Ji-hun and her—two names that never made headlines, but always topped the scoreboards.

Born into the harsh underbelly of New York, they weren’t supposed to matter. Two kids from the forgotten streets, raised on instant noodles, overdue rent, and borrowed textbooks. But what they lacked in privilege, they made up for in pure intellect.

From childhood to middle school, they were inseparable. Study sessions bled into midnight phone calls. Sharing answers, debating solutions, racing each other through mock tests. And always dreaming of the same thing—escaping it all with an Oxford scholarship.

High school brought change. A better campus, tougher competition, and opportunity wrapped in pressure. But still, every day after school, they sat side-by-side, studying for hours. Preparing for that one shot.

Then, on the day of the scholarship exam, Ji-hun disappeared.

No calls. No messages. Just... silence.

Worried sick, she ran to his apartment. What she found would haunt her—Ji-hun bruised, bloodied, barely able to speak. A gang had come to collect an old family debt. He paid the price.

After that, he withdrew. He stopped calling, stopped showing up, stopped being Ji-hun.

She tried at first. To bring him back. To remind him what they were working toward. But he shut her out. And when the rich kids at school started noticing her sharp mind, offering her money in exchange for leaked answers, she gave in.

She told herself it was just survival. That she had no choice.

Ji-hun watched quietly from a distance. He never judged. Never got involved.

Then came the STIC—the global exam. The real test. The ticket to the top universities across the world.

She couldn’t do it alone. She needed Ji-hun—his photographic memory, his icy precision. She asked. Begged. Persuaded.

And he said yes.

For a moment, everything felt like it used to. They studied together again. Laughed. Shared glances across the table that lingered longer than they used to. In those fleeting days, she felt like maybe—just maybe—they were healing.

On the day of the STIC, the plan unfolded with mechanical precision. Signals exchanged. Answers memorized. Eyes locked on each other across the exam hall.

Then it all fell apart.

Ji-hun got caught.

He hadn’t completed the iris scan on his final submission. A tiny misstep. A devastating one. His exam was canceled. Years of preparation, erased in a second.

But the payment still came.

Despite everything, the clients wired the money. Ji-hun held it in his hand—clean, heavy, life-changing.

She stared at him. Hollow. Sick with guilt. This wasn’t the plan. Not like this. Not at his expense.

She didn’t want to do this anymore. The rush, the risk, the lies—none of it felt worth it.

But Ji-hun did.

He looked at her, calm and calculating.

And with the weight of everything they’d lost—and everything they could still gain— he simply said, “Let’s do it again.”