[No title provided]
The crises crashing down on Tae-il right now could be summed up in three.
One: The original plot had gone off the rails, throwing a wrench into gathering band members.
Two: His parents would be back soon, making it impossible to work from home.
Three: Finals were looming.
“This is bad.”
Gathering bandmates was self-inflicted karma, something he could tough out on his own.
At least, he'd steeled himself on that front.
Besides, the outlook wasn't that grim.
Lately, things with Sakuya had felt pretty good—even to him—and he was just biding his time for the right moment to casually float the idea of her joining the band.
His parents returning was something he'd seen coming.
He wasn't the type of ungrateful son to wish they'd stay on business trips forever.
Not being able to compose in the dead of night, when inspiration hit hardest, was a real bummer, but he could endure it.
Lately, his late-night routine had been all about lyric-writing practice anyway.
The melody itself was already done.
Unlike with other composers, he'd written it from the start with Iris's voice in mind, so he doubted any snags at the recording stage.
Which left the biggest problem staring him down: finals. Something he couldn't handle solo.
Especially if the teachers were starting to pull shady moves.
“Study group?”
“Yeah, finals are next week, right? What do you think?”
So the helping hand Sakuya offered...
...was devilishly hard for Tae-il to refuse. Like the temptation of the serpent itself.
Lunchtime.
Tae-il, who rarely stuck around the classroom, hadn't exactly paid attention in class—dozing off instead—but thanks to Sakuya waking him, he made it to the school store on time.
Even with the hearty student cafeteria available, the store was swarming with kids.
What they craved wasn't a full, tasty meal but something quick to scarf down, leaving more time for practice.
Among the shelves emptying in seconds, Tae-il barely snagged a curry-flavored croquette.
But the crowd was too thick to reach the register.
“Taichi, over here!”
“Thanks!”
Swept up in the throng, he could barely move—until Sakuya yanked him through.
After barely checking out, the two headed to a quiet corner away from the teachers.
The stairwell landing on the way to the rooftop—practically Tae-il's reserved seat.
“So this is the hideout Taitsu always slinks off to?”
“It's not exactly a hideout...”
Sakuya, who'd trailed him from the classroom, peered around curiously.
Tae-il plopped down on a convenient step.
Sakuya breezed past him, glancing at the rusty rooftop door before leaning her upper body over the railing, where the stairs vanished into shadow.
“Hide back here, and no one would spot you easy.”
Sakuya shot him a side-eye, as if imagining something embarrassingly intimate.
The lunchtime hallway buzzed with kids roaming free—total chaos.
In the thick of it, even something slightly naughty here might go unnoticed.
“Yeah, that's the point. But what're you planning to do hiding there?”
“Beats me. What should we do? Hide-and-seek?”
“Hide-and-seek?”
Sakuya's sultry gaze fixed on him. Her arm on the rail shifted, accentuating her chest.
By sheer coincidence—or bad luck—Tae-il was too busy ripping open his croquette wrapper to notice.
“Hide-and-seek at our age? Kinda lame, don't you think?”
“Haha, yeah, you're right.”
Sakuya let out a tiny sigh, too soft for anyone else to hear.
She shuffled back to Tae-il's side and quietly unwrapped her sandwich.
Silence settled between them.
Whatever Sakuya made of it, Tae-il felt a strange comfort in the quiet—not awkwardness, but ease.
Riiip!
Sakuya nudged his leg with her knee as she peeled back the wrapper.
“Hey...”
“Hm?”
Tae-il paused mid-bite, croquette dangling, and looked her way.
Sakuya brought up a class from earlier.
“That Japanese lit class today. Remember it?”
She asked, nibbling the corner of her sandwich.
Tae-il shook his head.
Not to brag, but...
Having napped through it boldly, he was confident he couldn't recall a single word.
As if expecting that, Sakuya gave a wry smile.
“It was a bit different from usual.”
“Oh yeah?”
Impossible for Tae-il to tell—he'd skipped it.
Not thrilled with his vague reaction, Sakuya elaborated.
“He always throws in extras beyond the textbook, right?”
“Doesn't that guy ramble off-topic all the time anyway?”
“Separate from that—he was dropping hints about exam questions, spinning all these stories.”
Sakuya cited a few examples.
For Tae-il, who at least flipped through the textbook despite skipping, this barrage of untextbook, unhandout material widened his eyes.
“All brand-new stuff. And that's really gonna be on the test?”
“Yeah. He even recommended some short story anthologies. Said it'd be super basic—just skim 'em?”
Like remembering character names or story titles.
Elementary school-level stuff.
“Probably a passage summarizing the plot, then 'What's the title?'—basic short-answer or multiple-choice.”
