I was lying on the expensive Italian leather sofa in the living room, staring blankly at the crystal chandelier. My arms were crossed over my chest like a corpse in a casket.
If this were a movie, the camera would be slowly zooming out while sad violin music played.
"So, Doctor," I mumbled to the empty air. "My diagnosis is terminal. I have been infected with a fatal case of 'Main Character Syndrome' without my consent."
"San-ssi?"
Ha-neul walked into the living room, holding a glass of juice. She stopped, looking down at me.
"What are you doing?"
I didn't move. "I am decomposing. Please tell Eomeonim to bury me in the garden. Next to the giraffe statue."
Ha-neul sighed, the sound of ice rattling in her glass. She poked my leg with her toe.
"San. Get up. You're depressing the furniture."
I slowly turned my head to look at her. I felt like I was underwater.
"What... should I do, Ha-neul?"
"About what?" she asked, taking a sip of juice. "Did you fail a math quiz? Did you buy another ugly shirt?"
"The band," I whispered. "The assignment. Chae-rin."
Ha-neul rolled her eyes. "Oh, that. Just tell professor you can't do it. Take the zero. It's better than dying of stress."
"Easy for you to say, I can't," I said, sitting up slowly, my hair a mess. "If I want to pass, I have to... fix everything."
I looked her in the eye.
"She wants me to reunite them. She wants me to bring back W-Naut."
Ha-neul froze. The glass stopped halfway to her mouth.
"Mwo?" she said, her voice flat. "What did she ask you to do?"
"She wants Jun-seo, Myung-Dae. She wants W-Naut back together. And she wants ME to do it."
Ha-neul stared at me for a solid three seconds. She blinked once. Twice.
And then, she exploded.
"Pfft—HAHAHAHAHA!"
She bent over, clutching her stomach, laughing so hard she nearly dropped her juice. It wasn't a polite giggle. It was a loud, hyena-like cackle of pure disbelief.
"Reunite... W-Naut? You?" she wheezed, wiping a tear. "Oh my god. Chae-rin is insane! She's actually lost her mind! That's... that's the funniest thing I've heard all year!"
"LEE HA-NEUL!"
A roar echoed from the upstairs hallway. It was Ji-hoon.
"SHUT UP! SOME OF US WORKED UNTIL 4 AM!"
Ha-neul instantly clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. She looked at the ceiling.
"Sorry, Oppa!" she yelled back, though slightly quieter. "Go back to sleep!"
We heard a door slam upstairs and a muffled groan.
Ha-neul straightened up, composing herself. She took a deep breath, pushing her glasses up her nose. The laughter was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp seriousness.
"Okay," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Listen to me, San. Carefully."
"I'm listening."
"Don't do it."
I blinked. "What?"
"Don't try," she said, her eyes hard. "Tell Chae-rin no. Tell professor you forfeit. Tell Jun-seo you're joining the Jazz Club. Just... drop it."
"But... why?" I stood up, frustration bubbling up. "Why is everyone acting like this? It's just a high school band! Why is it a state secret? Why won't anyone tell me what happened?"
"Because it's none of your business!" Ha-neul snapped, her voice rising again before she caught herself. She took a step toward me, her face tight.
"You've been here for two weeks, San. You think because you learned some Korean phrases and made friends with Min-ah that you understand us? You don't. You don't know what happened to them. You don't know what happened to Jin-woo."
"Then tell me!" I pleaded. "Help me understand! If I don't fix this... Ms. Choi will give the spot to Class 2-A. We have to do something."
Ha-neul glared at me, her fists clenched at her sides. For a second, I thought she was going to scream at me, maybe throw her juice in my face. She looked furious, but also... scared?
She took a breath, holding it, and then let it out in a harsh hiss.
"Just... don't do it," she repeated, her voice strained. "Leave the dead buried, San. If you try to dig this up... you're going to hurt people. Real people. Not just your grade."
Ding-dong.
The front doorbell chimed, cheerful and oblivious to the tension in the room.
Ha-neul flinched. She looked at the door, then back at me. Her "Ice Princess" mask slammed back into place.
"That's Professor Kim," she said coldly. "I have a lesson."
She turned and walked toward the door to let her piano teacher in.
I stood there, watching her go.
"Well," I muttered to the empty room as the front door opened and enthusiastic greetings were exchanged. "Looks like Ji-hoon hyung isn't getting any sleep after all."
From upstairs, a pillow thudded against the floorboards, followed by a muffled, agonized scream of a prosecutor who just wanted silence.