Hanjun stared at Arzen’s face, searching for any hint of the joke he was missing. It wasn’t just the words; it was the complete lack of enthusiasm that threw him. The usual Arzen would’ve been on his feet, packing his bag, ready to head over at the mere mention of his parents.

Arzen blinked, panic flickering behind his eyes. That was a slip. A bad one. He could almost feel the room tilt. Memories of this world’s Arzen flooded back—the middle school days spent under Hanjun’s parents’ roof, the warm meals, and the roof over his head when he had nowhere else to go. They’d even pulled strings to get him into their fancy high school with that crucial recommendation letter.  He could practically see this world’s Arzen, standing there, grateful yet independent, refusing any financial help despite the offers, insisting on earning his own money.

Hanjun’s parents had never once overstepped his boundaries. They treated him like a son but never pushed to adopt him, respecting his need for space and this world’s Arzen had always found little ways to show his gratitude: a bouquet of flowers on birthdays, thoughtful gifts during the holidays. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind them how much he appreciated their kindness.

Hanjun’s eyes narrowed as he watched Arzen. His shock was evident—how could Arzen, of all people, say something so out of character?

Arzen, sensing the growing tension, quickly stretched and let out an exaggerated yawn. 

“Ah, sorry, man. I’m still half-asleep; didn’t catch what you said. What were you saying again?”

Hanjun crossed his arms, tapping his foot like he was waiting for Arzen to confess to some ridiculous crime. 

“I said, are you coming home for Golden Week? Mom and Dad miss you.”

Arzen let out a forced, casual laugh.

 “Oh, that. Yeah, obviously, I’m going. Why do you even ask? Don’t be silly.”

Hanjun didn’t budge, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see if Arzen’s brain had temporarily short-circuited.

“Yeah, I’m silly. Of course, you’re coming.”

He rubbed his forehead, sighing dramatically.

“Almost gave me a heart attack there. I thought you’d been swapped out for some evil twin or something.”

Arzen waved him off, letting out another yawn, louder this time, trying to signal the end of the conversation.

“Enough, I’m going to sleep. Night.”

Hanjun leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face a little strained, trying to hide the unease he couldn’t quite shake off. He tapped his fingers on the armrest, watching Arzen with a mix of skepticism and mild exasperation.

“Nighty night, dream of me, Zenzen.”

Arzen made a dramatic retching noise from under the quilt, muffled but unmistakable, and Hanjun couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, though his eyes stayed fixed on the lumpy shape of his friend under the covers. Hanjun scratched his head, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Under his blanket, Arzen cursed a storm in his mind. 

‘F*CK! F*CK! F*CK! I ALMOST BLEW IT!!!’ 

Arzen squeezed his eyes shut, his mind racing with a hundred ways that conversation could have gone south. He’d managed to play it off as sleepiness, but Hanjun’s reaction made it clear: he needed to be more careful. Crisis averted—for now.

The morning felt like it took forever to arrive, but when it finally did, it hit Arzen like a rude wake-up call he wasn’t ready for. After the mess with Hanjun last night, he’d barely slept, tossing and turning with the awkward replay stuck in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear Hanjun’s shocked voice and see the look of disbelief on his face. 

Arzen blinked at the sunlight streaming in, too bright for the tired eyes of someone who barely slept. He shuffled out of bed, glancing around the room. Hanjun and Yuriel were already gone, their beds perfectly made, as if they’d never been slept in. Elden, however, was still there, half-buried in his blankets, his blonde hair sticking up in a tousled mess. 

After a few days in this world, Arzen had pieced together the dynamics of the dorm: three distinct types of students filled these rooms. First, the scholarship kids—academics, athletes, artists—all using the dorm because it’s free. Then, the nouveau riche—the flashy new money types who stayed because their real homes were cities or countries away, and living here was simply convenient. Lastly, the real rich kids with busy lives, like Hanjun, Yuriel, and Elden. Too busy to deal with the school but still needing to be seen, they lived here to save time and keep their complicated lives running smoothly.

Arzen gave Elden a glance before heading out, envying the guy’s ability to sleep through anything. 

‘Must be nice.’ 

