Chapter Text
The bass from the music throbbed through the marble floors of the Kim mansion, vibrating up through Minji's designer heels as she smiled and nodded at whatever the boy in front of her was saying. Something about his father's company and summer internships—she'd stopped listening two minutes ago.
"That sounds fascinating," she said during a momentary pause, her practiced smile firmly in place. "Would you excuse me for a moment? I should check on the other guests."
Before he could protest, Minji slipped away through the crowd, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing server.
The grand foyer of her best friend Bora's family estate was packed with students, most of whom Minji recognized from campus. The end-of-year party had become something of a legend at Yonsei University—a chance for students across all departments to mingle in the kind of luxury that most only saw in magazines.
Minji spotted Bora across the room, her bright red dress and even brighter personality making her impossible to miss as she regaled a circle of admirers with some story that had them all laughing. Catching Minji's eye, Bora gave a tiny wink before returning to her performance. That was Bora—always the center of attention, and always making sure Minji was part of the spectacle too.
Minji loved her friend dearly, but sometimes the weight of expectation—to be perfect, poised, the golden business major with the golden future—felt suffocating. Tonight was one of those nights. She took a sip of champagne and glanced at her watch. It was barely eleven. The party would go until dawn.
I just need some air
Minji thought, as she discreetly made her way toward the back of the mansion where she knew there was a small garden that would likely be deserted.
--
"Fuck no. I am not going in there."
Siyeon stood at the bottom of the sweeping driveway that led up to the Kim mansion, arms crossed firmly over her chest. The house—if you could call something that massive a house—loomed before her, windows blazing with light, music drifting down to where she stood with her two best friends.
"Come on," Yoohyeon pleaded, tugging at her arm. "We survived our first year! We deserve to celebrate."
"I can think of at least ten better ways to celebrate that don't involve hanging out with trust fund babies who think ramen is exotic cuisine," Siyeon sighed, but she could feel her resolve weakening. She'd been working double shifts at the campus coffee shop, Latte Lab to save up for a new laptop and the exhaustion was bone-deep.
Gahyun stepped in front of her, fixing Siyeon with a determined stare.
"Listen to me. For one night, you're going to stop thinking about work, about exams and your scholarship requirements. For one night, you're going to pretend you're just like any other college student who's survived finals week."
"I'm not like them," Siyeon said quietly.
"No, you're better," Gahyun said, linking arms with her. "And I'm not leaving you to spend another Friday night alone in your room with your piano and your instant noodles."
Siyeon sighed. "One hour."
"Two," countered Yoohyeon with a grin.
"Fine. Two hours, and then I'm leaving, with or without you two."
As they approached the house, Siyeon's stomach clenched with anxiety. She'd never been to this side of town before, let alone inside one of these mansions. Her family's semi-basement apartment could fit in the garage of this place.
But she squared her shoulders and followed her friends up the steps, determined not to let her discomfort show.
The interior was even more overwhelming—crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and what seemed like hundreds of students in various stages of celebration. Yoohyeon and Gahyun were immediately swept into the energy of the party, while Siyeon hung back, feeling out of place in her thrift store jacket and sensible shoes.
"I'm going to get a drink," she told her friends, who nodded absently, already engaged in conversation with some classmates.
Siyeon made her way through the crowd, eyes wide at the casual display of wealth around her. At the bar, she hesitated, then asked for a simple soda. She couldn't afford to lose control here, surrounded by people who were nothing like her.
After an hour of polite small talk and hovering at the edges of conversations, Siyeon felt the familiar tightness in her chest that signaled she needed space. The music was too loud, the laughter too forced, the entire scene too artificial.
She waited until Yoohyeon and Gahyun were deep in conversation with some girls from their theory class, then slipped away, searching for a quiet corner.
Wandering down a less crowded hallway, she spotted a glass door that seemed to lead outside. Without hesitation, she pushed it open and stepped out into the cool night air.
--
The garden was exactly what Minji needed.
The sounds of the party faded to a distant thrum as she followed the stone path between neatly trimmed hedges. The spring air was crisp, carrying the scent of newly bloomed flowers. She found a small bench near an ornamental pond and sat down, kicking off her heels with a sigh of relief.
She loved these quiet moments.
Sometimes she wondered if anyone would believe that Kim Minji, campus queen and heiress to the Kim Enterprises fortune, preferred solitude to spotlight. Her parents certainly wouldn't understand—to them, every social event was a networking opportunity, every friendship a potential business alliance.
A sudden movement caught her eye, and Minji looked up to see a girl stepping into the garden. Even in the dim lighting of the garden lamps, Minji could tell she wasn't part of the usual crowd. Her jacket was simple, her posture tentative as she looked around the garden with an expression of both wariness and wonder.
