Chapter Text
Yeon Bora had never planned to become a firefighter. If anyone had asked her in her teens what she would do with her life, the answer would have been architecture, because that was the path her mother had mapped out for her long before Bora was old enough to dream for herself. Her mother, a well-known architect, had spent years grooming Bora to inherit her practice. Every summer break had been spent at her mother’s office, every meal a quiet lecture about design principles, clients, and legacy. But the harder her mother pushed, the more Bora resisted—especially after her mother discovered Bora’s relationship with her girlfriend, No Aesol, and dismissed it as a “phase unbecoming of a proper woman.” To Bora, that rejection cut deeper than any critique of her work. So, in an act of defiance, she abandoned the neat, predictable path laid before her. She graduated with her architecture degree—because she refused to give her mother the satisfaction of calling her a quitter—but immediately turned her back on the profession. Instead, Bora applied to the fire academy, deliberately choosing the one career her mother openly disapproved of. Her mother had once scoffed that firefighting was “a man’s job” and “far too dangerous for a woman.” That was exactly why Bora pursued it. If being a firefighter was the most rebellious way to prove her mother wrong, then she was ready to risk the flames.
As luck would have it, Bora wasn’t stepping into this new life alone. She already had two friends who wore the same uniform—Kwon Ilha and Wang Taeman, whom she’d known since high school. Both men had gone straight into military service after graduation, and the moment they were discharged, they joined the fire department. For them, firefighting wasn’t rebellion—it was a calling. When Bora first told them of her decision, they didn’t question it; they simply accepted it as another bold, stubborn choice in her long history of bold, stubborn choices. By sheer luck—or so she thought—Bora ended up being assigned to their unit as well. At first, she was offended when she learned Ilha and Taeman had recommended her to their captain. She thought they doubted her capabilities, undermining her before she had even set foot in the station. But in time, after talking with other women in the service who recounted the isolation of joining a unit full of strangers, Bora understood what they had done for her. Ilha and Taeman hadn’t doubted her—they had protected her, given her an anchor in a job where camaraderie could be the difference between life and death. And though she never admitted it aloud, Bora was grateful beyond words.
Much of her gratitude extended, too, to the man who led their unit, Captain Lee Chunho. A veteran firefighter with a reputation for fairness, Captain Lee treated everyone the same, regardless of gender, age, or background. That impartiality earned Bora’s respect quickly, because it was rare in a field where women were often treated as fragile or incapable. Captain Lee never coddled her, never asked less of her, and never questioned her right to stand beside the men. He judged his firefighters by their performance, not by their pasts, and perhaps no one benefited more from that philosophy than the last member of their team, Kang Wooyoung. Wooyoung had a checkered history: once a promising MMA fighter, he had fallen into disgrace after a scandal that got him ostracized from the MMA community. As a result, many in the department had dismissed him as trouble, someone who wouldn’t last. But under Captain Lee’s steady guidance, Wooyoung found discipline and purpose. His endurance and skills soon made him one of the best firefighters in the city, admired even by those who had once doubted him. Watching that transformation unfold, Bora realized she had found a rare workplace: a station where competence and loyalty outweighed prejudice. Between Ilha’s constant jokes, Taeman’s easygoing warmth, Captain Lee’s steady leadership, and Wooyoung’s surprising growth, Bora discovered that, against all odds, she actually enjoyed her work.
Which was why she had been so firmly opposed when Captain Lee announced he was adding someone new to their already tight-knit crew. In her mind, they didn’t need anyone else, and more than that, Bora dreaded the disruption an outsider could bring to the fragile balance they had built together. Perhaps it was this resistance that shaped her first impressions—because when Captain Lee introduced Go Hyuntak as their new member, Bora couldn’t help the poor opinions she formed about him almost immediately.
It wasn’t as though she doubted his competence. On the contrary, she knew Hyuntak’s record well enough to understand that he was far from inexperienced—he was a seasoned firefighter with years of active duty behind him, the kind of man whose name occasionally came up in stories passed between departments, usually in the context of difficult rescues and near-impossible saves. And yet, that was precisely what unsettled her. If Hyuntak was as good as his reputation suggested, why had he been transferred to her station in the first place? The lack of explanation gnawed at her, leaving her wary. Bora had never worked well with new people once she already had those she trusted, and the idea of someone like Hyuntak stepping into that dynamic—someone she didn’t know, couldn’t predict—felt like a risk she wasn’t ready to take.
Bora would admit that she being unfair in her original opinion of Go Hyuntak, which was a little…unflattering. In her defence, her history with the majority of the male species had always been less than ideal—starting from her deadbeat father who abandoned her and her mother before she was even born, to all of the men from the firefighter academy who had underestimated her just because she was a woman. So, when Hyuntak transferred into her unit, standing a little over six feet and deceptively built under his uniform, with his face set in what seemed to be a permanent RBF, Bora really couldn’t form a great first impression about the man. Fortunately for everyone, Bora figured out quite shortly that Hyuntak was not, in fact, like all of those other asshole firefighters she had to deal with back when she was still at the academy. But despite it all, she found that she still couldn’t get a read on him.
It wasn’t that Hyuntak seemed to be hiding anything. As a matter of fact, once she got to know him, the man was rather talkative. He would go on about his family at the drop of a hat: about his husband and daughter, about his best friends who were basically his brothers in everything but blood, about the ‘extended family members’ who were just as important to him. They’d be having lunch with the team, or even doing chores like cleaning the engine, and then Hyuntak would randomly throw in a fun fact about his family. It was nothing particularly outlandish. Just something like how his husband Baku loved to cook despite being a walking fire hazard who could somehow set frozen water on fire; or how his ten-year-old daughter Beom once argued with her godfather—one of Hyuntak’s closest friends who happened to be a prosecutor—about the laws of child adoption; or that time his honorary nephew won an MMA competition against a thirteen-year-old—despite being only ten himself. So, yeah. Go Hyuntak wasn’t exactly a mysterious man with how much he tended to overshare, yet even Bora could tell that everything he was willing to share was merely insubstantial stuff.
