"As I mentioned earlier, we'll be selecting one of two William Shakespeare plays for this term's class performance—Romeo and Juliet or The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra," Miss Shin announced, her voice calm but with a hint of finality.
"Raise your hand if you'd prefer The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra," she continued.
Only a sparse collection of hands lifted into the air, scattered like reluctant leaves.
"Alright. Now, let's see who wants Romeo and Juliet."
This time, nearly the entire classroom responded. As expected, the classic tragedy won by a landslide.
No one anticipated any participation from Chaeyoung. She was known for her isolation in class, her indifference as consistent as the ticking clock above the whiteboard. Teachers had learned long ago not to call on her.
Jaehwan, seated confidently near the front, raised his hand with ease. Seeing him, Joon hesitated, then raised his own hand as well—more out of impulse than genuine preference.
"You're not picking one?" Jaehwan asked Chaeyoung, his brows furrowing slightly in curiosity.
She didn't look up. Her eyes remained glued to her phone screen, her silence loud.
"It'll be fun. Trust me," he added, his voice gentle and his smile disarming—one that could soften the sharpest edges.
The entire class turned to her, watching in anticipation.
Chaeyoung finally raised her gaze, her expression unreadable. "No, thank you. I'll pass," she replied coolly, rising from her seat and slinging her bag over one shoulder.
There were only two minutes left until the bell. Staying any longer would be pointless.
Joon's eyes lingered on her as she exited. He then turned toward Jaehwan, unable to mask the flicker of irritation on his face.
"What's so special about him?" He muttered to himself. "Okay... he's rich, famous, ridiculously good-looking... Ugh, come on, Joon. Get a grip."
He sighed, recalling the first time he tried saying 'hi' to Chaeyoung. She hadn't even acknowledged his presence. And yet, Jaehwan managed to get a reaction. It stung more than he cared to admit.
Class ended, and chaos erupted. Girls from neighboring classes burst in like a tidal wave, their excitement shaking the room. In the frenzy, Joon was shoved aside, crashing onto the floor with a groan.
"Wonderful. A celebrity," he muttered, brushing off his uniform pants.
To his surprise, Jaehwan left the swarm of fans and approached him.
"You okay?" Jaehwan asked, extending a hand to help him up.
"I'm fine," Joon replied quickly, brushing off his help and getting to his feet without the help of Jaehwan.
At the front, the questions were already flying.
"Is it true you're starring in a new K-drama?"
"I saw it on Instagram and TikTok!"
"Ladies, please, let's be civilized," Jaehwan said with a nervous laugh, trying to create space between himself and the small crowd.
Joon watched him from the back of the room, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "I'm not a stalker," he muttered, "But I've got some digging to do."
Suddenly, an authoritative voice cut through the commotion. "Students!" The room fell silent instantly. The principal stood at the door, arms crossed and gaze stern.
"I've received complaints from faculty about the disruption surrounding Jaehwan's presence. If this behavior continues, there will be suspensions."
The room cleared out within seconds, leaving only Joon and Jaehwan behind. Realizing this, Joon quickly gathered his things and hurried out, avoiding eye contact.
Once in the hallway, he pulled out his phone and searched Jaehwan's name on Instagram. He found the profile almost instantly.
"Found you! Eleven million followers?! And he doesn't post that much," he muttered. But before he could scroll more, he hesitated.
"What are you doing?" he asked himself quietly. With a sigh, he locked his phone and continued walking down the hallway. "That's not you," he told himself, trying to shake the strange curiosity clinging to his thoughts.
***
Lunch period arrived, and as always, the Diamond Cafeteria stood like a fortress of velvet and silence.
Guarded at every entrance, this was no ordinary lunchroom—it was a haven for the top-tier students of Dulwich College Seoul, the Diamond League.
Only the most academically gifted, socially dominant, visually admirable, or politically connected made it through those marble doors. Yet even within the elite, there were layers—and at the top of them all sat Chaeyoung.
She was alone at her table, as usual. The untouched food on her tray steamed faintly, ignored like most things around her. The glances that flicked her way were brief, like prayers whispered at a distance—full of awe, fear, and the unspoken knowledge that she was unreachable.
Even among kings and queens, there is a throne only one can occupy. And Chaeyoung wore that crown with quiet apathy.
Then the silence cracked.
"Let me go! I belong here!" Shouted a voice near the entrance. A boy, face red with frustration, struggled against two security guards. He was the tenth-ranked Diamond student—and clearly not high enough anymore.
