* * *
That afternoon, an emergency cropped up with the academy’s administrative manager.
Seizing the chance, Jin Sejun stationed himself at the front desk as though he’d been doing this for the past decade.
Naturally, he only handled tasks he deemed worth his attention, but he did it so smoothly that no one questioned his presence.
Only the director, likely considering hourly wages, might have found it odd.
While at the desk, Sejun engaged in animated debates with kids half his age, arguing as if their discussions were matters of life and death.
“Why are you siding with Cheer Pink? You just like pink, don’t you?”
“Cheer Blue didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Wrong? Cheer Pink betrayed Cheer Blue first!”
“It wasn’t betrayal! A monster attacked while they were out of contact because they were deliberating!”
Even Sejun found it surprising how well he could match the kids’ energy.
He’d initially dismissed the cheerleading-themed comic Jin Iseo had recommended, but after binge-reading it, he was hooked on its mix of life’s joys and sorrows.
“If they were deliberating, they should’ve at least sent a message. How do you think Cheer Blue felt? Do you know how many scenarios must’ve gone through their mind?”
“Are you Cheer Blue, Sejun Teacher? Are you Cheer Blue?”
Cheer Blue?
More like a gloomy Sejun Blue.
Putting on a mock-annoyed expression, he retorted, “I’m not, okay? But even if I were, you wouldn’t understand, Ra-yeon. I’m an adult. Adults know everything.”
“Ugh, Sejun Teacher, you’re so annoying!”
The child’s tiny fist struck his arm, prompting Sejun to clutch the spot as if he’d been stabbed.
“Ahhh!”
“What? I didn’t hit you that hard….”
“Look at this—so annoying!”
Pulling a finger heart from his sleeve with a dramatic flourish, Sejun sent the kids into a mix of outrage and laughter.
Being in this lively environment, surrounded by such energy, felt rejuvenating.
Or maybe it was just that bullying Kwon Juwan put him in a good mood.
When classes began and the kids dispersed, the lobby grew quiet.
Sejun, finding himself with time to kill, was polishing the trophies when Kwon Juwan emerged from the bathroom, his expression composed.
As he passed by the desk, he remarked smoothly, “You and the kids are perfectly in sync.”
“Oh, so you were listening? Must’ve been boring sitting on the toilet.”
“…That.”
“Also, you’ve got the digestive system of a toddler, Juwan Teacher.”
“……”
“And call me Sejun Teacher. We’re the Sejun-Juwan duo, aren’t we?”
Ha.
That’s what you get for trying to start something you can’t finish.
Sejun lifted a trophy as if to toast, and Juwan’s eyes grew a touch darker.
Still, his faintly smiling lips made him all the more infuriating.
“By the way, you don’t have to buy me coffee anymore.”
“But I don’t want to stop. It’s my choice. Is it only your feelings that matter? Mine count too.”
Even as Sejun seamlessly fell into his childish banter, Juwan replied calmly, “I’m really fine, though….”
“But I’m doing it because I care about you. It’d hurt my feelings if you rejected that.” Sejun’s exaggeratedly pitiful expression made Juwan hesitate. In the end, he avoided the topic altogether and changed the subject.
“…Are you sure it’s okay to keep hanging around here instead of the hospital? Even if it’s winter break, this doesn’t seem like an ideal way to spend your time off.”
The underlying message—that Sejun’s presence was still uncomfortable—remained unchanged.
“Why? Are you planning to criticize me again? Is it a crime to be good-looking and fit?”
“You’re better-looking, so calm down.”
“Wow, sharp eyes.”
“So, the hospital?”
“Didn’t the academy director tell you?”
“The director…?”
Oh, did he think Sejun was referring to the hospital director?
Feeling generous, Sejun decided to clarify.
“I explained everything to the academy director, but he’s tight-lipped. My hospital director—who happens to be Iseo’s dad—was so worried about me that he forced me to take a vacation.”
“…Ah.”
