Chief Yoon and Probationary Naja Kim resud the dictation tests that had been temporarily interrupted before things returned to normal.
Every day, Yoon Taehee gave Jaegyeom one-on-one Korean lessons inside the Chief’s office.
Today was their fourth test.
The very first test had ended in complete failure.
Out of ten questions loaded with traps and technicalities, Jaegyeom had gotten exactly one right. Looking down at the notebook stained by rainwater that day, he had clenched his fist in humiliation.
Honestly, he had not expected the result to be that catastrophic.
Back in high school, he had at least taken notes before. Of course, back then he had textbooks and blackboard writing to copy from, so he had never struggled this badly. It had been the sa while writing book reports in the library.
Because of that, Jaegyeom had unconsciously overestimated himself a little.
But the mont he had to write purely from hearing alone, without anything to reference, his spelling and spacing beca a complete disaster.
The result wounded his pride badly.
At the sa ti, however, it also ignited an absurd amount of competitiveness in him.
Yoon Taehee handed the notebook back to the already-fuming Jaegyeom.
Write each incorrect sentence ten tis here.
What? Why the hell do I have to do that?
So you won’t make the sa mistakes again.
How was I supposed to know that? You never said anything about this before.
Review is the foundation of studying.
He had only heard that he would receive stickers if he passed. Nobody had warned him beforehand about having to rewrite wrong answers ten tis each.
If he had known there was such an irritating punishnt attached, he never would have agreed to the dictation test in the first place.
Fuming, Jaegyeom protested furiously that this was unfair, but—
The important thing is review. You must not repeat mistakes you’ve already made.
Teacher Yoon’s educational philosophy was unbelievably irritating.
In the end, Jaegyeom began writing the punishnt sentences while grinding his teeth.
Because he was annoyed, he kept unconsciously gripping the pencil too hard. Every so often the lead snapped, and whenever that happened, Yoon Taehee would softly tease him.
If you have complaints, express them with words instead of taking it out on the pencil.
Then Jaegyeom would answer:
Keep talking and I’ll express them with my fists.
At that point Yoon Taehee would obediently fall silent.
Whenever the lead broke, Taehee would place scrap paper underneath and carefully sharpen the pencil himself with a cutter knife.
Writing each sentence ten tis was exhausting in itself.
Ten tis did not sound like much, but if he missed nine questions, that ant ninety full sentences. And because Jaegyeom was still awkward at writing, it took forever.
While Jaegyeom spent over an hour chanically copying punishnt sentences, Yoon Taehee quietly handled paperwork beside him or sat reading a book.
The second test of perseverance.
During the second test, Jaegyeom got three out of ten correct.
He still failed and earned no sticker, but compared to yesterday, he had improved by two answers. That alone counted as progress.
Although he felt frustrated about failing again, part of him was secretly pleased.
It really did feel like he had improved, even if only slightly.
Maybe the punishnt writing actually worked.
Now he only needed two more correct answers to pass.
The finish line was finally visible.
The third test of diligent effort.
That day, Jaegyeom improved by one more answer and scored four out of ten.
Standing right at the threshold of passing made his insides twist.
Worse still, one answer had been marked wrong solely because he forgot to add a period at the end even though the sentence itself was completely correct. If not for the missing punctuation mark, he would have passed.
“Hey. I just forgot the period. The sentence itself was right, wasn’t it?”
Indignant over the grading, Jaegyeom imdiately started arguing.
“If I forgot periods on every sentence, that’d be one thing. But I used them properly everywhere else and missed it only once. So this should still count.”
Unfortunately, Jaegyeom’s protest was ignored.
Strictly speaking, the reason he forgot the period was Yoon Taehee’s fault.
As the person giving the test, Yoon Taehee sotis stopped dictating midway and beca absorbed in reading his book instead. He had opened it to prepare questions, yet at so point he would forget entirely and beco completely imrsed in the book itself.
Whenever that happened, no matter how long Jaegyeom waited, the next question never ca.
