Chapter Text
March 10, 2025
Carmen stood in front of the mirror a moment longer than necessary, smoothing the front of her white button-up before carefully tightening the knot of her black tie. The navy vest sat neatly against her shoulders, the skirt falling in a crisp line just above her knees. It still felt unfamiliar on her body, heavier somehow than the light uniforms she used to wear back in Bali. She adjusted the collar once more, then practiced a small smile at her reflection. Not too stiff. Not too bright. Something in between.
After one last thorough combing of her brunette locks, she stepped into the living room, the early morning light had just begun to spill through the windows, soft and pale against the quiet apartment.
“Oh, you’re up early,” her mother said, glancing up from the kitchen with a warm smile. “Sit down! Breakfast is almost ready.”
“Okay, thanks,” Carmen replied, pulling out a chair. She placed her phone beside her plate and checked the time—6:45 a.m. Earlier than she needed to be, but she hadn’t slept much anyway.
The smell of fried rice and spices drifted over as her mother set a plate of nasi goreng in front of her, steam rising in gentle curls. It felt grounding, familiar in a way everything else lately had not.
“It’s your first day of school in Korea,” her mother said, settling into the seat across from her. “How are you feeling?”
Carmen’s fingers laced together in her lap as she looked down at them, pressing her thumbs together absently. “Excited,” she admitted after a second, then added more quietly, “but nervous. I’m not very confident with my Korean yet. And the uniforms here are… different.” She gave a small, sheepish laugh. “Everything is different.”
Her mother’s expression softened. “Sayang, you’ve always been braver than you think. You’ll meet kind people. People who will help you. Just be yourself.”
Carmen looked up at that, her smile this time coming more naturally. “Thank you, Mama. And thank you for the food.”
Carmen stood just inside the staff office, hands folded neatly in front of her, trying not to look as out of place as she felt. The room hummed with quiet activity—papers shuffling, keyboards clicking, the low murmur of teachers discussing lesson plans over half-finished cups of coffee. Each desk seemed to carry its owner’s personality. One was stacked with towering piles of graded worksheets secured by bright binder clips; another was meticulously organized, pens aligned in a ceramic holder shaped like a cat. Family photos, motivational quotes, a small potted succulent near the window. It was comforting, in a way. Proof that this wasn’t some intimidating institution, just a collection of ordinary adults doing their jobs. “Hello! Welcome to Suwon High School. Nyoman Ayu Carmenita, Carmen for short— correct?”
Carmen blinked and straightened at the sound of her name. Headmistress Song approached with confident, measured steps, flipping open a manila folder that contained what must have been her entire academic life condensed into paper.
“H-hello. Yes, that’s me,” Carmen replied, her voice softer than she intended. Her gaze dropped briefly to the polished toes of her shoes before she forced herself to look up again.
“Wow, your Korean is really good!” Headmistress Song’s lips curved into an approving smile.
Carmen’s eyes widened slightly. “Really? T-thank you, Headmistress Song.”
“Of course. Speak with more confidence,” she encouraged warmly. “Your intonation is charming. I’m sure your classmates will think so too!” She glanced at her wristwatch and inhaled lightly. “...Oh dear. Your class begins in three minutes. We should get you there quickly. I wouldn’t want you arriving late on your first day.”
She rose smoothly, brushing down her gray midi skirt, and gestured for Carmen to follow. The hallway outside was bright and polished, sunlight reflecting off the waxed floors as students’ voices echoed faintly from distant classrooms.
“You’ll be in Class 3-2,” Headmistress Song continued as they walked. “Our annual Back-to-School Theme Park Day is in two weeks. March 28th, to be exact. Did your school in Indonesia have anything similar?”
March 28th.
That’s my birthday.
The thought flickered across Carmen’s mind, unexpected and strangely grounding.
“No, we didn’t. I’ve never been to a theme park in my life. Roller coaster rides do seem fun, though,” she replied in a keen tone.
“I see, you’re quite fearless and open-minded. Those are attributes we look for in our students.”
Carmen smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
They stopped in front of a sliding classroom door.
“Here we are.” She stops in front of the door. “Quick disclaimer before you go in—because you’re starting school a week late, the class president and vice president have already been chosen.” Carmen silently nods. “The class president of your class happens to be my daughter, Choi Jiwoo. She may come off as cool-headed and a hard person to approach, but she’s great. Accompanying her as vice president is Yu Haram. They’ve known each other since middle school. Both are model students. They’re amazing people, and they’re nice to everybody.”
