Student Council

Monday after school.

The dismissal time I'd been waiting and waiting for finally arrived.

"Alright, that's it. Dismissed!"

Homeroom ended, and the classroom burst into noisy life.

"Hey, anyone up for the PC bang?"

"Me! I've got a ranked match today!"

"Looking for a karaoke party~"

The half-dead zombies had risen from the grave. Everyone clustered into little groups and bolted for the school gates.

Today, even I was allowed to join that stampede.

Why?

Because my cleaning duty was finally over!

I packed my bag at a leisurely pace. My desk partner, Han Yeoreum, also gathered her things and stood up from her seat.

"Good work today. Get home safe."

"Y-yeah. You too. See you tomorrow……."

Instead of the usual "Eek!" and frantic escape, she could now carefully offer a greeting. After trading canned coffee over the weekend, her wariness had clearly eased a lot.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow."

I gave a small snort of a laugh and headed for the back door of the classroom.

"Haa, time to get going."

Believe it or not, I was a model student when it came to attendance. Because, of course, I was a member of the student council.

Not that I had ever stormed in yelling, "Please let me join the student council!! Accept me, I beg you!!" Absolutely not.

Last year as a first-year, there had been a massive club recruitment period. The auditorium was packed with every club imaginable—band, dance, soccer—all fighting tooth and nail for fresh blood. In the middle of that chaos, one lonely booth sat in a far corner, gathering nothing but dust and flies.

So I thought, Oh, that place looks empty. Perfect.

I wandered over, and a big-built senior was standing there looking like he was about to cry. He stared at me with the most pitiful eyes. Feeling weirdly sorry for him, I signed up without even checking the club name.

And that club turned out to be the student council.

"Biggest judgment error of my seventeen years on this earth."

Sigh.

My feet carried me to the student council room tucked into a corner of the third floor of the main building. Last week the president had given me special leave—"You don't have to show up for a whole week while you settle into your new second-year class!"—so it had been a full seven days since I'd last set ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foot inside.

Thump, thump.

I walked the quiet hallway and stopped in front of the door.

Rattle.

The moment it opened, someone who had been sprawled on the sofa shot upright and charged straight at me.

"It's Taekyeong!!"

Whump!

"Whoa, Senior. You're burning up."

Arms locked around my neck without warning. Third-year Baek Doyen. The student council's atmosphere maker—clingy, playful, and overflowing with mischief.

"Why are you so late~! I was dying of boredom!"

"President said I didn't have to come last week."

"You still should've snuck in just to show your face! You little brat!"

Doyen tried to pinch my cheek; I casually turned my head away, and she puffed out her cheeks in a pout.

"Hahaha! Taekyeong, good to see you!"

Student Council President Park Gwangsu looked up from the papers on the table and welcomed me with pure warmth. Just looking at him made energy bubble up inside me too. Same as always, this guy.

For the record, these two looked like nothing more than a weird neighborhood older brother and sister, but they were both ridiculously rich. Word was Gwangsu's family ran a conglomerate everyone in the country knew by name, while Doyen's owned several famous department stores and hotels around the capital region. For a guy who spent every weekend at construction sites getting covered in cement dust for day wages, they might as well have been aliens from another planet.

Not that I was the type to hold prejudices. And since they never flaunted the money at school, I just filed them under "kids from loaded families" and moved on.

"Come on, sit down already!"

Gwangsu waved me over. I gently pushed Doyen aside and sank onto the sofa—the one she had brought herself. Stupidly soft. I used it all the time.

"Where are Senior Jina and Jaehyuk hyung, by the way?"

Originally the council had five members: President Gwangsu, third-years Doyen and Jina, Jaehyuk hyung, and second-year me. At my question Doyen huffed from beside me.

"Ahh, those two? They quit so they could focus on studying for the CSAT."

"They quit?"

"Yep. Since Gwangsu's a third-year too, he just casually let them go so they could concentrate on schoolwork. So now our student council is down to a grand total of three."

"············."

Headcount cut in half overnight?

Gwangsu spoke with a bitter little smile. "Doyen's right. It's the harsh reality of being a third-year—nothing we can do. Therefore, for the time being, we three shall carry this student council forward!"

He blew out a dramatic snort of air. Doyen immediately ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠glued herself to my side and started whining.

"Do you have any idea how boring it's been with just me after Jina and Jaehyuk left? Gwangsu just sits there staring at papers all day muttering nonsense about youth!"

"Senior, scoot over a little. It's cramped."

"Tch, so cold."

Even while pouting, she rested her chin on my shoulder and started sniffing.

"Sniff sniff! By the way, you reek of girl~?"

"Senior, you're not a dog—stop sniffing me. And what 'girl smell'?"

