The counsellor's office feels strangely calming.
Atelier doesn't relax, though. She is sitting on one of the taupe sofas in one corner of the room, her hands on her lap, nails digging into her palms. In front of her sits a middle-aged man, flipping through a folder with her name on it. The nametag pinned above his chest pocket identifies him as Dr Harold Winston.
He looks familiar. She can't quite put a finger on it.
"So, Miss Rosche," he finally says, closing the folder. He takes out a notepad and clicks his pen. "First, I want you to know that you're not here because you're in trouble. You're here because we want to help you."
She doubts it. She was only sent here because she was bawling her eyes out and Miss Kim didn't know what to do with her. So, like most other teachers, she made sure Atelier becomes someone else's problem.
"Is there anything you want to tell me?"
Where would she even begin? She won't waste her time or his. He wouldn't care anyway. He's paid to listen to her, but he can't do anything to help. He won't do anything to help. Just like the rest.
"You read my file," Atelier mutters under her breath.
"Ah, yes. But I'd like to hear it from you." Dr Winston doesn't smile, but he looks friendly enough. Friendly, but firm. "You'll tell me, won't you?"
"I'm from Morheim," she blurts, as if that's the only thing that matters. Maybe it is, to the Elites. Her lips quiver again.
"I see we're neighbours of sort. I come from Dirmoi."
At this, Atelier's ears perk and she looks up. "Really?"
"Yes. I came to Pandemonium when I was 25, and here I live for the past 23 years. Time really flies."
A non-Elite who became successful in the city? She was taught that it's not possible. "But... how?"
"I work hard. Relentlessly hard. I gave up a lot to come here, and I promised myself it wouldn't be in vain."
"What did you give up?"
"Family," he answers immediately. "Don't ask me whether it was worth it, because frankly, I don't know if it is."
She gulps. "Why can't they come with you?"
For the first time, Dr Winston smiles. There's no trace of humour in it, only sadness. "Pandemonium isn't very welcoming, is it, Atelier?"
Atelier looks back down and shakes her head. No, it isn't.
"Hang in there. Your worth isn't defined by what people think of you. I think you're a strong girl, Atelier. You've come this far, you can go further," Dr Winston says. Wrinkles gather at the corners of his eyes as his smile widens. "You'll do great things, I'm sure. Maybe not here in the city, but somewhere out there, there is something only you can do."
It's like listening to an audio recording of a motivational book. Atelier nods. She doesn't believe him, really, but he is nice and nice people are hard to come by.
---
It was during lunch when Jungkook heard about what happened.
He's sitting in the dining hall with Jin-goo and Taehoon, at their usual table, waiting for Soo Young to arrive. His hair is still damp from the quick shower he took after gym, just 20 minutes earlier.
He starts feeling uneasy when he hears people giggling. He doesn't think too much of it at first, choosing to believe that they are just laughing in response to a joke someone made, and that the joke isn't Atelier. He hopes it isn't.
Then he sees Soo Young, sashaying into the hall with her friends, and she is laughing too. He eyes her with slight contempt as she sits down, but she is too absorbed in the joke to actually pay any attention to him at all.
"Did you see her face? God, that was gold."
"She had no idea what was coming to her. She deserves it though."
In spite of himself, he asks, "Who are you talking about?" Soo Young wraps her arms around his and giggles again. His blood running cold, he repeats his question, sternly this time, "Who are you laughing at?"
"That Morheim girl," Soo Young says, flipping the long strands of brown hair off her shoulder. "She lost her uniform during gym session."
"What? You don't have anything to do with that, do you?"
"Of course not, Jungkook. Why would I do something like that?"
He doesn't believe her. In fact, he is /sure/ she had a hand in the prank. Since when did the girl he grew up with become capable of such low acts of cruelty? "Did you take her clothes, Soo Young?" he demands to know.
Soo Young pulls away and glares at him. For a moment, he expects her to deny in her regal voice that /no, it wasn't her,/ to prove him wrong. But she says curtly, with no sense of remorse whatsoever, "Why do you care, Jungkook? Why's it so important? It's funny, is all."
"How is tormenting a girl who has done nothing wrong, 'funny'?"
"Why are you yelling at me?"
Jungkook looks away. He says nothing, not even when Soo Young sighs and tugs at his arm playfully, attempting to make peace.
"Come on, Kook, don't be mad, okay? I hate it when you're upset. Please?" He would have forgiven her right then; possibly given her another chance. But she just /has/ to add, "Especially when you're upset because of the stupid Morheim roach."
Instantly, he wrenches his hand away and stands up. The atmosphere at the table goes from lively to cold. Jin-goo and Taehoon have stopped flirting with Song Jin and Mei Yu. They all turn to stare at him.
"Don't talk about Atelier like that," he warns them.
Soo Young's expression at that particular moment couldn't be far from hurt, but even more so, she is /pissed,/ and the one second of sadness simply vanishes, replaced by rage. "Why? Do you have a soft spot for her?"
"That's not the point."
"Of course it is! You do, don't you? You like her. You like that bitch."
"/Stop/ that. Stop calling her names. What did she ever do to you?"
"What did she do to me? Why, she –" she flounders. "She's trying to steal you from me!"
He isn't even hers to begin with, but he doesn't bring that up. "No one's trying to steal me from you."
"Oh yes, she is. I've seen the way she looks at you. She has a big, fat crush on you. And you /like/ that, don't you?" she scoffs angrily. "Imagine that. A Morheim girl in love with the escort of the Primarch's daughter. What is it if not a /joke?/ She's a joke. She deserves it."
Jungkook shakes his head slowly. He doesn't recognise her anymore. "You're horrible," he says, and starts walking away. That was all he has ever done – walk away. But not anymore.
"Am I? I suppose you're the good person then? Here to be her /hero./ If you think she's so pitiful then why don't you just ask /her/ to the ball?"
"Okay. Maybe I will."
He can't describe the look on her face then, but he doesn't try to. He just turns around and keeps walking.