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It had been a month since Hyun-ju hung the portrait Gyeon-seok had painted of her in her small, one-room apartment. The orange background stood out vividly against the plain white wall, adding a splash of warmth and color to what had once been a sterile space. For Hyun-ju, the painting gave her a new place to breathe outside of school—her only true refuge until now—and that alone brought a quiet joy to her days.
She had chosen this school with a dormitory system to get away from her parents, who had long since given up trying to understand her beyond financial support. Though she initially moved into the boys’ dorm, the unease of living there soon became unbearable. Yet transferring to the girls’ dorm wasn’t permitted either. In the end, her parents—who claimed they’d rather pay than see her face—reluctantly agreed to let her live alone, a rare exception. That unusual arrangement had sparked rumors, as she remained enrolled while having left the dorms. But now, this painting seemed to affirm her decision—to live freely, surrounded by those who accepted her.
She stood up, an empty mug in hand, and gently traced her fingers along the cheek in the painting—firm yet graceful. It was Hyun-ju, captured with care, staring straight ahead at the target, at the future. Someone had seen her—truly seen her—even when she wasn’t aware. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought.
“What kind of person is the Prince of the Second Floor?”
“…Huh?”
Hyun-ju stopped folding her practice clothes at Young-mi’s sudden question. She had been waiting for Hyun-ju after club activities, her legs swinging idly as she perched on a desk. When Hyun-ju fell into silence, Young-mi’s eyes widened, as if realizing what it meant.
“…I talk to him when I see him, but it’s not like—”
“That’s such a waste! I mean, he drew your portrait, didn’t he? There’s no way he—”
“Young-mi.”
“But…”
Scolded, Young-mi pouted and fiddled with the buttons of her uniform. It was true—Hyun-ju was pretending not to understand the look in Gyeon-seok’s eyes when they fell on her, soft and melting. She simply couldn’t get used to being captured by the heat of that darkness.
“Don’t you want to know more about him?”
“…I’m not sure.”
It wasn’t that she wanted to reject the feelings he seemed to have for her. Deep down, Hyun-ju herself had probably made peace with the idea of letting that kind of feeling catch fire within her. The problem was that there was no spark to light it. That was all.
Just as she was about to resume folding her clothes, Young-mi gently took her hand. The strength in that grasp made Hyun-ju meet her gaze.
“Let’s find out. About Gyeon-seok.”
“Why?”
“Because—I just have this feeling. That you’d be happier if you did.”
“—!”
Something deep inside her chest clenched, as if struck. As Hyun-ju’s hand trembled faintly, Young-mi tightened her grip and smiled wide.
“Unni, remember when I was hesitating about joining the track team? You told me to believe in myself. So now it’s my turn. Please believe in yourself too. You’ll be okay—I know it.”
“I…”
“I might not be much help, but… Yong-sik and I are on your side!”
The gentle flame her friend had lit began to glow quietly at her core. Releasing her hand, Young-mi leaned in with a childlike grin and declared, “I’ll do my best too!”
“So? What exactly are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t have a concrete plan, but… Yong-sik, don’t you know something? I mean, you were in the same year as him last year, right?”
“It’s not like I know nothing, but it’s all just rumors, really… How do I put it… Gyeon-seok’s kind of, well… he doesn’t really stand out.”
“Really? I don’t think that’s true at all.”
Even in the crowded cafeteria, Young-mi and Yong-sik chatted cheerfully across from Hyun-ju, drawing up a strategy as if it were a game. Meanwhile, Hyun-ju couldn’t taste a thing, no matter how rich the flavor of the food she put in her mouth. She poked absently at her bean sprouts with her chopsticks and let the two continue their conversation without interrupting.
“So what are the rumors?”
“Ah… well, again—it’s just a rumor, okay? But… back in his first year, the girl he was dating died in a car accident.”
“What!?”
The sudden shock made Young-mi rise to her feet with a cry, drawing glances from everyone in the cafeteria. Realizing the attention, she hunched her shoulders and shoved a mouthful of rice in, trying to pretend nothing had happened.
“Well… he took a short break from school after that, but… ever since then, he hasn’t really been close to anyone. I think the only people I’ve ever seen him with are Dea-ho or maybe Kang No-eul.”
“No-eul? From the shooting club?”
“Yeah. You know her well, don’t you, Hyun-ju?”
Hyun-ju blinked in surprise at the mention of a familiar name. Her switch from rifle to pistol had been prompted by her inability to surpass No-eul. Even now, they were often paired in mixed-gender competitions, but outside of the club, they’d barely spoken a word to each other. The idea of her and Gyeon-seok being close just didn’t seem to fit. Hyun-ju let out a small sigh.
