Summary:

"But what does it say about our world—that those who don’t have the money, or power, or prestige of the chosen few—feel safer in the hands of the rule-breakers than the rule-makers?”

The same night that Minjae first looks through Choi Sumin’s file in a bout of petty annoyance, he finds out about his called-off Student Council candidacy in middle school and brings his old laptop out onto his bed to check something.He ends up finding something fairly easily, one quick search on YouTube of ‘minnyu middle school incheon student council election 2018 plenary’ later—and Minjae clicks on the first video he sees.It starts off with a different student on the podium, her name in bold letters projected behind her, the title of External Affairs Student Representative printed below. Minjae tunes out most of what she’s saying, mainly just introductions for the main event: the Student Council Presidential Candidates’ official campaign speeches.Minjae clicks on the drop-down for the video’s description, and scans downward with his eyes until he finds the timestamp of what he came here to see.14:13 - Class 2-4, Choi Sumin.Minjae clicks on the timestamp link, tapping a finger against his chin as he watches.He’s not sure what to expect. Minjae isn’t fond of the guy, but his goal is to learn as much about him, as objectively as he can. The 14 year-old Choi Sumin in the video walks up to the podium onstage, bowing at the courteous claps and the few boisterous cheers and hoots coming from the audience, his hair still in a more normal, natural state of dark brown.Admittedly, Minjae is expecting him to be one of those people who pulls the mic off of its stand and say whatever random shit pops into his head to make a complete joke out of the whole event—but he’s surprised when Sumin actually adjusts the mic properly, stands up straight and confident like the other two candidates that had spoken before him, and addresses his student body with poise and respect.It’s nothing like the Choi Sumin that Minjae thought he knew.“Good morning, teachers, administrators, school staff, visitors—and most importantly, to all my fellow students of Minnyu Middle School. My name is Choi Sumin, from Class 2-4, and I am just as surprised as many of you probably are, that I get the privilege of standing here before you today.”Minjae scoffs to himself as the audience makes sounds from hushed murmurs to awkward laughs.“I want to begin by saying that it’s true that I’m not the first person that anyone would expect to be here. I feel like it would be wrong to begin a speech like this—from someone like me—by stating the position that I’m running for, and the promises I’d like to make. In truth, I was never expecting that the admin would accept my candidacy—much less that I would receive as much support as I have from the members of the student body. It may be quiet and unheard to most, but I have felt it sincerely since the moment that these campaigns began. Thank you. There is no better feeling than to have the knowledge that people can come together under a cause, and not just a name.“I won’t stand here and pretend to all of you that I’m someone that I’m not. Yes, I’m far from a model student. I get in trouble for being loud, for not wearing my school ID… for standing up for what I believe in, in ways that are, frankly, unbecoming of a leader—which I can fully acknowledge and admit. I don’t have any anger for the people who’ve questioned it thus far, whether in support of a different candidate or out of pure, genuine concern for the future state of our student government. But I’m not here today to sway you in my direction; I’m here so that the silent voices can be heard, and I’m hoping that we can at least make a lasting impact on our school going forward.“It’s already a triumph that I’m even here. I—along with everyone who has graciously helped me with all of the things that I lack—have spent the entirety of this campaign preparing for the very real possibility of being barred from the opportunity before we could even get to this day. And it’s only a smaller version of what happens with power in our school hallways; too many of us have to grovel for the right to earn our voice, and we fear the risk of being shunned in the rare times that we have the opportunity to use it. The fact that I am standing here today—in no small part thanks to the flood of your unexpected support and every single student who’s stood even silently behind what we stand for—is a testament to the uncomfortable, but very real truths that show themselves when the silenced majority are given a place to feel safe. Filing candidacy was something that I did with an earnest desire to see things changed for the better, but my being here right now—it’s not my doing, but all of yours. It’s both a protest and a tribute, in and of itself.“I’m saying all of these things, fully aware that there are many currently in power right now who will hear this and won’t be pleased, but we have to face the reality of what our students need. Bullying is rampant in our classrooms, in the space where we all deserve to practice our right to education and feel safe while doing so. It happens an unnerving amount, every single day, and yet none of the perpetrators are held accountable, so long as they’re endowed with money or connections. I’m not promising that I can make a change—I’m saying that all of you can. All of us can. And this is a much bigger issue than who sits in power to represent us, but we have shown that we can persist through all of these small battles.“Let’s be honest—I don’t think that there is even a small chance that someone like me makes it all the way through this process. But I am genuinely, genuinely grateful that there is another candidate running alongside myself—” Sumin glances at the side to the two other candidates, sitting on the side of the stage but not captured in the video, “—who is intelligent, and genuine, and truly dedicated to what students need. I can only hope that after all I’ve said today, everyone can think carefully about their choice until the day of the election comes. I say this with respect and urgency to all of you alike—my fellow second years, who will be the future batch of seniors in the next year, as well as to our first-years, and to our incoming batch of students from Minnyu Elementary who will enter the next chapter of their lives as middle school students next year.”Minjae tilts his head, intrigued. It’s like Sumin already knew he’d be barred from candidacy before the election could take place—he’d definitely shown support for one of the other two candidates, never once actually imploring anyone to vote for himself. Minjae checks the video description again for the others’ names, but none of them jump out to him: Kim Gyuvin and Song Dojun. He supposes he’ll have to watch their speeches later, too, if he wants to know which one of them Sumin had acclaimed, and which one was the object of his passive-aggressive side-eyeing.“I want to keep this speech short. It would be dismissive of me to call the fact that I’m here ‘unbelievable’—because, come to think of it, I should have always believed in your voices in the first place. It’s probably quite clear already that I never intended to come up to this podium as my campaign; that’s because it isn’t. When all is said and done, this is a tribute: a tribute to everyone who has suffered at the wishy-washy hands that were supposed to keep them safe. It’s time we break the cycle and question the systems that keep that suffering in place; because the rules are indeed there for a reason—but what does it say about our world that those who don’t have the money, or power, or prestige of the chosen few—feel safer in the hands of the rule-breakers than the rule-makers?”Damn. Choi Sumin is gutsy. Minjae will give him that.“Thank you for all of your time, and you don’t need to remember my name. It will be my honor to keep fighting for all of you, whether you know it or not.”The Sumin in the video steps off the podium and bows to the audience of students, a full ninety degrees. The end of his speech seems to elicit such loud conversation for the entire audience off-camera, murmurs and whispers and mixed reactions.Minjae pauses the video, and then shuts his laptop closed.Perhaps there’s more to Choi Sumin than he thought.

