Same Memory || Another Story

→• The Other Kim

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"Just for your information, Ma’am—she started it," Nayeon snapped, folding her arms like a lawyer ready to present Exhibit A.

"No, I didn’t," Tzuyu replied calmly, but her narrowed eyes gave her away.

"Yes, she did!" Nayeon huffed, dropping back into her chair with a dramatic sigh.

"Enough! Both of you!" Principal Jeon’s voice cut through the room like a whip. She buried her face in her hands.

Papers were everywhere—crumpled, torn, tossed about like a small tornado had danced across her desk. The principal herself looked like a survivor of a week-long war: hair sticking out in wild directions, glasses slightly askew, dark circles under her eyes like bruises of stress.

Her expression screamed one thing: Say one more word, and see you in hell.

It was obvious—Principal Jeon Soyeon had reached her limit. Her patience was a paper-thin thread, and these two were seconds away from cutting it clean.

With a sigh that felt like it carried the weight of the whole school, she picked up the top sheet from a fresh pile.

Apparently, these two had managed to wreck both the training field and the history classroom… again. In the same day.

With absolutely no reasonable explanation.

Nayeon, for her part, didn’t think she caused that much damage. Y/n’s chair was still standing, wasn’t it? And Tzuyu didn’t technically freeze it—just a little frost. Coincidence. Totally.

Principal Jeon groaned, pulled off her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I want your older siblings first thing tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?"

Her voice was flat. Not angry. Not loud. But tired. Dangerously tired.

"Yes, Ma’am," both girls answered in unison, suddenly upright like soldiers at roll call.

"Good," the principal muttered, waving a hand. "Now get out of my sight. And don’t forget your punishment."

They didn’t need telling twice.

Chairs scraped back, feet stumbled, they both nearly tripped over each other in their rush to the door. A clumsy bow and—

Click. The door shut behind them.

Silence.

Well… that didn’t go as badly as it could’ve.

The two walked side by side, still shooting suspicious glances at each other like one wrong move would restart the war.

But their thoughts were far from silent:

Tzuyu: Cleaning? What even is that? Who invented it? If I ever meet that person, I swear—he’ll see nothing but utter darkness.

Nayeon: This is beyond ridiculous. Me? Clean? That’s what maids and peasants are for. I refuse. lifting a single finger. Period.

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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over Zotikos Academy.
Yn Walked back to her dorm after more exhausting training sessions and a math class, which left her with aching muscles and a fried brain.

The campus was quiet, save for the distant chatter of students heading to their evening activities. As she reached her dorm, she noticed a small, neatly folded letter slipped under the door. Curious, she picked it up and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the elegant handwriting.