“Ah, okay. Understood, thank you, ma’am,” Carmen softly replies.
“Mrs. Jang should be arriving very soon. Wait out here until she comes.”
“Okay! Thank you, Headmistress,” Carmen bows.
“If you have any questions, you can ask Jiwoo or Haram. And if that feels awkward, Mrs. Jang or I are always around,” she says, gently squeezing something small into Carmen’s palm. Her fingers close over Carmen’s hand for a brief second, warm and reassuring. “I hope your first day goes well, Carmen!” With one last smile, she turns and walks away.
“Thank you again!” Carmen bowed as she watched Headmistress Song’s figure get smaller down the hallway. She opens up her palm to see a singular strawberry-flavored MyChew.
As Carmen and Headmistress Song spoke outside the classroom, the atmosphere inside the classroom was different.
“Prez turned down another guy?” A girl scoffed.
“Wow… who?” Another girl gasped.
“It was Daehee. He’s handsome, but he’s bad news. I heard that he took advantage of his last girlfriend, and she dropped out after something terrible happened.”
“Seriously? I mean, at least he’s handsome. I wonder what it’s like to have a guy ask you out every other wee—”
The sliding doors abruptly opened, slicing through the chatter. Conversations snapped off mid-sentence. Chairs shifted. Dozens of eyes turned forward as Mrs. Jang entered.
Jiwoo rose immediately, posture straight, movements precise. “Attention. Please greet the teacher.”
The class followed in unison. “Good morning, Mrs. Jang!”
“Good morning,” she replied briskly. “We have a new student joining us.”
A ripple of confusion spread across the room.
“Come in.”
A sudden breeze swept through the classroom, tugging at the curtains and lifting them into soft arcs. Sunlight spilled across the floor, almost theatrically, illuminating the entrance.
Jiwoo looked up—and stilled.
Carmen stepped inside, long brown hair shifting gently with the draft, her wide eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces before settling briefly on Jiwoo’s for a split second.
Jiwoo studied Carmen's facial features, the way her long brown hair sat on her upper torso. Her neatly trimmed brows. Her doe eyes. Oh, those eyes.
Pretty.
“Introduce yourself to your classmates,” Mrs. Jang gestures for Carmen to speak.
“H-hello, I’m Carmen! I’m from Bali, Indonesia. I was born on March 28, 2006. Pleasure to be sharing a class with you all!” She bowed to the class.
Carmen nervously scanned the faces of the class to watch for any negative reactions. Was that okay?
She's the eldest here. I can't believe it, she looks so... cu—no. She has a baby face, Jiwoo spun her pen as she zoned out.
“Please make her feel welcomed. Jiwoo or Haram, either one of you can show her around the school,” Mrs. Jang said carelessly.
Jiwoo and Haram exchange a quick look.
“I’ll do it, miss!” Haram briefly raises her hand, flashing a warm smile to Carmen.
“Okay, thank you Haram. Everybody give Carmen a welcome round of applause.”
The class applauds quietly in order to not disturb the other classes.
“Carmen, you can go sit in the empty seat beside Jiwoo, your class’s president,” She points out the empty seat beside the bob girl at her desk, who was busy looking through her books.
Carmen approached the desk, acutely aware of the weight of everyone’s gaze. She paused beside Jiwoo and bowed slightly. “Hello.”
Jiwoo lifted her head, meeting Carmen’s eyes with calm composure. “Hello, I’m Jiwoo, the class president. If you need anything, you may ask me or Haram.”
Her tone was steady, professional. Reserved.
She returned to her notebook as if nothing had shifted.
From the back corner of the room, low whispers began.
“New girl,” Daehee murmured with a smirk. “Foreigner, too.”
“You know what that means,” one of his friends muttered.
Carmen caught only fragments, but the tone alone made her uncomfortable. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jiwoo’s fingers tighten around her pen, the plastic bending slightly under pressure.
“Boys,” Mrs. Jang said sharply, “that’s enough.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Daehee replied, barely containing his grin.
Carmen hesitated, then gently tapped Jiwoo’s shoulder. Jiwoo turned, expression neutral at first— then softened slightly when she saw Carmen’s open palm. She reminds me of a puppy seeing a dog treat, she thought.
