First Impressions Seal Your Fate: Teaming Up with Lara
Come on, how can anyone say first impressions don't matter no matter what the name is? It's all about perception. The way people judge someone isn't based on their true character—it's those ingrained prejudices. So let's take a look at Seonggwang's school life. The guy who completely botched his first meeting with his classmates in the most perfect way possible.
Surprisingly, the beginning wasn't so bad. The kids in class actually talked to him, even tempted him to eat lunch together sometimes. Thanks to his handsome looks, girls approached asking for his SNS accounts. A few sociable guys came over with crude jokes, trying to be friendly. And just like that, Seonggwang ended up with a decent social circle.
For exactly three days.
"……."
The kids don't outright reject him. They don't tease him to his face about being an orphan. They don't sneer about him getting in through connections. They don't make him buy cigarettes or run bread errands. At least in this school, there are no delinquent types resorting to raw physical violence.
For starters, the principal is my backup. Any kid with a bit of street smarts knows I have ties to people around here. …Of course, most of the teachers look at me like I'm a pain in the ass.
Anyway, messing with a guy like that gets you nowhere. High schoolers have a rough idea of how the world works by now. They don't do anything that'll tank their own image.
So what I get isn't bullying. Not ostracism. It's just that I never got tangled up in this place to begin with. What's waiting for me at school isn't some dark ijime, unfair exclusion, or violence. After dividing up all the variables, what's left is a 17-year-old who just couldn't become a proper high schooler.
Ding-dong-daeng-dong. The lunch bell rang.
The kids gathered with their friends and headed to the cafeteria, leaving just the total loser behind in the empty classroom. In other words, only Seonggwang remained.
"… Being alone is more comfortable."
Eating alone sucks, but having someone force their way in is even worse.
"Not hungry anyway. Guess I'll hit the teachers' lounge and snag some snacks…."
The transfer student who couldn't fit in anywhere today headed to the one place where he could relax.
"Hey, don't come to the teachers' lounge anymore."
"Huh?"
He got kicked out. From his one safe haven, the paradise where he could let his guard down. A fierce rebellious urge surged up against Lee Junwoo, who had suddenly barged in to throw him out.
"What's with the sudden bullshit? I've been using it fine until now. Why kick me out?"
"Because you hole up here every lunch, the teachers feel awkward and can't use it properly."
"What the hell… We're basically seniors and juniors anyway. Can't we just all get along?"
If you count classical credentials, I'm the senior. Not even bringing tea for a senior like heaven itself, but telling him to fuck off? Back in the day, that would've been unthinkable. Newbies getting bitched at by a singer who'd debuted two years earlier for showing off technique while singing—that was the music industry back then.
"Cut the crap and get out. I'm asking nicely out of old times' sake. Don't make me use force, kid."
His eyes flashed with murderous intent, turning fierce. Resisting here would just get him dragged out by adult strength. With a side of profanity.
Provoking him more wouldn't help. I grabbed his pant leg and begged.
"Come on, Teacher Junwoo… Why the sudden change? We were good, right? Remember that oden street stall?"
"Don't bring up ancient history… Out, now! Let me rest! Students aren't supposed to come in here to begin with—the other teachers just looked the other way for you."
What a cold bastard. They say people change when they succeed. Where's that Junwoo from back then? The young guy from Kyung Hee University's vocal arts department who bought yu gae jang soup for a kid who could barely afford bus fare to competitions, carrying dreams that shone bright!
"Where's the guy I knew?!"
"Dead. Went down with that variety show I left two years ago."
The 21-year-old firebrand who'd lived freely here was gone. Only a 24-year-old teacher jaded by society remained.
"You know, so get out. Can't you read the room a little…? Tsk!"
I desperately clung to this old connection with his harsh gaze.
"Teacher! I got nowhere else to go! Where am I supposed to eat?!"
"Like everyone else, the cafeteria, you punk! You're a student—why keep sticking your nose in where staff hangs out?!"
In the end, my pleas fell flat. Kicked out with curses. The passing teachers' stares stabbed like knives. Clutching my aching chest, I glared bitterly at him beyond the lounge door.
