“Your expression hasn’t been good this whole time.”
Whose fault do you think that is?
At Seowoo’s offhand remark as he stared at the tension that wouldn’t leave his brow, Sihyeon swallowed a hollow laugh. The very person responsible for making him uncomfortable was acting like that, so all he could feel was disbelief.
Seriously, what is he trying to do?
When he asked why he was acting like this, he didn’t even answer—just told him to think about it himself and stirred him up. And now he was acting completely nonchalant again, which Sihyeon didn’t like at all.
It wasn’t that he wanted Seowoo to treat him as someone special. But at the very least, he expected some level of agitation—after all, he himself had been shaken because of him.
But instead, Seowoo acted as if nothing had happened, as if that day had just been a joke.
The more Sihyeon thought back on what Seowoo had said and tried to dig into it, the more a strange unease crept in, making him withdraw—until he finally lifted his head.
Could it be that he genuinely didn’t know why Sihyeon was acting like this?
As Sihyeon stared straight at him, Seowoo stepped closer and parted his red lips.
“If you’re uncomfortable, want me to switch?”
Do you want to run away?
What he said aloud for everyone to hear and what he whispered just for Sihyeon were completely different. Though he spoke as if being considerate, there was something provocative about it. Sihyeon lifted his head and met those platinum-colored eyes. They curved familiarly into a smile.
“If you want to switch, I can go do it right now. What do you think—want to switch with your partner?”
The boy spoke as if coaxing him, gently and softly, like he was dealing with a child. That tone only irritated Sihyeon more. His blue eyes fixed on the pale hand extended toward him. The bloodless fingers beckoned, as if asking for the slip of paper.
It would be more comfortable if he switched.
He could dance with Haru and avoid this awkward situation.
But—
“Do you want to run away?”
Yoo Seowoo’s words echoed in his ears. His brows drew together. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
“I’m fine.”
It was ridiculous—Seowoo had only been joking, yet he was the only one getting worked up. Not wanting to give anyone an excuse to nitpick later by switching partners for no reason, Sihyeon crumpled the slip of paper in his hand and turned away. A quiet chuckle sounded behind him. It somehow felt even more irritating than Lee Hamin’s usual laugh.
Once seated, Haeun went up to the board and organized the partner pairs.
1) Jihye – Dawoon
2 Haru – Hamin
3) Seowoo – Sihyeon
4) Haeun – Geonwoo
A couple dance was the perfect cliché event for a web novel, but Hamin and Dawoon weren’t even in the same group. Sihyeon, who had been wondering about that, bit his lip. Come to think of it, he wasn’t in any position to worry about others.
Glancing sideways, he saw Hamin—who had avoided Haeun but wasn’t thrilled about Haru either—frowning deeply. The fact that he wasn’t the only one dissatisfied with the situation brought Sihyeon a small sense of comfort, and he let out a quiet breath before listening to Haeun.
“Alright, partners are roughly set—what song should we do?”
“We’ve only got eight days until the trip, so we should consider that we have to learn the choreography within that time.”
“Now that I think about it, when are we practicing?”
“Our written exams are over, and there’s no Monthly Evaluation in June. The teachers said they’ll give us all the class time.”
Looking at it this way, it almost felt like a normal school. Sihyeon suddenly recalled how, back in his previous life, when school trip season came around, they would push all the desks aside and practice dances.
Then his brows slowly furrowed.
Before possession, and even after, he had never danced even once in his life.
Which meant he had no idea whether he was good at it or terrible at it. It’d be fine if he was good—but if he wasn’t, that’d be a headache. His fingertips twitched. With the song already being decided, he couldn’t exactly say he didn’t want to do it.
Ha… A sigh escaped him as he dropped his head onto the desk. At this point, all he could do was pray they picked an easy dance.
“Does anyone know any dances?”
“Or should we just do a random pop song?”
“Wouldn’t that take too long since we’d have to make our own choreography?”
“Then what?”
“Oh! Should we try a couple dance from the internet?”
Haeun, who suggested it, pulled out his phone and started searching, while the others continued discussing. Sihyeon, who had been silent due to not knowing many dances, parted his lips when Haeun finished searching and mentioned a song.
“How about ‘Trouble Maker’?”
“…….”
Even though he knew almost nothing about dancing, that one dance he did know—at least a little. Why the hell was a song from his original world appearing unchanged in this web novel? He did not want this kind of realism.
As he sat there dumbfounded, the others—who had been bored from the lack of good options—quickly agreed. Jihye and Dawoon said okay, Geonwoo and Haru said they didn’t care, and Seowoo was fine with it. The only ones who objected were him and Hamin—both uncomfortable with their partners.
Sihyeon bit his lip again.
Of all dances, that was the one he really didn’t want to do.
“Isn’t it too early to decide? How about we look a bit more first?”
“Hmm, is there anything better? If we’re doing it anyway, something bold would be more fun.”
“…….”
Like there was any alternative.
He had no proper counterproposal, only objections—so he had no leverage. When Sihyeon tried to redirect the conversation by asking if they could really handle such a touch-heavy dance, the response was more positive than expected.