“And one day, he asked me to pick up my niece from cheerleading practice. And oh, guess who happened to be here? Juwan Teacher.”
With dramatic flair, Sejun jabbed his chest with his finger as he emphasized “Juwan Teacher.”
But Juwan neither reacted nor responded.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that mentally wrecked in my life.”
“…….”
Noticing Juwan’s strange, unreadable gaze, Sejun suddenly stopped talking.
‘Did I overshare?’
Feeling uneasy, he quickly changed his tune. “Well, since we’re here, let’s try to get along.”
Though his tone was rather gentle, Kwon Juwan wasn’t naive enough to be completely swayed by Jin Sejun.
After all, he had dealt with him before. Maintaining his calm demeanor, Juwan asked,
“That aside, why are you even working here?”
“Because I’m bored?”
“If that’s the case, I could talk to the director about drafting a proper contract…”
“No thanks. I’ll come when I feel like it and leave when I feel like it.”
“But you’re always here spending money—”
“Then don’t pay me. I’ve got plenty of money.”
“Why are you responding like a grade-schooler?”
“Sejun, you’re 31 years old. Even my little nephew talks more maturely than this.”
“Good for you. Well, if you insist on working without pay, it’s your loss, not mine.”
Good grief.
If someone overheard, they’d think Sejun was paying the salary.
With a theatrical sigh, Jin Sejun exclaimed,
“Sounds to me like you just enjoy being around me!”
Juwan waved his hand dismissively, as if telling him to do whatever he pleased, and grabbed a broom.
When Juwan headed toward an empty practice room, Sejun trailed after him, pretending to help, but ended up lounging against the ballet barre instead.
“I’ve been curious about something, Mr. Kwon.”
Although there was no immediate reply, he continued undeterred.
“I get confused sometimes—what’s your full name again?”
“…My name?”
“Yes, your name. Was it Kwon Juhwan? I mean, my memory isn’t bad, but suddenly I’m second-guessing myself.”
“No, it’s Juwan. Kwon Juwan.”
Sejun had, of course, memorized his name from the roster and had even addressed him properly as “Mr. Juwan” during their texting days.
It was clearly a childish attempt to rile him up.
“Right, Mr. Jwa~an.”
“……”
“Your parents really gave you a name that’s easy to mess up, huh? I bet you had to emphasize each syllable during introductions. Kwon. Ju. And then ‘wan’ like in ‘power.’”
“Yep, you’ve got it.”
“You should wear a name tag when you work.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Oh, please.
Sejun imagined kicking the pile of dust Juwan had swept up while idly fiddling with the ballet barre.
Juwan’s unexpectedly calm reaction was baffling.
When they were alone like this, shouldn’t he be snapping and demanding to know what Sejun wanted from him?
Why was he pretending to be so composed?
Wait… was he pretending?
If Sejun were in Juwan’s shoes, he’d have told the other person to stop screwing around or, at the very least, started a fistfight by now.
As he continued to needle Juwan, Sejun found himself growing more frustrated instead.
What a dull guy!
He’s not even fun to provoke.
Sejun pouted and suddenly called out to Juwan.
“Hey, Cheer Pink.”
“Hm?”
That he responded so obediently was infuriating.
“So, after all your silence, I find out your specialty is cheerleading? How cute.”
“I’m glad you find it cute.”
Oh, so now he’s acting cheeky?
This was what made Juwan so ridiculous—he was impossible to pin down.
Even Sejun’s nephew Jin Iseo would’ve blown a fuse if Sejun had said something like this to him.
But Juwan, who should have more pride than anyone, just swallowed it all.
Sejun clicked his tongue, crossing his arms.
“So, is your junior class full of omegas? I heard they’re the ones who usually do the cutesy routines with pom-poms.”
“The world’s changed a lot these days. Be careful not to say stuff like that elsewhere.”
Ah, I get it now. Between the director and this place, it must be one of those progressive schools.
It made sense—the director was an alpha running an academy in a field stereotypically associated with betas and omegas.
That must’ve been a tough path to take.
* * *
