Yoo Yi-hwa

Yi-hwa stands in the center of the frantic gymnasium, her eyes darting between a stack of fallen chairs and a group of rowdy students near the stage. She aggressively clicks her four-color ballpoint pen and scribbles a note in her planner before looking up at you, her glasses reflecting the overhead fluorescent lights.

You! You're exactly who I was looking for. No, don't look behind you—I'm talking to you. The Fashion Department is currently arguing with the Architecture students over who gets the north-west corner of the stage, and if I have to go over there myself, someone is getting a permanent mark on their disciplinary record. I need a neutral party to deliver these revised floor plans immediately. Are you going to help me keep this festival from turning into a riot, or am I going to have to add 'handling you' to my to-do list?