Chapter 5: English Lessons
854 Words
The first lesson began with me sitting on the edge of the studio floor, notebook in hand, looking like a kid forced into detention.
The girl who spoke Korean—translator, coach, temporary savior—stood in front of me. She had her notebook open, her posture professional. Her eyes were calm. Too calm. If she was nervous, she didn't show it.
"오늘부터 영어 수업 시작할 거예요," she said.
We'll start English lessons today.
I nodded.
"좋아요," I replied.
Okay.
⸻
The first few minutes were simple. Greetings. Numbers. Days of the week. Nothing I didn't already know.
Then came sentences. Full sentences. Commands. Vocabulary I would actually need in the group.
"Repeat after me," she said slowly.
I am practicing with KATSEYE.
I tried.
"아이 엠 프랙티싱... 위드... 카츠아이?" I mumbled.
She smiled politely. "Almost. 'KATSEYE'—just say it like the letters, not Korean."
카츠아이? I thought, then mimicked: "케이-에이-티-에스-와이-이?"
She laughed softly. Not mockingly, just quiet amusement. "Better."
Her laughter made my chest tighten. I looked away, pretending to focus on my notebook.
⸻
The lesson was slow at first. I repeated words like a parrot, trying not to embarrass myself. The girl guided me gently, correcting pronunciation, showing gestures, writing things down in my notebook.
"좋아요. 이제 문장 만들어 볼까요?" she asked.
Good. Now, let's make sentences.
I groaned inwardly. Full sentences were harder than choreography. At least on stage, I could rely on instinct. Here... English was all rules, all structure.
"예... 예를 들어 뭐요?" I said.
For example... what do I say?
She smiled. "Say this: 'I dance with KATSEYE every day.'"
I repeated it slowly, stumbling.
"아이... 댄스... 위드... 케이-에이-티-에스-와이-이... 에브리 데이?"
"Almost," she said again, patient but firm. "Try again, smoother."
I tried again. Better. I was learning, but slowly.
Every time she corrected me, every time our hands brushed while she pointed at the notebook, I felt my pulse spike. I looked away quickly, muttering in Korean.
"고... 고맙습니다."
Th-thank you.
She just nodded, calm, professional, but I swore I saw her cheeks flicker pink.
⸻
After thirty minutes, we moved on to singing and rapping lines.
"Your rap won't fit the melody," she reminded me softly.
But you can try to match the tempo and rhythm.
I sighed. I had tried this yesterday, and it had been a disaster. My deep, rough voice simply didn't blend with their light, clean vocals.
"좋아요... 해볼게요."
Fine... I'll try.
The music started. I rapped. My voice hit like a hammer against glass. The girl grimaced ever so slightly, then smiled and counted me in again.
"다시," she said.
Again.
We repeated the section multiple times. Each attempt got slightly better—less crashing, slightly more in rhythm—but I still sounded masculine, heavy, unlike their fluid feminine energy.
She leaned over to show me hand movements and gestures. Her fingers brushed mine accidentally. I froze.
"좋아요," she whispered.
Good.
My face heated. I looked away immediately, muttering in Korean,
"죄... 죄송합니다."
So... sorry.
She didn't flinch. She just smiled politely and gestured me back into position.
⸻
By the end of the session, I was exhausted. My brain ached from English. My body ached from dancing differently than I wanted. My ego ached from realizing that I didn't fit this world naturally.
But the girl stayed with me the entire time. Calm. Patient. She didn't scold me, didn't laugh at me. She guided me, corrected me, pointed out mistakes without making me feel small.
And every time she explained something, every time I saw her eyes glance at me, I felt... something. A pull. A weight in my chest I couldn't name.
I didn't know her name yet. I didn't know how to ask her. And I certainly didn't understand the danger of this pull.
⸻
After class, we packed up silently.
I spoke first.
"오늘 수업... 도움 됐어요."
Today's lesson... it helped.
She nodded. "좋아요. 내일도 계속할 거예요."
Good. We'll continue tomorrow.
I nodded again.
"네... 고맙습니다."
Yes... thank you.
Her smile lingered a moment too long before she turned away. I caught myself staring a little longer than necessary, then quickly looked down.
I had no idea what I was doing, and yet... I didn't want this to end.
- Writer