“You can have it,” Carmen said quietly, offering the strawberry MyChew with a small, hopeful smile.
Jiwoo accepted it without hesitation. “Thank you.”
Her fingers were slender and careful as she unwrapped it, movements precise but unhurried. Carmen found herself watching longer than she meant to, heat creeping faintly up her neck before she quickly looked back toward the board.
Focus, Carmen. Focus.
However, Carmen took another peek at Jiwoo, who was already looking at her.
"What?"
"N-Nothing!" Carmen fwipped her head back to the front of the classroom. "You seem to really like strawberry, that's all," Carmen looked down at her desk.
I'm so awkward...
"It's my favorite fruit," Jiwoo replied. "Thank you again."
"I like strawberries too! And you're welcome...president?"
"You can just call me Jiwoo."
"Okay. Nice to meet you again, Jiwoo~"
"Nice to meet you, Carmen unnie."
"Oh, I'm older than you? I see!"
"Yes, you're the eldest here. But, you really don't look it."
"Really? Thank you!" Carmen flashed a toothy smile at Jiwoo, her eyes forming a half-moon shape.
Jiwoo didn't respond, going back to doing what she was doing. 'Class president stuff,' as Carmen observed.
When the bell finally rang for lunch, the classroom loosened all at once, conversations flooding back in.
A girl with long black hair approached Carmen energetically, linking arms with a wavy-haired brunette.
“Hi, Carmen! You should come sit with us at lunch. I’m Leean, and this is Stella.”
“Hi!” Stella waved. “I’m from Vancouver.”
“Vancouver?” Carmen’s face lit up. “I’ve never seen snow before.”
“Then you’ll see your first snow here,” Haram chimed in with a playful smile. “If you have a partner by then, it’ll be romantic.”
“P-partner?” Carmen nearly choked.
Leean giggled. “First snow dates are a thing.”
“I’ll only be here for a year,” Carmen protested, cheeks warming. “That’s unrealistic.”
“None of us have partners,” Haram cut in quickly, shooting Leean a look. “And we’re not in middle school anymore. Stop joking like that.”
Leean pouted, rubbing her arm. “Okay, okay.”
Haram rubbed the back of her ear, trying to hide the faint flush creeping up her cheeks.
Across the room, Jiwoo watched the exchange quietly, her expression unreadable—but her gaze lingered on Carmen just a second longer than necessary.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚⋅
The cafeteria buzzed with the steady, familiar energy of lunchtime, filled with overlapping conversations, the clatter of metal trays, and the occasional burst of laughter that carried across the room. Students moved in orderly lines to receive their meals before settling at long rectangular tables packed closely together, groups naturally forming in clusters that reflected friendships, clubs, and unspoken social circles. The scent of warm rice and side dishes lingered in the air, mixing with the faint chill drifting in from cracked windows above.
“So,” Yuna said casually as she picked up a slice of napa cabbage kimchi with her chopsticks, “why aren’t you sitting with the new student?”
Jiwoo didn’t look up at first. She set her stainless steel chopsticks down neatly against the edge of her tray before answering. “And why aren’t you sitting at her table? Haram is there.”
“Well, we don’t have to sit together every day,” she replies, shifting her gaze away from Jiwoo’s.
Jiwoo finally glanced at her. “But you want to.”
“What?” Yuna scoffed, though her voice lacked conviction.
“You look at her like you’re a pathetic lead pining over her love interest in a romance drama,” Jiwoo said flatly, taking a bite of her tteokbokki. “You’re not subtle.”
“W-wha—“ A fierce blush crawls up Yuna’s neck. She rubs the back of it with her large hand, attempting to hide it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…at all.”
“It’s been 3 years since you guys have met. And every single month, day, hour, minute, and second of those 3 years was full of you pining over her. It’s about time,” Jiwoo scoffed.
Yuna put her chopsticks down and rested her chin on her hand while looking over at where Haram was sitting. “She doesn’t like me…she said it herself—she’s so immersed in her studies that she doesn’t prioritize romance. Which means she doesn’t like anybody.” Yuna sighs. “I’ll just yearn until I die, I guess.”
“She can’t even make eye contact with you. You’re just too dumb to notice.” Jiwoo sighed. “Maybe if you confessed to her, I’d admit I find the new student somewhat interesting.”
