I left the suffocating silence of the club room and the debris of my failed diplomacy behind.
I walked straight to the faculty office. Ms. Choi was packing her bag, ready to leave.
"San-ssi?" she asked, looking at my swollen eye. "Did you go to the nurse?"
"Yes, Seonsaengnim," I said, my voice hollow. "I have a request. Regarding the application."
"You want to withdraw?" she asked, not unkindly.
"No. I need to change a role. Han Leo... he can't play drums. He's a classical musician. He plays violin." I took a breath. "Please change his position to Strings/Violin."
Ms. Choi paused, her hand on a file folder. She looked at me over her glasses.
"Violin? But San-ssi... this is a band application. If you move Leo to violin... who is playing the drums?"
I stared at the wall behind her. "I... I will work it out. Just please, change the form. Leo won't play if he has to hit things. We'll find a rhythm section. Somehow."
Ms. Choi sighed, opening her tablet and tapping the screen. "Very well. Han Leo: Violin. Drummer: To Be Determined. You have until the demo on Wednesday, San. A band without a beat is just noise."
"Thank you."
I bowed and walked out. I didn't go to the exit. I needed to be as far away from the ground floor as possible.
I took the stairs to the Visual Arts wing, climbed the concrete steps, and pushed open the heavy steel door to the roof.
The greenhouse was bathed in the purple and orange hues of twilight . It was silent, smelling of damp earth and exotic flowers. It was the only place in this school that felt real.
I walked to my spot behind the ornamental purple tree, slid down against the planter, and pulled out my phone.
I dialed.
"Sashko?" My mom's voice was warm and sleepy. It was morning in Ukraine.
"Hi, Mom," I whispered.
"Sonechko! You sound... are you okay? Is your voice shaking?"
"No, I'm fine," I lied, my throat tightening. "Just... tired. School is... intense."
"Are you eating? Are they feeding you?"
"Yeah. The food is great. Mrs. Lee makes amazing galbi-jjim."
A hot tear spilled over my eyelid, stinging the swollen skin.
"Alex? Are you crying?"
"No," I choked out, wiping my face furiously with my sleeve. "Just... allergies. The pollen in the greenhouse is different."
"Oh, honey. Be careful. We miss you so much. Dad sends his love. He asks if you're behaving."
"I miss you too," I whispered, the dam breaking. Tears flowed freely now, hot and fast. "Tell him I'm behaving. I... I have to go, Mom. Class is starting. I love you."
"We love you. Be brave."
I hung up and dropped the phone on the grass, burying my face in my knees. I let it out. The stress, the humiliation of the kimchi incident, the fight with Myung-Dae, the disappointment in Jun-seo's eyes. I sobbed quietly into my jeans.
"Are you crying?"
The voice was sudden, close, and familiar.
I jumped, banging my head against the tree trunk. I looked up.
Standing on the other side of the planter, looking down at me, was Yoo Chae-rin.
But she didn't look like the Ice Queen. Her perfect hair was slightly messy. Her mascara was smudged. And her eyes... her eyes were red and puffy.
She sniffled, a wet, un-glamorous sound. Then, she let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"Look at you," she said, her voice cracking. "The 'Representative.' Crying in a bush."
I wiped my face, sniffing loudly.
"You look no better," I shot back, my voice hoarse. "Did you run out of waterproof mascara?"
She chuckled—a dry, brittle sound. She walked around the planter and sat down on the floor next to me, leaning her head back against the glass wall.
"I broke up with him," she said simply.
I froze. "Min-gyu?"
"Yes." She stared up at the glass ceiling.
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling a fresh wave of guilt. "It was my fault..."
"No," Chae-rin shook her head. "It wasn't you. You were just the last drop. He was always insecure. He always thought I was..." She let out a sigh that fogged up the glass. "He... Min-gyu was always too jealous."
She turned to look at me. Her eyes were wet again.
"It still hurts, though," she whispered. "Which is stupid. I'm Yoo Chae-rin. I don't cry over boys."
"I cry over everything," I admitted.
Chae-rin looked at my swollen eye and snorted. "You really do look tragic."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"Singing helps," she said suddenly.
"What?"
"When you feel like your chest is going to explode," she said, sitting up straighter. "You have to let it out. Do you know any... loud songs? Pop songs?"
I thought about it. "Queen?"
Her eyes lit up. "Freddie Mercury? Yes. Which one?"
"The Show Must Go On," I suggested. It felt appropriate.
She nodded. She didn't need a warm-up. She just opened her mouth and started, her voice low and resonant in the glass space.
"Empty spaces... what are we living for?"
I joined in on the harmony, my voice rougher, rock-edged.
"Abandoned places... I guess we know the score..."
We got louder. We didn't care about pitch or technique. We just screamed it.
"The show must go on!" Chae-rin belted, her voice soaring, cracking with emotion but hitting the note with terrifying power.
"Inside my heart is breaking!" I roared back, channeling all my frustration at Myung-Dae. "My makeup may be flaking, but my smile... still stays on!"
We sang the whole thing, our voices bouncing off the glass walls, filling the greenhouse with angst and power. By the final note, we were both out of breath, chests heaving.
Chae-rin wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"See?" she said, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. "Now you feel better."
"Yeah," I admitted, surprised. The weight in my chest had lightened. "I actually do."
She stood up, smoothing her skirt. She pulled a compact mirror from her pocket and began aggressively fixing her face.
"I have to go," she said, her voice returning to its usual business-like tone. "I have vocal training at YG in forty minutes. If I'm late, my instructor will kill me."
She snapped the compact shut and looked down at me.
"San-ssi."
"Yeah?"
"Don't give up," she said firmly. "On the band. Or the demo. You look like a mess, but... you have a good voice. Use it."
She turned and walked toward the door, her heels clicking on the concrete.
I watched her go, shocked. Underneath the designer clothes and the icy attitude, Yoo Chae-rin was... intensely human.
"Don't give up," I repeated to the empty greenhouse.
I stood up. I had a drummer to find.