieces onto the two girls' plates before quietly nibbling at her own share.
"I'm bad at grilling meat. I get told not to do it at home too."
"Same at our house. And meat tastes so much better when you two grill it."
"Ha! Smooth talkers, both of you."
Suyeon and Nayun slicked their way past the accusation. They'd said the words, sure, but with zero actual intention of taking over, so Yeoncheong just snorted and let it go.
They spent a long while laughing and chattering about running into Seoyun in front of the school that morning, until Hasol glanced down at her own clothes.
"Ah... this is going to reek of grill smoke by the end. Shouldn't have worn this."
"Hehe. You should've worn anything-goes clothes like me."
To Hasol, who was juggling tongs while constantly protecting her outfit, Yeoncheong puffed out her chest in pride, showing off her plain black hoodie — the kind that wouldn't show a single grease splatter.
Suyeon stared hard at Yeoncheong's clothes, then tilted her head.
"Is that different from the one you wore to the orphanage?"
"Yeah, that one's a zip-up hoodie. This is just a regular pullover."
And that single remark lit the fuse.
"Yeoncheong, is your wardrobe seriously nothing but that stuff?"
"Right? She dressed so cute during the school trip and over the summer..."
"Lately I feel like all I ever see on her is those kinds of clothes."
Which was only natural.
The outfits she'd worn during the school trip and summer were entirely the product of Chairwoman Yurim's discerning eye, while the colorless hoodies and plain sweatshirts she'd been wearing lately were what Yeoncheong had always preferred.
There were certainly men with a passion for fashion, but she was the opposite: the type to reach for a tracksuit or a drab gray T-shirt every single time.
"Can we talk about literally anything more interesting than this?"
"No, this is interesting."
Since it wasn't her area of interest, Yeoncheong wanted to change the subject — but once the conversation had locked onto this track, there wasn't a hint of it swerving anywhere else.
"Come to think of it, she said she's never worn a skirt outside of her uniform..."
"When did she say that?"
"Mm, she barely agreed to try one on for me once, just as a favor. Didn't buy it, though. It suited her so well, too."
Just as the commentary on Yeoncheong's fashion sense was flowing freely, Seoha — who had eaten her fill — set her chopsticks down neatly and made a proposal.
"Then how about after lunch, we all go look at some clothes together?"
The memory of the midterm after-party flashed through Yeoncheong's mind, and she tried to decline —
"Oh, good idea?"
"I'm free."
— but Suyeon and Hasol seized on the chance to go clothes shopping since they were already out —
"Same (me too)."
— and even Nayun, nodding along with meat still stuffed in her mouth, piled on.
Everyone but Yeoncheong had converged on a single opinion.
Four pairs of eyes naturally turned to Yeoncheong, the only one who hadn't answered. Hasol and Seoha were quick to stress that it wasn't forced —
"......Fine, I'll come too."
— but against the silent pressure manufactured by not two, not three, but a full four people's expectations, she simply didn't stand a chance.