Ignoring the stunned gazes of his classmates, Song Eun-woo stood up with a lopsided grin and walked toward the front row.
In his hand was the single, unmarked capsule.
His initial impulse had been simple compassion, but a sharper, more calculating thought had quickly followed.
I took one capsule and was cured instantly. If it works on her too… then this isn't just medicine. This is a goldmine. She's the perfect test subject.
Mr. Park watched him with deep suspicion, one eyebrow arched. He knew the nicknames the boys used for Han Soo-jin—"The Ghost," "Granny's Glasses." They usually avoided her like she carried some unspecified contagion. This sudden chivalry from Song Eun-woo, of all people, was profoundly out of character.
Under the weight of the classroom's silent scrutiny, Eun-woo arrived at Soo-jin's desk. He placed the capsule gently on the edge of her test paper.
"Here. It's strong stuff. Took one this morning and…" He gestured vaguely to his own now-clear head. He wasn't lying.
Han Soo-jin, who had been trying to make herself disappear into her oversized uniform, flinched at the proximity. She dared a glance upward. The boy standing over her wasn't sneering or mocking. He just looked… earnest, and surprisingly healthy for someone who'd been sniffling all week. A flush crept up her neck, staining her pale cheeks.
"G-gomawo… but I'm alright," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper before she ducked her head again.
That reflexive shake of her head, however, brushed her long, curtain-like hair aside for a crucial second. Combined with the fact her thick, old-fashioned glasses were off and resting on her desk, her face was fully exposed.
Eun-woo's breath hitched.
Porcelain skin, flawless and pale. Features so delicately balanced they seemed drawn by a master artist—large, luminous eyes now wide with anxiety, a straight nose, and lips slightly parted in surprise. She wasn't just pretty. She was… stunning. A hidden masterpiece in a dusty frame.
What the…? Are the guys in this class blind? Or am I hallucinating again? This is 'The Ghost'?
"Song Eun-woo-ssi, return to your seat. Han Soo-jin-ssi, if you have medicine, take it. We've wasted enough time," Mr. Park's voice cut through the moment, his tone leaving no room for debate. He hadn't seen the revelation from his angle.
Snapped back to reality, Eun-woo gave a curt nod, his eyes lingering on Soo-jin's lowered head for a second longer before he turned and walked back, his mind reeling.
"Hyung! You're a legend! Truly, a heart of pure ppali-ppali!" Kim Do-hyun whispered as Eun-woo slumped back into his seat, giving an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Eun-woo ignored him. His thoughts were a whirlwind centered on that face. Han Soo-jin, with a modern hairstyle, contacts, and clothes that fit… she would eclipse every uljjang and trainee idol he'd ever seen online. The potential was staggering.
From the corner of his eye, he watched. Soo-jin slowly, carefully, put her glasses back on, reclaiming her familiar armor. She stared at the capsule for a long moment, then unscrewed the cap of her worn, sticker-peeling water bottle. With a resolve that seemed to cost her, she swallowed the pill.
Mr. Park watched her, a faint sigh escaping him. A bright, struggling child. She deserves a good future… just not one tangled with a troublemaker like Song Eun-woo.
The effect was nearly immediate for Soo-jin. The vice-like pressure in her sinuses released. The fiery itch in her throat cooled and vanished. A clarity she hadn't felt in days washed over her. Having only ever endured colds or relied on cheap, bitter herbal remedies from the pharmacy, she simply assumed this was some incredibly potent, expensive drug. A wave of guilt for accepting something so valuable washed over her.
I've been sitting in the same class as a hidden gem for three years and never saw it, Eun-woo thought, a strange possessiveness stirring in his chest. It wasn't just attraction; it was the thrill of discovery, of knowing a secret no one else did.
Romantic notions aside, a more urgent problem crashed into his thoughts. The Suneung was in a week. With her scores, Han Soo-jin would be aiming for SNU, Yonsei, Korea University—the top of the top. He looked down at his own test paper. Ten minutes into the exam, and only his name, written in messy hangul, marred the blank page.
A fierce, sudden resolve solidified within him. I have to go to university. I have to go to the same university as her.
He set his jaw, turning a determined glare toward the English reading comprehension passage in front of him. "It starts here. With this test."
His determination lasted precisely as long as it took him to read the first sentence. He knew every word in isolation, but together they formed an incomprehensible cipher. He sighed, his shoulders slumping.
Then, it hit him. A jolt of pure adrenaline.
You idiot! You have a SYSTEM! You're not some helpless high-school delinquent anymore!
The euphoria was short-lived. But how? He couldn't very well deconstruct and reconstruct the test paper during the exam. Even if that were possible, he only had one reconstruction per day, and there were multiple subjects. He spent the remaining hour and forty-five minutes of the exam in a silent frenzy of mental scheming, his test paper remaining perfectly, impeccably blank. He didn't even bother with his usual strategy of filling the multiple-choice bubbles to create a decorative pattern.
Ding-dong-ding-dong~
The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Eun-woo stared blankly as the TA collected his virgin test paper. He stayed rooted to his seat, brow furrowed in intense concentration, waving away Do-hyun when he suggested a trip to the convenience store.
I have the key to infinite possibility, but I can't figure out how to open the door to a decent test score!
Just as he was mentally wrestling with the problem, a soft shadow fell across his desk. He didn't look up, irritation sharpening his tone.
"Yah, Kim Do-hyun, I said I'm not—"
He stopped. The shoes by his desk weren't his friend's worn sneakers. They were clean, white, school-issue shoes, neatly laced.
He looked up.
Han Soo-jin stood there, clutching her worn notebook to her chest like a shield. Her glasses were firmly in place, her hair a protective veil once more. She seemed to be gathering every ounce of courage in her slender body.
"S-Song Eun-woo-ssi," she whispered, her voice so quiet he had to lean forward to hear. "Thank you for the medicine. It… it worked very well. How much… how much do I owe you?"
[To Be Continued…]