The courtyard was an endless, moving sea of camera shutters and bright floral wrappings. San spent the next hour caught in a whirlwind of photo requests—posing first with Mr. Lee, Mrs. Lee, and Ji-hoon, then standing side-by-side with Ha-neul, who was reluctantly holding her own bouquet, and then posing for a sharp, executive-style snapshot with Jun-seo and Kang Min-ah.
When Ms. Choi finally tracked him down, she handed him a small commemorative box and patted his shoulder.
"Congratulations on fulfilling our request, Representative Motuzenko," she said with a sharp, knowing smile. "Rank 97. You kept your word."
San awkwardly laughed it off, bowing politely, while silently cursing in his head.
'Aish, I hated that deal so much.'
But at least the suffocating pressure was off his back. For the next month, he wouldn't have to worry about grade threshold ultimatums. He could finally breathe.
Later, he ran into a group of broad-shouldered guys from the sports wing—Lee Sang-bin, Choi Kang-min, and Jang Hae-bon. San had made quick acquaintances with them at the start of his exchange year.
"Hey, Mountain!" Sang-bin roared, throwing a heavy arm around San's neck. "Look at our top student! Rank 97!"
"Don't remind me," San chuckled, adjusting his collar.
Hae-bon grinned, nudging San's ribs.
"Remember when you accidentally called Yoo Chae-rin 'deorowo' on your first week here?"
San winced, rubbing his temples in pure, burning embarrassment.
'Aish, why do they still remember that?! I was hoping everyone had forgotten about my initial language disasters by now!'
"We should definitely hang out later, San-ah," Kang-min chimed in. "Hit the gym, get some food."
"Sounds like a plan," San agreed smoothly. Talking with the swimmers and athletes always refreshed his spirits. Their straightforward, boisterous energy reminded him of his core crew back home in Ukraine—the Dvir gang.
He made a mental note to send these photos to their group chat later tonight.
As the athletes moved on, San looked around the bustling courtyard.
A quiet, longing thought crossed his mind: I really want to get a proper group photo with H-Wnot.
But reality quickly dampened the idea. Gathering the band was like herding wild cats. Getting Myung-dae and Jun-seo into the same frame voluntarily felt nearly impossible, especially given Myung-dae's perpetual state of detached indifference.
And, of course, Jin-hyun wasn't even here—
'Wait.'
San rubbed his eyes in sheer disbelief, squinting past a cluster of third-years near the main archway.
He blinked once.
Twice.
There was no mistake.
That sharp, styled silver hair catching the winter sunlight could only belong to one person.
San pushed his way through the dense crowd, only to find Jin-hyun backed against a stone pillar, completely swarmed by a loud, fluttering group of female students. He was holding a huge bouquet of expensive flowers and wearing a black face mask, looking thoroughly overwhelmed.
'Right,' San remembered, a smirk touching his lips. 'I forgot he belongs to so-called Golden Generation.'
Though San personally preferred his own sarcastic terms for them—"Golden Flush" or "Royal Flush." Whenever one of those guys appeared in public, scavengers instantly circled them.
San stood a head taller than the surrounding girls, making it easy to lock eyes with the silver-haired drummer over the sea of stylized haircuts.
Jin-hyun's eyes above his mask practically screamed: Save me.
San sighed, lowered his shoulder, and squeezed straight through the crowd like a snowplow.
"Sorry, excuse me, official business, coming through—"
He reached in, grabbed Jin-hyun firmly by the collar of his coat, and yanked him clean out of the circle. Turning back to the startled girls, San raised a strict hand, using his imposing stature and his most authoritative voice.
"We have urgent band matters to discuss," San announced sternly. "If you follow us, I will personally report this to the Student Council Disciplinary Committee."
The girls froze, their excited chatter instantly dying down. They stood there like wild, disappointed cats, their metaphorical ears drooping in defeat.
San shot them one final, sharp glare. "What? Go on."
The group finally dispersed, muttering in hushed disappointment.
Jin-hyun let out a long, heavy breath, pulling down his black mask to reveal his pale, exhausted face.
San chuckled, shaking his head.
"A mask? If you wanted to go incognito, you should have prepared your disguise a lot better than that."