“I didn’t know… they were close.”
“No-eul doesn’t really talk about herself much. So it’s not surprising. And like I said, it’s just a rumor.”
“But they say there’s no smoke without fire, don’t they?”
“You three gossiping about weird stuff again?”
A sharp voice cut through the air, and all three looked up to see Geum-ja standing before them with her arms crossed. She hadn’t seemed particularly loud, so perhaps she’d been standing there listening for some time.
“Omma! It’s not what you think—”
“At school, call me teacher. Really, if you’ve got time for silly rumors, you could be memorizing some English vocab instead.”
“But this is for Hyun-ju—”
When Young-mi tried to intervene in defense, Geum-ja shot her a brief glance, then sat down next to Hyun-ju and set down her tray.
“What does this have to do with her?”
“Well, you know, Gyeon-seok drew a picture of Hyun-ju. And then Young-mi said maybe she should get to know him better, so—”
“And that gives you the right to pry into someone’s private life? Should I start spreading rumors about why you had to repeat a year?”
“Tch—! You’re a teacher at school, remember?”
Yong-sik protested in a panic, but Geum-ja just laughed and popped a chicken ball into her mouth. Young-mi, looking flustered by the exchange, finally seemed to take it all in and bowed her head toward Hyun-ju.
“Unni… I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s not your fault, Young-mi. I’m the one who—”
“Hyun-ju.”
Still brimming with energy, Geum-ja pointed her chopsticks—still slick with a bit of sauce—at Hyun-ju, who flinched instinctively.
“Don’t worry about these fools. Whatever that boy’s story is—whatever your story is—if you’re not breaking the law or hurting anyone, then you have every right to live the way you want.”
“That’s why I—”
“You hush. This is between Hyun-ju and that boy, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but still—”
“They only tried to help because I’ve been hesitating. That’s all… so please, don’t be too angry.”
She forced a small smile to ease the tension. Somewhere deep down, she had once believed that someone like her didn’t deserve to fall in love. And now—now there was someone who held feelings for her, and others who encouraged her to reach for that warmth. Hyun-ju didn’t know how to accept that.
“I’m the only one…”
“Huh?”
“I’m the only one who sees myself with such harsh eyes. And somehow… that makes me feel happy… and sad at the same time.”
“Unni…”
Without realizing it, Hyun-ju had wrapped her arms around herself as if to hold herself together. In the silence that followed, Geum-ja gently reached around her and rubbed her back.
“It’s okay. It really is. Feeling something—even if it hurts—is better than feeling nothing at all.”
“…”
There was no name for the tangle of feelings—neither entirely wrong nor entirely hopeful—that stirred in her chest. Could someone who couldn’t even bring herself happiness offer love to another? Was it right to accept the affection of someone else in such a state? She still couldn’t draft the blueprint of her own heart, and that, more than anything, left her feeling helpless.
“…Um.”
Hyun-ju spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, to No-eul, who was methodically packing away her rifle. No-eul turned, glanced at her once, then returned to her task without saying a word.
“…”
“What is it?”
“Ah—um… no, I…”
She had managed to speak up, but now the words caught in her throat. Her mind went completely blank. Standing stiffly, fidgeting with her fingers, Hyun-ju was left speechless under No-eul’s quiet gaze. With a small sigh, No-eul wiped the sweat that traced her jawline.
“It’s a strange question, but… do you know?”
“Know what?”
“Why… why Gyeon-seok drew that picture of me?”
“Because you caught his eye. …Or maybe you were impossible not to notice.”
Closing the case with a soft click, No-eul placed it on the shelf and walked past Hyun-ju without another glance.
“Ah…”
“And… you should be more careful where you talk about rumors.”
“…!”
The words drifted back over No-eul’s shoulder as she left, calm but unmistakably cutting. Then she disappeared down the hallway toward her classroom.
Hyun-ju took a few unsteady steps back, as if someone had struck her in the chest. Then she sank into a chair. Letting out a long, shaky breath, she pressed her forehead into her palm and looked out at the courtyard, now swallowed by dusk.
It was a fair point. More than fair—it was the truth. This was what people on the outside saw. Stirring up such crude gossip would naturally find its way to the person at its center. Of course it would.
Alone in the darkened room, she couldn’t move. Only the sound of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. She wanted to cry.
She should have stepped in—not stood by and let them talk. She wasn’t meant to be at the center of conversations like that.
Overwhelmed by the weight of her own regret, her body stopped obeying her. She slumped forward onto the desk, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.
And then—footsteps.
Someone was running down the hall.