Minji considered ducking behind the hedge—her private moment interrupted—but something about the girl's obvious discomfort with the party resonated with her. Instead, she called out softly.
"The fish are quite pretty, if you'd like to see them."
Siyeon nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice.
She had thought she was alone in the garden and had been about to sit on the grass, not caring if her jacket got stained. Now she squinted into the shadows, finally making out the silhouette of a girl sitting by the pond.
"Oh! I'm sorry," Siyeon said automatically, backing up a step. "I didn't realize anyone was out here. I'll uh, I’ll go back inside."
"Please don't," the voice said, and there was something in the tone, a slight weariness, perhaps that made Siyeon pause. "There's plenty of garden to share."
Cautiously, Siyeon approached the pond.
As she got closer, she realized with a jolt that she recognized the other girl.
It was hard not to know who Kim Minji was, her face was plastered on the university's promotional materials, always surrounded by adoring friends or bending studiously over a business textbook.
The perfect student, the perfect heiress.
In person, sitting shoeless by a pond, she looked... different. Still beautiful, certainly, but somehow more real.
"Escaping too?" Minji asked with a small smile.
Siyeon nodded. "It's a bit much in there."
"It always is," Minji agreed. She patted the bench beside her. "Please sit. I'm Minji."
"I know," Siyeon said, then flushed. "Uh, I mean, everyone knows. I'm Siyeon. Lee Siyeon." She cleared her throat, unsure of how she should behave in front of her.
"Music department, right? You major in piano?"
Siyeon blinked in surprise. "How did you know that?"
Minji's smile widened. "I was at your scholarship recital at the beginning of the year. Bach's 'Prelude in C Minor.' It was... breathtaking. I've never heard anyone play with such emotion."
Siyeon felt her cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment. She sat down on the bench, leaving a respectful distance between them.
"Thank you. I didn't think anyone from the business school would be at a music recital."
"There's a lot about me people assume," Minji said, her voice light but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "Like I'd rather be inside hosting this party than out here looking at koi fish."
Siyeon glanced at her, really looking at the other girl for the first time. There was a subtle tension in her shoulders, a tiredness around her eyes that the perfect makeup couldn't quite conceal.
"I assume rich people like fish as much as anyone else," Siyeon said, surprising herself with the teasing tone. "Even if your fish probably eat better than I do."
Instead of being offended, Minji laughed—a genuine sound that seemed to surprise her as much as it did Siyeon. "They do have a specially formulated diet," she admitted. "Though I doubt it tastes as good as proper food."
"Debatable. I've been eating instant noodles for so long I'm not sure I remember what proper food tastes like," Siyeon said, and immediately regretted bringing up her financial situation.
She didn't want Minji's pity.
But Minji just nodded thoughtfully.
"There's something comforting about instant noodles, though. When I stay late at the library studying, it's what I crave, not the fancy meals my family's chef prepares."
The idea of Minji, heir to a fortune, slurping instant noodles in the library was so incongruous that Siyeon couldn't help but smile.
"Wow, you study late? I thought business majors just paid people to take their tests for them."
"And I thought music majors just sat around playing the same notes all day," Minji countered, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Ah ha, good one," Siyeon acknowledged with a nod, finding herself relaxing despite her earlier determination to dislike anyone at this party. "Though sometimes it is the same notes. Over and over again until my fingers cramp and my roommates threaten to smother me in my sleep."
"Sounds like me when I'm working on financial projections," Minji said. "Numbers and more numbers until they stop making sense."
“That’s me with music theory.” Siyeon chuckled.
A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched the fish glide beneath the surface of the pond. Siyeon was struck by how easy it felt, sitting here with someone she'd written off as just another spoiled rich kid. There was something refreshing about Minji's straightforwardness, her lack of pretense.
"So," Minji said finally, "how long were you planning to hide out here before making your escape?"
Siyeon's lips quirked up. "I promised my friends two hours. I've got about forty-five minutes left of mandatory socialization."
"That’s amateur," Minji teased. "I'll be expected to stay until the last guest leaves, then help Bora analyze every single conversation that happened."
"That sounds... exhausting."
"It is," Minji agreed, then looked thoughtful. "But maybe a garden break makes it more bearable."
The implication that Siyeon's company had somehow improved her evening hung in the air, unexpected and quietly significant. Siyeon found herself not knowing what to say, which was unusual as she generally had no problem being blunt.
"Your friend won't come looking for you?" she asked finally.
Minji shook her head. "Bora knows I need these moments sometimes." She glanced at Siyeon curiously. "What about your friends? Won't they wonder where you went?"