From all that she gathered about him, she had somehow gotten the idea in her head pretty early on that Hyuntak had a fairly normal and simple life. She’d admit, at first, she’d thought he was a bit bland, purely from how generic his coffee order was: one hot black coffee. She’d made fun of it with Ilha—who was not only her work partner and best friend since childhood, but also someone she liked to think of as the other half of her coin—and they’d even agreed that chances were Go Hyuntak was a bit of a stick in the mud. But the more she got to know the new member of her unit, the more he proved her wrong about all the first impressions she’d had of him. Starting from the moment she found out he was married and had a husband. Not that she had anything against it, considering her own relationship with her girlfriend that had gotten her disowned by her mother. But learning that Go Hyuntak had a husband made it all the more intriguing to uncover more and more about the taciturn man with his mean RBF, until the initial image she had of him slowly began to change.
From what she’d gathered, Hyuntak’s husband seemed to be the exact opposite of him. Hyuntak explained to her and Ilha that their daughter Beom was actually a child from a case his prosecutor friend, Yeon Sieun, had handled. He didn’t tell Bora the details, but apparently Beom’s biological father was a terrible man who killed his own wife—Prosecutor Yeon’s mentor—after her investigation exposed his crimes. Long story short, the evil bastard was imprisoned, and the fate of little Beom (who was only three years old at the time) was being discussed by all parties involved when Baku asked Hyuntak what he thought about adopting the little girl. He was hesitant at first, because despite always wanting children, he didn’t think life as a firefighter was suitable for raising one, and apparently Baku’s own job required him to travel often. But Baku reminded him of the awful fate a friend they both knew had gone through after being orphaned. It was the push Hyuntak needed.
Fast forward to a year later—with a bit of help from Prosecutor Yeon and his brothers-in-law, one a Senior Superintendent General and the other the CEO of one of the country’s most successful newspaper companies—little Beom officially became Go Hyuntak’s little girl.
It never failed to warm Bora’s heart whenever she listened to Hyuntak gushing over how the girl had changed his and Baku’s life for the better. Looking back, Hyuntak told Bora that he now couldn’t imagine living his life without his daughter. Despite his own tight schedule, and Baku’s slightly looser one, the two of them always did their best to make time for Beom. There were stories of Baku and Beom having adventures on weekends when Baku wasn’t traveling, both with and without Hyuntak. Bora now knew exactly what Beom liked for breakfast (omurice and mango juice), and the kind of books Baku often read to their daughter (detective stories that Bora insisted on because they reminded her of ‘Uncle Dokki,’ another one of Prosecutor Yeon’s brothers-in-law; though Baku had more than once wondered whether those books were a little too advanced for Beom). Bora also knew that Beom’s “bestest friend in the whole wide world” was named Sihyeon, Prosecutor Yeon’s adopted son; that when the children’s respective parents couldn’t make it to pick them up from school, their parents’ best friend ‘Uncle Juntae,’ who was a cardiologist and “the best storyteller in the world,” would do it instead; and that when their parents were away, the kids would find themselves staying over with Prosecutor Yeon’s sister-in-law ‘Auntie Goeun’ and her husband ‘Uncle Dokki’—both of whom turned out to be private detectives.
It was from those stories that Bora had gathered the few tidbits of information on Baku and Hyuntak’s love story. She learned that the two of them had been friends since they were five years old, and for the longest time, life had consisted only of the two of them against the world. They grew up in a rough environment rooted in violence, and since they were both raised by single parents, more often than not Hyuntak and Baku only had each other to rely on. Yet somehow, despite all the hardships they had endured, Hyuntak said Baku had managed to stay so compassionate and exuberant. Bora wasn’t the type to socialise, but she knew that Baku—the nickname Hyuntak had given his husband since they were kids and that had stuck throughout the years—was someone she would love to sit down and have a conversation with. From Hyuntak’s stories, Baku just seemed like such a good man. Bora’s new friend had flushed red in embarrassment, his eyes going a little dazed with love whenever he spoke about how Baku had been his everything. It was a little disgusting how besotted Hyuntak was with Baku, but Bora could also admit it was rather sweet to see a grown man so obviously in love. And she’d grown up witnessing how disgustingly in love Wang Taeman was with his wife Kim Yoojung.
Unfortunately, in all the months she and Hyuntak had been slowly becoming friends, Bora had never had the opportunity to talk to Baku, nor had she seen a photo of him. It was different from how often she’d met Ilha’s boyfriend Kim Chiyeol (fondly called ‘Kimchi’ by Bora’s stupid friend), or how she would see pictures of Taeman’s wife and son on his locker. If it weren’t for how frequently Baku was brought up, as well as the obscurity of the anecdotes, Bora might have been tempted to question if the man was actually real.
He just seemed too good to be true.
Bora knew Kwon Ilha very well. They’d been friends for a long time—since they were both still in high school. She’d taught him how to smoke, and in return, he’d taught her how to ride a motorcycle. They’d come to the realisation that they were both gay together, spending an entire night crying like children from the relief that they weren’t alone in this hateful, judgmental world. Ilha was the brother Bora never thought she’d have the fortune (or misfortune, when he was being a particularly thick idiot) to have. He was her platonic soulmate, and some days, she would even admit that she loved him more than her own mother—whom Bora still loved very much, even now that they were estranged. Bora didn’t have many people in her life, and long before she had Aesol, Ilha was all she had. He was one of the most important people in her world, and because of that, they shared nearly everything with each other. After over two decades of friendship, Ilha knew everything about Bora, and in return, Bora knew everything about him.
So, that day, she easily recognised the stupid smile he was wearing as one that meant she was in for a very annoying shift.