Yuna looked back at her sharply. “If I confess, you have to admit you’re interested in the new student.”
Jiwoo’s brows knit together slightly. “Interested is a strong word.”
“Somewhat,” Yuna pressed.
Jiwoo hesitated for half a second too long. “…Fine. If you confess, I’ll admit I find her somewhat interesting.”
Yuna’s lips curved slowly. “Deal.”
Across the cafeteria, Leean leaned forward dramatically, squinting toward Jiwoo’s table. “Why is Prez sitting alone with your girlfriend? You couldn’t even drag them over here?”
“Jeong. Lee. An.” Haram’s voice dropped into a warning tone. “For the last time, she’s not my girlfriend.” Leean only grinned in response, completely unrepentant. Haram exhaled and glanced briefly in Jiwoo’s direction before turning back to Carmen. “Jiwoo just… doesn’t usually go out of her way to welcome new students. She’s not unfriendly. Just reserved. She’ll warm up eventually.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Carmen said quickly, waving her hands as if to brush away any tension. “You guys sitting here with me is already enough,” She smiled. “I mean, in the way that you guys really didn’t have to. I’m so grateful that I have such nice classmates like you guys.”
“Don’t mention it!” Stella smiled, nudging Carmen affectionately. “You and I are in the same boat. It’s nice to see another person who wasn’t born in Korea come here.”
Carmen laughed softly. “It’s comforting, honestly. I was worried I’d feel completely out of place.”
“You still might,” Leean said bluntly before Haram kicked her lightly under the table. “Ow— I mean, in a good way! Like, it takes time. But we’ll help you.”
Haram nodded. “And ignore the boys in the back. They talk too much.”
Carmen’s gaze flickered unconsciously toward Jiwoo’s table. Jiwoo happened to look up at that exact moment. For a brief second, their eyes met across the noise and movement of the cafeteria.
Jiwoo looked away first.
Carmen quickly did the same, heart giving an odd, unfamiliar flutter she couldn’t quite explain.
Leean followed her line of sight and smirked. “You know, if you ever need protection from certain idiots, our class president is surprisingly reliable.”
“Stop it,” Haram muttered, though there was no real bite in her tone this time.
Carmen let out a small laugh, the earlier nerves easing from her shoulders. “Then I guess I’m in good hands.”
At the other table, Jiwoo picked up her chopsticks again, though she hadn’t touched her food. Yuna noticed.
“So,” Yuna said quietly, eyes glinting with mischief, “somewhat interesting, huh?”
Jiwoo didn’t answer.
But she didn’t deny it either.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚⋅
After dismissal, the school settled into a different version of itself. The rush of footsteps faded, lockers clicked shut one by one, and the fluorescent lights dimmed slightly as if the building were exhaling after a long day. It wasn’t eerie—just quieter, softer. The late afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, casting warm streaks across the empty hallways. A few students lingered in classrooms to finish assignments, but it was still too early in the semester for mandatory study hall. For once, the space felt almost intimate.
“Last but not least,” Haram said, pushing open a pair of heavy double doors with a theatrical flourish, “the music hall.”
The scent of polished wood and faint instrument varnish greeted them instantly. Inside were rows of upright pianos along one wall, a small stage at the front, and a hallway branching off toward individual practice rooms.
“My favorite place when I’m stressed,” Haram continued, stepping inside. “It’s open until eight. The practice rooms are soundproof, so you can be as dramatic as you want in there. Crying, screaming, off-key high notes—no one will judge you.”
Carmen’s eyes widened. “Really? I’m definitely coming here often.”
“You play something?”
“Mostly piano,” Carmen replied, brushing her fingers lightly across the lid of the nearest instrument. “A bit of guitar. Drums sometimes. And I sing—if that counts.”
“It absolutely counts.”
Carmen gave a small laugh. “I was born into a family of musicians. I’m actually the least talented one. I only properly play one instrument.”
“One is already impressive,” Haram said firmly. “And your voice is an instrument. So that makes two. Don’t downplay yourself.” She tilted her head. “Are you planning to become a musician too?”
Carmen’s hand stilled on the piano. For a moment, her reflection stared back at her in the glossy black surface.
“No,” she said, more firmly than expected.
Haram didn’t interrupt.
“I’m going into health sciences,” Carmen added after a beat. “Medical school.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes good money.”
The answer came too quickly. Too rehearsed.