curiouscat | back to ch. 5

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Chapter 8.5: mirror, mirror

Summary:

Maybe Minjae wants to look in a mirror for once and see what he isn’t, instead of everything wrong with what he is.

The very day after Minjae visits his brother at the hospital, he lets his feet take him to see one last person, just to do one last thing.Knock, knock, knock—“Minjae?”Park Seonghwa turns around to look at him as he walks in, and he looks…“Yes, Mr. Principal,” Minjae says, eyeing the principal’s extravagant outfit, from top to bottom. “Good afternoon.”“Good afternoon…” Seonghwa greets back, chuckling awkwardly. He actually seems surprised to see Minjae this time—but Minjae doesn’t let himself fall for it that quickly just yet. “I was just about to head home.”Minjae chuckles quietly. The past few days may have made him a little bold. “I guess even you have somewhere to go home to.”“Mhm…” Seonghwa answers cordially, with a muted smile, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you come here to taunt? Or is there something you need?”Minjae only shrugs, and then invites himself to sit on one of Seonghwa’s office couches.In reality, he doesn’t really have a concrete explanation as to why he’s here. It’s more a gut feeling than anything—likely a mix of curiosity and confusion. Perhaps he’s been a little bothered by Sumin’s offhand, heat-of-the-moment remark that Minjae and Seonghwa are the same—and though Minjae finds it completely unbelievable, sometimes the power of suggestion can mess with anyone’s head.If he’s being honest, perhaps Minjae can see some of what Sumin had meant—the knack for manipulation, the calm, cryptic words. The ways that they have, or make, to get what they want.But then Minjae also sees Park Seonghwa right now, in all his over-the-top glory: sleek, black slacks, a pristine white shirt, a literal, too-tight corset at the waist. The heels of his shoes make him taller and make the same clop clop clop noise that always echoes around the halls as Seonghwa flows through them. There’s a pair of gloves on the desk, although Seonghwa isn’t wearing them, and then the newest, most noticeable thing that had immediately caught Minjae’s attention the moment he walked in: a pair of small pearl earrings, glistening on the lobes of his ears.It’s displays like this that make Minjae doubtful of Sumin’s comparisons, he thinks—there’s some part of Minjae deep down that knows he could never be that, even if the unlikely day ever comes that he might want to. It’s one of the things that Minjae has never understood even a little about Park Seonghwa: the need to be seen, to stand out. Minjae likes to keep to himself, stay in the shadows, never warrant any unnecessary attention—because that’s always what it’s taken for him to reach his goals. And Minjae has been baffled from the very beginning that Park Seonghwa appears to be able to do the exact same thing in the exact opposite way, with confidence and grace and slyness disguised as kindness.“You’re wearing earrings today,” is what Minjae says in response, ignoring Seonghwa’s question.“What, you don’t like them?” Seonghwa asks in reply, leaning back against his desk and touching one of his ears. Minjae’s honestly surprised Seonghwa’s even playing along with this line of questioning, but a part of him has stopped trying to figure it out. “Is that what you came here to tell me?”Minjae laughs, looking down at the floor. “Isn’t it a little too much?” Minjae gestures vaguely to Seonghwa’s entire ensemble, ignoring the part of himself that’s screaming internally about him having some kind of death wish. “All of this?”Seonghwa purses his lips in contemplation, leaning forward as he eyes Minjae with a sort of amused curiosity. “Hey, would you look at that? Your ears are pierced, too.”Minjae feels self-conscious all of a sudden. “...So?”