NOW PLAYING; UP ALL NIGHT - STRAY KIDS

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FAILURE WAS NOT AN OPTION. It was not an option. Sure in life there were miscellaneous failures. And you learn from them right and in most cases, people forgive you for your shortcomings, right? Well not for people like Yu-ri. Once a sharp blade becomes dull they'll have no value anymore. Dulled, forgotten and thrown away. Such was the toxic culture in which one is inbred in, survival of the fittest, clawing up the ladder to success or live a life worth living or face being squandered, spat on, and being the gum under people's shoes, constantly being taken advantage of.

Yu-ri did not want a life like that. She despised being dependent or asking for help. She envied those who were naturally talented, of course she had stellar grades - but getting there? Hellish. Countless sleepless nights, missed opportunities to be a normal teenage girl. But it was all worth it, her catalyst? Kwon Jiyong, the boy who did nothing but got everything, Yu-ri hated him. Therefore, she made it her mission to kick his ego down a peg...or a lot of pegs. Though, realistically, she wished she could kick him in the balls. Fucker deserved it after taunting and teasing her the entire school year. Asshole. His friends weren't that great either, well except for Yongbae and Daesung.

Honestly, she pitied them. Unfortunate souls being stuck around that arrogant douchebag. Oh well, their loss, they were a lost cause a long time ago...

The rhythmic ticking of the classroom clock was a metronome counting down to Yu-ri's inevitable explosion. Each tick was a hammer blow against her already frayed nerves, a constant reminder of the impending doom that was Professor Kim's pop quiz - and, more specifically, the presence of Kwon Jiyong.

He was the bane of her existence, a walking, talking embodiment of infuriating self-assurance. He lounged back in his chair, legs stretched out so far they almost encroached on the space of the poor student across the aisle, a smug smirk dancing on his lips. Jiyong wasn't just sitting; he was performing relaxation, radiating an aura of effortless cool that Yu-ri found utterly repulsive. The morning sunlight, streaming through the tall windows of the antiquated lecture hall, caught in the gold threading of his impeccably tailored blazer, highlighting the sharp angles of his annoyingly handsome face. It felt like a deliberate taunt, as if the universe itself was conspiring to showcase his perfection.

He hadn't even bothered to open his textbook. While Yu-ri had spent the previous night hunched over her notes, fueled by copious amounts of instant coffee and sheer desperation, Jiyong had likely been... well, Yu-ri didn't even want to imagine. Probably attending some exclusive party, charming everyone with his charisma, and still managing to absorb the entire chapter through osmosis.

She knew, knew with a sickening certainty that gnawed at her insides, that he would ace Professor Kim's pop quiz. It wasn't just a feeling; it was a cold, hard fact etched into the very fabric of her academic misery. Jiyong was infuriatingly, maddeningly brilliant, and he seemed to take particular delight in flaunting it, especially in her presence. Academic rivalry? Maybe, but for Yu-ri, it felt deeply personnal.

The room itself felt oppressive. The air was thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and the faint, lingering aroma of stale coffee from the previous class. The high ceilings, once a symbol of academic grandeur, now felt like they were pressing down on her, suffocating her with the weight of expectation. The graffiti-scarred desks, reminders of generations of stressed-out students, offered little comfort.

Beside her, Hana, Yu-ri's closest friend and confidante, nudged her gently with an elbow. "Relax, Yu-ri. You've got this. You practically memorized the entire chapter last night. I saw you muttering about the Meiji Restoration until 2 AM"

Yu-ri managed a brittle smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. "Easy for you to say. You're practically a prodigy at history. I have you in my class."

Hana was a walking encyclopedia of dates, treaties, and forgotten empires. Dates and names sprung to her lips like water from a clear spring. A true savant. Her brain was a perfectly organized historical archive, capable of instantly recalling obscure facts and intricate political machinations. She was a master strategist in board games, a natural problem solver, and, most importantly, unfailingly supportive.

Yu-ri's own talents, on the other hand, lay in sheer, unrelenting work. While Hana seemed to effortlessly absorb information, Yu-ri had to grind, to claw her way through the dense textbooks and complex equations. She was a diligent student, driven by an almost obsessive need to succeed, a need fueled by a deep-seated insecurity and a burning desire to prove herself. She felt like she was always playing catch up, her intelligence always put in questions.

"And you're a math whiz. Remember when you helped me cheat (not-cheat) on that algebra test last semester?" Hana winked, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Yu-ri flushed, feeling a familiar pang of guilt. "That was... a favor."

A favor born out of guilt for monopolizing Hana's study time with her own calculus struggles. Hana had patiently walked her through the complex problems, explaining the concepts with unwavering clarity, even as Yu-ri grew increasingly frustrated and self-deprecating. Yu-ri would never forget the gratitude she felt towards Hana, for her friend never judged or looked down on her struggles.

Across the aisle, one of Jiyong's ever-present cronies, snickered. He was a weaselly character, with perpetually greasy hair, a sallow complexion, and a voice that always seemed to carry a hint of malice. He was the quintessential sycophant, always eager to curry favor with Jiyong, hanging on his every word and echoing his every sentiment.

"Looks like someone's nervous. Don't worry, Yu-ri, maybe Jiyong-hyung will let you copy off him." His voice dripped with sarcasm with a cruel glint in his eyes, clearly enjoying Yu-ri's discomfort.

