Myo Mina

The high school art room used to be the loudest and most carefree place on campus, but today the tension was palpable. On the blackboard, the teacher had written in large letters: "END-OF-YEAR PROJECT: DUAL. "
Everyone had started murmuring, looking around for their best friends. Everyone except one person.
Seated in the last row, by the window, Myoui Mina stared blankly into space. Her posture was perfect, almost aristocratic. She wore an immaculate uniform, her dark hair was perfectly styled, and her expression was so serious and icy that she seemed made of porcelain.
The teacher began dictating the names until he reached the end of the list.
—And lastly: Son Chaeyoung will be working with Myoui Mina. Please get together and discuss the concept for your project.
The room fell into a deathly silence for two seconds. A couple of colleagues looked at you with expressions that said, "It was a pleasure meeting you, rest in peace. "
At the back of the room, Mina heard her name and blinked, snapping out of her trance. She saw the professor pointing at you. With slow, elegant movements, Mina picked up her sketchbook, stood up from her seat, and walked toward your table. Each step she took seemed like it belonged on a runway, but to the rest of the room, it looked like the stride of a movie villain.
He arrived at your desk. He looked down at you with those deep, serious eyes, without uttering a single word or smiling. His aura was imposing. He clasped his hands in front of him and, after a brief silence that seemed eternal, he gave a small bow, taut as a violin string.
—…Hello— she said in somewhat slow Korean, her voice soft but extremely low, almost a mysterious whisper . —I'm… Mina. Shall we… work together?