Pass
“Wake up.”
In that hazy moment between sleep and waking, Yoon Ji-ah’s cold voice shattered my sweet dreams.
“…Ugh, why? I just got off work and wanted to sleep a bit.”
“What are you talking about? It’s time for school.”
“?!”
Only then did I realize I was in bed. Sunlight was already streaming through the window. Dad must have carried me here while I was asleep. Seriously, someone could kidnap me and I wouldn’t even notice… They say beautiful women are heavy sleepers, but this is getting out of hand. This is definitely a side effect of being a beauty. ‘Falling asleep at school is the same reason, so they should give me some leniency.’ It’s definitely not because I’m a delinquent student. Really.
Anyway, since Ji-ah woke me up, I opened my eyes. She was already in her school uniform, sitting at my desk reading the newspaper. Does she even sleep? And why is she in my room in the first place?
“…I don’t want to go to school. Is there a way to drop out of compulsory education?”
If it were the old Ji-ah, she would’ve listed every reason—compulsory education this, student that, networks this, Gangnam’s 8th school district that—to convince me. Now she just ignores me. When she turned her head like she was going to keep reading the paper, I closed my eyes too. A tongue-click of disbelief followed.
“Go wash up already. Mom’s got breakfast ready.”
“Fine, fine, I’m getting up.”
When Ji-ah glanced at me, I sat up. When she looked away again, I flopped back down.
“Hey!”
“…What, you punk? ‘Hey’?”
“Outdoor swimming pool.”
“?!?!”
It was shock and horror. Like watching the trailer for the year’s most terrifying horror-mystery-thriller. Felt a bit gory too. ‘From the perspective of death and slaughter of living beings, maybe it fits. Normal Ji-ah is already dead, and abnormal Ji-ah is trying to kill me with that joke.’
Who would’ve thought Ji-ah would drop a line like some snot-nosed kid like Min-su? Is this the apocalypse of 2002?
“Awake now? Go wash up.”
I was definitely awake now. She’s definitely a genius.
“Oh, right. You know there’s a dictation test today, right?”
“…Dictation?”
Are we even in the same class? Why don’t I know anything?
“You’re always passed out sleeping, so of course you don’t know anything. I think I told you that last time too.”
“Stop reading my mind. If you’re gonna do that, at least shave your head and wear an eyepatch or something.”
“And how exactly are you supposed to act with thoughts written all over your face like that?”
“Who do you think you are, some mind-reading master? Get lost. Go cough in Cheorwon or something.”
A miraculous conversation where we each said exactly what we wanted. Anyway, dictation. Since raising expectations too high never ends well, maybe I should get two or three wrong on purpose?
“Get even one wrong and you’re not getting allowance this week.”
Ji-ah, who’d read my mind again, followed up with a threat worthy of a capitalism monster. I nodded without a word.
The walk to school was the same as always. The drama hadn’t aired yet, and Kkureogi Tamheomdae had only aired once. Even the Cheongdam Elementary kids I saw every day didn’t find me particularly interesting. It was strangely deflating. Being a celebrity but not feeling like one—it was like working but not getting paid. The identity crisis was real. I’d already been dealing with gender identity confusion since eight years ago, so at this point I might as well be called an identity crisis collector.
“Seo-ah, Ji-ah, good morning!”
“Yeah, morning. A morning with zero energy and zero motivation.”
“…Huh?”
The kid who’d greeted us froze, unable to process what I’d just said. I walked right past.
“Oh! It’s Yoon Seo-ah!”
“What? Yoon Seo-ah? I’m your friend… Yeah. Right, friend. Sorry, friend.”
“…Yeah?”
The flustered kid’s eyes darted around, so I waved as brightly as possible with full celebrity attitude and headed into the classroom.
First period was the dictation test. I got a perfect score, obviously, and kept my allowance. Since I was the poster child for “smart but doesn’t study,” the teacher didn’t seem particularly surprised. After that, I don’t remember much. I fell asleep like usual.
Then lunchtime came. Incidents always happen in the cafeteria. Even at Cheongdam Elementary in Gangnam’s 8th school district, that cliché held true.
I was mixing my curry rice when I heard murmuring from one corner of the cafeteria. The lunchroom, where grades 1 through 6 all ate together, was louder than a marketplace, but my name always carried. I turned to see some older kids glancing at me and whispering.
“Is that her? The one who took Su-jin’s variety show spot?”
“Yeah, and she followed her into the drama too?”
“Su-jin’s been looking down lately. Is it because of her?”
Aha. The birthplace of rumors and hearsay. A normal elementary kid might’ve run over in outrage to explain themselves—or dumped their food tray over someone’s head or smashed it into their neck—but I was different. My appetite actually improved.
‘This is fun.’
This was the life of a celebrity. Rumors springing up without my knowledge, becoming gossip fodder. It was a measure of attention, proof of popularity. The identity crisis I’d felt that morning eased a little.
‘Ah, so this is the weight a celebrity has to bear.’
I hummed while crunching on radish cubes.