“No way. Even so, giving high schoolers that?”
Tae-il teased her not to lie.
At that point, it was less about scores and more a nudge to show minimal effort by cracking a book.
No real discrimination—just a cheat to avoid fails.
“Free class exams are easier than advancers', sure. But it's still high school—midterm-level difficulty at least?”
“If it was just lit, maybe. But Japanese history and others are sneaking it in too, Taichi.”
Tae-il's face hardened.
One subject? Laughable.
But two, three, multiplying? Game-changer.
He tapped his temple.
“School's gone insane...”
Common sense shattered.
A world from a manga, after all. And the shocks didn't stop there.
“But today, he saw you sleeping in class and stuck to the textbook.”
“Coincidence?”
“Pretty much every day you skip. We even had pop quizzes. Didn't know?”
“Sorry. No friends means my intel's slow...”
Sakuya laughed at his self-deprecation.
“Pfft!”
“Don't laugh—I'm serious.”
“Saying it like that makes it funnier! Ahaha!”
She laughed till breathless, stretching her legs and arching back.
“What would Taichi do without me, seriously.”
She turned her head his way.
Elbow on the step propping her up, head tilted to her shoulder, bangs cascading softly.
Silver curtain half-veiling her glowing purple eyes in the dim stairwell—Tae-il forgot his croquette, staring.
His fixed gaze made Sakuya beam back.
Like she was seducing him.
“So? What do you think?”
“...”
Hard to answer.
Tae-il hesitated, then crunched his croquette.
Crispy shell cracked, spilling sweet-savory curry filling, flooding his mouth.
“All your classes today like that?”
Staring ahead, eyes awkwardly ceiling-ward.
Ignoring her question, but Sakuya answered cheerfully anyway.
“Nah.”
Chin on shoulder, eyes closed, she shook her head.
“Just lit. But afternoon has Japanese history and another lit period.”
“Huh, yeah, now that you mention it.”
Tae-il skipped so much, even today's schedule was fuzzy.
He crunched and swallowed.
Private school running like a giveaway.
Watching teachers scramble to let kids pass, he despaired for the school's future.
Sakuya admired his unflappable expression.
“You're taking it calmer than I thought, Taichi.”
“Eh, easier exams? Total win for a foreigner like me.”
“But you don't know what's coming.”
Mid-croquette, Tae-il tilted his head at her jab.
A forgotten fact resurfaced.
“True.”
He had zero clue what the lit or history teachers had yapped about—or what books they'd assigned.
Hard or easy, he'd review with Ayane and call it solved.
But if exams really pulled from Sakuya's examples? Trouble.
“Your childhood friend's in advancers, right? Won't help much this time.”
“Yeah. Slipped my mind.”
Advancers' problems? Free class was cakewalk.
Midterms proved it—his 70s average.
But no discrimination meant high-difficulty solves were worthless.
Pure malice.
Wait—malice?
Tae-il whipped toward Sakuya, startled.
“Sakuraba.”
“Yeah.”
“This is just my paranoia, right?”
Hoping so, but Sakuya delivered bad news.
“Should've skipped less moderately, dummy.”
“Haaa.”
A sigh escaped.
Nothing went right since Ayane's worry. Meeting Izumi hadn't hinted at this mess. He rubbed his throbbing forehead.
“Not all subjects, right?”
“Lit and history seem locked. Especially Kogawa-sensei on history—she hates you being Korean.”
No matter how chummy the author or characters with K-pop, one truth held.
Korea-China-Japan? Tense by default.
Tae-il's face crumpled like tinfoil.
“What era is this...?”
“Might not hate you that much if you showed up.”
Sakuya's straight talk left him speechless.
Thinking it over, the teachers were innocent.
If anyone's guilty, it's him.
A real delinquent.
“School rules are so lax sometimes, I forget I'm the bad kid.”
“Haha. Reflecting now?”
“A bit.”
“Gonna actually attend classes?”
“I'll think about it.”
Code for no.
“So how're you handling exams?”
Sakuya grinned, awaiting his reply.
Having pitched it once that morning, she expected the obvious.
And right on cue.
Tae-il clung to her with a pitiful look.
“Help me out, Sakuraba.”
“Deal. But my price'll be steep~?”
Rejected once already, she circled thumb and finger, smirking.
So that's why she'd blurted the offer earlier, skipping context.
Neatly trapped.
No alternatives anyway.
No one else to help with studying.
Thoroughly outmaneuvered, Tae-il tucked tail.
“Command me...”
“Ahaha! Done! It's a deal, Taichi!”
Today's curry croquette tasted especially bland.