A World of White and a Stubborn Cowlick
A single old notebook that Seobin had found and handed over in the library. A day had passed since what began as simple curiosity led Yeoncheong to uncover her homeroom teacher Jisu's most private secret.
The remedial class schedule Yeoncheong had fallen behind on was finally winding down as well, and with the long-awaited winter break drawing closer by the day, one such morning arrived.
At the sound of her alarm, Yeoncheong poked her head out from under the covers.
Even with her eyes half-closed, she reached out one hand and skillfully silenced the alarm, then climbed out of bed, covering the yawn that stretched her mouth wide open.
Instead of her usual black tracksuit and dolphin pants, she was in pajamas. The delivery had run into a hiccup along the way, but the satisfaction the pajamas provided on their own—their soft, silky feel against her skin—was top-notch.
Yeoncheong's gaze, the moment she opened her eyes, drifted naturally toward the window.
It was far too bright outside for morning. It was winter, after all, when the sun rose late, and if the weather was overcast it became nearly impossible to tell morning from any other hour. Just yesterday she had nearly been late thanks to the gloomy skies.
Still groggy with sleep, she shuffled over and opened the window, and a gasp escaped her lips before she knew it.
"Wow..."
The bare, skeletal branches, long stripped of their green leaves, were draped in a pristine white blanket gifted by the sky, and the parked cars looked as if they'd been wrapped in snow like presents.
They said it would snow, but... I didn't expect this much.
Yeoncheong was admiring the brand-new white world the overnight snowfall had created when a snowflake brushed her face and snapped her back to her senses.
The snow was still coming down even now, in real time. No matter how close to school she lived, there was no lollygagging in weather like this.
Making sure the window was firmly shut, Yeoncheong threw herself into getting ready for school.
◇◇◇
The snow had fallen far heavier than the forecast promised. What was more, the bitter cold meant it hadn't melted an inch, piling up for hours on end.
Even Yeoncheong, who walked to school, was flustered by how deep her shoes sank with every step, so there was no need to even describe the state of the roads.
She made it to school by the skin of her teeth at the end of that treacherous commute, but the classroom was all but deserted.
Of Yeoncheong's friends, only Seoha had made it in. No sooner had she taken her seat than Yeoncheong twisted around to ask her.
"Hey, Seoha. Where's everyone else?"
"Did you not check the group chat?"
Yeoncheong pointed to the snowflakes clinging to her hair. In the warmth circulating through the classroom, the evidence of her time outdoors melted into droplets and vanished in seconds.
"Walking here was no joke."
"Ah, right, that makes sense. Everyone else is running late."
Only then did Yeoncheong check the group chat and catch up on her friends' situations.
The snowfall had far exceeded the forecast. On top of that, it had begun dumping down at midnight, while everyone was asleep. Because of that, the snow removal had fallen behind, and most of her friends who relied on public transportation were stranded.
Seoha had a private car, and Yeoncheong had walked. The other friends who had made it to class had either been driven in by their parents or were walkers like her.
Seoha glanced down at Yeoncheong's feet and asked,
"Your feet—did they stay dry?"
"Yep. I told you, I walked straight here."
Yeoncheong propped one leg up on her thigh to show off her perfectly dry feet.
Seoha's hand drifted toward her friend's feet, where socks had been layered over stockings. A gentle touch, toying with them. Startled, Yeoncheong flinched and pulled her leg back down.
"That wasn't an invitation to touch..."
Seoha had naturally assumed the leg propped toward her meant exactly that, and offered a brief apology.
"Sorry."
"It's fine. It's not like you need to apologize for that."
Just then, the front door of the classroom swung open. Yeoncheong turned away, fidgeting with her socks for no particular reason.
Perhaps because plenty of students had already called in. Teacher Jisu arrived at the classroom right on schedule as always, showing no surprise at the sparse room.
Scanning the faces of the students who had made it in, the teacher tilted her head.
"Still, this is a pretty decent turnout."
"Teacher, are we actually having school today?"
