Kitty POV
I used to think being noticed was a simple thing.
Either people saw you, or they didn't. Either you stood out, or you blended in. Either you were popular, or you were invisible.
But now I understand something I didn't understand before.
Being noticed has different temperatures.
Some attention feels warm, like sunlight.Some attention feels cold, like a spotlight that burns.
Ever since I wrote my name on that registration list, the campus has been looking at me differently. Not loudly. Not dramatically. The difference is small. Subtle. That is what makes it dangerous.
The pause before people speak again when I walk into a room.The glance that lingers half a second too long.The sudden smiles from people who never smiled at me before.
It isn't hostility.
It is anticipation.
And anticipation has weight.
This morning, I wake up earlier than usual. Not because I have energy. Because I do not.
My eyes open and my chest already feels tight, like I spent the night holding my breath without realizing it. The room is quiet. The air is cool. My phone is face down on the pillow beside me, like it is pretending to be innocent.
I turn it over.
Notifications.
A lot.
Messages from strangers. From classmates I barely spoke to. From girls in other majors. From people who somehow already decided who I am supposed to be.
"Queen Selection? I knew it. Good luck.""You're literally going to win.""Health track queen incoming.""Can I take a pic with you later?"
I stare at the screen and feel something twist in my stomach.
They are talking like I already belong to the spotlight.
Like I didn't just step into it with shaking knees and a quiet prayer under my breath.
My fingers hover over the messages. I do not reply yet.
I put my phone down and sit up slowly.
The mirror on my wall catches me in the corner of my eye.
My face looks normal.
That bothers me.
I expected fear to show on my face. I expected my eyes to look different. I expected proof that something big is happening.
But my face looks like it always does.
Which means the battle is inside.
I stand and move to the mirror.
I tuck hair behind my ear, then let it fall back. I try a smile, then drop it. I tilt my chin slightly like the rehearsal instructor taught us yesterday and immediately feel ridiculous.
I whisper to my reflection, "Be normal."
Then I laugh quietly, because nothing about this is normal.
My phone buzzes again.
This time it is NC.
"Are you awake?"
I type back quickly. "Yes. Too awake."
NC replies immediately. "Meet me in five. We go together."
I exhale.
That small certainty helps.
NC has always been like a big sister, even when she acts like she doesn't know she is. Calm voice. Steady eyes. The kind of presence that makes you feel less alone even when she says nothing.
I get dressed slowly. I choose something simple, comfortable, not too showy. Not because I am trying to hide, but because I am trying to remain myself. I do not want the Queen Selection to swallow me and spit out a version of me I cannot recognize.
When I step outside, the hallway is quieter than usual. Students pass and look at me as if they are checking if I match the rumors they built overnight.
One girl smiles brightly. "Kitty, good luck!"
I smile back. "Thank you."
It comes out polite. Warm enough to not seem cold. Controlled enough to not seem eager.
I am already performing.
That thought makes my throat tighten.
NC waits near the stairwell with two cups of convenience store coffee. She hands me one without asking.
"You look like you fought a war in your sleep," she says.
I snort softly. "Maybe I did."
NC studies me for a second. "Nervous?"
I hesitate. Then nod. "More than I want to admit."
NC smiles gently. "Good. It means you care."
We walk together toward the rehearsal hall, and the campus feels different at this hour. The sky is gray. The air is thick. Not hot, not cold. Just heavy like rain is waiting somewhere behind the clouds.
The posters are everywhere now.
Queen Selection banners. Slogans. Silhouettes of crowns.
I catch my own name in a handwritten marker on a small board near the student center. Someone wrote "Kitty" and drew a little crown beside it.
It should make me happy.
Instead, it makes me want to disappear.
NC notices my expression. "Don't spiral."
I blink. "I wasn't."
NC raises an eyebrow.
I sigh. "Okay, I was."
She nudges my shoulder lightly. "You're not a ghost, Kitty. You don't have to haunt your own life."
