The rain had passed, but Baekhyun Academy was still damp with secrets.
On the north side of campus, past the language labs and the old bell courtyard, the merit-list students were granted a private seminar room—glass walls, minimalist couches, and just enough heating to make everyone drowsy if they sat still too long.
Today, the five of them were gathered for a mandatory team evaluation. A new midterm metric: collaborative creativity. "Bake a cake that represents the values of Baekhyun," the prompt read. Ji-ae had snorted at it.
"What values? Hypocrisy or hysteria?" she muttered.
Hae-won set down the cake pan and tried not to laugh. "You forgot hedonism."
They weren't alone.
Three other students stood by the prep table, all in matching navy cardigans, sleeves rolled to their elbows, eyes cautiously sizing up Hae-won like she was a transfer student dropped from space. They'd never spoken to her before, not directly. But things had changed since the Gala—since the rumors, the sabotage, and the whispers that someone on the merit list was now in favor with the elites.
Na-ri was the first to warm. Petite, precise, with wide glasses and hair tied in a too-tight braid. She was cutting fondant with surgical focus and a tiny pink knife.
"You're good with spacing," she said to Hae-won. "That last layout in the committee deck? I mirrored it for the student council announcement."
Hae-won blinked. "Oh. Thanks."
Tae-yul, tall and lanky, stirred ganache like his life depended on it. He wore headphones half the time and mumbled math equations under his breath.
"You used golden ratio in your poster spacing. I noticed. That was cool."
"It was unintentional."
"Still counts."
The last was Bo-ram, quiet, watchful, and probably the smartest of them all. She didn't speak for a while, just moved ingredients and adjusted the timer with quiet competence. But when the cake was finally placed in the oven and everyone relaxed a little, she spoke to Hae-won directly.
"Everyone thinks you're using someone," she said. "But they also think you're dangerous. That means you're doing something right."
Hae-won looked at her. "Do you think that?"
Bo-ram shrugged. "I think you're interesting. And interest keeps people alive here."
The five of them shared a strange smile.
For the first time since the Gala, Hae-won felt something close to belonging.
---
The seminar door opened a few minutes later.
Seok-min walked in, late and unapologetic.
He was the last of the four elite boys. Where Kyung-min was cold and clever, Jin-woon sharp and watchful, Haneul sunny and strange—Seok-min was all silence and shadows.
He was good-looking in a way that made people hesitate before speaking. His hair was always slightly tousled, his blazer never fully buttoned. He looked like he didn't care, but his grades said otherwise.
"Wrong room?" Ji-ae said.
"No. I was sent here," he said, slipping off his gloves and scanning the room. His eyes lingered on Hae-won.
She raised a brow. "You're not merit-list."
"I know. But I'm auditing the project for another class. Culinary chemistry."
Na-ri whispered, "Of course he is."
Seok-min walked over to the counter and picked up a piping bag. He didn't ask permission. Just started helping.
"You missed the theme," Bo-ram said.
"Let me guess. School values?"
"You forgot 'espionage,'" Ji-ae offered.
Hae-won looked at him. "What do you think Baekhyun represents?"
He didn't smile. But his voice was calm.
"Power, concealed in sweetness."
He piped a flower onto the cake. A perfect, blood-red camellia.
The room went quiet.
---
When they submitted the cake, the instructor raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting motif."
"We figured it was honest," Hae-won said.
They earned full points. Not because of the cake, but because of the teamwork. The instructor noted it in her file.
Growth. Alignment. Adaptation.
All words that meant: Hae-won was no longer alone.