"Buckle up," Mrs. Lee said, tapping the steering wheel of her sedan. Instead of turning right at the intersection toward our quiet, leafy neighborhood, she jerked the wheel left, heading back toward the glittering skyline of downtown Seoul.
"Uh, Eomeonim?" I asked from the passenger seat. "Home is that way."
"I know," she said, adjusting her sunglasses. "But the traffic on the bridge is terrible, and I need caffeine."
She navigated the car expertly through the evening rush, pulling up to a familiar sight.
It was a Mise-en-scène cafe. The flagship store, apparently. It occupied the entire corner of a busy street, looking more like a library for Victorian aristocrats than a coffee shop. Green awnings, dark wood, gold lettering.
"Myung-Dae's place," I whispered.
"Best beans in the city," Mrs. Lee declared, parking the car. "Come on. My treat."
We walked inside. The smell of roasted beans and old books hit us. It was warm and sophisticated. We found a booth near the window.
"So, San-gun," Mrs. Lee said, stirring her latte elegantly. "How was school? Survive another week?"
"Yes, Eomeonim," I said, taking a sip of my iced tea. "I... I think I'm getting the hang of it. I even joined a club."
"Oh? Which one?"
"The School Bands Club," I said.
Ha-neul, sitting across from me, choked on her muffin. She coughed, pounding her chest, shooting me a warning glare.
"Water," she wheezed.
Just then, the bell above the door chimed. A group of four students walked in. They were loud, laughing, and carrying instrument cases.
But they weren't wearing the navy blue of Kirin.
They were wearing bright, aggressive crimson blazers with gold trim.
The atmosphere in the cafe shifted instantly. Several patrons glanced up. The crimson students scanned the room, spotting our table—specifically, our navy blue Kirin uniforms.
They stopped laughing. They sneered.
"Look," one of the guys said, loud enough for us to hear. "Kirin dolls. Even drink coffee in their uniforms to show off."
"Probably don't even know how to play those instruments," a girl with them snickered. "Just for poses."
They walked past us to the counter, deliberately bumping against the back of my chair.
"Excuse me," I muttered, annoyed.
Mrs. Lee didn't turn around, but her posture stiffened. She took a calm sip of her coffee.
"Hanyeong Arts High," I said, recognizing the uniform from the girl at the comic book store. "Why are they so... friendly?"
"They're barbarians," Ha-neul muttered, stabbing her muffin with a fork. "Ignore them."
"But why?" I pressed, leaning in. "Min-ah told me about the rivalry. She said we compete in the same categories for awards. That idols from Kirin and Hanyeong always fight for number one on the charts. Is it just... professional jealousy?"
Ha-neul stopped chewing. She looked at me. Then she let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"Charts? Awards?" She shook her head, looking at me like I was a toddler who had just asked why the sky was blue. "You really are stupid, San-ssi. Did you even read the brochure before you got on the plane?"
"Ha-neul!" Mrs. Lee scolded, putting her cup down with a sharp clink. "Don't be rude. San is new. He doesn't know."
"He should know," Ha-neul retorted, though she lowered her voice. She leaned across the table, her eyes dark and serious behind her glasses.
"It's not just about charts or competitions, San. That's just the surface. That's just business and academics."
She glanced at the group of Hanyeong students by the counter, who were now glaring at us while waiting for their drinks.
"Kirin and Hanyeong," she whispered. "It goes deeper than that. It's about how our schools were founded. And who founded them."
"Who?"
"Two brothers," she said ominously. "And a betrayal that destroyed a family."