So Jaegyeom, sitting there with his pencil poised, would eventually glance up and stare at Yoon Taehee.
Every single ti, Yoon Taehee had the sa expressionless, sharp look in his eyes while reading.
And for so reason, Jaegyeom kept finding himself watching him.
So that’s the kind of face soone makes when they’re completely absorbed in sothing.
Then, as if sensing his gaze, Yoon Taehee would suddenly look up with a quiet “Ah.”
At that mont Jaegyeom would hurriedly look away and pretend he had not been staring at all.
That was how he forgot the period.
Honestly, if possible, he wanted to argue properly.
You’re the one who stopped giving questions halfway through. I only looked because you weren’t saying anything. So forgetting the period is partly your fault too.
Jaegyeom felt unfairly wronged sohow, but—
“You’re unbelievably petty. How do you even live with a personality that narrow?”
In the end, he decided not to waste energy arguing anymore and simply treated it as dirty trickery.
And then ca today.
The fourth and decisive test.
Although his progress had been slow, his scores had steadily improved, and secretly Jaegyeom had expected a good result.
Yesterday he got four correct.
Today he thought he might finally surpass five.
However, the mont Yoon Taehee handed him the graded paper, Jaegyeom felt his heart drop.
Not only had his score failed to improve—
it had gotten worse.
Only two correct answers.
There was not even a single answer he could reasonably argue about this ti.
At last, Jaegyeom’s patience snapped.
“......”
He suddenly felt exhausted.
Another failure.
Even after painstakingly writing punishnt sentences every single day, the sight of red corrections covering the paper made him feel miserable.
Grinding his teeth, Jaegyeom crumpled the test sheet in his hand.
Then suddenly a thought occurred to him.
What’s the point of this?
Why am I even doing this?
Why was he wasting this much ti and effort on sothing so pointless?
Four tests, and not a single sticker.
And since he needed five stickers to receive the promised gift, that ant he would have to continue taking these tests over and over without knowing whether he would ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ pass.
Suddenly everything felt like a complete waste of energy.
At this rate, how long would it even take to get the gift?
When he first agreed to Yoon Taehee’s proposal, he never imagined it would drag on this endlessly.
His results had regressed instead of improving.
Without any visible reward in sight, his motivation collapsed.
Anyone would lose heart staring at a finish line that still looked impossibly far away after struggling this hard.
“I’m not doing this anymore.”
“Why?”
Jaegyeom tossed the crumpled test sheet aside irritably.
“It’s all going to end in two months anyway, so what’s the point of learning spelling and spacing?”
The mont his sense of accomplishnt shattered, everything suddenly started feeling aningless.
“It’s useless anyway. Learning it now doesn’t matter.”
Slumped deep into the executive chair, Jaegyeom muttered sullenly.
Yoon Taehee’s hand, which had been reaching for the crumpled paper, suddenly stopped.
“...”
After glancing at him, Jaegyeom froze.
“Right.”
Yoon Taehee wore an expression Jaegyeom had never seen before.
There was a calm, lancholy color in his eyes.
And sowhere beneath it—
anger.
It was the expression of soone who had been hurt.
“...”
Yoon Taehee quietly picked up the crumpled test paper Jaegyeom had thrown away and dropped it directly into the trash can.
Expressionless, he began tidying the correction notebooks and writing supplies spread out in front of Jaegyeom one by one.
Then he snapped the pencil he had personally sharpened for Jaegyeom countless tis cleanly in half and threw that into the trash too.
The neatly sharpened pencil broke instantly.
Jaegyeom flinched involuntarily.
His eyes moved from the broken pencil in the trash can back to Yoon Taehee.
As he rose from his chair, Yoon Taehee muttered quietly,
“You really do know.”
It was another ambiguous statent Jaegyeom had heard before.
“What?”
“When to say things.”
Yoon Taehee lowered his eyes slightly.
“And exactly what words will break .”
His voice had beco very quiet.
“You know far too well.”
With those final words, Yoon Taehee turned away.
And without looking back once, he left the Chief’s office.
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