Cherry Blossoms and the Shock of First Place

Morning classes ended, and lunchtime arrived. Everyone except me rushed off to the cafeteria. No point going now—it'd just be chaos—so I stayed in the classroom, studying. That's when Jeong In-ah approached.

"Not eating?"

"I am."

"Come on. Let's eat together."

It felt like we'd planned this from the start. Caught off guard, I followed her out of the classroom toward the cafeteria. She waved and greeted every friend she passed in the hall, while I awkwardly looked away, pretending not to notice. Jeong In-ah had tons of friends, guys and girls alike. Just from the hallway encounters, there must've been dozens. And she didn't show a hint of fatigue after all those hellos. Total opposite of me.

"Every time I see it, I think there are so many trees here," Jeong In-ah said as we crossed the athletic field toward the cafeteria.

She was right—the place was packed with trees, like they'd filled every spare inch of space around the buildings. The air was fresh because of it.

"Is that a pine? Oh, and wisteria. And that one... what's that?"

"King cherry tree."

"Ah, cherry blossoms. I've never seen it before it blooms."

Jeong In-ah gave an embarrassed smile. The tree was covered in buds but no flowers.

"What's the difference between cherry and king cherry?"

"Not much. The petals are a slightly different color, I think."

"...You aspiring botanist or something? You know your stuff."

I just smiled without answering. Among the Loa, there was one tied to plants—a rather elegant spirit. With their power, I could turn a fresh sprout into a massive tree in seconds. Of course, the side effects were brutal. Thanks to them, though, I was well-versed in botany.

"Wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom this year."

Jeong In-ah gazed vaguely at the sky, then said it like a sudden afterthought. It seemed like idle musing, but her eyes lost focus, as if recalling old memories. Her eyelids drooped, lips pressed tight—a faintly melancholic expression.

"Why? Wanna go see them?"

"Not sure if I can this year. Might be too busy."

"You went every year before?"

Legba grumbled like he was done with me as I kept the conversation going. Before he passed, my father taught me a lot—including psychology and rhetoric. Priests need silver tongues and the ability to read people's inner worlds, he'd said. Terms like backtracking and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regression were tough to grasp, but I absorbed them quietly. With so little experience talking to girls, the fact that I could chat naturally with Jeong In-ah was all thanks to him.

"Yeah, usually every year. I love cherry blossoms."

"Yeah? Where do you go?"

"Han River sometimes, or that little stream nearby? The walkway there is nice."

I nodded along, tossing in questions to draw out responses. Her expression brightened bit by bit, the sadness fading. Good.

I steered the talk with my father's rhetoric.

"You went last year too, then."

"Last year? Yeah, with my sister. She was still around then."

But suddenly, Jeong In-ah's face darkened sharply. She forced a smile, but it was fake—just for show.

"Ah... sorry."

Seeing her down, I'd used Dad's techniques to cheer her up and shift the mood. Backfired spectacularly.

"Sorry for what! My sister's not dead—she'll turn up soon."

Her bright tone rang false. Watching her, guilt twisted in me again. Her sister's kidnapping might be my fault.

"Right. She'll be back soon."

Lame consolation was all I had. As we lined up at the cafeteria entrance, chatting idly, someone from ahead waved cheerfully and joined us. Gu Jun-hyeok. His friends stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"New combo here. You two eating together?"

"What? Why're you acting all buddy-buddy?"

"Why not?"

Gu Jun-hyeok and Jeong In-ah bantered around me, no awkwardness at all. Like they'd been friends pre-enrollment.

"Why not eat with your crew?" Jeong In-ah grumbled.

Gu Jun-hyeok flashed a cheeky grin. "What's wrong with it? Better than you two alone—looks more natural that way."

"Huh? What're you on about?"

Jeong In-ah furrowed her brow. I got his point instantly; she didn't. Yeah, him tagging along made us look less like a date. Kids our age jump to conclusions over nothing.

"Menu's solid today," Gu Jun-hyeok said mid-meal.

Florence Academy's cafeteria food was legit good. Rich private school perks started with the grub. Made every school lunch I'd had before taste like dog chow.

After eating, Gu Jun-hyeok stretched with a yawn. "Man, tests after three days? Lame."

"What, not ready?" Jeong In-ah snorted.

"Duh. Me and studying don't mix."

"Brag much?"

I couldn't follow at all. Test? What test? Wait, there was something about a schedule at the start of term... hazy memory.

"Do Seon-woo, you study? Looked like it this morning."

Gu Jun-hyeok tossed it casually.

"Uh, what test was it?"

"Wait, what? You serious? There's a bigger slacker than me!"

He grinned wide—not mocking, more relieved. Jeong In-ah eyed me worriedly.

"Today's the freshman diagnostic eval. For real, you didn't know? Teacher announced it at orientation."

"He was asleep then."

"Oh."

She sighed sympathetically. Freshman diagnostic evaluation. How'd I forget? My mind blanked, vision tunneling. Stark irony. That shocking.

"Hey, chill. Missing one test won't ruin your life~"

Gu Jun-hyeok's optimism just pissed me off more. No comfort there.