Arzen thought as he grabbed his things, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep deprivation. Today was going to be big—his first official introduction to the drama club. The thought of it was a weird mix of excitement and dread, but there was no turning back now.

After school, Arzen trudged towards the drama club room, his footsteps echoing with a steady rhythm down the hallway. Each step felt like he was dragging a load behind him, his shoulders squared in determination. As he reached the door, Yuna was already there, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her smile stretched wide and her eyes gleaming like she was about to show off a secret.

Arzen barely had a chance to take in the room before Yuna grabbed his hand, her grip tight and insistent, and she yanked him towards one of the two doors at opposite ends of the clubroom. The clubroom was a chaotic blend of creativity: long tables piled with scripts, props scattered about, and chairs that looked like they’d been hastily shoved aside in a rush. To the right, near the meeting tables, a slightly open door revealed a glimpse of costumes and set pieces cluttered together—probably the storage room.

But Yuna pulled Arzen towards the left door, a solid wooden entrance with a polished brass handle. She swung it open with the flourish of someone presenting a grand reveal. Arzen found himself staring into the drama club’s “mini auditorium,” though calling it “mini” felt like an understatement.

Arzen stepped inside, taking in the scene as his eyes widened. Rows of plush red velvet seats rose in neat, steep tiers, each chair perfectly aligned to provide a clear view of the stage below. The stage was broad and polished, stretching across the room with dark curtains hanging on either side, giving it a professional touch. 

Above, a chandelier glittered with crystal lights, casting a warm glow that bounced off the rich wood paneling along the walls. Spotlights were mounted high, aimed squarely at the stage, and a complex rigging system with ropes and pulleys dangled overhead, ready for any backdrop changes.

It was an impressive setup, but still a far cry from the school’s main auditorium used for assemblies—a cavernous space that could swallow this room whole. Despite that, the “mini” auditorium had a charm of its own, every detail meticulously crafted to give the drama club a stage worthy of serious performances.

Arzen tried to keep a straight face, but the ridiculousness of it all was impossible to ignore. 

‘Seriously? For high school?’ 

He mused, noting the elaborate sound and lighting booths set up like a NASA control center. It wasn’t hard to imagine some drama kid shouting, “Lights, camera, action!” like they were directing the next Hollywood blockbuster instead of a school play about talking animals and witches.

Yuna, blissfully unaware of Arzen’s silent critique, pulled him straight to the stage, her steps light and enthusiastic. The whole club was already there, scattered in the plush seats, chatting casually like this was just another day. As they reached the front, Yuna let go of Arzen’s hand and clapped hers together, her voice echoing as she called for attention. 

“Alright, everyone! I’d like you all to meet our new scriptwriter, Arzen!” 

She gestured towards him like she was unveiling the main attraction.

Arzen scanned the crowd as heads turned his way. Some members sat up straighter, a few offered nods, and several applauded lightly, their movements relaxed and welcoming. 

“Finally, we have a writer!” 

One of them called out, clapping with enthusiasm. 

“This will make things so much easier.” 

Another said, nodding at Arzen like they’d just solved a long-standing problem.

However, not every reaction was friendly. Cain, lounging in the back row with his feet up on the seat in front of him, crossed his arms and smirked. 

“Haha… Just a noob.” 

Cain muttered, tilting his head back lazily. Beside him, a tanned guy with short-cropped hair watched the introduction with crossed arms, his eyebrow raising slightly at the comment but his face otherwise impassive.

“He won’t last long.” 

Another guy from Cain’s group muttered, the words accompanied by a dismissive flick of the hand.

Meanwhile, other members watched with mild interest. They weren’t exactly hostile, but their attention wavered between their phones and side conversations. Some looked up just long enough to nod before returning to their own business, silently acknowledging that having a scriptwriter was at least a step in the right direction.

"At least we can start working on a new play."

One member said, their voice neutral but hopeful.

The room buzzed with mixed energy; some were curious, others indifferent, and a few openly skeptical. Arzen, sensing the various reactions, nodded back at those who greeted him and made a mental note to steer clear of the less welcoming faces. Yuna, determined to keep things moving, clapped her hands again, this time with a sharp, purposeful rhythm that snapped everyone’s attention back to her.

“Team Leaders, join me at the long table in the common room!”