"Ditching me the second scandal hits… Let's see how well you do alone."
Musical has-been Moon Juhee's lackey. I turned my back on the departed connection and walked the hallway.
Too late for the cafeteria now. Class would end soon anyway—might as well wander the school.
"Facilities are way too nice for no reason…."
Despite the teachers' flashy music creds, there's jack shit to actually learn. But with all the money pouring in from the school's vibe, they splurge on facilities. I just learned about digital blackboards here—touchscreen and everything. Amazed at their effective way of burning cash, I strolled around alone.
Ignoring the stares piercing me now and then, I killed time aimlessly. Before I knew it, lunch was almost over.
"Let's see… B class is now."
Heading to the classroom per Lee Junwoo's prior briefing. The back seats were already filled with cliques. The center buzzed with familiar faces chatting.
So where does Seonggwang go? Back for avoiding eyes? Nah, middle for safe? No.
Front row here. Teachers already know me and keep distance, so volunteer for the spot everyone avoids—no kid entanglements. But center's too exposed, so closest to the door in the corner.
No eye contact bullshit—I pulled out my phone and scrolled news.
'Let's see, Lee Junwoo's underground toto columns….'
Researching for petty revenge, when the teacher thudded in through the door. Seen him somewhere, but name? Whatever. No big deal if I don't know. Probably not famous anyway.
"This B class, right?"
"Yes~"
"Sorry. Classrooms changed again recently…."
The glasses guy paired students, counting heads.
"12… 14… Huh? What's this, one extra?"
As I hesitated to raise my hand, a classmate beat me to it.
"We got a transfer student recently~!"
"Oh? If the transfer's here, raise your hand."
I'd half-expected this, but why now? I raised my hand cautiously. The teacher flipped open the roster.
"Ah, yeah, transfer. What's your name?"
"…Seonggwang."
"Seonggwang? Family name?"
"Single syllable. Name's Gwang…."
"Ooh, unique name."
He kept calling my name while checking the roster.
"Seonggwang… Seonggwang… Seong."
Finally, he clocked it—shooting me a glare that screamed, Why the hell are you here?
"……."
That unspoken question, impossible to explain. Our awkward eye-lock had the back-row kids snickering. Only we two couldn't laugh at the "hilarious" banter.
"… Alright, seems everyone's here. No roll call. I know all your faces anyway."
"Why not, teach~ Call roll!"
"Sehyeon, quiet. Let's start class."
He swiftly changed topics.
"You all formed groups last time, right?"
Groups? First I'd heard. I transferred this week—no last class for me.
"Yes~ We did~"
Unlike my confusion, the back answered casually.
"Good. Attendance checked—move out."
At his curt word, kids poured out the back door. Left alone with the teacher for a 1-on-1.
"… Uh, Student Seonggwang? What should I call you? Composer Seonggwang?"
"Just Seonggwang… I'm a student anyway."
"Right… I'm Seo Hyun-gyu, handling B class for E class this year."
I shook his offered hand. We both forced smiles. His palm was sweaty.
"N-Nice to work with you, Teacher Hyun-gyu."
"Yeah, sure."
Awkward intros done, onto class details.
"So, what's B class about? Kids bailed not even 10 minutes in."
"Well, first-years basically have no major instrument classes."
"None? It's a music school."
I'd wondered since they hadn't started yet. Turns out it's real.
"Yeah, school's vibe is more artist development and creation platform than skill drills… You know?"
Mornings are theory and light workshops; afternoons free for personal work. No wonder non-ed-school grads pull off teaching—more like project managers or mentors.
"B class is groups of 2+ for semester projects, graded on that."
That explained the groups.
"Yeah, so you need a group to proceed… Hm…."
He trailed off. Teachers know the vibes better than you'd think. He probably got that Seonggwang's a total loner with zero connections.
"Uh… Know anyone at least?"
"Teacher Junwoo and singer Moon Juhee."
"Not seniors—students…."
Nope. Not even memorized classmates' names.
"Tricky…."
We sank into total deadlock. Needs 2+ per team, but I'm super solo.