Freshman Diagnostic Evaluation: Standard written test right after enrollment. No 'direct' impact on grades—but that implies possible 'indirect' effects.

Results posted as a bulletin board in front of the main building next day. Teachers gauge newbies' levels from it, giving top scorers invisible perks like priority recommendations. Essential for climbing to high clergy ranks. I'd planned to crush it. No studying? Who knows how it'd go.

"Yo, what number you picking? I'm going 2."

"I'm solving it."

"Nah, just guess. Straight line hits one in five."

Gu Jun-hyeok chuckled teasingly.

"Good luck on the test!"

Jeong In-ah cheered loudly. Formulaic, but motivating enough. Quick goodbyes, and we split.

The diagnostic was in the grand auditorium—grand as in seats for 1,000. All seven virtue-named classes crammed in. Hundreds chattering—loud, chaotic. Doubt we'd test here.

I found my spot, name and number taped on. Ten minutes early; checked pens, squeezed in study time.

Then, someone approached from afar. Striking appearance. My eyes locked.

Legba muttered lowly, but I couldn't look away. Skin whiter than porcelain, hair snow-white down to her waist. Eyes pitch-black and deep—the contrast ethereal. Stunning enough to draw gasps; she owned every gaze.

Seong Ha-yeon. One of the freshman reps, holder of the Purity Holy Mark. Her beauty made her mega popular.

But I hated her. Couldn't like her if I tried.

Two reasons.

Thud.

"Ow."

First: shitty personality. She tripped on a chair leg, slammed into mine. Short yelp, then brushed her knees and stood, glaring down with a scowl. "Ah, sorry." Tacked-on apology, dripping contempt—like a second with me was toxic. Then off she went.

She had albinism, rare condition. Maybe why she had extreme germophobia, prickly demeanor. Hated mingling with guys especially.

Second: her dad was a heretic inquisitor.

Heretic Inquisitor: Cardinal-level cleric, revered high ranker.

Seong Ha-yeon grew up pampered under him. Key point: he drove my parents to ruin. Led the Holy War, executed my father's burning, threw my mom in the Papal underground prison.

Voodoo's unforgivable enemy. His daughter? Seong Ha-yeon.

Her fault? No. Dad's yes. Still hated her.

Legba snapped me from rage and rumination. I shook it off, refocused.

Middle school memories of her—and bad entanglements—kept intruding. I shook my head, forcing them away.

The proctor's voice boomed from speakers. Papers distributed; kids dove in, eyes fierce. Everyone knew this test shaped futures.

I grabbed mine, pen ready, diving boldly. But question 1? Brutal. Not tough—baffling.

Blackout-level hard. Others sighed, tore hair. Usually #1's easy, but Florence ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠defied norms.

I wrestled it four minutes, nailed it: 2.

Checked 2 confidently—

"..."

Switched to 4. Legba's deep in history, religion—memorized ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every scripture, all history since civilization. If he said 4, it was 4.

Up to 30, all Legba-guided. Perfect score locked. But guilt gnawed—cheating, basically.

Legba tried easing it; unease lingered. Pushed it down, eyed 31.

Easier than prior. 1-30 needed hardcore memory/logic; 31+ anyone literate could ace—Romanica-biased ones. Legba, Voodoo-minded, couldn't.

I ignored his howls, solved purely Romanica-style. Heavy bias irked me, but not the time.

Next day, results posted front of main building. All 700 freshmen swarmed. Despairers knelt in dirt; deniers argued staff. Teachers struggled; impossible to wrangle 700.

Ironically, a student quelled it—not staff.

"Ha-yeon, nailed the test?"

"All correct, I assume. Nothing I didn't know."

Miracle of the Red Sea. Seong Ha-yeon parted the crowd; they yielded like scripted. She strode regally, elegantly—innate poise.

"That's the inquisitor's daughter? Purification Clan?"

"Yeah. Entrance exam written top."

Whispers: her dad, bloodline, scores. Admiration, envy—she ignored all. Cared only for results.

Her face stiffened at the board.

Not perfect—one wrong.

"Whoa, you missed one? Insane score!"

"Thought it'd be perfect. Shame."

"Still first, right? How'd you study?!"

Friends fawned. She regretted the miss, but 195.8 locked first easy.

"Just tried a bit harder than others."

Casual; arrogant, but backed by skill—no backlash.

Then her face froze solid.

Not first—second. Top spot? Unknown name.

Do Seon-woo? Who?

Murmurs rose; a low, raspy voice cut through: "What? Do Seon-woo, why're you first? Said you didn't study!"

"Do Seon-woo" called, eyes turned. There: Gu Jun-hyeok and me. Him yelling.

Seong Ha-yeon glared. Unheard name, familiar face—snorer from orientation. Dumb sleeping look stuck. That idiot first? Glitch? Cheat? Unbelievable. Didn't want to believe.

Then I said it, twisting the knife: "Got lucky."

Humble shrug—overkill humility screamed arrogance. But my skill matched, so Seong Ha-yeon said nothing.