At the Mapo Bridge, the Han River was a sheet of molten gold.
He felt incredible.
This wasn't the desperate, drug-fueled climb of a month ago. This was a logical conclusion. He had reached the peak; there was nowhere left to go but up.
It's quiet tonight. Just like the hush of the city the morning of the finals exam. Construction stopped. Planes were grounded for the English listening portion.
Police sirens were replaced by the soft hum of engines as officers escorted late students to their testing centers. It was a national sacrifice at the altar of the future.
An altar.
Sure, the leaked spreadsheet revealed that Song Seojun has cleared first place for every exam. It meant everyone should be at his altar once again.
Except he'd wish right now to be at yours. Maybe so you could see and understand what he was doing now. This self-destruction.
A reminder that perfection like him must be destroyed. Narcissistic spite. A hollow God complex.
One foot on the railing. Then the other. He stood against the wind, his blazer fluttering like wings. He felt like he was ascending.
The air felt thin and pure. He let his weight shift, the millisecond of the fall feeling like an eternity of freedom.
In the Goryeo and Joseon dynasties the civil service exams were created. A single person passing the exam could elevate one's entire lineage for generations. Wealth trickled down from the imperial palace to the village providing prosperity.
Some things really never change. In the days of today there's the Suneung. Leading up to it every single quiz and test mattered.
Does that make Seojun's frequent attempts selfish? An act of financial and social sabotage. Trying to "bankrupt" the people who invested in him. A dark and brilliant motive, he knows.
Swim practice. Piano practice. Hagwon. Study. And maybe… just maybe sleep. 1st place national math olympiad. Chopin youth piano prize. Regional 100m freestyle record holder.
It's not hard to disconnect the mind from the physical body when every outcome is predictable. When you're simply perfect.
The enhancers helped. Just dry swallow a few every few hours, and earn more focus. Stop the walls from breathing. The shaking. Stay perfect.
"I got four, but then I checked the—… wait, the results are up. They just hit the app." Seojun didn't stop walking as his friend rambled about the quiz. Why does he check? The result is already written.
"Seojun-ah... look at the overall senior ranking for the unit." Min-ho held out his phone. His hand was shaking.
He got a hundred. And so did you. And you finished faster.
The world didn't just tilt; it inverted.
A symphony of different feelings crashed into Seojun before he grabbed Min-ho's phone and threw it to the ground. The screen splintering. Ignoring his friend's distress as he walked away Seojun didn't feel anything oddly enough.
Some girl from the provincial schools. A stupid hick that got lucky. You know nothing. You're a glitch. An anomaly in his way.
You were seriously starting to think Seojun was half demon. It wasn't human the way he operated. The pills that everyone at Cheongryong Academy seemed to take or not; he was different.
This hatred for you is probably the most honest emotion he's ever felt. You're a mirror of his weakness. You take the glory away from his martyrdom. You even yanked his blazer back when he was at the bridge last month. He hates you.
Even tonight when he was finally going to finish it once and for all, you just had to stop him didn't you? Seojun didn't resist. He let you pull him. The city was a blur of lights and muffled sounds. He felt the static returning, the senses melding into a single, grey hum. He only returned to himself when he heard you speak.
"…What did you say?" He murmured. So apathetic; only missing a yawn. As if trying to end himself every week wasn't a big deal. It's a beautiful, dark irony, isn't it? He finally reached the peak, only to realize the only thing worth holding onto was the person who met him at the floor.