"Liar. I already heard the rumors. You got super close with some girls, chatting away and sticking together wherever you go! Who was it again? Super pretty ones, right!?"

"············."

Rumors sure traveled fast.

"We didn't get that close. I just talked a few times with my desk partner. The sticking-together part was…… coincidence. Pure coincidence."

"Ehh~ Don't you know that when coincidence keeps repeating, it turns into fate?"

Doyen poked my chest with a finger and grinned wickedly.

"So? How far did you get? Kissed yet? Or did you go even further~?"

"Senior, I'm a second-year."

"So what if you're a second-year! Peak of youthful vigor, right~? Don't tell me you've been secretly having dirty thoughts~?"

This was classic Doyen. She had a nasty little hobby of enjoying the flustered reactions she dragged out of me. Fortunately I had already been vaccinated a million times over.

"Maybe go exorcise the perverted demon living in your own head first. What kind of things are you saying to a pure high-school boy like me?"

"What? I'm pure too! A completely blank canvas of a girl!"

"A canvas that's been dunked in ink, more like."

"Hey! Isn't that a little too harsh to your senior?!"

Doyen jabbed my side, sulking. Watching us, Gwangsu threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"Hahaha! Wonderful! This is exactly the lively image a student council should have!"

"President, please rein her in a little. Senior Doyen's about to cross every line."

"Hmm! There is no place for me in the vigorous conversation of youthful men and women! Besides, youth is only complete when romance and rumors come along for the ride!"

"This guy's useless too."

I pressed a hand to my forehead and sighed. Doyen found my reaction hilarious; she stayed glued to my side, giggling and refusing to let go.

"Anyway, I'm so glad you're back, Taekyeong~ From now on you have to hang out with me every single day, okay?"

"No thanks. I'm busy."

"Ehh~ Liar! I refuse your refusal!"

Sigh.

When Jina and Jaehyuk were still here, at least we had two normal people keeping things under control. Now it was just two chaebol heirs and me. My second-year life was clearly not going to stay quiet.

"Oh right, Taekyeong, did you hear? Jaehyuk and Jina are dating."

"What!?"

Well, good for them!

With nothing urgent on the agenda, the student council wrapped up early.

"Haa, all the energy just drained out of me."

I left school and trudged along. My studio apartment was less than a five-minute walk from campus—a monthly rental my dad had found after I begged to try living alone in first year. Of course, the price was being dragged to construction sites every weekend and coated in cement dust.

Click.

"Home really is the best."

I tossed my bag the second I stepped inside and flopped face-down onto the bed. I was just about to pull out my phone and watch some videos when—

Bzzzt.

"Hmm? Jinhyeok?"

A message popped up on the notification bar. The sender was an unregistered name. Profile picture: a fluffy bread-shaped cushion. And the first line that arrived with it:

"············."

That painfully awkward way of speaking. I knew who it was instantly.

The read receipt appeared ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in less than a second. I could practically see her clutching her phone with trembling hands, waiting for the reply.

Still—her messaging me first?

A video came through right after. The familiar wall near the recycling area behind the school filled the screen. There, a cheese-colored stray cat was bouncing around with pure joy. The fancy feather fishing-rod toy she had bought last week was in the shot too.

Meow! Meow!

The cat tumbled through the air and leapt skyward, desperately trying to catch the feather. From off-screen came Yeoreum's tiny, delighted giggle. The clip was only about fifteen seconds long.

Then more messages arrived.

Her excitement and happiness poured through the text. Ah—so it was for Se-ah. Of course she wouldn't message me first for no reason. Se-ah must have softened her guard enough for this.

Still. The same girl who shook like a leaf around classmates at school turned this expressive over text. Cute.

Lying on the bed, I replayed the cat video. The cat was adorable, sure, but what really hit me was the edge of Yeoreum's uniform skirt peeking into the frame and that giddy, out-of-control voice.

The second my message went through, Yeoreum started dumping photos like a happy machine gun.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

The cat eating Churu, the cat stretching its paws out to grab the toy, the cat sprawled in the sunlight—more than ten pictures in a row.

She even stuck a tiny squirrel emoticon at the end. I saved the photos one by one and replied.

I tossed the worried comment out casually, and her reply stalled. The read receipt vanished; the typing indicator flickered on and off for a long time. Finally a message came through.

That single line melted away every scrap of exhaustion I'd built up all day. I glanced at the clock—already past seven in the evening.

One last emoticon, and the conversation ended. I laid my phone on my chest, stared at the ceiling, and let out a quiet snort of laughter.

Who knew a single message could tickle someone's mood like this. Looking at her, she was only painfully shy—once you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠got to know her, she was ridiculously charming and cute.

I scrolled through the cat videos and photos she had sent one more time.

I'd watch them again while I ate.