"Yoohyeon and Gahyun? Nah, they're probably too busy flirting with some girls to notice I'm gone," Siyeon said with fond exasperation. "They dragged me here to 'experience college life,' but they're the ones who actually enjoy it."
"And you don't? Like...enjoy college life?"
Siyeon considered the question seriously.
"Parts of it, yeah. There’s the music, obviously. Learning new pieces, improving. Some of my professors are amazing." She paused. "But the social stuff... it's hard to feel like I belong when everyone else seems to be living in a different world."
"Different doesn't always mean separate," Minji said softly. "Sometimes it just means... different perspectives. Different starting points."
Their eyes met, and Siyeon felt a strange flutter in her chest. There was something in Minji's gaze, a kind of gentle understanding that Siyeon hadn't expected from someone whose life had been so different from her own.
The moment was broken by the sound of the garden door opening again.
Both girls turned to see a group of partygoers spilling out into the garden, laughing loudly and clearly looking for a place to continue their revelry away from the main crowd.
Minji sighed, slipping her heels back on. "Duty calls, I suppose."
Siyeon nodded, standing up as well. "I should find my friends anyway. Make sure they haven't gotten themselves into trouble."
As they both prepared to reenter the chaos of the party, Minji hesitated, but then asked, "You work at the campus coffee shop right? The one near the music building? Latte Lab, if I recall?”
"Uh, yeah," Siyeon said, surprised again that Minji would know anything about her habits.
"I've seen you around," Minji admitted.
"I'm there Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday afternoons," Siyeon found herself saying. "I mean, if you ever want coffee that isn't made by one of your family's personal baristas."
Minji laughed again, that same genuine sound. "I might take you up on that. It's nice to talk to someone who doesn't have an agenda."
Before Siyeon could respond, one of the newcomers to the garden spotted Minji and called out her name, waving enthusiastically. Minji gave Siyeon an apologetic smile before heading toward them, effortlessly sliding back into her role as the perfect hostess.
Siyeon watched her go, feeling strangely off-balance.
The interaction had been brief, but something about it felt significant. Like accidentally finding the right key for a piece of music that had been eluding her.
As she made her way back to the party to find Yoohyeon and Gahyun, Siyeon couldn't help but wonder if she would actually see Minji at the coffee shop, though secretly she hoped she would.
--
Monday afternoon brought the usual rush of students to Latte Lab, each of them desperate for caffeine to survive their early week classes.
Siyeon moved with practiced efficiency behind the counter, her hands flying between the espresso machine and the milk frother as she filled order after order.
"One iced Americano for Jinsol," she called out, sliding the drink across the counter before turning back to the next order.
Her coworker, Eunbi, nudged her as she rinsed a portafilter. "Hey, don't look now, but isn't that Kim Minji who just walked in?"
Siyeon's head jerked up involuntarily, her eyes immediately finding Minji near the door. The business major was dressed impeccably as always—a cream-colored blouse tucked into tailored slacks, her long dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Several students turned to look at her, some waving in recognition, others whispering to their friends.
"You know her?" Eunbi asked, clearly surprised by Siyeon's reaction.
"Uh, not really," Siyeon said quickly, returning her attention to the drink she was making. "We met briefly at a party. That's all."
But her heart was beating faster than the situation warranted.
After their conversation in the garden, Siyeon had found herself thinking about Minji more than she cared to admit. There had been something so unexpectedly genuine about the other girl, a complexity that contradicted everything Siyeon had assumed about the wealthy elite who populated certain corners of campus.
She hadn't really expected Minji to show up at the coffee shop. People like Minji made casual comments all the time—social niceties that weren't meant to be taken seriously.
Yet here she was, joining the line of customers, her eyes scanning the shop as if looking for something or someone.
When Minji's gaze finally landed on Siyeon, a small smile curved her lips. She didn't wave or call out, just offered that slight smile before glancing away, her expression returning to polite neutrality.
By the time Minji reached the counter, Siyeon had managed to compose herself.
"Welcome to Latte Lab," she said, keeping her tone professional. "What can I get for you today?"
If Minji was disappointed by the formal greeting, she didn't show it.
"An iced latte, please. For here."
"Name for the order?"
Minji raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Minji."
"Alright, Minji. Coming right up," Siyeon said, writing the name on the cup even though she hardly needed the reminder.
As she prepared the drink, Siyeon was acutely aware of Minji waiting at the pickup counter, scrolling through her phone with casual elegance. A few other students approached her, exchanging friendly greetings, and Minji smiled and chatted with each of them, the perfect social butterfly.
