Kaija spent the rest of the morning at a café near the Performance Building, nursing her tea like it was a reward for surviving the first part of her new life.
The place was quiet, tucked into one of KE's brighter walkways, with glass walls that let in a wash of clean daylight and reflected the endless bustle of the campus beyond.
She sat in a corner booth with her elbows on the table, lazily chewing the boba one pearl at a time, and for the first time since arriving, she felt almost at peace.
Not bad, she thought, savoring the sweetness as it slid down her throat. This is the kind of luxury I can actually appreciate.
Around noon, just as she was preparing to leave for lunch, a man came sprinting toward her table like he had seen a body on the floor.
He was impossible to miss. Green hair. Light brown eyes. A shirt covered in loud, colorful flowers, paired with pants so aggressively bright they almost hurt to look at.
He moved with the frantic speed of someone whose entire morning had been ruined by one missing person, and he reached her table with such force that he slapped both palms onto the surface and barked, "My God, Kaija Sepala! Where have you been all morning?!"
Kaija blinked up at him, the straw still in her mouth. "Eh…" She looked him over with a sleepy, blank stare. "You know me? I'm sorry, but who are you?"
The man looked ready to explode on the spot.
"I'm your manager, miss!" he shouted, as if volume alone could force recognition into existence. "Esko!"
Something clicked then, and Kaija's brows lifted in faint realization. "Alright, alright, easy," she said, raising both hands. "Lower the volume, please. I've heard your name before. You're looking for me?"
"Of course I am!" Esko was still speaking like the café had burned down. "Why didn't you attend the Beginner Dance class? I've been searching for you all morning!"
Kaija tipped her head. "You went to the dance studio?" She paused, then gave him a flat look. "Well, if so, you must've heard from that golden-eyed instructor that he kicked me out."
Esko let out a long, miserable groan and dragged a hand down his face as if he could already feel the headache coming on. "Kicked you out?" he repeated, sounding personally wounded by the idea. Then he sighed through his teeth. "Ah. It's just… it's just typical Antony!"
He jabbed a finger into the air like he was defending a known criminal by force of habit. "Look, Antony isn't exactly known for being nice and kind, all right? He just does that to every trainee!"
Kaija's mouth flattened. "Comforting."
"But here's the thing!" Esko leaned forward so sharply that the flowers on his shirt shifted with the motion. "He is also the best at what he does! So if you're training under him, Miss, you are guaranteed a very, extremely bright future coming out of this training!"
"No, no, no." Kaija replied with a smile so bright it was nearly malicious, wagging one finger in the air. "I'm very sure he made it clear he didn't want to teach a one-person class."
She leaned back in her chair, still looking entirely too calm for someone being actively scolded by a man in tropical chaos. "I'm also very, very sure the guy said he didn't want to teach me specifically for… whatever reason he might have. Maybe he just doesn't like my face."
Kaija gave him a small, innocent shrug. "Anyway, can I just skip the whole dancing thing altogether? Just get me a chair and I'll sing for you for hours and hours."
Esko slammed his palms on the table again, to the obvious displeasure of several nearby customers. "You can't, Ms. Sepala! Who listens to a singer who can't dance these days?"
Kaija's face visibly drooped, and she let out a long, defeated sigh. Weren't singers supposed to just sing? What was this, some kind of athletic punishment disguised as artistry?
"Alright." She held up a hand, counting off on her fingers. "First of all, just call me Kaija, since you're my manager."
Esko looked at her as if she had just announced that gravity was optional.
"Secondly," Kaija continued, "I guess I'll try to go back to that class tomorrow. It's too late now anyway."
A pause.
"Thirdly, I'm heading out for lunch, Mr. Manager. You wanna come? We're gonna work together, I guess we should, you know… get to know each other. Sort of."
Esko gave her a suspicious look, clearly not buying the cheerful tone she had slapped on top of the entire sentence. A long beat passed, followed by a sharp exhale that sounded suspiciously like surrender.
"Alright. Kaija it is, then." He pointed toward the door. "Come. We have a lot to discuss."
After lunch, as if determined to personally prevent her from vanishing again, Esko escorted Kaija all the way back to the vocal classroom and stopped her right at the door.
"Listen to me, Kaija," he said sternly, raising one finger toward her face like a warning sign with legs. "Do not leave this class. At all costs. Okay?"
Kaija gave him a skeptical sidelong look. The way he said it made the words sound less like advice and more like a threat to her emotional well-being.
"Erm… okay, you're scaring me now," she muttered, turning around at turtle speed. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, thanks for accompanying me all the way, I guess… though it felt more like I'm under your surveillance… Anyway! See you soon then!"
"Yes!" Esko suddenly spun her around with a firm hand on her shoulder, making her nearly stumble back toward the door. "I am going to see you very, very soon, indeed! Now good luck, my new star!"
Then, with one final push that sent her straight inside, he left her there, but not before shooting her one last look that clearly said I am watching you.
Inside, the classroom was nothing like Kaija had expected.
It was a massive theater hall, wide and steeply arranged, with seats descending toward a broad stage under bright overhead lights. And it was packed. Kaija's gaze immediately locked onto a familiar head of pastel-pink hair near the front row.
Liisi.
The idol sat there with the four other members of Lipstick, their group arranged together like polished display pieces. Several other faces caught Kaija's eye too—big-name artists she recognized from billboards, music shows, and advertisements, along with younger trainees whose names she didn't know but whose faces were still polished enough to belong on some glossy magazine cover.
Kaija stopped just inside the door.
For a moment, she genuinely thought she had walked into a star-studded concert by mistake rather than a vocal training class.
"Why are you still standing here?"
The voice came from behind her, deep and abyss-dark, carrying irritation so clearly that it needed no introduction.