They stopped just outside the clubroom. The door gave a faint rattle.
She lifted her head.
Gyeon-seok stood there, out of breath.
“…Ah.”
“Hyun-ju…”
“…Why?”
“Um… I mean… my ‘friend’ said… you were looking for me.”
Hyun-ju understood immediately. That was just like No-eul—cut out the middleman, keep things direct. If Hyun-ju had something to say, then she should say it herself.
Somehow, just hearing his voice made her feel lighter, as if the heaviness had melted away. The flame of a feeling she didn’t want to name was already flickering quietly on its own.
“…Did she say anything else?”
“Um… just that you had something you wanted to ask me—”
The school speakers interrupted him, the chime signaling the final dismissal of the day.
“Ah…”
He had come all the way here. She couldn’t just send him away.
Hyun-ju stood up.
“There’s still time before curfew, right? If you’d like… shall we go somewhere else to talk?”
“Are you sure?”
“I mean… you came all this way, didn’t you?”
Gyeon-seok’s eyes wavered—warm, sincere, unguarded. Looking into them, Hyun-ju felt something in her own heart stir softly, like a breeze catching the edge of a flame.
They bought takeout coffee and sat side by side on a bench in the small park near the dormitory. Hyun-ju was more nervous now than she’d ever been staring down the barrel of a pistol. She fidgeted with the paper cup in her hands, pressing it gently even though it was still half full, struggling to find words. Her heartbeat thudded so loudly in her ears she held her breath, foolishly thinking it might give her away.
“I was surprised,” Gyeon-seok said. “When I heard you were looking for me.”
“…I think No-eul was just trying to be considerate.”
“Ah… I see.”
He gave her a sheepish smile, sipping his coffee.
“No-eul and I—we’ve known each other since we were kids. So, we’re not exactly the kind of friends who go out of their way for stuff like this.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Oh—uh, just to be clear! It’s not like we’re dating or anything like that—!”
“Pfft—”
Hyun-ju couldn’t help but giggle. His flustered reaction caught her off guard, and her chest felt warm enough to enjoy the soft summer breeze.
“I… asked No-eul why you drew that picture of me,” she admitted. “I’ve been keeping it up at home, actually. Somehow, it gives me courage.”
“Ah… well, maybe it’s because I found courage in you while I was drawing it. We hadn’t even spoken yet, but… as Young-mi noticed, whenever your number was called during matches, I… well—”
He scratched his cheek, flinching. “Saying this out loud makes me sound like a stalker, doesn’t it?”
Hyun-ju shook her head. She still couldn’t quite grasp how she had moved someone without realizing it—but knowing that she had, warmed her deeply.
“…It was a love letter, wasn’t it?”
“Wait—what…?”
If she was going to return the courage he’d given her, then she wanted it to be him. The one who wasn’t afraid to love her. Slowly, quietly, a feeling began to take root inside her.
—I want to look at him the way he looked at me.
“That painting… the one you drew for me.”
“A love letter… that’s… ah, but maybe…”
Gyeon-seok trailed off, covering his lips with a hand as if to contain the words. His large, single-lidded eyes darted nervously. And yet, watching him fumble like this, Hyun-ju found herself touched by the simple fact that she could move someone so honestly. It was the first time she’d found that feeling to be… lovely.
“Gyeon-seok.”
“…Yes?”
“If this courage I feel… if I call it love—would that be wrong?”
“No—! No, not at all—!”
In the rush of his answer, he jumped to his feet—knocking over the coffee cup at his side, the contents spilling across the ground. Standing over her now, his face was a strange mix of surprise and joy.
“…I think what’s growing inside me… is love for you, Gyeon-seok.”
“…!”
She held out the warm coffee cup she’d been cradling. After a brief hesitation, he accepted it, firmly, with both hands.
His eyes dropped for a moment as he looked at her standing before him, and his mouth opened and closed before finally managing to form words.
“Um… can I… draw you again?”
“Hmm?”
“You. My girl. Next time… openly. Properly.”
“Pfft… Yes.”
At her reply, Gyeon-seok gently reached for her hand.
Beneath the glow of the streetlamp, their lips met, softly.
For a moment, Hyun-ju froze—unaware that a first kiss could be so gentle. But beside her, Gyeon-seok gave a small, satisfied smile.
“Gyeon-seok… you’re strangely bold at times, aren’t you?”
“Haha, I get that a lot.”
The moment she accepted that unnamed feeling as love, she realized something: love was beautiful. Through him, the future suddenly shimmered with color.
What kind of hue would tomorrow take, now that she could see it through his eyes?
No matter what it was—
surely, it would be ―