“Oh, no,” she muttered. “God, please no.”
Hyuntak, who was sitting on the other side of the island from her, looked up, a little alarmed. “What? Is something wrong?”
“Shit, it’s happening, isn’t it?” Taeman said, his face paling slightly as he looked back and forth between Bora and an incoming Ilha.
“Remember when I told you how Ilha would sometimes never shut up about his favourite artists for a few days?” Bora said to Hyuntak.
Hyuntak nodded slowly. “Yeah, and?”
Bora sighed, watching Ilha finally break away from a conversation with Captain Lee. “Be prepared, my friend. Today’s gonna be one of those days.”
Ilha appeared in the kitchen with them as Hyuntak’s eyebrow quirked in confusion. “Guess what?” Ilha asked them cheerily, thick, caterpillar-eyebrows wiggling in excitement.
“News dropped about one of your boy bands?” Bora deadpanned.
Hyuntak bit back a grin at that. “Or maybe it’s the rock band,” he offered kindly.
“That’s the one,” Ilha said, grinning from ear to ear. “The first snippet for Watermelon Sugar’s new album, A Song For You, was released last night!”
Bora blinked at her friend, and in a quiet drawl said, “Okay, what do you want me to say to that? Congratulations?”
Both Hyuntak and Taeman snorted a laugh, but Ilha was undeterred. He leaned forward, palms flat on the table like he was about to announce a groundbreaking discovery that would win him a Nobel Prize. “Not just congratulations. You should thank me for blessing your boring morning with culture. This new album’s going to change lives, Bora-ah. Lives. I’ve told you to give them a try, haven’t I? Their lyrics are insane—calling out abusive parents, tearing down the school system’s corruption, exposing how teachers turn a blind eye to bullying and pressure that ruins kids’ lives. Every track feels like a rebellion wrapped in melody. And the music itself—ugh, it’s like Coldplay, but with teeth. You listen to it and feel like you could punch the Minister of Education while crying about the moon. It’s that good.”
Bora stared at him flatly. “Punch a minister while crying about the moon,” she repeated drolly. From the corner of her eye, she caught Taeman hiding his face against Hyuntak’s shoulder, his body shaking with barely repressed laughter. Meanwhile, Hyuntak wore a mask of nonchalance, betrayed only by the faint twitch of his lips.
“Exactly!” Ilha said, either missing or ignoring her sarcasm. Maybe it was the latter, considering how it was impossible for him to miss Taeman’s giggles. “And it’s not just the songs. Park Humin and Ahn Suho—oh my God, those two are geniuses. Park Humin’s voice? Unreal. He’s got this range that makes you feel everything—joy, grief, rage—all in one note. And the guy can shred a guitar like no one else in the industry right now. Then there’s Ahn Suho—the mastermind behind most of their lyrics. Sharp as a blade, but subtle. He writes like he’s pulling the truth straight out of your chest without asking permission. This doesn’t mean that the rest of them aren’t great. Like, Kang Hyunyul is an absolute beast at the bass, No Sebum is basically a wizard with the way he plays his piano, and don’t even get me started with how awesome Lee Siguk is at the drums. My God, but they’re all fucking awesome!”
Taeman tilted his head, looking both impressed and scared by the intensity of Ilha’s excitement. “Wow, you really know all their names?”
Ilha completely ignored his comment. “But it truly is a wonder how well Park Humin and Ahn Suho work together, creating such harmony that’s just magical. They’re like…two halves of the same coin. Park Humin is this bright, easy-going firecracker—always smiling, laughing, making everyone feel like they’re his best friend. And Ahn Suho’s quieter, reserved, but when he talks, everyone shuts up to listen. It’s like they complete each other. Kind of like John Lennon and Paul McCartney, you know? That perfect balance where one’s the spark and the other’s the structure—the light and the gravity keeping it from burning out.”
Bora made a show of yawning. “That’s great for you, Ilha-yah. Maybe you can marry the entire band and live happily ever after.”
Ilha huffed but didn’t rise to the bait. “You’d like them. Seriously. Especially you, Madam Hard-to-Please. Their songs are—”
“Very feminist,” Hyuntak cut in casually.
The room went quiet, and Ilha could only blink at Hyuntak when he said, “Uh. What?”
Hyuntak looked up from his coffee, expression as neutral as ever. “Watermelon Sugar. They’ve always been feminist. Their third album was entirely about women—praising them, addressing their struggles, celebrating their strength. Frida is one of the best tracks I’ve ever heard. Taken from the name of the painter Frida Kahlo, it’s a song about how women’s struggles have been criminally underappreciated—whether they’re single mothers breaking bones to support their children, or career women still capable of taking care of themselves even with a supportive partner by their side. The song is actually dedicated to the strong female figures in Ahn Suho’s and Park Humin’s lives. It’s a beautiful song—the whole album is amazing, really. I think you’d like it, Bora-ssi.”
Bora’s mouth opened, then closed again. She’d been about to make some dry remark about Ilha’s never-ending fangirling, but Hyuntak’s sudden and oddly specific input threw her completely off guard. She stared at him, suspicious. “You…know about them?”
Hyuntak nodded, like he hadn’t just surprised them with his in-depth knowledge of the band. “I’ve listened to a few of their songs.”
Ilha was staring too, eyes wide. “A few songs? Dude, you just gave a very deep analysis of one of their least-known songs from one of their earliest albums! You even went as far as explaining what the song is actually about, and who it’s dedicated to! Admit it, are you secretly a fan, Go Hyuntak-ssi?”
Before Hyuntak could answer—or worse, before Bora could start demanding explanations—the alarm bell blared through the station. All at once, chairs scraped back, conversation died, and the room transformed from casual banter to controlled chaos.
“Structure fire,” Captain Lee’s voice called from the hall. “Come on, everyone. Start moving!”
