7 - Snow Forecast (4)
7 - Snow Forecast (4)
7.
The entrance ceremony of Seolwon Arts High began.
Coming back to this school for the first time in ten years since graduating felt surreal.
I looked around the auditorium where the ceremony was being held.
“Damn, this place is huge.”
Seriously—was this a high school or a university?
The chairman of the Seolwon Foundation, Yeo Hosu, was also the chairman of one of Korea’s top conglomerates, SeSi Group.
In short, this school was loaded.
Because of that, the facilities at Seolwon Arts were jaw-dropping. Rehearsal rooms and recording studios were a given. They even had performance halls and screening rooms, along with grand pianos and outrageously expensive instruments.
And if you were a student here, you could use them for free.
No wonder Seolwon Arts had one of the highest competition rates among art schools.
But that wasn’t the important part right now.
I took a sip of the water I’d brought and scanned the crowd.
Among the freshmen, I spotted a few familiar faces—people who would later become famous singers, celebrities, or artists. People I needed to befriend early, for my sake and for Suyeon’s future.
I recalled the names I’d already checked and scratched my thumb with my index fingernail.
…Can I really pull this off?
It might be my second time going through high school, but I wasn’t confident.
In this life, I needed to live as a genius.
No—as a genius among geniuses.
Because to get a scholarship, I had to act like one.
I let out a deep sigh.
Seolwon Arts offers many small scholarships, but only two cover full tuition.
The Academic Excellence Scholarship.
And the Student Success Scholarship.
The Academic Excellence Scholarship is awarded to two students per department—those who excel in both written and practical exams.
So what about the Student Success Scholarship?
If you receive the Outstanding Student Scholarship—given to the top student in practical exams—more than twice, you earn it.
In other words, I had to win Outstanding Student in every exam.
As I was thinking that, the ceremony began.
“Next, the freshman representative will give the entrance oath.”
As soon as the announcement ended, a student walked onto the stage.
The auditorium instantly buzzed.
“Isn’t she the genius?”
“I heard she got perfect scores in both written and practical.”
Ignoring the whispers, I focused on the stage.
A girl stood there with perfect posture, staring straight ahead.
Neatly cut hair.
A slim figure.
Pale skin.
Large eyes.
Objectively pretty.
But the atmosphere around her was strange.
Not just cold. Not sharp.
It felt like do not approach.
Dangerous. Fragile.
Like a glass shard that could shatter at any moment.
Han Goyo.
A name as silent as her presence.
She was the undisputed genius—a Practical Music student who had never once failed to receive the Academic Excellence Scholarship since Seolwon Arts was founded.
And it wasn’t just her grades.
Her singing was incredible.
Even compared to Suyeon, her talent didn’t fall short.
…Well, she still wasn’t a match for my Suyeon.
Anyway, she was talented, beautiful, and academically perfect. Naturally, the industry went crazy trying to recruit her.
And then, after graduation, she vanished without a trace.
It caused a huge uproar.
No one ever found out why.
She was never close to anyone.
I watched her read the oath with emotionless eyes, then looked away.
She was someone from a completely different world.
She wouldn’t help my future, and our paths would never cross.
What mattered now were class assignments and today’s lessons.
So I cut off all interest in Han Goyo.
§ § §
Seolwon Arts High has six departments: Fine Arts, Korean Traditional Music, Entertainment, Practical Dance, Practical Music, and Classical Music.
Each department has classes of forty students.
Fine Arts and Traditional Music each have one class. Entertainment, Practical Dance, and Practical Music have two each. Classical Music has three.
Classes are divided by rank based on written and practical exam scores. High scorers are placed in odd-numbered classes, low scorers in even-numbered ones.
My class?
Even-numbered, of course.
First Year, Class 8.
I entered the classroom and scanned the room.
All familiar faces.
Even if I changed my major, my class wouldn’t change. That made sense.
As I looked around, I spotted a very familiar face.
Jin Sohyang.
A rising idol who would soon reach the top as the maknae of the girl group Hwayangyeonhwa.
In my past life, we never spoke. She rarely came to school because of idol schedules.
This time, I planned to get close to her.
Being friendly with a top-tier idol could only help.
And it wasn’t just her.
There were several others in this class who would become famous in the future.
Even-numbered classes had lower grades, but that didn’t mean lower talent. Even prodigies could end up here if they bombed the written test.
And the perfect example was sitting right next to me.
Kim Taeyoung.
A piano prodigy who’d won international competitions as a child. Everyone assumed he’d enter a top conservatory early.
Instead, he chose Seolwon Arts.
And not Classical Music.
He entered Practical Music.
As a vocal major.
The Classical Department lost their minds.
“No matter how talented he is, that’s arrogance.”
“He’s wasting three years.”
“He’ll fail and crawl back to piano.”
That’s what they said.
But Taeyoung crushed all expectations, displaying overwhelming talent in Practical Music.
After graduation, he became a world-class artist.
Seriously—he’s ridiculous.
“Hi.”
I must’ve stared too long.
Our eyes met. He smiled warmly and waved.
I awkwardly nodded. “Hey.”
“It’s weird seeing so many unfamiliar faces. I’m Kim Taeyoung.”
“Yoon Hajun.”
“What’s your major? I’m vocal. It’s my first time, so I’m nervous but excited.”
“Composition.”
“Oh, composition. Nice. Maybe we can work together sometime?”
“Maybe.”
Taeyoung talked nonstop—about things I didn’t even ask.
“I was originally a piano major, but I got bored and switched to Practical Music. I’m kinda scared, though. If I fail, people will roast me alive.”
Even as he said that, he smiled without a trace of worry.
He didn’t even consider the possibility of failure.
This is why geniuses…
I complained inwardly but replied anyway.
“I want to try composing later. Can you help me?”
“Well, it’s not hard. Sure.”
“Thanks. Then give me your number.”
As we exchanged numbers, the classroom door opened.
A man in his thirties wearing a suit walked in.
Park Jongseo, homeroom teacher of Class 8.
The noisy classroom fell silent instantly.
My real art-school life had officially begun.
§ § §
Despite being an arts high school, aside from major classes, it wasn’t much different from a normal one.
You still had to take all the basic subjects: Korean, English, Math, Korean History, Social Studies, Science, PE, homeroom, and a second foreign language.
And of course, they were unbearably boring.
Haaaam—I yawned widely while staring at the textbook.
God, this is unreadable. I’m going to die of boredom.
Judging by the massive yawn from Taeyoung beside me, I wasn’t alone.
“This is so boring.”
“Yeah.”
I replied half-heartedly while copying notes from the board.
Even if I’d given up on the written exam, I still needed the minimum score.
The problem was that nothing was sticking in my head.
I never imagined I’d have to endure this hellish studying again.
“Hey, Hajun. Got any lunch plans?”
“Not really.”
“Then want to check out the practice rooms with me?”
“Practice rooms?”
“Yeah.”
“I want to, but… did you reserve one?”
Practice rooms require reservations. Only scholarship students can use them freely without booking.
At my question, Taeyoung grinned and gave a confident thumbs-up.
“Don’t worry. I reserved one during break.”
…That was the most useful thing he’d said all day.