Haram studied her, then nodded slowly. “That’s fair. I won’t pry.” Her tone softened. “Well, that concludes the grand tour. Any other questions?”
“Nope,” Carmen said brightly, slipping back into her usual cheer. “You covered everything. I’ll stay and play for a bit, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. I’ll be in the Student Council room drowning in Spring Festival paperwork.” Haram grinned. “Come find me if you need anything.”
When Haram left, the music hall fell into a comfortable silence.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚⋅
“Unnie,” Haram said later, not looking up from her stack of forms, “I left my iPad in practice room three. Can you grab it?”
Jiwoo didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”
By the time she reached the music hall, the sun had dipped lower, painting the floor in amber light. She was about to head straight down the hallway when she heard it.
A melody.
Soft at first, then fuller as she drew closer. It wasn’t a song she recognized. The chords felt unfamiliar, almost improvised, but intentional. Controlled.
Then the voice joined in.
Clear. Warm. Slightly airy at the edges, but steady.
Jiwoo slowed unconsciously, stopping just outside the small window of practice room three.
Beautiful.
Carmen sat at the piano bench, posture relaxed but focused, fingers gliding across the keys with a grace that didn’t look practiced—it looked natural. Like breathing. Her eyes were closed as she sang, unaware of her audience.
Jiwoo forgot why she had come.
When the final note lingered and faded, Carmen opened her eyes—and met Jiwoo’s reflection in the glass. Jiwoo stepped back immediately, heart stuttering in her chest.
She turned and walked away faster than necessary.
The iPad. Get the iPad and leave.
“What took you so long?”
“I just wanted to take my time.”
“Liar. How many times do I have to tell you that I can tell whenever you’re lying to me?” Haram grumbles.
“I was distracted!”
“By what? By who?” Haram raised her brows in confusion.
“Carmen. She was playing the piano.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“She’s good.”
“Really?”
“And she was singing too. Her singing is also nice.”
“You never even say that about me!” Haram laughed. “You’re too obvious.”
“W-What? Obvious about what?”
“Unnie, I’ll help you.”
“No, no. You’ve got it all wrong!”
“Unnie, we’ve known each other for, what? 7 years now? I can tell when you’re not being truthful.”
“It’s just a small crush. It’ll pass,” Jiwoo sighed.
“I told myself that once,” Haram stated.
“What? You had a crush on somebody?” Jiwoo gasped.
“Have, not had. It’s Yuna.”
“S-since when?”
“As long as I remember,” Haram sighed. “I told myself that it was just a small crush at the time, and that it’ll pass. I honestly don’t know how I fell for such a dork like her. But, I’m happy that we’re still friends.”
“But can you really just stay friends with her?” Jiwoo asked. Haram wore a solemn expression on her face, as if her heart ached.
“I…” She went silent. “I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I’m scared, honestly.”
“You have to take that first step.”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.”
“So are we both just going to do nothing about our crushes?”
“No,” Haram slammed a paper down onto the table. “Let’s be bolder. Wanna make a bet?”
“Yu Haram, you…”
“20,000 won for whoever gets their girl first,” she chuckled.
“That’s not fair! Yuna clearly likes you back!”
“That’s bullshit,” she laughed. “Nice try, though.”
“...Fine. Let’s do it.”
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚⋅
A few days later, the classroom buzzed with chatter as Jiwoo and Haram passed out Spring Festival forms.
“The festival’s on April 11th,” Haram announced. “You can apply to run a booth or perform.”
Jiwoo placed a form gently on Carmen’s desk.
“You should perform,” she said quietly.
Carmen looked up in surprise, but Jiwoo had already moved on.
What was that?
By the lockers that afternoon, Daehee leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone.
“How do you say ‘you’re beautiful’ in Indonesian?” he asked Seokjae.
“Google says ‘kamu cantik.’”
Daehee smirked. “If she rejects me, you try next. Then Byungmin. One of us will get her. She won’t turn all three of us down.”
They laughed.
Carmen had just finished putting her books into her locker when a large shadow fell over her.
“Hello, beautiful,” Daehee said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her shoulder.
Carmen froze. “Please don’t.”
“Kamu sangat cantik,” he said clumsily, grabbing her wrist.
“I said, please stay away.” She tried to pull free, but his grip tightened.
“Park Daehee!” Jiwoo’s voice cut through the hallway like a blade.
