similar but not quite the same, virtually so; but frankly, not enough. see also: jina and @mmyuanlan before the peace treaty, the glo-up, and insert the manic one on one competition between the two smartest girls in their cohort. CIRCA 2017
𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, you want to be better than the rest.
you read books until they’re practically imprinted in your mind. you close your eyes and your mind still runs a mile a minute, keep up, keep up -- they taunt you. you’re to be the best, not ahead of the curve, you are the curve. self-awareness is second to self-egos; pampered and bruised. tossed to wolves and torn apart all for the sake of an outstanding academic reputation. the next day, it will begin again.
it’s a repetitive cycle, the slate is never clean, it’s darkened with blood and sweat and tears jina never cries because her eyes are bloodshot and her smile is strained. but she raises her hand high, shoulder brush, maybe a little too passive-aggressively against another’s. she doesn’t spare the slightest glance backwards as her name is spoken like a spell, like it’s obvious that she would be the first to come up with the answer.
like it’s expected, because she was kwak jina.
this was her reputation. untainted by her mother’s crimes, unhindered by the legacies her sisters unravel: no -- kwak jina is unlike her sisters before her. she is not serious, she is not fun personified; she’s not a breath of fresh air nor does she excel at escapism.
she’s haughty, possessive, temperamental and withers at the lack of attention. above all, she is an egoist. she wants to be the best, second in line had never been her frame of work nor would she bow down to someone like -- she blinks, smile ripe against bright teeth -- someone like yuanlan. the name rolls off her tongue as she stares at the list of students, written off by examination scores and paired like cattle for their latest DADA practicum. unlike last time, perhaps the advantage had been lost.
because right next to yuanlan’s was her own -- she bites back a groan, heavily feeling her eyes roll to the back of her head as she turns to stare the other down, arms crossed before she makes up her mind and makes the first move. “it appears,” she breathes through her nose, trying to calm the flares of annoyance already prickling at the back of her neck. “the professor thought it was wise to pair us up for today’s practicum.” her tone is flat, a declaration of if you fuck this up -- i’ll fuck you up whispered between unwritten lines.