Bora shoved her coffee aside and stood, adrenaline kicking in as she reached for her gear. Across from her, Hyuntak was already up, face unreadable, motions efficient as always. Ilha muttered something about unfinished conversations, but even he was focused now, pulling on his jacket and helmet with practiced speed. As they filed toward the trucks, Bora glanced sideways at Hyuntak. He was checking his gloves, calm but ready, the picture of professionalism. Still, she couldn’t stop her mind from circling back to what he’d said minutes ago. She shook her head, trying to focus. There’d be time to interrogate him later—if they weren’t too busy saving lives. But damn it all, this mystery around Go Hyuntak’s supposedly ‘plain and simple’ life was starting to gnaw at her.
Bora never thought much about children. It wasn’t that she disliked them—she simply never entertained the possibility that one day her life with her girlfriend, Aesol, would be joined by a tiny human being who would depend on them every hour of every day for the rest of their lives. She and Aesol had discussed it before, back when their relationship first grew serious, and they’d both agreed it wasn’t time for them to have children yet. As a result, Bora had little experience with kids. Her interactions were usually limited to the occasional child involved in calls her unit responded to, or the rare school visit to the fire station. The only children she spent any real time with were Taeman and Yoojung’s son Woojin, and, on occasion, the Cho twins when she happened to run into Cho Jangsoo and Cha Soyeon at high school reunions.
So never, in her thirty-five years of life, had Bora imagined she would one day find herself relegated to babysitting duties—on the very week she was supposed to be recovering from a sprained ankle.
Fortunately, she had a friend well-versed in handling children.
“Thank you so much for your help, Yoojung-ah. You truly are a saint,” Bora said for the third time that day. “I’m so sorry for just showing up with the kids like this. But Go Hyuntak called out of nowhere, asking if I could pick up his daughter because all his usual caregivers were busy. Then, after I’d already said yes and hung up, he called me again and asked if I could take in one more child. Wait, no—he actually begged me. He sounded so panicked, I couldn’t possibly say no.”
She was at Taeman and Yoojung’s house that afternoon. In the morning, she’d just been enjoying what little free time she had, courtesy of her injury, when Hyuntak’s name flashed on her phone. He’d skipped any greeting and immediately launched into a frantic plea: could she pick up Beom from school? Apparently his cardiothoraci surgeon friend who usually handled pick-ups had been called into emergency surgery, and everyone else he trusted was unavailable. Bora had nearly refused on instinct, but Hyuntak’s voice had trembled with such barely contained stress that she reluctantly agreed. The line had cut off abruptly then—Bora assumed the alarm at his station had gone off and he’d been called away. But less than five minutes later, her phone rang again. This time, Hyuntak opened not with a greeting but with breathless apologies, followed by yet another request: could she also pick up his godson Sihyeon, the son of his best friend, Yeon Sieun? Before Bora could so much as protest, Hyuntak had assured her that every logistical hurdle had already been handled, leaving Bora with no choice but to agree once more. Then, finally, the real alarm had gone off in the background, and after thanking her what felt like a hundred times, he’d hung up to do his job.
If the kids hadn’t turned out to be such angels, Bora was fairly certain she’d have begun regretting ever becoming friends with Go Hyuntak.
“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. I’m married to a firefighter too, remember?” Yoojung said easily, offering Bora an understanding smile. “And according to Taeman, Hyuntak is a great father—always responsible when it comes to his daughter’s well-being. Him and his elusive husband, Baku. So I’m sure he was truly in a tight spot if he had no choice but to…well, for lack of a better term, dump his child and godson on you.”
“Still, you could’ve said no,” Bora said, glancing toward the living room where Beom and Sihyeon were quietly watching a movie with Yoojung’s son. “You already have Woojin to think of, and you’re also pregnant. And here I am, bothering you with more children because I panicked like an idiot.”
“Well, everyone knows taking care of children is daunting business,” Yoojung replied with a shrug. “Especially when you’re doing it just for a few hours as their temporary guardian. So I think you did the right thing, coming here for help.”
“Gosh, you’re far too good to be true, Kim Yoojung,” Bora said, pulling her friend into a hug—careful not to press too tightly and risk hurting Yoojung’s belly. “You tell me if Taeman ever makes you cry, alright? I’ll knock his teeth out.”
Yoojung laughed, a light, chiming sound that made Bora understand, not for the first time, why Wang Taeman was so utterly in love with her. “I’ll smack him myself if he ever does, but thank you for the offer,” Yoojung said. “Besides, I think Taeman would punch himself in the dick if he ever made me cry.”
“Touché,” Bora said, recalling the time Taeman had suffered a breakdown at the station upon realising he’d forgotten their anniversary. Fortunately for him, his wife had forgotten it too, buried under the weight of her dissertation she was working on at the time.
“Auntie Bora,” Beom’s voice interrupted then. She approached cautiously, a shy, sweet smile on her face—so unlike the stubborn little menace Hyuntak often described with fond exasperation. “Do you have some cookies?”
Bora raised her eyebrows, sharing a quick look with Yoojung, who immediately moved to fetch a jar of freshly baked cookies—she always kept some on hand for her sweet-toothed husband with the poor digestive system. “I think Yoojung has some, kid. Why? Are you hungry? We can order something if you want.”
Beom shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, Auntie Bora. But, I’m okay. The cookie isn’t for me. It’s for Sihyeon. I think his blood sugar is low.”
Alarmed, Bora quickly turned her attention onto Sihyeon. So far, he seemed fine—quiet, but fine. Granted, Sihyeon didn’t strike her as a loud kid to begin with. He’d mostly stuck close to Beom ever since they’d met that afternoon, letting her do most of the talking as she confidently introduced them both when Bora picked them up from school. Bora hadn’t met Beom until today—though with how often Hyuntak had talked about her, it almost felt like she already had.
Yoojung came back just then, holding a small jar of cookies in one hand and wiping the other on her apron. “Here they are—fresh from the oven,” she said with a small smile as she crouched down.