She stepped forward and seized his wrist firmly, forcing him to release Carmen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her composure cracking just enough to reveal anger beneath.
Daehee scoffed. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m finding myself a girlfriend, after your bitchass turned me down.”
“Watch your mouth,” Jiwoo said coldly.
When he muttered something under his breath, she slapped him. The sound echoed down the corridor.
“Do it again, and expect a week’s suspension,” she said evenly.
He glared but backed away, humiliated, before storming off.
Silence settled.
Carmen stood there, wrist still tingling. Jiwoo turned to her, expression softening almost instantly.
“Are you okay?” Jiwoo gently held her wrist.
Carmen nodded slowly. “Yes, thank you, Jiwoo.”
Jiwoo hesitated, then added quietly, “You don’t have to handle things like that alone.” She looked Carmen in the eyes. “I’m your class president for a reason. Call me if you need any help,” she handed her a Post-it note with her cell phone number on it.
For a brief second, the hallway felt as quiet as the school had after dismissal—just the two of them standing there, something unspoken shifting gently between them.
“Okay, thank you again. I’ll be going now,” Carmen bowed and fled from the scene, distressed from the situation. Jiwoo didn’t follow after her, not wanting to stress her out any further.
The practice room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the piano bench as Carmen shifts her weight. The remaining light from the sun as the sun set spills across the keys, turning them pale gold.
Carmen plays the opening phrase again, slower this time, tilting her head as if listening for something only she can hear. She hums under her breath, adjusting a note, then another.
Jiwoo stands near the door, arms loosely folded. She doesn’t announce herself right away. She listens.
Carmen finishes the line and exhales. “I still don’t like that transition,” she murmurs to herself.
“It sounds fine.”
Carmen startles slightly before turning. It's Jiwoo. Leaning against the doorframe, her sleeves rolled up. Carmen notices how toned her forearms are.
No wonder why she's so strong.
“Oh—Jiwoo! Hi, again.”
Jiwoo nods once. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t.” Carmen smiles, easy and warm. “I was just fixing something.”
Jiwoo steps closer, stopping a few feet from the piano. “You changed it.”
“The bridge,” Carmen replies. “It felt too heavy before.”
She plays it again, softer, letting the notes stretch. Jiwoo’s eyes follow her hands almost automatically.
Carmen’s fingers move with a kind of quiet confidence—long, slender, pressing into the keys without force, wrists relaxed. There’s no stiffness, no hesitation. Just control. Jiwoo hadn’t noticed before how delicate her hands were.
When the sound fades, Carmen glances over her shoulder. “Do you play?”
Jiwoo hesitates. “A little.”
Carmen’s lips curve. “That means yes.”
“It means I’m not that good.”
“That’s fine,” Carmen replies lightly. “I’m not performing for anyone. Come play with me!” She scooched over on the piano bench and patted the empty area next to her for Jiwoo to sit.
Jiwoo almost declines out of habit.
But Carmen’s expression isn’t challenging. It isn’t teasing. It’s inviting. There’s a difference.
“I’ll mess up your rhythm,” Jiwoo says.
“I’ll adjust,” Carmen answers without missing a beat, shifting slightly on the bench to make space. “It’s more fun with two people anyway.”
Jiwoo walks over and sits carefully beside her, leaving a polite gap between them. Up close, she can see the faint calluses along Carmen’s fingertips.
“You lead,” Jiwoo says.
Carmen nods and begins the chord progression again. “Just follow this. Keep it simple.”
Jiwoo watches her hands first—memorizing the spacing, the pressure, the timing. Carmen’s fingers stretch effortlessly across octaves, landing exactly where they need to. They’re...beautiful hands. Jiwoo looks away almost immediately, annoyed at herself for noticing. She places her own fingers on the lower register and joins in.
The first few measures are careful, restrained. Jiwoo keeps her movements economical and precise.
Carmen adjusts instinctively, softening her volume to make room for her.
“See?” Carmen murmurs. “You’re fine.”
“I haven’t done anything impressive.”
“You don’t need to.”
They continue, the melody settling into something steadier. After a few repetitions, Jiwoo lets herself add a subtle variation — a shift in harmony, small but intentional.
Carmen catches it instantly.
Her head turns slightly, eyes dropping to Jiwoo’s hands.
“Oh,” she says softly. “You’re hiding.”