She called out, beckoning some students including the tanned guy with short-cropped hair, and the red-haired guy who had been scribbling on a clipboard. Yuna’s smile was wide, urging them all forward.

Arzen followed them out of the auditorium and back into the clubroom, his eyes skimming over the table littered with scattered papers, sketches, and a random assortment of props that looked like a creative explosion had gone off. Yuna began the introductions, guiding Arzen through the group like a tour guide on a mission.

“Here’s Anna Weiss, our Budget Leader.” 

Yuna said, gesturing to the tall, slender woman with sharp blue eyes and sleek black hair. Anna adjusted her glasses, setting them squarely on her nose, then aligned her documents with the precision of someone who wouldn’t tolerate even a paperclip out of place.

Next up was Lia Steren, who stood out with her wavy blonde hair, freckled face, and an outfit that looked like it was assembled in a thrift store by someone with a great eye for chaos. She greeted Arzen with a broad smile, her fingers twirling a strand of hair in a perpetual loop. 

“I’m Lia, Props and Costumes Leader, and believe me, it’s not just about picking colors. This is art.” 

She winked, as if she were sharing an inside joke with herself.

Beside Lia was Arne Fens, a young man with tousled brown hair and warm hazel eyes, who gave a casual wave and leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed like he was settling in for a long chat at a café rather than a meeting. 

“Good to see someone new.” 

Arne said with a laid-back smile. As the Casting Director, Arne had an eye for talent and a laid-back confidence that made him easy to approach.

Next, Yuna pointed to the guy with tanned skin and black short-cropped hair, sitting with his arms crossed, eyes focused and attentive. 

“This is Renzel Avidan, our Stage Manager.” 

Renzel nodded from his spot, his posture calm but alert, as if constantly assessing the room. He watched Arzen with a measured look, evaluating the new addition like a seasoned coach sizing up a player. 

Finally, Yuna introduced the man with striking red hair and sharp green eyes, clipboard still in hand. 

“And this is Noine Trellis, our Public Relations Leader.” 

Noine nodded with a quick smile, his shoulders set confidently as he jotted down notes. His role was all about strategy, from promoting the club’s performances to ensuring they attracted the right audience. With Noine’s sharp eye for public perception, he was always two steps ahead, planning their next big move.

Yuna placed a firm hand on Arzen’s shoulder, positioning him squarely among the group. 

“Let’s get started. I’ll be the director for this production, so we’ll be working closely together."

Yuna leaned forward, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, each tap building anticipation. 

“We’ve pulled off two musicals: The Enchanted Forest and Echoes of Melody, and last year, we tackled adaptations of Hamlet and Macbeth.” 

She glanced at Lia, who was already leaning forward, eager to add her bit.

Lia’s eyes sparkled as she straightened up, adjusting the colorful scarf wrapped around her neck. 

“And let’s not forget The Great Gatsby. That was a huge project for the props and costumes team!” 

She twirled a loose strand of her wavy blonde hair, enjoying the moment as if every bead and feather she’d sewn had been a personal triumph. She couldn’t help but smirk, recalling the endless hours spent arguing over fabric choices that had almost turned into a full-blown drama of its own.

Yuna’s voice took on a serious note. 

“This year’s stakes are higher. Famous directors and industry figures will attend the three-day festival. Each club has to present its best work, and the club with the most visitors will receive special recommendation letters to their chosen universities.” 

She let that sink in, her gaze sweeping across the table.

Anna tapped her pen sharply on the table, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“This year’s play is our golden ticket.” 

She declared, adjusting her glasses as she scanned the table with a sharp, calculating gaze. 

“But only five of us will get those letters—the ones who were voted to contribute the most.”

She flicked her gaze up, laying down the stakes like poker chips on a high-stakes table.

Arne leaned back in his chair, lazily tossing his pencil in the air and catching it like a pro. His hazel eyes flicked between his teammates, casually assessing their reactions. He had to admit, the prospect of big names watching had his interest. 

“We’re all gunning for those letters, huh?” 

His words hung in the air, a casual taunt that made Lia nod along, her smile tinged with competitive excitement.

Arzen covered his mouth with his hand, barely suppressing a chuckle that almost escaped.

‘This world is seriously messed up.’