Beom’s eyes widened instantly. “Are those chocolate chip?” she asked, even as her hand was already reaching for the jar.
“Yep,” Yoojung said with an amused chuckle, handing Beom a cookie. “They’re my husband’s favourite. You can have some too, Beom-ah.”
Beom’s little face lit up as she thanked Yoojung. Then, before she took a bite, the girl turned to Sihyeon and waved him over. “Come on, Sihyeon-ah, get one while the chocolate is still all melty.”
Sihyeon hesitated for a second, but shuffled forward and took the cookie Yoojung held out. “Thank you,” he mumbled, so soft it almost got lost in the room.
Woojin, who had been entirely focused on the moving they were watching, immediately perked up. “Are those Dad’s cookies? Ooh, I want one!” he squeaked, skidding across the floor to grab one too.
A few moments later, all three childreen were plopped back on the couch in the living room in front of the television, quietly chomping away, little crumbs clinging to their fingers. Bora, watching them, felt her shoulders loosen slightly, though her eyes kept drifting to Sihyeon. She glanced at Yoojung. “Do you think he needs to take anything? Like medicine?” she asked under her breath.
Before Yoojung could reply, Sihyeon paused mid-bite and glanced up, seemingly having heard Bora. Beom caught his eye and gave him a tiny go-on nod. He sat up a little straighter then, like he was gathering courage. “Um, I already took my morning and afternoon ones,” he said carefully, as if he were making sure to get the words right. “So, I don’t really need them now? It’s just that sometimes, after I take ’em, I need to eat a bit because the meds often make me hungry. My doctor said if I eat a little snack first, it stops me from, um…feeling dizzy.”
Bora blinked, surprised by how matter-of-fact he sounded despite the shy delivery. “Oh,” she said, nodding. “That’s smart. Thank you for explaining all this to me, buddy.”
Sihyeon beamed slightly, flashing Bora a positively adorable smile before ducking his head again, picking at the edge of his cookie. Beside him, a grinning Beom leaned her shoulder against his and whispered, “See? You didn’t mess up.” She said it like a secret, but just loud enough for Bora to catch, and Sihyeon’s ears went a little pink as he tried (and failed) not to smile.
The living room had settled into a soft, comforting quiet, broken only by the low, steady hum of the animated movie playing on the television. Beom and Sihyeon sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, a shared blanket pooled loosely over their laps as they occasionally reached for the small plate of cookies on the coffee table. Sihyeon’s posture had relaxed considerably since earlier, his head leaning subtly toward Beom’s shoulder, while Beom, ever watchful in her unassuming way, glanced at him now and then to make sure he was comfortable. At the far end of the couch, Woojin, being younger at eight years old, was oblivious to his new friends’ interaction as he kept his eyes glued to the screen, his attention undivided except for the moments he reached for a cookie with chocolate-smeared fingers. The soft, golden lamplight filled the room with a sense of warmth and ease, a quiet sanctuary from the world beyond. Meanwhile, in the dining area, Yoojung and Bora sat back at the table, their cups of tea freshly refilled, their voices kept to a gentle murmur so as not to disturb the children—though every now and then, one of them would glance toward the living room, a small smile playing on their lips at the simple, tender scene unfolding there.
It was a while after the cookie fiasco when Yoojung hummed, taking a slow sip of her tea before speaking again. “Beom and Sihyeon seem like good kids.”
“They are,” Bora agreed, leaning back in her chair, her gaze still fixed on the pair curled up on the couch. After a pause, she lowered her voice, careful not to let it carry to the living room. “I didn’t know much about Sihyeon at first, but I learned later that both of them were adopted after… a pretty awful tragedy. You’ve heard Taeman talk about Beom, right? A few weeks ago, Hyuntak had to leave a shift early to watch the two of them because Sieun was still in court. We found out later that Sieun had been involved in the case connected to Sihyeon’s birth parents all those years ago.”
“Oh right, Taeman had mentioned once that Hyuntak’s friend is a pretty successful prosecutor,” Yoojung said, earning a nod from Bora before she continued.
“From what Hyuntak told us, Sihyeon’s biological father had an intern who turned out to be a psychopath obsessed with him. One night, the intern attacked his wife, who was pregnant with Sihyeon. He managed to stop her, but he didn’t make it out alive. Help came soon after, but Sihyeon’s mother had lost too much blood. She gave birth prematurely and…didn’t survive long enough to see her baby.”
Yoojung’s hand stilled around her cup. “God,” she whispered, eyes misting as she glanced toward the quiet boy on the couch. “That’s awful. Poor boy never even got to know his parents who fought with their lives for him.”
“I know,” Bora said softly. She remembered how shaken she’d been when she first heard the story, how even Ilha and Taeman had wiped at their eyes. “Sieun was just starting out as a prosecutor back then, working on the case alongside Beom’s late mother—she had been his mentor. He got to know Sihyeon’s situation because he worked closely with her on the case. When it came time to decide what to do with the baby, Sieun and his fiancé—his husband now—stepped up to adopt him. They were twenty-seven at the time.”
“That’s admirable,” Yoojung said, impressed. “Even Taeman and I had doubts when we were having Woojin at that age. And we had nine months to prepare.”
Bora nodded in agreement. “I can only imagine how challenging everything must have been for them. Sihyeon didn’t even have a name the whole time he was at the hospital.”
“Poor baby,” Yoojung murmured, taking another tearful glance at Sihyeon. She seemed deeply moved by the boy’s story, and for a while, neither of them spoke. When Yoojung finally found her voice again, it was quieter. “So, what happened then?”
