Ouran High School is a school for the rich and people somewhat satisfied with their lives. Their rich and fulfilling parents don't have much time to waste, so they send their children here to work themselves to death. I'm about to turn into one of them.
My family is from North Korea, and we have just escaped before anything bad happened. To me, it's a sudden more from North Korea to Japan, but what most of the pompous Ouran students don't know about me yet is that I'm fluent in four languages, Korean (my own), Russian (forced to study it in school), Japanese (my new language), and English (don't know why I studied that, but I know it). It's a gift, my multilingual self.
My life hasn't been actually easy. Life in North Korea as a girl isn't a cakewalk. At school, the teachers look at girls as pieces of property more than humans. The education I've gotten has been self-teaching more than school teaching since boys are more praised. Back in North Korea, my brother has been training to be in the North Korean army, and in his last year junior high school, but that's when my parents decided to escape. They treasure my little brother's life too much to lose him. They call him Yuri Suzuki the Great!
That's another thing about Ouran. The richest and the smartest can go to that school. Well, I don't know why I'm here when my parents have no more money since escaping from my home country.
"Naminé, promise Mama you will behave," my mother says, fixing my Ouran uniform dress. I loathe it deeply.
"Mother, stop fussing," I hiss back in reply. I hate it when my mother fusses over nothing.
"Naminé," my father interrupts in a scolding tone to me. I get it a lot, so it's not a surprise. "No growling at your mother. This school better give you some discipline, young lady. I swear if it doesn't, I'm sending you to a public school and have its students deal with your attitude."
I roll my eyes. "Father, please..."
"Don't give me that, Naminé," Father interrupts, almost snapping. He scoffs and says, "Why can't you be more like your brother, so patient and obeys orders?"
"Before or after he got accepted into the army."
Father glares.
I turn away. "Yes, Father."
Mother kisses my pale cheeks, but I push her away. Father plays with my silver hair, but I start walking past the fountain, which is the school's front symbol to the building, before he could.
The front doors open to an empty grand foyer. The staircase looks as if the stars lead to almost nowhere when it splits into two paths up at the top.
According to class schedule, school hasn't even started yet. I might as well take my time to tour the building for my own reference. Plus, I don't want to be around people at the moment. Mother has just killed my first day of school moment.
As my tour comes to a close, I enter the music part of the school. Some of the large rooms are in use for the choir or the orchestra, and I don't tend to bother their practice. The room I hear silence in is Music Room 3. I press my ear against the pink doors, and I don't hear a sound from the inside. It's too quiet. It's probably a surprise tactic. I'm curious to what the inside of the room is like, so I take it upon myself to enter. Once I push the right door open, classical music starts to play, and rose petals dance straight into my face.
"What the..." I push the door more inward, and the music grows louder. I swear that my eyes are going blind from the white light flashing in front of me.
I hear soft voices. "Welcome," they say politely.
"Who's there?" I call, not close to be frightened, "Show yourselves."
The room starts coming into view. Positioned in between two columns, there is a chair that reminds me of one of those chairs you'd find near a long table in the dining room of a castle. A blonde haired young male sits on that very chair. His purple Ouran uniform looks as if it has been freshly polished. He looks as if he's part French, part Japanese, just by looking at his smooth face. Sitting, okay, more like leaning against the left arm of the chair is a girl with shoulder length brown hair, wearing the men's uniform, which I don't understand. If she can wear the men's uniform, why am I wearing a stupid dress? To the right side of the blonde male, there is a black haired male with the most plain glasses you would ever see in your life. His two fingers are on the middle section of the glasses, trying to look attractive to the slightest bit. Behind the chair, there are two orange heads that look exactly alike. They are twins. It's easy to see that. What all of those people have in common is that their smiles, which make me a little uncomfortable.
"Welcome to the Host Club," they also say.
"The what?" is my response. What kind of school is Ouran for having some strange fiasco like this?