“I’m starting to find it a little bit funny that you actually seem to have come here to talk with me about fashion,” Seonghwa chuckles, pressing on even if Minjae doesn’t quite react. With a shrug, he continues, “Mm… All I’m saying is it’s not against school rules if you want to wear earrings, too.”Minjae looks away. What the fuck is this conversation? It feels so, entirely strange for Minjae to be in a room with Park Seonghwa and just feel like a student having a conversation with a principal, so trivial and stupid and light. He still doesn’t know why he's here.Maybe he thought it would feel more familiar to engage with a devil that he knows. Maybe Minjae is pulled into Park Seonghwa’s gravity, not because of some kind of Stockholm syndrome that makes him feel like Seonghwa is on his side—but because of the very fact that Minjae is at least sure that he isn’t. Maybe it feels safer, after all, to be haunted by Park Seonghwa than by the people who were never supposed to.Maybe Minjae wants to look in a mirror for once and see what he isn’t, instead of everything wrong with what he is.“I’m not here to talk about earrings,” Minjae finally declares, sighing as he looks up. “I’m not here to tell you anything, either.”Seonghwa tilts his head upon hearing that, and he steps away from his desk. “Minjae, you don’t seem like yourself.”Minjae scoffs. As if Park Seonghwa knows him. “Can we skip the part where you pretend you’re worried about me?”“I am,” Seonghwa asserts, keeping his tone level. “I can’t read minds like you, but I can tell when someone’s thinking too much. Talk to me.”“You’re not my counselor.”“I’m a teacher, and you’re a student,” Seonghwa says, and it’s really starting to irk Minjae how it feels more and more like he’s telling the truth, whenever he says that. But he can’t allow himself to believe that. Never. “It doesn’t make me happy when you’re troubled.”“Do you still have my file?” Minjae cuts to the chase, cutting Seonghwa off before he can continue his masquerade act even further. Seonghwa doesn’t really react much to that, but Minjae is used to it by now. They’ve gotten used to each other. “That’s why I’m here.”“Your file? You didn’t want it before.”“Well, I want it now.”“Don’t you think that offer’s passed?” Seonghwa taunts, walking around to the back of his desk.Minjae clicks his tongue. “Alright, then I’m leaving.”“Uh-uh—” Seonghwa holds up a hand, stopping Minjae before he can stand up. Seonghwa opens up one of his drawers, punches in a code to a safe, and pulls out a thick, black folder that he drops onto his table. “You stay there, and tell me why you want this.”Minjae raises an eyebrow, questioning. That is not the same file that Seonghwa had put in front of him before. “Do you think I’m stupid?”“Excuse me?” Seonghwa asks, following Minjae’s gaze to the folder. “Ah. I did some housekeeping, you see. You’re quite interesting, Minjae-yah.”Minjae looks into his mind right then—just in case—and, inexplicably, he does see flashing images of Seonghwa doing some more digging on him, the same, black folder open on the very same coffee table that Minjae is sitting in front of now.“Why do you want your file, Minjae?”Minjae breathes deeply, determined. “Insurance,” he declares simply, unabashed. “If I ever need to take you down, know that I’m ready to go down with you.”Seonghwa tenses up all of a sudden, taken aback again, but in a different way this time. “Ah. Is that what you plan to do?”“You’d give it to me if you didn’t think I could do it.”Seonghwa sighs, nodding his head. Minjae finds the lack of response quite odd; all that Seonghwa does is turn around again, and then put on his gloves, and then crouch down lower than earlier to punch the code in for a different safe, all while Minjae watches curiously.Seonghwa stands back up with a vinyl record in his hand—and it’s the last thing that Minjae expects, but also somehow not that surprising, because Park Seonghwa is nothing if not full of surprises.“What are you—”“Be quiet.” Seonghwa holds up a gloved finger, making his way towards the same old shelf at the side of the room, where his assassin’s teapot sits amongst other little trinkets. He picks up an old, compact record player from the bottom shelf as Minjae observes, sets it up relatively quickly, sets the record down into place, and then soon enough, presses play.The sound of piano and violin fills the room, a mellow, flowy piece—but Minjae doesn’t get to listen to it that much before Seonghwa starts talking again.