That makes me laugh, but the laughter is short.
Because when we reach the rehearsal hall, the real pressure begins.
Inside, the air is brighter. Warm with bodies. Loud with energy. People gather in clusters like magnets.
Candidates stand near the stage entrance, some rehearsing smiles in their phone cameras. Some fixing hair. Some practicing their walk on the side aisle.
I feel eyes on me immediately.
Not rude stares.
Soft ones.
Curious ones.
I hate how I can feel them.
I keep my expression calm. I do what I always do. I move carefully, not rushing, not shrinking.
I spot June across the room.
She stands near the back wall, posture straight, notes in hand, expression composed like she was born for this. She looks like someone who can turn nerves into fuel.
I envy that.
Not because I want to be her.
Because I want to feel that kind of certainty.
June glances up and our eyes meet for half a second.
Her gaze is not hostile.
But it is sharp.
Like she is watching everything.
Like she is counting.
I look away first.
Not because I am weak.
Because I do not want to turn this into a war.
I do not want to become the girl who fights another girl just because a campus decided to treat love and pride like entertainment.
But I also know this.
If the campus wants a story, it will write one with or without our permission.
My rehearsal slot comes earlier today.
I step behind the stage curtain and feel my heartbeat climb.
The stage lights are on, but the hall is not full. Still, it feels like a thousand eyes even when the seats are empty. The darkness beyond the front rows looks like a deep ocean.
I swallow.
The instructor calls my name.
I step out.
My heels click against the stage floor. The sound is louder than it should be. It echoes.
My body stiffens for a second.
Then I remember something my father once said when I was younger and scared.
"Slow. Breathe. Don't let fear rush you. Fear likes speed."
I inhale slowly.
One step forward.
Pause.
Chin slightly up.
Smile.
Not a forced smile.
A soft one.
I move like I am walking into my own life instead of someone else's expectation.
I can see the instructor's silhouette nod slightly.
My walk is not aggressive. It is not sharp. It is calm.
I finish the routine, turn, and walk back.
When I step off stage, my knees feel weak, but my face stays composed.
NC catches my eye and gives me a thumbs up.
I mouth, "I didn't die."
She mouths back, "Not yet."
I laugh quietly, and the laugh releases some tension I didn't know I was holding.
During break, I sit near the courtyard door again. I need air. I need a place where the walls don't reflect a hundred versions of me back at me.
The sky outside is darker now. Clouds heavier.
I stare at them like they might answer questions.
I take my phone out and open it, not to scroll, but to ground myself in something familiar.
My home screen is simple. Clean. I like things that way. I have always liked Apple devices because they feel like calm design. Like order.
It is funny.
I want order so badly, and my life refuses to stay organized.
NC sits beside me, sipping coffee. "You did well."
I shrug. "It was just walking."
NC gives me a look. "Walking is never just walking when everyone's watching."
I don't answer.
Because she's right.
My phone buzzes again.
A message from someone I do not know well.
"Can you send your rehearsal schedule? I want to come watch."
My fingers freeze.
The idea of people coming to watch rehearsals makes my stomach drop.
I lock my screen quickly.
NC notices. "Too much?"
I nod.
She leans closer, voice lower. "Kitty, listen. People watching you is not the same as people owning you."
I swallow. "Sometimes it feels like they want to own it."
NC's gaze softens. "Then don't give them that."
I breathe in slowly.
Then footsteps.
I feel the presence before I see it.
XH steps outside, stopping a few feet away like he is trying not to disturb me.
"You're hiding," he says quietly.
I tilt my head. "I'm breathing."
He nods. "Same thing sometimes."
His voice is calm. Not teasing. Not accusing. Just understanding.
It makes my chest tighten again in a different way.
Because being understood feels intimate.
And intimacy is dangerous right now.
I glance at NC. She gives me a small smile, then stands. "I'm getting water. Don't disappear."