In the end, majority rule prevailed again. Reluctantly, Sihyeon took out his phone and looked up the dance—and it was far more embarrassing and daring than he remembered. His hand trembled as he held the phone.
Watching it, for the first time, he thought camping might’ve been the better option.
There were eight of them, so it wasn’t like he could just drop out.
Since he couldn’t back out even if he wanted to, he pressed a hand to his forehead. Haeun suddenly wrapped up the discussion.
“Then let’s decide which parts we’ll each do with our partners and start practicing seriously from second period. We’ll practice individually today and tomorrow to learn our parts, then practice with partners from day three, and do a full group run-through four days before the trip. Sound good?”
“I’m good with that.”
“Nice work, Haeun.”
The meeting flowed as smoothly as water—and Sihyeon felt his mind empty just as easily. When it ended, he stared at the board. The words Haeun had written made it impossible for him to deny reality.
Seriously… this is not it.
He’d gone through all sorts of things since transmigrating, but this—this was too much. Remembering the suggestive, rolling movements from the video, Sihyeon imagined himself doing it and shuddered. It felt like all the blood drained from his body.
“…Let’s add one condition.”
“Hm?”
At his sudden statement, everyone turned to him. Under their gaze, Sihyeon turned toward Haeun.
“I’ll do it—but we change parts of the dance. It’s an old routine, and there are parts that are kind of awkward.”
“Hmm, that’s true, but isn’t that what makes it more fun?”
“I’m not saying we overhaul it. Just tweak a few parts. You can respect the minority opinion a bit, right? What do you think, Lee Hamin?”
Catching the lifeline Sihyeon threw him, Hamin quickly backed him up. Only after he added that he might reconsider participating entirely if changes weren’t allowed did they accept the request. But there was no time to relax—they had to assign parts immediately, and Sihyeon’s head started to pound.
“What part do you want?”
Seowoo approached and spoke. Sihyeon looked down at his phone screen. He was shorter than Yoo Seowoo, so doing the male part would look ridiculous—and he didn’t want to do the female part either. Actually, he didn’t want either. Especially not the parts with heavy physical contact.
How did it even come to this?
Pressing his temple, Sihyeon looked up at Seowoo. He looked perfectly at ease, smiling softly like a painting.
“What do you want to do?”
“Me? I’m fine with anything.”
“…….”
It was embarrassing to even choose out loud. After rubbing his face dry, Sihyeon weighed the two options before finally speaking.
“I’ll do the female part. And I’m going to suggest modifying the parts with physical contact.”
“Sure, then.”
The moment he said it, self-loathing crept in. From what he could tell, Jihye and Dawoon would handle themselves fine, and between Geonwoo and Haeun, it seemed like Haeun was taking the female part. As for Hamin and Haru… he had no idea. Lee Hamin would never agree to the female role, so maybe Haru would do it.
He tried to imagine the two of them dancing, but couldn’t picture it at all. That pairing was just as unappealing as his own. He briefly wondered if Hamin would bully Haru, then shut his mouth.
He wasn’t in any position to worry about Haru.
“Let me know when you’re done revising.”
Seowoo spoke casually, lightly tapping the desk before returning to his seat. Watching his back, Sihyeon clutched his head as a throbbing headache set in.
Why a couple dance of all things? And why did it have to be Yoo Seowoo?
If bad luck was going to hit, it really hit properly.
Wondering what sin he must have committed in his past life, Sihyeon sighed and replayed the video. He had to finalize the revisions before fifth period, so he needed to make them count.
***
After dedicating fourth period to watching the video and practicing it himself, the revisions were complete. He proposed ten changes—four were rejected, six accepted. The one he wanted most was among those rejected.
Maybe it couldn’t be helped since it was the highlight.
He had especially wanted to change the move where they grabbed fingertips and trailed up to the lips, but after showing his disappointment, Sihyeon shook his head. Still, six out of ten was a decent outcome.
That’s what he told himself.
Having steadied his mentality through self-reassurance, Sihyeon finished talking with Haeun and dropped down onto the floor. Since the desks had all been pushed aside, sitting on the floor was the only option unless he perched on one.
After checking the video of the revised dance, Haeun gathered everyone and demonstrated it. Watching him move more skillfully than expected, Sihyeon turned his gaze out the window.
The song—one he’d listened to endlessly by now—filled the classroom. The choreography played automatically in his head.
At least I’m not flailing around like a squid.
In this utterly complicated situation, the one small comfort was that he wasn’t completely hopeless at dancing.
Realizing that through practice, Sihyeon blinked as he took in the scenery outside. Sweat, drawn out from moving his body, ran down along his jawline.
“Alright, we’ll practice with this, and starting the day after tomorrow, try syncing with your partners!”
Maybe this kind of thing suited him—Haeun’s voice sounded unusually bright. The seated students stood up.
The day after tomorrow.
The words echoed in his mind like a death sentence.
In two days, he’d have to match this damned dance with Yoo Seowoo.
How did it come to this?
Muttering the thought like a habit, Sihyeon gazed up at the clear sky.
The sky was blue, the sunlight warm. He really wanted to drop out of school.