“Well, obviously, adoption is a serious thing, especially when the baby’s history is as heavy as his was. So, it took time to finalize everything, even with Beom’s mother pulling strings and Sieun’s own connections through his brothers-in-law. But fortunately…” Bora’s voice softened as she looked toward the couch again, a smile tugging at her lips—one that widened when she heard Sihyeon laugh with Beom and Woojin at a funny scene from the movie, his tiny shoulders shaking with mirth. “Yeah, you can see for yourself how well he’s doing now.”
Yoojung followed her gaze to the couch, taking in the sight of Sihyeon nestled comfortably between Beom and Woojin, his small shoulders shaking with laughter. “Honestly,” she said, her voice low but sincere, “I’m impressed. Both Sihyeon and Beom…after everything they went through, seeing them like this—it’s more than I expected. They really do seem to be thriving.”
Bora’s smile deepened, a quiet pride threading through it. “I know. Hyuntak told me once that Sieun worked himself to the bone to make sure their past stayed buried until they were old enough to face it on their own terms. He didn’t want anyone to see them as anything but who they are now.”
Yoojung hummed thoughtfully at that, her gaze lingering a moment longer on the kids before shifting back to Bora. “That explains a lot,” she murmured, as if piecing together parts of a story she hadn’t known she was curious about. A beat of silence settled, comfortable rather than awkward, broken only by the distant sound of animated voices from the movie. Then, as though another thought had just struck her, Yoojung tilted her head slightly. “What do their husbands do for a living, anyway?”
Bora took a breath and shrugged. “We don’t even know about Baku, let alone Sieun’s husband.”
Yoojung’s brows lifted. “You don’t know what Hyuntak’s husband does for a living?”
“Unfortunately, no. Hyuntak’s told us that Baku’s ‘away for work’ more times than I can count, so the only conclusion I can make is that he travels a lot,” Bora replied, her eyes flicking briefly to the window as she checked for any sign of a car in the driveway. Still empty. “It’s driving Ilha and your husband insane that we have no clue.”
“Yeah, Taeman’s complained about that more than once,” Yoojung said with a small laugh. “So you haven’t even been able to guess?”
Bora shook her head. “For someone who, according to Hyuntak’s stories, is basically sunshine personified, Baku is strangely impossible to pin down—maybe even more than Hyuntak. We know his father used to own a chicken restaurant, and that Baku worked there back in uni while majoring in Physical Education alongside Hyuntak and Sieun’s husband. We also only recently learned that Baku used to box in uni, while Sieun’s husband was actually a former professional MMA athlete. Hyuntak himself was a taekwondo athlete too, but he had to quit fighting after an accident back when he was in middle school.”
“So all of them were actual professional martial artists? That’s so cool,” Yoojung commented. “I think the only person I know who can properly fight is Cho Jangsoo. But he wasn’t a proper athlete who went to competitions and stuff.”
“I know, right?” Bora said. “But unfortunately, their careers as martial artists had to end shortly after they graduated from uni. See, Hyuntak told us that some asshole paid a group of thugs to beat up Sieun’s husband so he wouldn’t be able to compete. Fortunately, Baku and Hyuntak walked in on the attack, and so Sieun’s husband was just concussed instead of put into a coma. Long story short, they all decided to stop fighting once and for all and promptly move on to different careers. For Hyuntak, that meant becoming a firefighter. However, for Baku and Sieun’s husband? They’re still a complete mystery to us. Hell, we didn’t even know the name of Sieun’s husband.”
“Gosh, this is so interesting!” Yoojung said in excitement. “It’s like they’re straight out of a drama. None of them live a simple, boring life like we do.”
“They definitely live interesting lives,” Bora murmured in reply, distracted now as she finally spotted an expensive-looking SUV pulling into the driveway. “I don’t think that’s Hyuntak. He drives a Jeep.”
“Ooh, maybe it’s Baku?” Yoojung said eagerly as she spun around to look out the window with Bora.
But as the SUV came to a smooth stop, they learned it wasn’t Baku. It couldn’t be, since Bora remembered that Hyuntak often described Baku as someone who was built like a tank. Meanwhile, when the driver’s door finally opened, out stepped a slim man whose presence seemed to quiet the very air around him. He moved with unhurried precision, straightening his jacket as he rose to his full height. His features looked youthful and pretty, almost to a point that made Bora feel a little insecure of her own appearance, despite knowing the fact she was considered gorgeous by everyone who had ever met her. Somehow, the man still had these boyish features, only slightly sharpened with age, lending him an air of quiet authority—high cheekbones, a defined jaw, and eyes that held a piercing intelligence. His hair, neatly parted and looking impossibly soft to the touch, caught the sun as he closed the door with a soft click. Where Go Hyuntak carried the rough-hewn solidity of someone forged by street fights and stubborn grit, this man was all elegance and quiet steel—a contrast so stark it made her pause.
Yoojung let out a low whistle, leaning closer to Bora as she watched the man walk around the front of the SUV with the kind of calm assurance usually reserved for people who knew they didn’t need to prove themselves. “Wow,” she murmured under her breath, though loud enough for Bora to catch. “He’s really pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. And we grew up with Cha Soyeon. Who is that?”
Bora didn’t answer right away, her gaze narrowing as a flicker of recognition sparked in her memory—something Hyuntak had mentioned once, late at night over a bottle of soju, about how the first time he met Yeon Sieun, he couldn’t stop staring.
“I thought he was so damn pretty,” he’d confessed, slouched on his seat at the restaurant the team often frequented when they had a weekend off. It was honestly quite surprising to witness Hyuntak’s unguarded honesty that only came after his fifth drink. “Like… I didn’t know if I wanted him or wanted to be him.” He’d laughed then, embarrassed, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake the thought out. “It was just for a split second though. And the moment it hit me, I felt like the biggest piece of shit alive—like I’d just cheated on Baku in my head. And I didn’t even know I was gay back then!” He’d ended it with a giggle far too adorable for a grown-man his size—his eyes vanishing into little moon crescents as dimples carved into his cheeks.