"I didn't have a choice," Jin-hyun grumbled, running a hand through his silver hair. "I was brought here by my father."
San blinked.
"Mwo? Park Jin-su?"
Jin-hyun nodded, waving a dismissive hand.
"Yeah. He's here... somewhere in the administrative building. He dropped me off and went to meet the board, leaving me to get ambushed by... well, you saw." He paused, looking at San, and suddenly held out the massive bouquet of high-end flowers. "Oh, by the way... congratulations, Mountain."
San hesitantly took the flowers, looked at the absurdly lavish arrangement, and then thrust them straight back into Jin-hyun's hands with sparkling, calculating eyes.
"Hey, Jin-hyun-ah," San said, stepping closer. "I have a little proposal. Can you help me out?"
Jin-hyun casually picked his nose with his pinky finger, looking at San with complete apathy.
"Depends on what it is."
San cleared his throat. Luckily, his sickness had completely receded, leaving his voice clear and deep.
"I need you to find Leo and bring him to the middle plaza—by the late-blooming winter sakuras."
Jin-hyun raised an eyebrow, staring at him.
"What for?"
"I want to make a proper group photo with H-Wnot," San explained firmly. "And since you're conveniently here, there won't be a better chance before the break. I'll figure out how to get the rest of them there. Just bring Leo as soon as possible."
Jin-hyun offered a slow, amused smirk and gave a lazy thumbs-up.
"Fair enough. Consider it done."
With Jin-hyun heading off to track down their violinist and maknae, San turned his attention to the second hurdle: Lee Myung-dae.
San scanned the courtyard and quickly spotted a familiar face—a guy from the rebel faction named Do-hyun. He was Myung-dae's closest friend and frequent accomplice in setting up unauthorized sound equipment. Do-hyun was currently standing on the edge of the main plaza, loudly cheering on a random K-pop dance cover group.
San strode over, reached out, and yanked Do-hyun clean out of the crowd by his jacket hood.
"Yah! Ssibal, who the f—" Do-hyun spun around, ready to throw hands, but cut himself off the moment he looked up into San's face. "Ah... Mountain. It's you." He paused, shaking his head in annoyance. "Wait, what do you want?"
San didn't waste time.
"You need to bring Myung-dae to the middle plaza in ten minutes."
Do-hyun scoffed, crossing his arms.
"And why on earth should I do that?"
San adopted his coldest, most arrogant expression, tilting his head down.
"Um... maybe because you owe me? I was the one who took the fall for your whole birthday prank setup earlier this term."
"What?!" Do-hyun argued, scowling. "That birthday cake thing was your idea in the first place! Why should I owe you for that?"
"Then why didn't you step forward when the faculty started asking questions?" San countered smoothly, stepping into Do-hyun's personal space. "I took the blame for the firecrackers in the courtyard too, remember?"
Do-hyun shook his head, turning to walk away. "That's ridiculous, man. I'm not doing it—"
GRIP.
San's large hand clamped down firmly around Do-hyun's wrist like a vice. Before the rebel could react, San yanked him close, leaning down so his face was inches away, his deep voice dropping into a chilling, razor-thin whisper.
"Yeah... I tried asking nicely," San purred, his eyes narrowing with a dark, unyielding intensity that belonged straight to the rough streets of Smila. "But it looks like the old Ukrainian way is still the most effective. You will bring Myung-dae to the plaza in ten minutes. Otherwise, I will make your school life a living hell. I'll start spreading rumors through Kang Min-ah's network, and I'll make sure Myung-dae realizes what kind of unreliable scumbag he's hanging out with. Do you understand me?"
Do-hyun's eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard under the sheer physical intimidation radiating from the giant exchange student.
He gave a rapid, nervous nod.
San let go of his wrist, adjusted his coat lapels, and instantly vanished into the moving crowd without another word.
He let out a quiet, internal sigh as he walked away. A
'ish, I hate having to pull out street tactics here... but desperate times call for desperate measures.'
Checking his watch, San adjusted his uniform jacket and headed toward the main administrative steps, where a cluster of students wearing red Disciplinary Committee armbands was gathered.
Jun-seo was definitely going to be right in the middle of them.