Yu-ri's grip tightened on her pen, the plastic digging into her fingers. "I wouldn't dream of it." The thought of relying on Jiyong for anything, let alone academic assistance, was abhorrent. She would rather fail than accept his help.

Jiyong chuckled, a low, melodious sound that grated on Yu-ri's nerves like nails on a chalkboard. It was a sound designed to charm, to disarm, to exude an effortless confidence that Yu-ri found utterly infuriating. "Oh, come on, Yu-ri-ssi. Sharing is caring. Besides, you look like you're about to have a panic attack. You're practically vibrating."

"I'm perfectly fine," Yu-ri snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She hated that he could so easily provoke her, that he seemed to derive such pleasure from her frustration. She needed to learn to control her emotions, to project an aura of indifference, but it was so difficult when he was deliberately trying to get under her skin.

Professor Kim, a small, wiry man with a perpetually furrowed brow and a penchant for obscure historical anecdotes, cleared his throat, effectively silencing the burgeoning argument. The sound, amplified by the sudden silence in the room, was like a gunshot, instantly commanding everyone's attention.

"Alright, class. Everyone clear your desks. Pop quiz on Chapter 4." He began distributing the papers, his movements precise and efficient.

Yu-ri took a deep breath, trying to focus, to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to block out the distractions - Jiyong's smug grin, his friend's snide remarks, the oppressive heat of the classroom. She needed to center herself, to access the knowledge she had so painstakingly acquired.

She scanned the first question, a complex equation involving differential history. Her mind, for a fleeting moment, was a blank slate. Damn it. This was exactly what Jiyong wanted, to see her flustered and defeated. He thrived on her anxiety, on her perceived inadequacy.

She closed her eyes again, picturing the formulas, the definitions, the keywords she had painstakingly memorized. She visualized the textbook pages, the meticulously organized notes she had created. She repeated the key concepts in her mind, reinforcing her understanding, banishing the creeping fear of failure.

She opened her eyes again and began to write, her hand moving with practiced ease. The answers flowed from her pen, filling the page with a symphony of words and year numbers. She attacked each problem with a precision, breaking it down into its component parts, applying the appropriate answers, and meticulously checking her work.

As she worked, she could feel Jiyong's eyes on her, a silent, mocking presence in the corner of her vision. He was probably finished already, she thought, and now he was just enjoying her struggle. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

He thinks he's won already, she thought grimly. But I'm not giving him the satisfaction.

The quiz was a blur of furious scribbling and intense concentration. She barely noticed the passage of time, her entire being focused on the task at hand. She pushed herself to remember everything, to think clearly, to avoid careless mistakes.

When Professor Kim called time, Yu-ri felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, leaving her drained and depleted. She handed in her paper, avoiding Jiyong's gaze. She didn't want to see the smug satisfaction on his face.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Hana said, stretching and yawning. "How do you think you did?"

"I don't know," Yu-ri admitted, her voice tight. "I made a stupid mistake on question three, I think. A sign error. It completely throws off the answer."

"Relax. One mistake won't kill you. You still aced the rest, I bet." Hana clapped her on the back, trying to reassure her. But Yu-ri wasn't convinced. One mistake could be the difference between an A and a B, and in Yu-ri's mind, anything less than an A was a failure.

Jiyong sauntered over, a smug look on his face. He moved with a casual grace that bordered on arrogance, his every gesture exuding an air of effortless superiority. "So, Yu-ri-ssi, how do you think you did? Were you able to keep up, or did my brilliance blind you?"

Yu-ri finally met his gaze, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. She refused to be intimidated by his presence, to let him see her vulnerability. "I'll let the results speak for themselves, Jiyong-ssi."

"Ooh, feisty. I like it." Jiyong winked, a playful glint in his eyes. "But don't get your hopes up. I'm pretty sure I nailed every single question. It was practically child's play."

He winked again and strolled away, his lackeys trailing behind him like sycophantic puppies, eager to bask in his reflected glory.

Yu-ri turned to Hana, her frustration bubbling over, threatening to spill out in a torrent of anger. "I hate him," she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I absolutely hate him."

Hana sighed, placing a hand on Yu-ri's arm. "I know, Yu-ri. But obsessing over him isn't good for you. It's consuming you. Just focus on your own work and try to ignore him."

Easier said than done. Jiyong was a constant, irritating presence in her life, a challenge she couldn't ignore, a rival she desperately wanted to vanquish. He was like a persistent itch, a thorn in her side, a constant reminder of her own perceived shortcomings. She couldn't escape him, not in class, not in the library, not even in her own thoughts. He haunted her waking moments and invaded her dreams.

And as she watched him walk away, his confident stride and self-assured demeanor fueling her resentment, Yu-ri knew that she wouldn't rest until she finally proved, once and for all, that she was his equal. Or better. She wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, to shatter his arrogance, to show him that she was more than just a diligent student, that she possessed a brilliance of her own.

This wasn't just about grades or academic achievement; it was about pride, about self-respect, about proving to herself that she was capable of anything she set her mind to. It was a battle she was determined to win, no matter the cost. The gauntlet was thrown, and Yuri knew that she had no choice but to give it her all.

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CHAPTER BY ; SEOIN & JAY

WORD COUNT !
2,106