Now, staring at the man stepping out of the SUV, Bora almost wanted to laugh. It appeared that Hyuntak hadn’t been exaggerating. She opened her mouth, ready to tell Yoojung who their guest was, but before she could get a word out, the quiet was shattered by a small, high-pitched voice from somewhere inside the house.
“Dad!” Sihyeon squealed, no doubt having caught sight of his father through the window when he looked up.
As if in answer to his son’s call, Sieun waved at Sihyeon from outside the house just as he pressed the doorbell. Sihyeon, the poor boy, was practically vibrating with happiness as he slid off the couch and bolted toward the door, Beom bounding excitedly behind him. It was certainly thanks to the boy’s outstanding upbringing that he didn’t fling the door open himself and instead waited—albeit impatiently—for Yoojung, who wore a fond smile as she waddled to greet their guest. But the moment the door swung open, Sihyeon couldn’t contain himself any longer and practically launched into his father’s arms.
“Hello, buddy,” Sieun greeted as he pressed a kiss to his son’s hair, his voice surprisingly low and heavy for his pretty face. “How have you been? I trust you’ve been good for Uncle Hyuntak’s friends.”
“Of course, Uncle Sieun,” Beom answered for her friend, beaming up at her godfather. “You know how Sihyeon is. He’s always an angel.”
“I’ll have to agree with that, Beom-ah,” Sieun said good-naturedly as he finally gave his goddaughter his attention, pulling the girl into a hug just as tight as the one he gave his son. “But how about you, you little menace? You haven’t been embarrassing your poor fathers, have you?”
Beom let out a dramatic huff, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “I’ll have you know I’ve been a saint. Just ask Auntie Bora.”
“Well, I’ll do just that, then,” Sieun replied with a grin before turning his attention to Bora. “You must be Yeon Bora, Gotak’s friend. I’m Yeon Sieun, Sihyeon’s dad and Beom’s godfather. Thank you for looking after the kids this afternoon on such short notice. It’s really nice to finally meet you. Gotak’s told us all about you—only good things, of course.”
“It’s nice meeting you too, Prosecutor Yeon,” Bora said with a smile of her own, though her mind kept circling around the fact that Hyuntak’s friends all called him Gotak. “But really, you don’t need to thank me—Beom and Sihyeon weren’t any trouble at all. They’ve been such well-mannered kids.”
“I’m glad to hear the kids haven’t traumatised you,” Sieun said, chuckling when both Sihyeon and Beom began to groan in protest.
“We’ve been really good, Dad, honest!” Sihyeon exclaimed, just as Beom added, “I know you don’t believe me, Uncle Sieun, but don’t you at least believe your own son?”
Their antics made Bora laugh. “Truly, the kids have been wonderful. It’s been a joy spending the afternoon with them. And please, I can’t take all the credit for watching them. I wouldn’t have managed without my friend Yoojung here.”
“Ah, yes,” Sieun said, now turning to Yoojung, still wearing that same far-too-pretty smile. “Hyuntak’s mentioned your husband as well—Wang Taeman, right? And you’re expecting another child?”
“That’s right,” Yoojung replied, her smile widening at the acknowledgment as she stepped aside. “Come on in, Sieun-ssi. Let’s have some tea while the kids tidy up their things.”
“Uh, okay,” Sieun said, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second, as if he hadn’t anticipated the invitation. But he recovered quickly, his expression settling into polite warmth again as an excited Sihyeon and Beom tugged him inside. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, Yoojung-ssi.”
Bora hadn’t expected to take to Sieun so quickly. Most men she knew—even those she trusted—carried some edge: Ilha filled rooms with noisy bravado, Taeman leaned on humor, Captain Lee’s strict authority demanded discipline before warmth, Wooyoung’s reliability was edged with a problematic behaviour, and Hyuntak—though he was fast on becoming one of her favourite people—still bore a rawness that made his emotions cut sharper than intended. She had long noticed, too, a subtle shift in how men, even her dearest and closest friends, interacted with women—never quite bad, but tinged with performance, expectation, or distance. Yeon Sieun was different though. His presence didn’t demand or distract, instead settling like calm after a storm. His manner was precise without heaviness, thoughtful without coldness. He accepted tea without fuss, sat with polite but natural posture, and listened with quiet attentiveness to her and Yoojung when they spoke. It was a temperament honed not by force or bravado but through restraint, through learning to listen more than speak. Where other men wrestled visibly with responsibility and authority, Sieun carried it as second nature—and that difference put her at ease almost immediately.
Sieun’s calm voice shifted when Bora found herself unable to ask how he’d always managed to stay so even-tempered. He gave a small, almost rueful smile and admitted that he hadn’t always been this way. As a boy, he had been unbearably lonely, raised in a house where silence filled every corner and affection was something he only saw from a distance. His parents rarely spoke to him unless it was to criticize, and most days he was left to eat alone or wander without being noticed. He used to think that if his life continued like that, he would grow up hard and unfeeling—someone incapable of caring for others. But then he met his husband Suho when they were both only seven years old, and everything quietly shifted. Suho’s family had welcomed him as though he’d always belonged; his father’s warmth, Goeun’s laughter, and Junho’s steady kindness showed him what genuine love looked like. That care made him believe in people again. Later, when he met Baku, Hyuntak, and Juntae in high school, that belief deepened through friendship and loyalty. Still, Sieun confessed that the truest change came when he became a father. Sihyeon was the reason he grew softer, stronger. The fear of repeating his parents’ mistakes became his greatest motivation, and through loving his son, he finally became the kind of person he once needed most.
“Having him,” Sieun said quietly, his eyes never leaving his son, “made me want to be someone better. He deserved more than what I grew up with.” From where Bora sat beside him, she could see the way his eyes softened as he spoke, and for a moment the weight of his words lingered in the air like something sacred.
