The CSAT

"Ah, I'm sorry. I meant to get in touch sooner, but things got so busy I completely lost track."

"Haha. Not at all. Sounds like you've wrapped all your filming?"

Trading light, inconsequential messages like that, Yeon-woo walked home.

It had been quite a while since he'd started tutoring his friends. Whether he had more of a knack for teaching than expected, Seong-sik and Jun-su's grades climbed vertically month after month. Explaining fuzzy concepts to the two of them also forced Yeon-woo to pin those ideas down for himself, and — just as he'd felt back when he taught acting classes at Cheol-min's academy — he found, somewhat to his surprise, that he genuinely enjoyed teaching.

To Jun-su and Seong-sik's parents, Yeon-woo had become something close to a deity. He'd taken a pair of gaming addicts their families had all but given up on, set them on the right path, and jacked their grades sky-high. Every time Yeon-woo visited either household, the parents chanted the name of Lord Ryu.

Through sheer tenacity, Prosecutor Han Hae-un finally tracked down the woman named Jeong Hae-min.

She was the director of a Pilates academy in Incheon.

"No job-hunting history, no social media — of course she was hard to find."

Still, unlike Jeon Su-hwan, who was already listed as deceased, he had located someone living an ordinary life. For the first time, he had found a person from his dreams whom he could actually meet.

And yet his feelings only grew more complicated.

There was nothing to investigate. Surveilling a civilian with no case attached was, by a hair's breadth, stalking. If this ever came to light and someone asked why he had looked into a woman who appeared completely above suspicion, what was he supposed to say?

"Because she showed up in my dreams? That just makes me a lunatic. Ugh."

If he went to see her in person, the inquiry would have to be completely discreet. Incheon was a long way from Busan, and he couldn't do it on official time — he'd have to wait for leave and investigate on his own.

Having finally found the person he'd been hunting, only to discover she was an ordinary woman with no apparent connection to any case, Prosecutor Han Hae-un grew more cautious than ever.

While Han Hae-un conducted his quiet investigation, Ryu Yeon-woo's time raced forward until the CSAT was only a day away.

Aside from the occasional one-day photoshoot, he had spent the past several ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠months locked onto his studies. Tomorrow would be the period at the end of his high school life — and the starting line of his full-scale career in entertainment.

As if by prior arrangement, the calls poured in the moment evening arrived.

After taking in the well-wishes and hanging up, the phone rang again as if it had been waiting.

After chatting with Han So-hyun about this and that and hanging up, the calls kept coming in sequence, as if coordinated — An Jun-ho, Jeong Cheol-min, even Director Kim Han-su. Everyone he'd formed a bond with on his first production rang to cheer him on.

Bzzzt—

Expecting another call, he picked up his phone and found a message instead.

They hadn't met again since, but the occasional messages had built a modest online friendship between him and Su-yeon.

Yeon-woo went to bed early. The next morning, after saying goodbye to his mother and little sister who had come to see him off, he headed down to the parking garage to meet his father's car.

"Actor Ryu!"

Kim Min-su climbed out of the van waiting in the garage.

"Huh? Min-su hyung!"

"It's been months already."

Aside from a brief schedule for a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠photoshoot in between, it had been three full months since Yeon-woo had last seen his manager.

"You came all the way down to Daejeon for this?"

"You're my actor. Of course I'm going to look after you on a day like this. Good morning, sir. Both of you, please hop in."

Ryu Cheol-ung shook Min-su's hand with genuine gratitude and climbed aboard. Min-su's van pulled away smoothly, and before long they arrived at the testing site. Min-su stepped out as a matter of course and escorted Yeon-woo and Cheol-ung inside.

Between the hat and the mask, none of the students at the entrance recognized Yeon-woo — a small mercy. Yeon-woo looked at his father and Manager Kim Min-su.

"Well then. I'll go take the exam."

"Fighting, son!"

"Fighting, Actor!"

The two of them kept cheering him on until the very last moment as Yeon-woo bowed and headed inside.

"I'll take you back home, sir. Please get in."

"Oh my, thank you, Manager."

And so the 2019 College Scholastic Ability Test began.

There was a minor stir when a few examinees recognized Yeon-woo once he reached the testing room, but everyone was too tense — and no one had a phone for selfies — so it never escalated into a real disruption. Besides, the Dongwoon High School students assigned to the same room ringed him like a personal guard detail, and any students who drifted over hoping for an autograph turned right back around.

This year's exam was on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moderate side. Yeon-woo worked through it cleanly, exactly as he'd prepared, without a single careless mistake. Before he knew it, the final bell rang to end the test, and the students around him let out a chorus of sighs and cheers, each one a different mix of emotion.

When he walked out of the testing site, Min-su was waiting.

"Actor!"

At Min-su's call, Yeon-woo said goodbye to the school friends who had escorted him all the way to the gate and ran over.

