November 11th should have been a normal Tuesday. In Ukraine, it was just another day to wear a heavy coat and complain about the slush. But in a Korean arts high school, 11/11 was a logistical nightmare known as Pepero Day.
Because the chocolate-covered sticks looked like the number '1', the entire country had decided this was the day to quantify exactly how much people liked you.
And apparently, people liked me way too much.
I walked into Class 2-B, squinting through a haze of exhaustion. The evening cram school was already taking its toll. My brain felt like it had been through a paper shredder after four hours of intensive Korean history and math the night before, and all I wanted was a nap and a quiet corner to practice my guitar scales.
I didn't get a quiet corner. I got a mountain.
"Is... is that my desk?" I asked, stopping dead in the doorway.
Jun-seo, who was already sitting at his desk (which had a respectable, modest pile of three boxes), looked up with a mixture of pity and amusement.
"Technically, yes," Jun-seo said.
My desk was gone. In its place was a leaning tower of cardboard boxes—red, green, yellow, and premium gold. There were boxes with ribbons, boxes with hand-written notes, and even a giant, oversized Pepero plushie sitting on top like a king on a throne of biscuits.
"Fred!" a girl from the back of the room squealed.
I flinched. She was down her phone watching a video. The "Fred" mystery had spiraled out of control. The video of the mysterious Hanyeong-jacket-wearing fan performing with Youthful Memoirs had hit 150,000 views.
On Kirin's Secret—the anonymous school forum—the "Fred" megathread was pinned to the top, refreshed every few seconds with new, increasingly unhinged theories.
[KIRIN'S SECRET] THREAD: WHO IS THE HANYEONG PONYTAIL GUY (FRED)?
User88: He's wearing a Hanyeong blazer but he's performing with an indie band? Sus.
VocalLover: Look at the height and the shoulder width.
SheBall: Fred's ponytail looks sexy. I wonder how he looks without a mask. He's clearly a Hanyeong trainee who went rogue for a night.
iFyoUSEEK: He looks like a YG trainee, I swear! Lee Seok-mal. I'm telling you, it's him.
I moved toward my seat, trying to ignore the whispers.
"Morning, San," Kang Min-ah chirped, leaning over from her desk. She had about ten boxes, but she was busy filming my mountain for her social media.
"The 'San 2.0' effect is hitting hard, huh? I heard even some of the Hanyeong girls were trying to sneak onto campus to leave you gifts."
"I just want to sit down, Min-ah," I groaned.
I began carefully moving the boxes to the floor so I could actually see my chair. It was like playing a high-stakes game of Jenga. Every time I moved one, three more slid down.
Ms. Choi walked into the room, her heels clicking on the floor. She stopped at the front, her eyes immediately landing on the disaster zone that was my workspace.
She adjusted her glasses, a small, mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Mr. Motuzenko," she said, her voice dry. "While I appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit of the student body, I believe the fire department has regulations against blocking exits with excessive amounts of chocolate."
The class laughed. I felt my ears burning.
"I'll move them, Ms. Choi," I muttered.
"See that you do," she said, leaning against her desk. "And perhaps you can share some with the faculty? I hear the gold-packaged ones are quite expensive. It would be a shame for your grades to be the only thing in the bottom percentile while your chocolate intake is at an all-time high."
I winced at the dig about my grades. The threat from Mrs. Lee was still ringing in my head.
The rest of the day was an exercise in avoiding eye contact. Everywhere I went, people were holding out boxes. By lunch, I had stuffed so many Peperos into my locker that I had to use my shoulder to force the door shut.
"I don't even like chocolate that much," I groaned, sitting down and finding myself buried up to my elbows in biscuits.
I was already tired of everyone making jokes "that our classroom had been designated as a secondary warehouse for the Lotte Corporation".
I missed being the invisible exchange student. Being the "viral rocker" was exhausting.
The final bell finally rang, signaling the end of the last period. I started packing my bag, ready to sprint to the bus stop so I could get a quick thirty-minute nap before the evening school started.
"San? Oleksandr?"
The voice was mature, polished, and definitely didn't belong to anyone in my year.
I looked up.
The classroom doorway was framed by a girl who looked like she had walked straight off a movie poster. She was a third-year, judging by her uniform tie, but she looked like a professional.
The classroom went dead silent. Even Myung-dae, who was usually busy ignoring the world, looked up.
"That's Lee Sora," Min-ah whispered loudly. "The 'A-List' trainee. She's supposed to debut next year."
Sora walked into the room.
Her hair was a silky chestnut brown, and she carried herself with the poise of someone who spent eight hours a day in a dance studio.
She didn't look at anyone else; her eyes were fixed on me. She didn't have an armful of Pepero boxes. She held one single, elegant bag tied with a silk ribbon.
She stopped in front of my desk. I stood up slowly, feeling the weight of thirty people staring at my back.
"I saw your performance with the band," Sora said, her voice smooth and confident. "You have a very unique presence, San."
"Thank you," I said, my voice sounding a bit more raspy than usual from the long day.
She reached into the bag and pulled out a single, hand-dipped Pepero decorated with edible gold leaf and dark chocolate.
"I don't usually participate in these school-wide events," she said, holding the stick out to me. "But I think you're someone worth knowing. Happy Pepero Day, San. I'd love to talk more about music with you sometime. Maybe this weekend?"
The room didn't just go quiet; it became a vacuum. A public confession from a third-year "A-list" trainee was unheard of.
I looked at the chocolate. I looked at her.
I looked at the gold-leafed chocolate. I looked at Sora.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white suit and a high ponytail in the hallway. Yoo Chae-rin was standing there, her hazel eyes narrowed, her arms crossed.
She wasn't smiling.