“Hey, Yoon Seo-ah. Those older girls are staring at us.”
Min-su whispered, looking scared.
“It’s fine. Just ignore them and eat. Your curry’s getting cold.”
“Still…”
“Who scares you more, me or those girls? Are you gonna eat or not?”
When I raised my fist, Min-su and the others started shoveling food like they were starving. Ji-ah shook her head at the sight. This was all WWE, but this stubborn Ji-ah was taking it as UFC. There’s no way I’d actually bully first-graders. This was our special combo—when I say “tiki,” they say “taka.” When I raise my fist, they act scared and listen well. It’s just a game.
“You get it, punk?”
“…What are you even saying all of a sudden?”
I needed to teach Ji-ah about living a second life as a little kid—especially a girl.
“Tsk. You really need to learn some things.”
“…Want to go home and study Gödel’s incompleteness theorem?”
“Sorry.”
I was about to grab my tray and flee to the return station when the cafeteria door opened.
Kim Su-jin. The center of my rumor and the original child star of this school.
“Su-jin! Over here!”
The older kids who’d been gossiping lit up and waved the moment they saw her. They even came out to greet her, tails wagging. Perfect little maids.
“Su-jin! I already got your food!”
“See her over there? Yoon Seo-ah? She stole your variety show spot and even took your drama role, right? And now she’s just sitting there laughing and eating like nothing happened.”
“That’s not funny. Should I call some middle school guys? Have them teach her a lesson?”
I stopped mid-step, pretending to drink water, and watched the scene with interest. What would she choose?! It felt like watching a social experiment variety show.
Kim Su-jin stared at her maids with a blank face. She crossed her arms and sighed.
“Who stole what? I stepped down because of my schedule.”
“…Huh?”
The maids’ faces went blank. Kim Su-jin clicked her tongue like they were pathetic.
“The drama part ended too, so I left. She joined as the daughter role. Our parts weren’t even in the same lineage, so how is that stealing? Are you idiots?”
“I-It was like that? I just thought—”
“You saw I was in a bad mood and assumed it was because of her… And what? Call middle school guys? Ha, are we some kind of gang? I told you to stop doing stuff like this while I’m getting lunch.”
Wow. I’d expected her to either join them in attacking me or at least placate her maids, but she went straight for the throat. The maids turned bright red and couldn’t say a word.
‘At this rate, she might become the target instead of me.’
Well, not my problem. If she can’t even handle her own maids, maybe she doesn’t have what it takes to be queen. If you want to wear the crown as a celebrity, you have to bear its weight. And the weight of my crown? Ji-ah will handle that. That’s how we twins were designed.
“Right, Ji-ah?”
“No, what have you been going on about since earlier—”
I was about to demand where she’d left the mind-reading she’d been using that morning when Kim Su-jin walked up to me. Being a sixth-grader, she was quite a bit taller. Her gaze down at me was pretty sharp for a kid.
“Hey, Yoon Seo-ah.”
“Yes, sunbae-nim!”
I answered respectfully. Entertainment industry senior-junior relationship and all.
“Sorry.”
“…Yes?”
“Don’t mind the nonsense my friends were saying.”
“Uh… Yes, I understand.”
Kim Su-jin said it matter-of-factly. I received it the same way. It wasn’t so much an apology as a cleanup of annoying noise, but for a sixth-grader at Cheongdam Elementary in Gangnam’s 8th school district—and a popular child actor at that—it seemed like pretty good character.
‘Reminds me of that day Gwang-su scratched my arm and threw me three thousand won as “medical fees.”’
Of course, I’d repaid him with a thirty-thousand-won massage, so there were no hard feelings between us.
Kim Su-jin kept her arms crossed and looked down at me.
“You’re in episode 3 today too, right?”
“Yes.”
The child actor parts ended at episode 2, and the adult parts started today. Naturally, Bom-i would appear too.
“I’m looking forward to it. I heard you’re good at acting.”
Hmm. The tone was clearly complimentary, but her eyes were full of irritation. She was trying to look indifferent too. What was this? A duel challenge? Did she want to sort out the hierarchy?
“Keep doing well. It’s part of your filmography, but it’s part of mine too.”
She patted my shoulder and turned away. Just before her head turned, I saw her bite her lip hard. A frustrated expression. She was seething with jealousy and envy, yet she cleanly acknowledged what needed acknowledging and didn’t badmouth others.
‘Okay, pass.’
I’d allow her to become an entertainment industry colleague who’d work with me from now on.
“Thank you, sunbae-nim! Please head back safely!”
I gave a proper junior’s greeting to my senior, then quickly grabbed my shoe bag and backpack and ran toward the school gate. Mom’s car was waiting anyway. Whether we arrived early or late, we’d have to wait for Ji-ah before leaving. Still, I ran. Strong and energetic dismissal time. It was exciting.
“Unni! Wait! Why are you running? Yoon Seo-ah! Hey!”
“Try and catch me~”
“…Crazy.”
An eight-year-old’s body was indescribably good. Just that short run had fully recharged my condition before heading to the shoot.