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave," one of the guards said, escorting him away with mechanical calm. The student's cries faded as he was dragged past the glass doors.
Chaeyoung barely blinked. Her left eyebrow arched ever so slightly.
"What now?" She muttered, stirring her drink without sipping it.
"I was told to eat here... something about the Diamond League?" A voice said behind her—soft, confused, yet confidently composed.
She turned.
Jaehwan.
There he was again, somehow always appearing at the most inconvenient moments. He stood tall in his pristine uniform, scanning the room like someone who didn't quite believe he belonged, even though everyone else did.
"What are you doing here?" Chaeyoung asked coolly, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"I ranked second," he replied with a slight shrug, as if the achievement wasn't something most would kill for. "Something about 'perfection'—they didn't explain much."
Perfection. The word stung like ice against skin.
That cursed label had followed her for years, shadowing her every move like a ghost she could never exorcise. It wasn't a compliment. It was a cage.
"Yeah, right," she muttered under her breath.
"Huh?"
"Nothing," she said briskly, brushing past him. She sat down again, this time facing away from the center of the room, away from him.
***
By the end of the school day, the energy had shifted. It was Friday, and the air was electric with the promise of freedom. Students poured out like rushing water—laughing, shouting, their ties loosened and masks dropped.
Jaehwan lingered behind, earbuds in, pacing slowly toward the bus stop. He enjoyed moments like these—when no one expected him to smile or perform. Just as he stepped off the curb, a sleek, obsidian car rolled up to the sidewalk.
A Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail.
It slid in like a shadow, smooth and silent. The tinted window lowered.
"Where are you heading? Get in," said his father—Mr. Jung, CEO of Luxe Haven Hotel, dressed in a dark gray suit, casually checking his watch.
Jaehwan blinked. "Dad? I thought you were still in Thailand."
"I flew back this morning," Mr. Jung replied, waving a hand. "Come on. We don't have all day."
"Actually, I was gonna take the bus," Jaehwan replied, hesitating.
"The bus?" His father looked genuinely puzzled. "Why?"
"No reason... just felt like it," he said, fumbling for an excuse.
"Don't be ridiculous. Get in." He chuckled
The chauffeur opened the door before Jaehwan could protest again. With a resigned sigh, he slipped into the plush interior. Leather, cool against his skin. Quiet so complete it rang in his ears.
From a distance, Joon watched it all unfold.
"He drives that?" He muttered, jaw slack. "A La Rose Noire Droptail? You could buy half of Gangnam with that car."
***
The Jung mansion stood like a museum—cold, quiet, and impossibly large. The moment they arrived, Jiwoo burst out of the front door.
"Brother!" She squealed, launching into Jaehwan's arms.
"I was only gone for a few hours," he laughed, spinning her briefly.
"I'm here too, you know," Mr. Jung said with mock annoyance.
"Oh! Hey, Dad!" Jiwoo gave him a side-hug before turning back to her brother.
"How's Mom?" Jaehwan asked as they stepped inside. The mood instantly darkened.
"She's still the same," Jiwoo replied quietly.
Mr. Jung's expression tightened. "We're finalizing the arrangements for France. The surgery is high-risk, but they're the best."
Neither sibling said anything. What was there to say?
"Go freshen up," Mr. Jung added, patting Jaehwan's shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.
Jaehwan climbed the grand staircase slowly. His footsteps echoed as he walked the long corridor to the last room on the right.
His mother's room.
He hesitated before opening the door.
The woman who used to sing to him at night now lay in silence. Her frame was thin, her skin pale. Machines clicked and beeped beside her like hollow lullabies.
She had been diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer—Stage IV. The tumor had wrapped itself around vital arteries, making surgery both dangerous and urgent. France offered the best chance—but it came at a price. And not just financially.
He stepped forward, quietly pulling a chair beside her bed.
"Hi, Mom," he said softly. She didn't stir.
"I know you probably can't hear me, but... you will. You will soon."
He took her hand gently in his.
"You'll be okay. You'll be walking through this hallway again. You'll yell at Jiwoo for skipping piano practice, and you'll drag Dad to that old dumpling stall you like in Busan. You'll live."
His voice trembled at the last word.
But there was no reply. Only the soft hum of machines and the occasional gust of wind rattling the window panes.
Behind the perfect grades, flawless reputation, and glittering wealth... this was the truth. This was Jaehwan's world. A son holding onto hope like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Not the Rolls-Royce. Not the second-rank. Not the fan pages or the magazine covers.
Just this moment.
This heartbreak.
Another imperfectly perfect figure—maybe.