Kaija turned.
Turquoise eyes.
Familiar turquoise eyes.
The kind that immediately made her think of trouble.
Karl Hanski's face twisted the instant he recognized her, his angelic features sharpening into something far less divine. "You again?" he muttered, sounding offended by the laws of the universe itself.
Kaija lifted one brow in return. "What are you doing here?"
Wasn't this rude idiot already famous enough to avoid classes entirely? Why would someone like him need a vocal lesson?
Then another thought hit her, and her expression stalled.
Wait a minute.
Could it be that this ash-blond head—
"I'm in charge of this stupid class," Karl said smugly, clearly enjoying the exact moment shock appeared on her face.
Kaija spun around immediately. "Alright, bro. Don't mind me. I'mma take my seat, then."
"Stop right there."
She froze mid-step.
Karl folded his arms, eyes narrow. "So you're already signed yesterday?" His gaze slid over her with a disdain that somehow still managed to feel rehearsed. "What's your name again?"
"It's Kaija Sepala," she muttered, shooting him a hard look over her shoulder.
Karl's mouth curved into a slow, contemptuous sneer. "My, my. Kaija Sepala. Your skills must be something else," he said, and then his gaze sharpened with a deliberate insult. "In bed, I mean."
Kaija's face twitched.
Violently.
"Oh, indeed, they are," she snapped back, her own tone cool enough to freeze his teeth. "Would you like to find out yourself?"
Now it was Karl's face that twitched.
For a single, dangerous second, the room seemed to go still.
"Fucking hell, no!" Karl barked, visibly scandalized by the possibility of having to continue the conversation. "I don't wanna find out! Go to your fucking seat now, and stop wasting the class's time!"
"Well, you brought it up first, mister," Kaija replied, and her smirk returned just enough to be irritating.
When she turned around, she immediately felt it: every pair of eyes in the room had landed on her.
From the front row, Liisi suddenly raised a hand and waved with alarmingly bright enthusiasm.
"Sister!" Liisi called. "Come sit with me and my group!"
Kaija stood there for a beat, weighing the options.
On one hand, she did not particularly want to sit beside a bunch of famous girls whose beauty ratios appeared to be scientifically unfair.
On the other, rejecting someone as popular as Liisi in front of all these people would almost certainly earn her a personal basket of hatred before her first proper class even began.
Reluctantly, she headed toward the pink-haired idol's seat.
As Kaija sat down in the front row, Karl stepped onto the stage.
The moment Liisi's smiley gaze shifted from Kaija to the man on stage, her smoky brown eyes brightened with unmistakable admiration. Kaija noticed that immediately, and the observation settled in her stomach with a strange, mildly irritating weight.
"Listen up, idiots," Karl drawled into the microphone, his voice echoing through the massive hall. "I'm bored of this. You're bored of this. Let's get it over with. As usual, seniors first, juniors last. Now, get your ass up here."
Then he stepped down from the stage like he had already decided the entire room was beneath him, took a seat at the table directly in front of the stage, and leaned back with both legs propped up in complete nonchalance, looking less like a vocal instructor and more like a jaded judge forced to endure amateur night against his will.
One of the big-name artists went up first.
He took the mic and began singing without any accompaniment.
No background track. No instrumental cushion. Just his own voice filling the huge hall—raw, powerful, and beautiful enough that Kaija could tell the song wasn't even his.
Naturally, she had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on.
She leaned over toward Liisi. "Hey. What's happening?"
"You got your homework, sister?" Liisi asked back brightly.
"What homework?"
"Karl always sends out a homework song before class," Liisi explained with a cheerful smile. "When you come in, you go up on stage and sing. Then he judges you."
Kaija's brows knitted together. "But what's the point of having everyone do vocal training together? You're already famous. You're not on the same level as trainees like me."
Liisi's smile only brightened further, which somehow made Kaija more suspicious, not less. "Karl says it's to train us to sing under pressure. We feel pressured being watched by our peers, and trainees feel pressured being watched by us. It's supposed to make everyone better."
Kaija's stomach twisted.
Not only had she arrived with no warning, no preparation, and no assigned homework song, but she had also called the instructor scum and jerk yesterday.
Given Karl's personality and the way he'd slandered her without even knowing her, Kaija could already guess what judging meant in his vocabulary.
The singer on stage had barely finished a phrase before Karl suddenly lifted a hand.
The singer cut off mid-line.
"Not bad," Karl said flatly, "but not bearable either. You sing like you're begging the audience to love you. Next."
The next artist went up.
Then another.
Then another.
And then the trainees.
Karl's comments only got worse.
"Too mawkish. Next."
"Boring. Next."
"Just give up on singing altogether. Next."
Even Liisi's group got called "tone-deaf, talentless dolls who couldn't do anything right except shake their hips."
Kaija's frown deepened with every insult.
At this point, she was fully convinced the man had serious ear problems, and that being an asshole had to be written somewhere in his DNA.
He didn't single her out. He didn't spare anyone. He treated them all like trash with an almost elegant consistency.
By the time Liisi stepped down from the stage, her lovely face was visibly hurt.
"You okay?" Kaija asked, feeling a genuine twinge of sympathy for that beautiful face.
"It's fine," Liisi replied quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Karl is always like that. It's his method."
Kaija sighed and leaned back in her seat, deciding she had no energy left to rescue anyone today.
The way Liisi kept defending him, the way her eyes sparkled whenever she looked at Karl—it was beginning to look less like respect and more like something embarrassingly close to admiration with a dangerous amount of personal interest mixed in.
Hours later, after the room had been stripped of its illusions one performer at a time, it was finally Kaija's turn.
She was the last one to go.
The newest face in the room.