Are we seriously holding normal classes with this much snow? Nobody said it outright, but everyone in the room caught the intent behind the question.
Teacher Jisu replied with an unreadable, enigmatic smile.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes!"
An energetic answer. But the hope that bloomed on the questioner's face didn't last long.
"I wish we could too, but classes are on as normal."
"Ah..."
As if that one student hadn't been the only one hoping, groans of disappointment rose from every corner of the classroom.
Chuckling softly, the homeroom teacher settled onto an empty desk and continued.
"The district hasn't issued any directives, and the school held its own meeting, but they've decided it's safe enough for a normal school day."
"Why?"
It had snowed a lot, sure, but not that much. The traffic jams were slowly easing. Students were still trickling in through the windows even now. And so on.
But the most decisive reason was something else entirely.
"Because you all came, obviously."
Yeoncheong and the rest of the class blinked at her, wondering what on earth that was supposed to mean.
Teacher Jisu smacked her lips, saying she'd known this would happen. Explaining things simply, again and again, for students who didn't understand—that was precisely the role of the profession called teacher.
"If the school were actually going to close, there's no way this many of you would be sitting in one classroom. For a real snow day, there'd only be one or two of you in here, and even the teachers wouldn't be able to make it in."
At the teacher's explanation, the class looked around the room. Come to think of it, it really was a pretty solid turnout for weather like this.
"Teacher."
"Yes, Yeoncheong?"
"Then... should we all head back home?"
Eyes going round, Teacher Jisu wove her way between the desks until she stood in front of Yeoncheong.
"Yeoncheong, that is an excellent idea—NOT!"
With one hand she pressed down on the girl's shoulder, and with the other she wildly ruffled her blue hair. To the classmates watching, it looked like what the blue sky itself might look like rippling in the wind.
"Ah, Teacher! Ahh! My hair, ahhh!"
Crushed under the force bearing down from above, she couldn't even rise from her seat, flailing her arms for a good long while. The moment she regained her freedom, Yeoncheong huffed and glared at her homeroom teacher.
"What am I supposed to do about my hair now?"
"Yeoncheong, honestly? Looks the same as always."
Staring dead into the teacher's eyes, Yeoncheong turned around to find Seoha. She could not, for the life of her, trust a snickering Jisu.
Yeoncheong ran her hands through her hair and asked her friend.
"Seoha, is that true?"
Thanks to the static, her hair was sticking out in every direction. Seoha's red eyes faltered for a moment over the crown of Yeoncheong's head.
Yeoncheong had smoothed down every strand except exactly one spot, and the single hair shooting straight up there had stolen Seoha's attention. Just as she reached out to smooth it down, the classmates around them threw up both arms in an X and vehemently objected.
After a brief moment of consideration, the raised hand swept a few times near her bangs and returned to its owner's side.
"All good now."
"Really? Thanks."
Seoha felt guilty toward Yeoncheong, who thanked her with a radiant smile—but it was also true that she was looking forward to seeing her flustered.
◇◇◇
The students trickled in with minor variations, most arriving just before first period, and the rest made it in before first period even ended.
Even the snowflakes that seemed poised to fall all day eventually settled, and with them died the last flicker of hope for an early dismissal.
Yeoncheong's friends, arriving late to the scene, all fixed their gazes on the exact same spot, as if on cue.
It couldn't have been static electricity. That hair that had stood up for just a moment—for some inexplicable reason, no matter how much time passed, it refused to come back down.
When it swayed gently even in the warm breeze of the central heating while standing at rigid attention, Seoha in the back row had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.
"So let me get this straight. It's your and the teacher's handiwork?"
"The other girls told me to just leave it too."
Just as Seoha, who'd missed her chance to explain earlier, was recounting the whole affair to Suyeon—
Nayun, who had been tracing the upward-climbing strands with her eyes, finally couldn't take it anymore and smacked her lips.
"Hey, you... that hair... Is it, like, an image makeover or something?"
"What about my hair? It's exactly the same as always."