What now? We pondered in silence.
"Ah, maybe! Ask to join another group…!"
"Can't I go solo, teacher? I can handle it."
"…"
He went quiet. Now I'd steel myself—no joining others. Time to sell my skills.
"I'm a composer, right? I can make tracks solo. Piano's my thing, other instruments quick to pick up. Singing too."
My desperate pitch stopped his pushes. Joining others seemed impossible anyway—not like I'd barge in shamelessly.
Confident in talent. Better than most teachers. But rejection over non-skill reasons would hurt bad.
"Please, Teacher Hyun-gyu… Save one soul…."
My plea made flat refusal awkward. After groaning in distress, he tapped the desk computer.
"…I'll inquire, but odds are low. If you hate joining groups, ask kids from other classes?"
"Other classes?"
"Not my B class sections—other teachers'. One can't find a teammate…."
He keyboarded, hunting a name.
"Which class…."
Scribbled on a Post-it with a pen, handed it over.
"Here. Find 'em and ask. They want solo too."
I took the yellow sticky. The messy scrawl stared back. Gazed long, then asked him.
"…This the name? Not hard to read—is it?"
"Yeah, unique like yours, huh?"
Unique? Child abuse-level naming. Stared at the Post-it, muttering mockingly.
"No way a person's name is Lara…."
Shin Lara from A class. The other loner in group work.
Hallway end to end. From E class through B, G, D to the target A class. Class assignments are trash. Cursing whoever set this up, I opened A class's door.
Slide. Eyes locked on me instantly. Break time, but plenty inside. Go play ball or something.
"…Who you looking for?"
The blonde ponytail girl chatting nearby stepped up like a savior. Perfect—no awkward intro needed. Rode the flow.
"…Is Lara here? Shin Lara."
"Lara? That's me."
The reliever was the star pitcher.
"I'm Lara. Shin Lara."
Target appeared right in front. Damn—hoped for timid type, got blonde instead.
Fairytale-level blonde tied in a ponytail. Blondes scream delinquent since forever. Blonde-tanned thugs exist; black-haired tanned? Just dark people.
Face kinda innocent, but not goody-goody. Noisy vibe.
"But why call me?"
Lara eyed me. Should I bail to Hyun-gyu and beg solo? Nah, came this far—talk.
"E class Seonggwang. B class group still open?"
"Yeah. No one to pair… Wanna team?"
Nice, straightforward. Lara gets it—no bullshit, straight to point. Goodwill skyrocketing.
I nodded. She seemed hesitant.
"Cool, but… I wanna do vocals. That okay?"
"Sure…."
Better than mediocre instrumentalist—cute vocalist aces it.
"Great. Your major?"
"Composition."
"Perfect. Wanted composer, but no takers…."
No chit-chat, quick yes. First impression aside, growing on me.
"Lara… You sure?"
Her friends—who'd been chatting—tried reining in the runaway train Lara, glancing warily at me.
"Huh? What's wrong?"
"Not that… It's him. The recent transfer."
They subtly eyed me, grabbing her hand. I get I'm not welcome, but do it in front of me? Trolls at least don't say it to your face.
"Oh… He's the guy?"
Catching their whisper, Lara sized me up suspiciously. Name drop drew all eyes. Guilty but not criminal—I bowed ~25 degrees. Lara stared, then asked:
"You good at music?"
"…Huh?"
"Good at music? Haven't heard yours."
Not rumors or works. Judging on my word.
"…Good at music?"
Absolute confidence in my skill.
"Never met anyone better than me."
Varied reactions: shock, sneers. Corner guy blushed like vicarious shame. But I stood by it. Pure truth, no bluff. Truly, no one's topped me in music. Screw opinions—I believe it.
I'm the best.
And I'm one who can back that arrogant line without shame. Boldly, to her.
Our runaway Lara nodded approval.
"Good enough. Yeah, let's do it."
No hesitation—pure conviction sealed the deal. She took my contact, left at bell. Easier than expected—I inwardly cheered, fist pumping. Thus, the provisional "Shin Lara & Seonggwang" party formed. Ready for name change.