She walks away, leaving XH and me alone under the gray sky.
He shifts his weight, hands in his pockets.
"You okay?" he asks.
I want to say yes.
I want to be easy.
But I'm tired of being easy when I'm not.
So I answer honestly.
"I don't know."
He nods slowly, like he expected that.
"I feel like everyone is staring at me," I admit quietly. "Like they already decided who I am. Like I signed my name and suddenly I became a character in their story."
XH looks at me carefully. "You're not their character."
I laugh softly. "Tell the campus that."
His mouth twitches like he almost smiles.
Then he says, "Do you regret signing?"
I hesitate.
"No," I say. "I regret that it matters so much."
He watches me for a moment. "It matters because you matter."
That hits harder than I expect.
My throat tightens. I look away quickly, focusing on the clouds again.
"Do you think people change when they're watched?" I ask.
He thinks carefully. That's what he does. He doesn't throw answers like coins. He holds them first, makes sure they're real.
"I think people reveal what they're afraid of," he says.
I swallow. "And what am I revealing?"
He looks at me, eyes steady.
"Courage," he says softly. "The kind that doesn't scream."
My chest aches.
I want to tell him something. Something honest. Something that would make him stop looking at me like I am brave and start looking at me like I am human.
But I'm scared.
So instead, I say the only safe thing.
"Thank you."
He nods. "Anytime."
I feel it then.
A gaze from inside.
A sharp awareness like a thread pulled tight.
I don't turn immediately.
But I know.
June is watching.
Not because she wants to spy.
Because she cannot help it.
I feel heat rise in my cheeks.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Fear that this moment will be interpreted wrong.
Fear that I am becoming the villain in someone else's heartbreak.
I glance toward the glass door and catch June's reflection for a fraction of a second. She stands inside, posture controlled, expression unreadable.
Then she turns away.
My chest tightens.
XH follows my gaze. "What?"
"Nothing," I say quickly.
But it isn't nothing.
It is everything.
Back inside, the hall feels louder. Hotter. More crowded.
The same faces now feel sharper.
I catch SRM whispering to Thoon. I catch Thoon's eyes flick to me with a smirk. I catch HTN looking at me like she's studying a pattern.
I hate that.
I hate feeling like prey.
I return to my seat beside NC and force myself to drink water slowly.
My phone vibrates again.
This time, it is a message from my group chat with June, NC, and Jihye.
NC: "Everyone breathe. We're still alive."
Jihye: "Barely."
June: "Focus. Don't get distracted. People want you distracted."
I read June's message twice.
There is no direct accusation.
But I feel it anyway.
Like a warning.
Like she's speaking to me without saying my name.
My fingers hover above the keyboard.
I want to reply. I want to say, "I'm not trying to take anything from you."
But I don't.
Because even if I say it, it won't erase what she saw.
And maybe, the real truth is harder.
Maybe I don't know what I'm doing either.
When the day ends, I walk back to my dorm with NC. The sky is darker now. The air heavier. Still no rain.
But I can feel it coming.
NC talks about dinner, about studying, about anything normal. I respond, but my mind drifts.
Later, alone in my room, I sit on my bed and stare at my phone.
I open my notes app.
I type a prayer.
Not fancy. Not dramatic. Just honest.
"Please let me stay kind. Please don't let pride make me cruel. Please don't let love turn into something ugly."
I pause.
Then I add one more line.
"Please protect the people I care about, even if I don't know how to say it."
I lock my phone and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
My heart is tired.
My mind is louder than ever.
And somewhere inside the quiet, I realize something that scares me more than the contest.
This isn't just about a crown.
It's about who I become under pressure.
It's about what gets revealed when the world watches.
And it's about the fact that I can already feel the story tightening, like a knot being pulled slowly, patiently, until something has to give.
Outside, thunder rumbles faintly.
Still no rain.
But I know.
It's coming.