Yeoncheong gave her hair a light smoothing. But even this time, the lone survivor swayed gently and gracefully evaded its owner's fingers.
The movement was like a fluttering advertising balloon, or like a martial arts master effortlessly deflecting an opponent's strikes.
As if it were a single living creature. The kids around them, who had been staring at nothing but Yeoncheong's hair, all at once turned their heads away or clapped their hands over their mouths.
Yeoncheong wasn't so oblivious that she missed all those countless stares. And everyone was laughing at her, no less—it was starting to genuinely sting.
"It really bugs me when you all sneak glances and snicker like that."
"No, no, it's not that..."
"Then what is it?"
The sharpest interrogation was aimed at Nayun, who was worst at holding in her laughter. Waving her hands in denial, she turned to Hasol for backup.
"That thing, that thing—what's it called again?"
"Where did I see it... an ahoge. Wasn't it called an ahoge?"
At Hasol's words—her face buried in both hands—Nayun snapped her fingers, finally recalling the name of the creature living atop her friend's head.
"You're growing an ahoge now too? You're seriously killing me, Yeoncheong."
"...What?"
Her blue eyes drifted upward, naturally. She couldn't see it herself, but using her friends' stares as a guidepost, she located the ahoge jutting straight up from her crown.
"What the—why won't this thing go down?"
Perhaps it had simply been too long. Even under its owner's fingers, the ahoge bounced back up like a coiled spring, and a few of her friends buried their faces clean into their desks.
Panicked, Yeoncheong's hands grew frantic, but the ahoge, blessed with the tenacious vitality of a weed, refused to yield.
As a stopgap measure she pressed the ahoge down flat, and Yeoncheong's reproachful eyes sought out her friend seated behind her.
"Seoha."
"Y-yes?"
So that's why even the teacher was sneaking smiles at me during first period. Yeoncheong wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide from the embarrassment.
A prankster like Suyeon or Nayun was one thing, but Hasol and Seoha still ranked among the most trusted names in Yeoncheong's heart.
Which was precisely why the betrayal of such a trusted friend stung all the more.
"And I trusted you... of all people, I trusted you..."
"Yeoncheong, still—thanks to you, the class got a good hour of entertainment."
At those words, Yeoncheong rose from her seat. Seoha, too, instinctively stood up to keep her distance.
"Seoha, I'd like to have some fun too."
"Is... that so? Should I hug you, then?"
Seoha playfully stretched both arms forward, then hastily pulled them back. Yeoncheong, who had been about to snatch her friend's hands, clicked her tongue in disappointment. Even so, her blue eyes stayed locked on Seoha's black hair.
That jet-black, night-dark silk, the kind of texture that would slip right through your fingers the moment you set it down. It was hair with a charm entirely different from her own fluffy strands.
"You're always touching my hair. So can I touch yours?"
Ordinarily, Seoha would have granted permission without hesitation—but the problem was that behind her friend's eyes right now, an emotion called revenge was burning bright.
Faced with a heat that looked like it could melt snow left out in the open, Seoha glanced nervously behind her and hesitated.
"Uh... I really need to use the bathroom."
"Perfect timing. I need to go too. Let's go together."
The offer to accompany her to the bathroom was much the same. If Yeoncheong weren't burning with vengeance, Seoha would have welcomed it with open arms.
Seoha shot a sidelong glance behind her, confirmed the coast was clear, and bolted.
"Sorry! I want to go alone today!"
"Seoha! Stop right there! I'll be quick, I promise!"
At the sight of Yeoncheong chasing after Seoha—who was headed to the bathroom alone—a complete reversal of the usual arrangement, the friends could only blink.
"She really is... not the same Seoha as before, huh."
"Agreed. She used to have this slight ice-queen vibe."
Seeing things like this, it was clear that just as Yeoncheong had seeped into her friends' lives, the others were being gradually influenced by her in return.
Nayun scratched her head and peeked out into the hallway.
"Ugh... I was gonna go to the bathroom too. No way I can go now, right?"
"Looks like you'll have to hit the first or third floor."