But Siyeon noticed how Minji's eyes occasionally drifted back to the bar, watching Siyeon work.
"Iced latte for Minji," Siyeon called finally, setting the drink on the counter.
Minji stepped forward, her fingers brushing against Siyeon's as she took the cup. "Thank you."
"Enjoy," Siyeon replied, already turning to the next customer.
It wasn't until ten minutes later, when the rush had momentarily subsided, that Siyeon noticed the folded slip of paper tucked beneath the tip jar. Her name was written on the outside in elegant script - “ For Siyeon .”
Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she quickly pocketed the note and tried to ignore the flutter of anticipation in her chest.
--
The practice room was silent except for the occasional frustrated sigh as Siyeon repeated the same passage for the twelfth time.
Her fingers moved over the keys of the upright piano, trying to capture the delicate balance between technical precision and emotional expression that her professor demanded.
But her concentration kept slipping, her thoughts drifting to the folded note still in her pocket. She hadn't dared to read it during her shift, and then she'd had to rush to her music theory class. Now, hours later, the note seemed to burn against her leg, demanding attention.
Finally, she stopped playing and pulled out the paper, carefully unfolding it.
I enjoyed our conversation the other night. Maybe we could continue it sometime? Only if you want to. No pressure. My number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. - Minji
Below the neatly written words was a small doodle of a fish—a reference to their conversation about the koi pond. The unexpected touch of whimsy made Siyeon smile despite herself.
She read the note three times, debating what to do.
Part of her—the practical, cautious part—warned that nothing good could come from pursuing a friendship with someone from Minji's world. They were too different, their lives too separate. What could they possibly have in common beyond a single conversation at a party?
But another part of her was intrigued.
Minji had sought her out, had made an effort. And there had been something in their brief interaction in the garden that had felt... real. Uncomplicated. As if they'd found a moment of genuine connection amid all the social posturing and expectations.
Before she could overthink it further, Siyeon pulled out her phone and typed a simple message.
Hi. It's Siyeon. I got your note.
She hit send before she could change her mind, then immediately set her phone down and returned to the piano, determined to distract herself from waiting for a reply.
She made it through half a page of music before her phone lit up with a response.
Hey! I'm glad! I wasn't sure if you'd text. But I’m happy you did. How was the rest of your shift?
The casual question made Siyeon hesitate. Was this just polite small talk, or genuine interest? She decided to respond honestly.
Long. Busy. Had a student spill an entire cold brew on my shoes, so that was fun.
The reply came quickly.
Oh no. At least it wasn't hot coffee.
Yeah. But the smell of coffee never washes out though. Then again, I’m used to smelling it now. Probably permanently in my skin at this point.
There are worse things to smell like my family's driver always smells like mothballs and expensive cologne. It's a terrible combination.
Siyeon couldn't help but laugh at that.
You have a family driver? Of course you do.
There was a pause before Minji's next message arrived.
Is that a problem?
Siyeon considered the question. She'd meant it as a joke, but she could see how it might have come across as judgmental. She typed carefully.
No. Just different from my life. I take the bus. When I can afford the fare. Otherwise, I just walk. It’s good exercise anyway.
I've never taken the bus, Minji admitted. Is it very crowded?
The simple question was so unexpectedly earnest that Siyeon felt her earlier defensiveness dissolve.
Depends on the time of day. Morning rush hour, you're packed in like sardines. Late at night, it can be kind of peaceful. Sometimes I ride around just to practice music in my head.
They continued texting, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily.
Minji asked about Siyeon's music, and Siyeon found herself explaining her upcoming recital piece with more enthusiasm than she'd intended. Minji, in turn, talked about her business project—a market analysis of trendy fashion brands that sounded far more interesting than anything Siyeon would have expected from a business major.
By the time Siyeon realized it was getting late, they'd been texting for over an hour.
I should get back to practicing, she wrote reluctantly. I have a session with my professor tomorrow morning.
Of course. Don't let me distract you. But... would you want to meet up sometime? To talk in person?
Siyeon hesitated, her thumbs hovering over the screen. She thought about the way people had watched Minji in the coffee shop, the constant attention that seemed to follow her.
I'm not really comfortable with the whole... social scene. I mean, you are the Kim Minji and if I’m seen with you, I don’t know what other people will say. Hope you understand.
Minji's response wasn't what she expected
I totally do. But what if I told you I know somewhere quiet? Somewhere no one else goes and where nobody can spot us together?
I might consider.
Do you swim?
--
The campus swimming pool was imposing in the darkness, its glass walls reflecting the moonlight.