Jiwoo keeps her gaze on the keys. “I told you. I play a little.”
“That’s not ‘a little.’”
“It’s average.”
Carmen shakes her head, smiling. “You downplay yourself a lot.”
Jiwoo doesn’t respond.
Instead, she focuses on keeping time. On not noticing how close their shoulders are. On not noticing how Carmen’s sleeve brushes lightly against her wrist when she reaches for a higher note. Carmen hums over the progression, testing a melody. Jiwoo listens carefully, adjusting her touch so the harmony doesn’t overpower her voice.
“You’re very attentive,” Carmen says once the phrase ends.
“It’s not difficult,” Jiwoo replies.
“It is for some people.”
Jiwoo glances at her briefly.
Carmen’s expression is open, unguarded in a way Jiwoo still isn’t used to. There’s no calculation in it. No expectation. Just warmth.
“You don’t hesitate when you play,” Jiwoo says quietly.
“I do,” Carmen answers. “Just not where people can see it.”
Jiwoo looks down again as Carmen begins another run. Her fingers move faster now, confident, stretching across the keys with graceful precision.
Jiwoo notices the way her knuckles flex, the way her hands barely lift between notes.
She swallows.
“You have good hands for piano,” Jiwoo says before she can stop herself.
Carmen pauses mid-chord and looks at her. “Good hands?”
“They’re…” Jiwoo searches for a neutral word. “Well-shaped.”
Carmen laughs softly. “That’s such a serious compliment.”
“I meant it seriously.”
Carmen wiggles her fingers playfully. “They’re just hands.”
“They’re not,” Jiwoo says, more firmly than she intended.
There’s a brief silence.
Carmen studies her for a second, something curious flickering in her eyes, but she doesn’t press.
“Okay,” she says lightly. “Then thank you.”
They start playing again, slower this time.
The music feels less like practice and more like conversation. Carmen expressive and fluid, Jiwoo steady and grounding beneath her.
When the final chord fades, neither of them move right away. The sun has dipped lower, casting long shadows across the room.
“Wow!" Carmen quietly claps. "You’re better than you think,” Carmen says gently.
Jiwoo closes the lid halfway. “You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s true.”
Jiwoo stands first, smoothing her blazer, reassembling the composed version of herself.
But as she steps away from the bench, she finds her gaze drifting back to Carmen’s hands resting loosely in her lap.
Beautiful.
Graceful.
Slender.
And for the first time, Jiwoo realizes this might not stay simple for very long.
Jiwoo adjusts the strap of her bag. “You should head home.”
“You too.”
“Would you like to walk out together?”
“Yes, I would love that!” Carmen smiled.
That smile again, Jiwoo thought. I can’t escape it.
They walk out of the music hall together, not quite side by side, not quite apart. Carmen understood the reason why Jiwoo was elected as class president. She’s kind, she’s brave, and she’s skilled. She understands why anyone would want to date someone like her.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚⋅
Over the next few days, Daehee’s presence becomes consistent.
Not dramatic.
Just persistent.
He lingers by Carmen’s desk before class starts. He inserts himself into group discussions. He offers to carry her books with a smile that feels rehearsed.
Why is this asshole still trying?
Carmen handles it the way she handles most things—politely.
“You don’t have to,” she says when he reaches for her bag.
“It’s fine,” he replies. “You’re not used to everything here yet.”
She smiles, but there’s something slightly strained in it.
From across the room, Jiwoo watches.
She doesn’t interfere every time.
But she notices every time.
One afternoon, Carmen is reorganizing sheet music in the practice room when Jiwoo appears at the doorway.
“You’re here again,” Jiwoo says.
Carmen looks up, brightening automatically. “Hi.”
Jiwoo nods. She steps inside, closing the door behind her.
There’s a quiet moment before she speaks again.
“Does he bother you?”
Carmen tilts her head. “Daehee?”
Jiwoo doesn’t repeat the name. She just waits.
Carmen considers the question carefully. “He’s… persistent.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Carmen smiles faintly at that. “You’re very direct.”
Jiwoo doesn’t apologize.
Carmen exhales softly and looks down at the piano keys. “Sometimes he says things that make me uncomfortable. But I don’t think he realizes it.”
“He does,” Jiwoo says calmly.
There’s no anger in her tone. Just certainty.
Carmen looks at her, searching her face. “You really don’t like him.”
