If waking up yesterday had felt like a zombie apocalypse, today felt suspiciously like a Disney princess montage—birds chirping annoyingly outside my window, sunlight perfectly slanting across my face, and absolutely no urge to throw my alarm clock out the window. Unsettled by this unexpected optimism, I stared at the ceiling for a full minute before cautiously sitting up. Something felt wrong, or maybe right—either way, it was clearly abnormal.
At school, Hyeri met me at the gates with an expression caught halfway between amusement and disbelief.
–Did you know Junho just greeted me in the hallway?
–Define "greeted"—did he grunt, wave, or actually speak in complete sentences?
–He used words. Real, human words.
I stared at her in mock horror.
–We broke him.
–I think we fixed him, actually.
Hyeri laughed, tugging at my arm to lead me inside. The school felt different today. Not entirely familiar yet, but closer—less of a stage set for drama and more like an actual place where people learned and lived. The whispers hadn't vanished completely, but now they sounded curious instead of judgmental.
As we approached our classroom, Taejun fell into step beside us, holding an overly large thermos of coffee.
–Morning. Is it weird that random third-years keep nodding at me?
–Probably, I said. –But enjoy it while it lasts. Next week they'll forget our names again.
He smiled slightly and shrugged.
–Fame is fleeting.
Hyeri snorted.
–Look at us, bonding over existential dread before 9 AM.
–That's what true friendship looks like, Taejun replied solemnly.
We entered the classroom together, smiling—only to pause as Jiyeon, seated at her desk, glanced up and immediately looked away. Yuri was nowhere to be seen, and a strange tension lingered near the front row. Taejun and Hyeri exchanged uneasy looks, but I shook my head gently. We'd taken one step forward; I wasn't going to let us get pushed two steps back.
By lunch, curiosity had evolved into direct questions. Junho, who now apparently considered himself part of our unofficial group, sat down next to me without invitation, dropping his lunch tray dramatically on the table.
–So, what's our next big move?
Hyeri raised an eyebrow, amused.
–Our? When exactly did you join the planning committee?
–Since I heroically exposed my vulnerabilities on camera.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling.
–Your sacrifice is noted. But I think we're good for now. No more revolutions this week.
Junho sighed dramatically, resting his chin on his hand.
–Fine. But let the record show I was ready.
Taejun chuckled, sliding into the seat opposite me.
–Maybe we should just enjoy the peace.
Junho scoffed lightly.
–Peace? That sounds suspiciously boring.
I nudged his tray with my chopsticks.
–Don't underestimate boring. It's surprisingly refreshing.
He gave a reluctant nod, starting on his food. For a moment, things felt completely normal—lunch, friends, casual banter. It was the calmest I'd felt in weeks.
Then my phone vibrated, pulling me abruptly back to reality. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. Confused, I hesitated, then answered cautiously.
–Hello?
A professional-sounding woman replied immediately.
–Good afternoon. Is this the student responsible for the recent media club documentary?
My throat tightened slightly.
–Yes. Why?
–I'm a producer from Seoul Student Media Awards. Your video was submitted for consideration by your school. Congratulations—you've been shortlisted.
I froze, the chopsticks in my hand suddenly forgotten. Junho raised an eyebrow curiously, noticing my expression.
–Is this good news or bad news?
I stared at him blankly.
–I think I might be accidentally winning something.
The news spread faster than I could process it. By the end of lunch, even the third-years seemed aware that our "small project" was no longer small at all. Hyeri practically glowed with excitement, while Taejun tried very hard to appear composed, failing miserably.
–You realize this means you might have to actually go on stage and talk in front of people again, Hyeri pointed out helpfully.
I groaned, sinking further into my seat.
–Why would you say something that cruel?
–It's my job as your best friend to keep you humble.
–Believe me, I'm fully aware of my humbleness right now.
Junho grinned openly, completely unbothered.
–You survived the roundtable. How hard can one little awards ceremony be?
–Ask me again when I trip on my way up to the microphone.
–That's pessimistic, even for you, Taejun replied, fighting a smile. –You'll be fine.
But the growing knot in my stomach disagreed. This was different. Roundtable discussions were controlled environments, carefully constructed. Awards meant spotlights, speeches, and probably a hundred new opportunities for public humiliation.
Still, there was something strangely satisfying beneath the panic. This wasn't scandal or gossip—it was recognition. Real, official acknowledgment that we'd created something meaningful.
–It's not just about you this time, Hyeri said quietly, reading my thoughts. –It's about all of us. The group. You don't have to carry this alone.
I looked around at their supportive expressions and felt the knot loosen slightly.
–You're right. If I embarrass myself, I'm taking you all down with me.
Junho laughed loudly.
–That's the spirit!
The rest of the day blurred by, an odd combination of excitement and dread keeping me distracted. By evening, as Hyeri and I left school, reality finally settled in. Outside, the sky had darkened softly, streetlights flickering on as we paused by the gates.
–It's really happening, isn't it? she asked softly, nudging my shoulder.
–Apparently.
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled reassuringly.
–Whatever happens, you've already done more than anyone expected. Even Yuri can't deny that now.
I glanced at the school building behind us, quiet and imposing.
–I don't know if recognition was ever my goal. I just wanted to change things.
–Well, you did. You changed more than you think.
We stood quietly, breathing in the cool evening air. Finally, she turned, her eyes bright with determination.
–Come on, famous person. Let's go get ice cream and pretend you're not completely freaking out.
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had all day.
–Lead the way.
We walked side by side into the fading daylight, knowing tomorrow might bring challenges.