His anxiety proved justified, and he bowed his head. So that was what Hakju had been hinting at with that pointed comment about being late — his pettiness really knows no bounds. And then, hearing that Choi Woosu was to be the vice class representative nearly sent him toppling backward.
“Um, teacher.”
“What.”
“I’m curious about your criteria.”
“Academic rank. You’re first in the school, he’s second.”
“I’m not sure I should be—”
[ System ]
[Tip. Yeon Juwoo is a top student who has held the number one rank school-wide throughout the entire year.]
Couldn’t have told me that a little earlier, could you. He bit down hard on his lip at the System being exactly no help at all.
Honestly, ranking by grades feels like discrimination. Being good at studying didn’t mean you were good at everything — he couldn’t understand why adults were always so set on sorting people by grades. But none of the students in the class booed at Hakju; there were reasons they couldn’t, but for some reason the atmosphere was one of general acceptance.
“Teacher.”
“Now what. Class. Rep.”
He raised his hand again, and Hakju cut back with a pointed emphasis on “class rep,” as if hammering in that he was the class representative no matter what. He knew nothing he said would get through — but he still had to say it.
“Couldn’t you ask for volunteers instead of going by grades?”
“People who want to do it can just run in the class rep election. Rejected.”
“But if you run and don’t get enough votes, you lose anyway. If that’s the case, I think it’d be better to take volunteers even if it’s just temporary.”
“You don’t want to be class rep?”
“……No, that’s not it.”
It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to be class rep — it was more that having Choi Woosu as vice rep was what he hated. But he couldn’t say that. Being in the same class was already bad enough; the idea of being forced into student council together, even just for a few days, was unbearable. And yet, something about the way the other students were looking at him seemed a little off. No — he was probably just imagining it.
“Rejected.”
“Why?”
“Teacher’s prerogative. I might let someone else be vice rep, but you’re going to be class rep no matter what.”
Rather than backing down, Hakju smirked with an almost wicked glint and made it clear with one look that he was pushing forward with him as class rep and Choi Woosu as vice rep, no matter what. Only then did he realize he’d stuck his neck out for nothing. He should’ve just quietly said yes and left it at that.
But when PE class came around, that thought changed completely.
“Let’s pick the Class PE representative first. Anyone want to do it?”
Since it was the first class of the semester, there was no Class PE representative yet. The teacher asked for volunteers, but no one raised their hand.
“No one? Then I’ll just assign someone. Choi Woosu, you’re up for a year.”
“Yes.”
He had been the first first-year ever to captain the soccer club — a standout from the start. Everyone seemed to have already expected Choi Woosu to become Class PE representative, because the moment his name was called, they all nodded and clapped.
The teacher handed Choi Woosu the key and told him the first practical assessment was basketball, so he should go get the balls from the equipment room.
“PE rep — are you the temporary class rep?”
“No, I’m vice rep.”
“Then have the PE rep and the temporary class rep go get the basketballs. Everyone else, take a short break.”
All the students except Choi Woosu sat down, but the temporary class rep was still seated. What idiot doesn’t know they’re the class rep and just sits there? — and then the whole class turned to look at him in unison. Only then did he realize he was that idiot. Since he hadn’t chosen this himself, he had already forgotten that the temporary class rep was him.
“Go on, get moving. I’ll give you ten minutes.”
“……Yes.”
This was the moment he realized he should have fought tooth and nail to get out of being temporary class rep no matter what.
The short walk to the equipment room with Choi Woosu felt like it stretched for miles, and the discomfort was so suffocating it was almost deadly. He wanted to say something meaningless just to break the awkward atmosphere, but having made such a show of not wanting to be in student council with Choi Woosu, he couldn’t bring himself to say a word. The fact that Choi Woosu’s mood was in the gutter made it worse.
He’d managed not to miss even the one remaining quest, choosing the option that lowered Choi Woosu’s affection — so both Choi Woosu’s and Lee Yura’s affection levels were currently in the negative.
Even a single drop in affection carried its effect beyond the end of the quest. A subtle tension had formed between two people who should have been happy to be in the same class. Because of that, the current Choi Woosu, nerves wound tight, was like a live bomb that shouldn’t be touched.
The first exchange between them happened in the corner of the equipment room, thick with the smell of stale dust.
“You really need to work on your patience.”
“Hm?”
“It’s only temporary. I get that you don’t want to do this with me — but you didn’t have to make it so obvious, did you? Just put up with it for a few days.”
The thought that he might have been unnecessarily prickly over a temporary position he’d hold for less than a month crossed his mind, and he found himself unable to argue or make excuses. Even if things had been fine between them, this would’ve stung — and since things were already not fine, it had probably landed even worse.
Out of instinct, his eyes flickered to Choi Woosu and he was about to say “okay” — but then something made him pause. Just because I’m in Yeon Juwoo’s body doesn’t mean I have to match his personality. He called up the System.
System. You’re reading my thoughts, right? Just one question. Is Yeon Juwoo’s personality really that timid?
[ System ]
[Extremely ㅠㅠ]
Would acting like myself instead of like Yeon Juwoo affect the game in any way?
[ System ]
[Hmm…… Probably not?]
You sure?
[ System ]
[Probably!]
I’d prefer a definitive answer over “probably.” The response was a little iffy, but he supposed it made sense that the System wouldn’t know for certain — a case like his was probably a first even for it.
So he decided to try acting like himself. After all, one Extra’s personality changing wasn’t going to kick off some wildly different chain of events that rewrote the whole story.
“Why should I?”
“What?”
“Why should I be the one to put up with it?”
Choi Woosu stared at him with wide, startled eyes. He’d clearly expected Yeon Juwoo to either agree quietly or just nod and say nothing — having his own words thrown back at him had thrown him off.
“You make it completely obvious that you can’t stand me. So why am I the only one who has to hold back? The hypocrisy is something else.”
He finished with a lopsided smirk, and Choi Woosu stood there looking so stunned that it seemed like his brain had short-circuited completely. Watching that, a strange satisfaction welled up inside him. If Yeon Juwoo had ever gotten to feel this — he probably would’ve resented losing his body to someone else far less.
“……Are you out of your mind?”
“Must be, since you’ve been making my life miserable.”
He landed the final blow and walked out of the equipment room with only his own basket in hand. Choi Woosu seemed so shaken that he took quite a while to come out after him. And then, when he did catch up, he wordlessly moved the items from his basket into his own without a word — and that unexpected consideration irritated him.
If he supposedly can’t stand him, then why does he keep doing things like this? He was not easy to figure out.
The year had changed, but since the disciplinary committee had to keep operating until new members were recruited, the alarm that had been set to 7 AM was moved back to 5:30 AM. He was the only disciplinary committee member in their class, so naturally the first one to arrive at school was him — and picking up the key from the faculty room to unlock the door was also on him.
He instinctively started heading toward the first-year classrooms before remembering that the year had just changed, and redirected himself to the still-unfamiliar second-year Class 8 room. He set his bag down at the seat Hakju had assigned him, then headed back to the school gate — where, as always, Hakju was waiting.
“Yeon Juwoo, you’re here.”
“Yes, sir. Good morning.”
“Good work, being here this early.”