“I don’t trust him.”
That feels more honest.
Carmen closes the sheet music folder. “I can handle it.”
“I know,” Jiwoo replies immediately.
And she means it.
That’s what makes this harder.
Jiwoo steps closer, stopping a careful distance away from the bench. “But you shouldn’t have to handle it alone.”
Carmen blinks at that.
The room feels smaller somehow.
“There’s a way to stop it,” Jiwoo says after a moment.
Carmen’s brows lift slightly. “What kind of way?”
Jiwoo hesitates.
She doesn’t fidget. She doesn’t look away.
But there’s a subtle shift in her posture—the kind that only someone watching closely would notice.
“...We could date.”
The words land softly, but they echo.
Carmen stares at her. “…Excuse me?”
“Not seriously,” Jiwoo clarifies, voice steady. “Publicly. Like, a pretend relationship.”
Carmen lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You want to pretend to be my girlfriend?” Emphasis on the pretend, which JIwoo chooses to ignore.
“Yes.”
“You’re serious.”
Jiwoo nods once. “He doesn’t pursue people who are already involved with someone. It’s about ego.”
Carmen studies her face. Jiwoo looks composed, as always. Calm. Rational.
But there’s something else beneath it. Something almost careful.
“And you’d be okay with that?” Carmen asks.
“It’s practical.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Jiwoo’s gaze flickers, just briefly.
“I don’t mind,” she says.
Carmen leans back slightly against the piano, crossing her arms loosely. Not defensive. Just thinking.
“I’ve never dated anyone before,” she admits.
“Neither have I.”
That surprises her.
“You?”
Jiwoo’s expression remains neutral. “I’ve been busy.”
Carmen smiles softly at that. “Right. Of course you have, you're the class president! I mean, you're so pretty! I would have thought you at least had some dating experience," Carmen rambles on. Jiwoo's eyes widen slightly, trying to not show any emotion. She chooses to ignore it.
Silence settles between them.
Carmen doesn’t feel flustered.
She feels… curious.
“W-would we have to hold hands?” she asks, half-teasing. Although this wasn't Carmen's first time being asked out, it was Carmen's first time being asked out at a new school. As a new person. By a new person. But it wasn't for actual romantic purposes. Did she hate it?
Jiwoo pauses. “Only if necessary.”
Carmen laughs quietly. “You’ve really thought about this.”
“I consider options before acting.”
“That’s very class president of you.”
Jiwoo almost smiles.
Almost.
“If we do this,” Carmen says gently, “we should be honest about something.”
Jiwoo waits.
“I don’t want it to feel fake in a mean way,” Carmen continues. “I don’t want to make someone jealous or start drama. I just want him to stop.”
“He will,” Jiwoo says. Carmen doesn't capture how certain Jiwoo's tone is.
Carmen looks at her for a long moment.
Jiwoo feels steady. Safe. Even after this short amount of time, Carmen can tell that Jiwoo would make a good partner... a good fake partner.
Even when she’s closed off, there’s something reliable about her. Something grounding.
“…Okay,” Carmen says finally.
Jiwoo blinks once, her breath catching in her throat. “Okay?”
“We can try.”
There’s no dramatic reaction from Jiwoo. No visible relief. But her shoulders ease, just slightly.
“We’ll keep it simple,” she says. “We’ll tell people we’ve been seeing each other quietly.”
“That sounds very secretive,” Carmen teases.
“It’s believable.”
Carmen tilts her head, studying her again. “You’re not as cold as people think.”
Jiwoo stiffens faintly. “I’m not cold.”
“I know, I'm just playing. You're remarkable.”
The way Carmen says it is gentle. Certain. And that unsettles Jiwoo more than anything else.
“Tomorrow,” Jiwoo says, regaining composure. “We’ll start tomorrow.”
“Alright!” Carmen replies, smiling. Jiwoo is still surprised at the fact that Carmen doesn't mind fake dating at all, considering that this is her first week at a new school. Sitting in a music practice room. Agreeing to date.
As Jiwoo turns to leave, Carmen adds softly, “Thank you. Not just for this. For looking out for me.”
Jiwoo pauses at the door.
“You don’t need to thank me,” she says.
But her voice isn’t as distant as it used to be.
And when she steps into the hallway, she realizes something she refuses to say out loud.
This was never just about Daehee.