"There," Jun-seo's calm voice cut through my panic, his finger extending forward to tap the glossy paper.
My eyes locked onto the printed row near the bottom of the first section:
Rank 97: Oleksandr Motuzenko (Class 2-B)
A long, loud, and completely unrefined gasp exploded from my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut again, snapped them open, and verified the digits three times.
Rank 97.
I made it.
"RANK 97!"
Before Jun-seo could even react or re-establish his pristine Student Council dignity, I lunged forward, wrapped my arms around his waist, and lifted his entire body right off the pavement, spinning him around twice in a wide, frantic circle.
"San! Put me down! We are in public—!" Jun-seo gasped, his customary ice-cool composure instantly shattering into complete chaos.
I set him back on his feet and immediately started jumping up and down like a giant, hyperactive bear.
Was Rank 97 a grand academic miracle? Absolutely not. Was it globally impressive compared to Ha-neul's eternal Rank 1? Not in the slightest. But it was under 100. It meant H-Wnot lived to see another semester, my corporate credit card was safe, and I wouldn't be deported back to Smila in disgrace!
"Ssibal! Blyat!" I roared out loud, completely unbothered, mixing Ukrainian and Korean curses into a glorious, chaotic symphony of joy. "Daebak! Oh my God, shche ne vmerla!"
A sudden, quiet throat-clearing from the edge of the crowd caught my ear.
I froze mid-jump and turned my head. Standing among the sea of sixty-odd students—some of whom were hugging in triumph while others stared at the paper in disconsolate, heartbroken silence—was Ms. Choi. Our homeroom teacher was standing with her arms crossed, watching my loud, unrefined outburst with an amused, exasperated twitch at the corner of her lips.
I slowly straightened my blazer, cleared my throat, and awkwardly raised a giant, rigid thumbs-up toward her.
Ms. Choi shook her head with a soft scoff, reaching up to return a clear, crisp thumbs-up of her own before turning back to her roster.
I let out a long, shuddering sigh of pure gratitude, the icy morning air cooling my feverish skin.
RINGGGGGGGGG!
The sharp, high-pitched chime of the master school bell echoed across the courtyard, signaling the official commencement of the final assembly.
The entire Kirin Arts High School student body began flowing toward the main administrative wing for the closing ceremony of the 2015 school year.
Walking through the colossal, multi-story glass-and-steel doors beside Jun-seo and Class 2-B, I realized something remarkable. When I had first stepped through these exact doors four months ago, the grand, hyper-modern atrium had felt alien, overwhelming, and deeply intimidating—like stepping onto the set of a modern+historical kdrama(considering the overall old mansion-like vibe from Kirin's territory).
Now, as I walked into the grand auditorium and took my seat alongside my classmates, the towering walls no longer felt strange. I sat among them not as a transient outsider or a temporary novelty, but as one of Kirin's own. Sure, lingering gazes still drifted toward me a little longer than they did for others, but the stares no longer carried cold isolation.
For the first time since landing at Incheon, I felt completely fine?
'Nah, still far from fine! And definitely not the first time! 'Fine' is a little ambiguous in my case.'
The grand ceremony opened with traditional decorum.
The Headmaster stepped up to the central lectern, delivering a long, dignified speech reviewing the academic achievements and artistic milestones of the 2015 school year. To everyone's immense relief, there were zero disruptions from our resident rebels this time—Ra-ik was sitting quietly in the third row, looking shockingly well-behaved, while Myung-dae was slumped in his seat with his eyes closed, likely catching up on his sleep metrics.
Next came the formal addresses from the heads of the individual wings.
Then, the head announcer cleared her throat into the microphone. "We will now hear from our Student Council President, Kim Jun-seo."
The auditorium erupted into thunderous, deafening applause. Jun-seo adjusted his tie, walked up the stage steps with flawless, aristocratic poise, and delivered a sharp, inspiring address that had the faculty nodding in absolute approval.
As the applause for Jun-seo faded, the announcer took the stage once more, holding a crisp blue folder.
"And finally, to deliver the closing remarks on behalf of our international exchange program and global student body... please welcome our Foreign Student Representative, Oleksandr Motuzenko."
My stomach did a quick, nervous flip.
'At least they told me in advance about it this time!'
I took a long, deep breath, expanding my chest, and stood up from my seat in Class 2-B. As I buttoned my dark jacket and stepped into the aisle, the eyes of the entire school turned to track my walk down the central walkway.
As I reached the foot of the stage, Jun-seo was just descending the wooden stairs. We crossed paths near the handrail.
Jun-seo paused, looking me dead in the eye, and offered a warm, genuine, and radiant smile.
"Show them how we do it, Mountain," he whispered smoothly.