Siyeon checked her watch for the third time, wondering if this had been a mistake. It was 9:30pm, half an hour past closing time for the athletic facilities and she was standing outside the locked side entrance as Minji had instructed.
Just as she was considering leaving, a figure approached from the shadows.
"You came," Minji said, sounding genuinely pleased.
She was dressed casually with a jeans and a simple sweater, hair pulled back in a messy bun looking nothing like the polished heiress who graced university brochures. She held up a key card with a small grin.
"Being the daughter of the university's biggest donor has some perks," she explained. "The swim team captain gave me this at the beginning of the year. I come here sometimes when I need to think."
"Isn't this like breaking about a dozen university rules?" Siyeon asked, even as she followed Minji to the door.
"Probably," Minji agreed, swiping the card. The door unlocked with a soft click. "But the security guard knows me. As long as we don't actually get in the pool or damage anything, he looks the other way."
The swimming pool was eerily beautiful at night. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting rippling reflections off the still water of the Olympic-sized pool. The air was warm and smelled faintly of chlorine.
"I don't actually swim," Minji admitted as they walked along the edge of the pool. "I just like the quiet. The way sound echoes in here. It's like being in a different world."
Siyeon understood immediately. The cavernous space had a cathedral-like quality, isolated from the bustle of campus life. Here, there were no expectations, no audiences, no social hierarchies.
They could just be... themselves.
"It's perfect," she said softly.
They settled on the bleachers, facing the pool. For a while, they just sat in companionable silence, watching the play of light on water.
"I used to be afraid of water," Minji said eventually. "When I was little. My parents hired three different swim instructors, but I would scream and cry every time they tried to put me in the pool."
"And what changed?"
Minji smiled distantly.
"I realized I could just stand at the edge. That I didn't have to dive in if I didn't want to." She glanced at Siyeon. "Sometimes it's enough just to be near something that scares you."
The statement hung between them, weighted with meaning beyond just swimming pools.
"What scares you?" Minji asked.
Siyeon considered deflecting with a joke, but something about the quiet intimacy of the moment made her answer honestly.
"Failure. Not being good enough. Having to go back home and tell my parents that all their sacrifices were for nothing."
Minji nodded, not rushing to offer reassurances or platitudes. "That makes sense."
"What about you?" Siyeon asked. "Besides water."
"Disappointing people," Minji said promptly. "Living someone else's idea of my life instead of my own." She paused. "Being alone, even in a crowded room."
The vulnerability in her voice made Siyeon look at her more closely. In the dim light, with her guard down, Minji seemed younger somehow. Less the campus icon and more just a girl trying to figure out her place in the world, like anyone else.
“That’s why you were alone at the garden that night.”
"Yes," Minji admitted. "But then I wasn't alone anymore." She smiled slightly. "And for once, I didn't mind."
The simple honesty of the statement created a warmth in Siyeon's chest. She looked away, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, of the private bubble they'd created in this empty space.
"Tell me about your music," Minji said, seeming to sense Siyeon's sudden self-consciousness. "What made you start playing piano?”
“Well, where do I start?”
Siyeon began to talk about her childhood, about the ancient upright piano her grandmother had owned, about the hours she'd spent picking out melodies by ear before her parents had scraped together enough money for proper lessons.
Minji listened attentively, asking thoughtful questions. In turn, she shared stories of her own childhood—the expectations that had been placed on her from an early age, the loneliness of being an only child in a house too big for three people, the pressure to be perfect in every way.
They talked for hours, their conversation flowing naturally from topic to topic. By the time Siyeon checked her phone again, it was past midnight.
"I should go," she said reluctantly. "I have an early class tomorrow."
Minji nodded, looking equally disappointed. "Can we…do this again?"
"I'd like that," Siyeon admitted.
As they walked back to the side entrance, Minji hesitated. "We should probably leave separately. Just in case anyone's around."
The reminder of the world outside—of the differences in their social positions—was jarring after the intimacy of their conversation.
"Right," Siyeon agreed, trying not to feel hurt by the practical suggestion. "I’ll go first.”
Minji reached out, briefly squeezing Siyeon's hand.
"Wait. I want you to know that it's not because I'm embarrassed to be seen with you," she said quietly, seeming to read Siyeon's thoughts. "It's just..."
"I get it," Siyeon assured her. "Really. Your reputation, my privacy. It makes sense. A win-win situation for us.”
Minji smiled, relieved. "Wednesday night? Same time?"
"I'll be here."
As Siyeon made her way back to her cramped dorm room, she realized she was smiling. For the first time since arriving at university, she was looking forward to something that wasn't related to music or academics.
She had made a friend—an unexpected, complicated, intriguing friend.
The Kim Minji.