“The record is special. Pachelbel, Butterfly Waltz—but that’s not the point. It dampens the listening devices and the cameras in this room, and I only have a few, so listen carefully.” Seonghwa speaks clearly, concisely, and Minjae is, to say the least, confused about this development—but right now, all he can do is listen, as Seonghwa had said. “I can tell that you’re anxious, so I’m going to speak freely and give you the solution you came here looking for.”“I’m not looking for—”“Listen. Your brother is still in the hospital. You are reeling from what happened to Choi Hyunwoo. You’re scrambling, and I can tell.” Seonghwa drops the information on him like it’s nothing, and Minjae’s blood runs cold. But all he can do is hear him out till the end. “I told you that you have until the end of the year. I also told you the sooner, the better—but if you think about it, I have to keep leveraging you somehow, for as long as we both have what the other wants. So pull yourself together, and use that time. Don’t worry about me making your family suffer, because I’m not going to do that.”In the background, Minjae hears the song’s violin repeating itself for another verse, and he knows he has to think fast. “Why should I believe any of this?”“I’m only saying this to you because you came here looking for a way out. I can only give you one that’s temporary—but at the end of the day, it’s your decision. I’m not asking you to believe I’m a good person. Yes, I’m using you, and your family. But this—” Seonghwa gestures vaguely in between them, “This is nothing more than advice, from me, Park Seonghwa, no one else. I suggest you take it.”Minjae tilts his head, the song changing melody more and more, and he’s definitely feeling the pressure. Thankfully, his mind supplies, “You still have Junmin to use against me. It’s not like your offer means anything.”“Sure, that’s right, his records definitely still exist somewhere in the world. I’d hope that would only have to be my last resort—” Seonghwa says, straightforward and blunt, “—and in any case, you know very well that nothing comes without a price. I know you hate uncertainty, Minjae, but for the time being, this is what you need. Right?” Seonghwa states it all so matter-of-factly, and Minjae is just trying to process all of this information at once. “You need time. You just have to decide if you’ll take responsibility for it in the end.”The song ends naturally after that, plunging the room into a piercing din of silence, and MInjae and Seonghwa stare at each other intently, waiting for who will make the next move.It’s Minjae who speaks up, the same time that he stands from his place on the sofa. “I’ll be leaving then, Sir.”He doesn’t give a direct answer—like Seonghwa had said, it was advice, after all. It didn’t seem like it really mattered to him either if Minjae was going to take it or not; all he’d said was that he could. Or, more specifically, that he should.“Yah,” Seonghwa calls out, a hint of exasperation just barely coming through in his tone when he stops Minjae in his tracks, and breathes a resigned sigh as he gestures flatly at the folder that’s still lying on his desk. “Whatever’s going on with you—just… it will be fine, Minjae. You're lucky you caught me at a good time, but you can’t keep being this absent-minded. Understand?”Minjae only walks slowly towards him, step by step, a different kind of fear settling in at the deceptive kindness in those words. The way Park Seonghwa is jarringly capable of reading and exploiting Minjae’s emotions, almost so well that if Minjae had come to him just a few days ago when he’d been at his most distraught—he might have even believed his act, and it all would have gone downhill from there.Minjae just picks up the file from Seonghwa’s desk, gives a polite bow, and then turns on his heel to leave.Park Seonghwa doesn’t say anything more, and Minjae exhales heavily the moment he’s out the door, every unsettling feeling escaping in a series of shaky breaths.

curiouscat | back to ch. 8

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