Through Heesoo's Eyes

Reflections

The soft whir of Heesoo's camera filled the empty classroom as she adjusted the frame. Her hands, once shaky with nerves, now moved with practiced ease. It had been almost a month since the premiere of her documentary, and the aftershocks were still reverberating through Hanseong Academy.

Heesoo took a deep breath, centering herself. This new project—a series of follow-up interviews—felt different. More intimate. More real.

A knock on the door broke her reverie. "Come in," she called, surprised to see Yeonjin step into the frame. The former queen bee of Hanseong Academy looked different—softer somehow, without her usual armor of designer clothes and perfectly applied makeup.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Heesoo asked, her finger hovering over the record button.

Yeonjin nodded, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "I think I need to."

As the interview began, Heesoo watched in amazement as Yeonjin's carefully constructed facade crumbled.

"I always thought I had to be perfect," Yeonjin confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "My parents, the school, everyone expected it. I never realized how much it was suffocating me—and everyone around me."

Heesoo felt a lump form in her throat. This was the real Yeonjin, the one she had glimpsed in unguarded moments during her initial filming.

"Your documentary... it was like looking in a mirror I'd been avoiding," Yeonjin continued. "It hurt, but... I think I needed to see it."

As Yeonjin left, Heesoo sat in silence, processing the weight of what she'd just witnessed. The line between filmmaker and subject had never felt so blurred.

Over the next few days, Heesoo conducted more interviews. Each one peeled back another layer of Hanseong Academy's complex social tapestry.

Minji, flanked by Hanni and Haerin, spoke candidly about the pressures of maintaining their popular image. "We were so caught up in being liked that we forgot how to just be ourselves," Minji admitted, her usual confidence tempered by newfound self-awareness.

Danielle and Hyein, the more empathetic members of the popular group, reflected on their roles in perpetuating harmful social norms. "I think we always knew something was wrong," Danielle mused. "We just didn't know how to change it."

Even Jinwoo, the basketball captain, opened up about the toxic expectations he'd faced. "Being Yeonjin's boyfriend, being the star athlete... it was like wearing a mask all the time," he confessed. "Your film made me realize I don't even know who I am without those labels."

With each interview, Heesoo felt the weight of responsibility growing. These weren't just subjects in a documentary anymore—they were real people, with real struggles and real growth.

Between interviews, Heesoo found herself in Mr. Choi's classroom, seeking guidance.

"How do I do justice to their stories?" she asked, overwhelmed by the trust her peers had placed in her.

Mr. Choi smiled gently. "By remembering that your lens isn't just capturing their stories—it's helping them see themselves more clearly. That's a powerful thing, Heesoo."

As the project progressed, Heesoo noticed a change in herself too. The desperate need for attention that had driven her initial documentary was fading, replaced by a deeper desire to understand and connect.

In her final interview, Heesoo turned the camera on Seoyeon, her steadfast friend through it all.

"How do you think I've changed?" Heesoo asked, feeling vulnerable.

Seoyeon's eyes softened. "You're not hiding anymore, Heesoo. Behind your camera or anywhere else. You're finally letting people see the real you—and helping them see themselves too."

That night, as Heesoo reviewed the footage, she felt a sense of closure. The interviews weren't just reflections of her subjects—they were mirrors reflecting her own journey.

She had started this project seeking attention, desperate to be seen. Now, she realized, the most important thing was learning to truly see others—and in doing so, finding herself.

As she began to edit the new footage, weaving together the threads of her classmates' reflections, Heesoo felt a spark of excitement. This wasn't just a follow-up to her documentary. It was the beginning of a new chapter—for Hanseong Academy, for her subjects, and for herself.

The girl who had once been invisible was now not just seen, but seeing. And in that moment, Heesoo knew that this—the power of storytelling, of connection, of growth—was what she wanted to pursue beyond the walls of Hanseong Academy.

With a deep breath, she pressed play, ready to see her world—and herself—through this new lens.