"Min-su hyung! You didn't head back?"

"What kind of manager leaves alone when the schedule isn't even finished?"

Min-su grinned as he said it. Looking at him, Yeon-woo smiled too.

"Thank you. Really."

They climbed into the car.

"How did the exam go?"

"Well. I did well."

Yeon-woo answered with a bright smile. Manager Kim Min-su looked genuinely impressed.

"Whoa. First time I've ever heard a student walk out of the CSAT and say they did well."

"Hehe. I prepared hard for it."

Min-su nodded. Casting offers had been pouring into the agency by the truckload, and Yeon-woo hadn't so much as glanced at them — he'd stayed faithful to school life instead. At this age, once you blew up as a star, studying was usually the first thing to go. But Min-su had never once seen arrogance or laziness from this flawless actor under his care.

Chatting about this and that, they arrived home. Yeon-woo bowed to Min-su with real sincerity and went upstairs.

A day like this demanded samgyeopsal, so the family threw a pork-belly party at home. After the weekend passed, Yeon-woo headed to school on Monday for the preliminary scoring.

Rattle!

The classroom door opened onto students already sprawled about, savoring the freewheeling atmosphere of seniors who had finished the CSAT.

"Yeon-woo, how many do you think you missed? Don't tell me you got them all right."

The moment he walked in, kids swarmed him. The only question on anyone's mind was whether he'd scored a perfect CSAT.

"Come on, I haven't even done the preliminary scoring yet. No way I got everything. There were plenty of ones I second-guessed."

He'd never hit a perfect score on a mock exam either, so a perfect CSAT was unlikely. In truth, Yeon-woo had run into quite a few ambiguous questions while taking the real thing. But even without a perfect score, he was certain he'd land a result good enough for Hanguk University.

It wasn't just the students. The teachers, too, were fixated on the scores of Yeon-woo — who had become Dongwoon High's single greatest output.

Then the classroom door burst open with a racket.

"Hey, you're in the class next door. Why are you showing up in ours?"

"The CSAT's over. Who cares which class I'm in? Be grateful I even came to school."

Jun-su and Seong-sik walked in bickering, same as always. Then Seong-sik spotted Yeon-woo standing at the back of the room, dashed over, and dropped to one knee.

"O great Lord Ryu. Your disciple has arrived at school."

"Very good, my disciple. How did the exam go?"

Yeon-woo matched Seong-sik's bit with a bit of his own.

"This humble one gave it everything he had, and thus has no regrets."

"Good. That is enough. You have attained enlightenment."

The high-production-value waste of acting talent sent the watching friends into quiet laughter.

"Jun-su, how about you?"

"I've got a good feeling, somehow. Looking at the preliminary scoring, I think I hit my target."

Jun-su's only goal was Yeonha University — one of the top three schools in the country — so that meant he'd done well.

Rattle.

The front door opened and the homeroom teacher walked in. Lee Jeong-tae, who had been Yeon-woo's homeroom teacher two years running, spoke up.

"All right, all right. Everyone take your seats. Woo Seong-sik, go back to your own class."

A brief morning assembly followed, along with the teacher's thanks for everyone's hard work and a round of applause from the kids.

"Now, there are other grades still in session, so don't get too loud. Free time. Yeon-woo, come to the teachers' office for a minute."

"Yes, sir."

With the students' answers trailing behind him, Lee Jeong-tae went out the front door and Yeon-woo followed. As they walked toward the teachers' office, the teacher asked him,

"So, Yeon-woo — how do you feel? Did you do the preliminary scoring?"

"No, sir. I wrote my answers down, but I haven't graded them yet."

Yeon-woo held out his exam ticket with his answers recorded on the back.

"Good. Well done. Let's input them in the office."

They arrived at the teachers' office. At Lee Jeong-tae's desk, they transferred the numbers from the exam ticket into the computer. The results were the hottest topic in the office, and teachers crowded around.

"All entered, sir."

"Let's hit grade."

Click!

The screen showed two wrong answers across every subject.

"Wow. Jeong-tae — two wrong, that's first in the school, right?"

"From what we've got so far, Ji-seon in the science track missed four, so by raw total, yes."

Of course CSAT scores varied by each university's admissions weighting and by subject standard scores, so you couldn't truly say who had done better — but for convenience, they counted by number wrong.

Yeon-woo thanked the teachers who patted his back and congratulated him, then returned to the classroom.

In one corner kids were playing leapfrog; in another, someone had brought a set of jacks and the room had dissolved into an unseasonable free-for-all. Regular class periods flew by. At lunch, while they were eating, Seong-sik looked at his phone and started coughing.

"Kack. Cough. Look at this! Did you see?"

"See what?"

Jun-su leaned over Seong-sik's phone screen — and found it flooded with articles about Yeon-woo.