The final exam week was finally in the past!
Hooray!
For me, the testing block was a battlefield of mixed confidence. The English exam was an absolute joke—I breezed through the advanced literary analysis in twenty minutes flat, leaving my desk early while my classmates stared at me like I was a foreign deity. Math was a domain where I felt surprisingly solid... probably.
'I love you Lee Ha-neul! My math goddess!'
Korean Language and Literature, however, was a pure, unadulterated headache. Reading ancient poetry syntax and complex grammatics under a ticking clock made my brain melt, but my host sister saved me on this one too! Thanks to Ha-neul's sleep-depriving drilling sessions, I was fairly certain I performed significantly better than in the previous tests.
Fortunately, the Applied Music core curriculum provided a massive academic cushion. Modern Music History and Applied Performance were practically second nature at this point.
The Ensemble Practice final was less of an individual concern and more of a collective stress test for Class 2-B as a whole. We had to perform a grand arrangement of a classical opera piece, with a soprano from our row taking the soaring lead vocal role.
'What was her name again?'
It didn't really matter—she hit her high notes flawlessly, the band locked into the tempo, and our whole class cleared the evaluation with flying colors. Sight Singing and Ear Training was equally smooth; my absolute pitch made transcribing chord progressions a breeze.
By Friday afternoon, as the final bell chimed across the Kirin campus, an immense, soaring wave of pride washed over my broad chest.
It was finally, officially over.
Now, on Monday morning, I stood frozen in the main courtyard, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped drum.
Directly ahead of me, a massive, white poster board had been mounted on the central glass display wall. Student Council President Jun-seo stood proudly at my side, his arms crossed over his chest as he oversaw his disciplinary committee subordinates—the school council members wearing red armbands—smoothly taping up the official academic ranking lists for the second-year class.
I closed my eyes tight, my hands clenched into fists deep inside my coat pockets, offering a silent, desperate prayer to every Ukrainian and Korean deity I knew.
Before coming to Korea, I had never cared about academic ranking boards. Back home, I simply ignored public comparisons, following the cynical lead of guys like Myung-dae. In Ukraine, while studying hard was always emphasized—especially by the older generation—grades never truly defined a person's entire worth or social status the way they did here.
But Korean academic culture was an entirely different beast. And I had been given a brutal reality check last month when Ms. Choi forwarded my preliminary mock report straight to Mrs. Lee. My host mother had delivered a calm, terrifying ultimatum that made it crystal clear: Top 100 benchmark, or H-Wnot gets dismantled!
'Or was it Ms. Choi who said that H-Wnot would be no more?'
Didn't matter, either way, the result would be the same.
Now was the moment of truth!
"Open your eyes, Mountain," Jun-seo murmured beside me, a rare, teasing smirk catching the corner of his lips. "The list is up."
The Top 100
I slowly opened my eyes, my breath pluming into white steam in the icy morning air.
My eyes instinctively scanned the top tier first. I wasn't surprised in the slightest to see the usual academic titans dominating the Top 10:
1) Lee Ha-neul (Class 2-B)
2) Yoo Chae-rin (Class 2-A) ...
3) Kim Jun-seo (Class 2-B)
There was even a fit guy from the sports wing sitting comfortably at Rank 8. But what genuinely shocked my system was spotting a name sitting proudly at Rank 17:
17) Park Myung-dae (Class 2-B)
'Rank 17?!' I stared in absolute, unadulterated disbelief. 'For a guy who literally does nothing all day during class except sleep on his desk, dance to kpop or listen to heavy rock through his headphones, his academic performance is nothing short of terrifying!'
Dismissing Myung-dae's hidden genius, I dragged my eyes franticly down the printed column.
Rank 40... Rank 60... Rank 80...
My heartbeat accelerated to a deafening, violent thud in my ears. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck despite the -3°C wind.