Sieun then spoke of the years that had led to the life he built with Suho, in the time before Sihyeon. Sieun admitted that for years, he and Suho had circled one another with careful restraint, both of them too afraid of losing the friendship that anchored them to risk changing it. The turning point came when Suho had nearly died after being caught in a dangerous case his older brother Junho had been working on as a police detective. Sieun hadn’t explained what had happened in detail—something that clearly frustrated Bora, who was too polite to ask—but he said enough to make her understand how grave it had been. Suho had been awake just long enough to tell Sieun that he loved him before losing consciousness, and though the doctors managed to save his life, he remained unresponsive for weeks. During that time, Sieun lived in the sterile quiet of hospital corridors, torn apart by the thought that he hadn’t told Suho he loved him too. The realization that he had wasted so much time being a coward, holding back what had always been true, nearly destroyed him. That brush with loss shattered his hesitation. When Suho finally woke, Sieun confessed everything, unable to hold back a second longer.
When Sieun was done with his story, Yoojung leaned forward, her chin propped on her hand, eyes gleaming with something like admiration. “That’s just…wow,” she said with a soft laugh. “Sieun-ssi, what is it with you and your friends living lives like my favorite dramas? And here I thought the love story between your friend Hyuntak and his husband Baku was already dramatic enough.”
Sieun smiled sheepishly at that. “I get what you mean. Some of our other friends have said the same thing,” he admitted. “But that’s enough about me and my drama-worthy life. What about you two?”
“Well,” Yoojung started. “Taeman and I started out as best friends too, but we weren’t anything as dramatic as you and your husband.”
So Yoojung began with the simple truth: she and Taeman had known each other since middle school, though it was in high school that their bond deepened—Yoojung the class leader, always correcting assignments and chasing deadlines, Taeman the class clown who seemed to exist solely to test her patience. She had secretly liked him, but she’d never confessed, assuming his kindness was just his default for everyone. Everything changed after graduation, when Taeman enlisted for his mandatory military service. Before the day he was leaving, he stopped by at her house in the evening, his usual joking gone, and told her he’d loved her since middle school—since the day she got detention for standing up to a teacher who called Taeman stupid. Yoojung had been stunned, and for two years she held his words close. When he returned, she wasted no more time, confessing that she had loved him too—since the day he bloodied his knuckles defending her from boys who mocked her for being a know-it-all.
“We were idiots,” she said with a grin, “but at least we were idiots together.”
“I think you guys are adorable,” Sieun said kindly. “It’s nice to know that most people can and do fall in love without being traumatized first. I mean, both Hyuntak and I nearly lost the loves of our lives before we found the courage to tell them the truth.”
“That certainly is dramatic,” Yoojung agreed as she turned to Bora, who felt her eye twitch at the mention that Hyuntak’s husband had nearly died as well when they were all young. She kept quiet, though, knowing that if Sieun was half as secretive as Hyuntak, he would clam up completely if she asked about it. Instead, she focused on Yoojung, who had gently nudged her side with her elbow as she added, “Bora here has a pretty dramatic love story too—with her girlfriend No Aesol.”
“Pfft,” Bora huffed. “It’s just your usual parents-don’t-approve-you’re-gay kind of dramatic. Nothing that involves nearly losing lives. It’s certainly boring compared to how you and your husband got together, Sieun-ssi.”
“There’s nothing boring about love,” Sieun said with the wisdom of Buddha. “I’d be honored if you’d tell me about you and your girlfriend.”
Bora hesitated, but at Yoojung’s look of encouragement and Sieun’s kind smile, she finally caved. “Ah, right. I guess.. Well, okay. I guess I can tell you about it.”
Clearing her throat, Bora began with Aesol—how they had been thrown into the same class their final year of high school. At first, Bora had dismissed her as a pushover, someone too timid to stand against the tide of classmates who trampled over her without guilt. But then came the night when Bora, walking home from her art hagwon, was cornered by a group of thugs. Their leers and jeers left no doubt about where things were headed, and fear rooted her in place. Salvation came suddenly in the form of Aesol, who appeared with a patrolling officer. Grudgingly grateful, Bora told Aesol that if anyone tried to bully her again, she should come find her. Months later, Bora kept her word when she and Ilha stumbled upon girls from another class tormenting Aesol. Together they sent the bullies packing, and from then on Bora and Aesol were inseparable. Their bond deepened until, one afternoon, when they were talking about their dreams for the future and Aesol was shyly explaining why she wanted to become a primary school teacher, Bora leaned forward and kissed her. They became a couple soon after, and when Bora’s mother reacted with harsh disapproval, Bora made the decision to leave home and moved in with Aesol.
“So yeah,” Bora said, trying to make her voice sound breezy, almost dismissive. “That’s my story. I fell for the school’s pushover, got kicked out of home, and now live a gay love story with my girlfriend. The end. Nothing glamorous about it.”
“I beg to differ,” Sieun replied, with a steadiness that Bora could easily imagine him carrying into a courtroom. “My parents and I were never close to begin with, and if it weren’t for Suho’s bleeding heart, I wouldn’t have invited them to our wedding at all. And Suho—he’s an orphan raised by his loving and support older siblings, who has always been unwaveringly accepting of our relationship. So we’ve never really had to deal with the disapproval of parents or parental figures. I can only imagine how much harder it must have been for you and your girlfriend, Bora-ssi.”
Bora swallowed heavily, grateful that someone like Sieun—whom she’d only just met, whose life could be made into a movie that would everyone and their mother cry—could understand her struggles without demanding explanations. She didn’t speak after that, not even to thank him, her throat too tight with unspoken relief. Instead, she gave a small nod, blinking fast to hold back tears. Sieun didn’t seem to mind the silence, returning her gesture with a steady nod that carried more reassurance than words. Beside her, Yoojung reached over and gave her hand a firm but gentle squeeze, grounding her with the reminder that she wasn’t alone. Bora squeezed back, a silent show of understanding and gratitude. From there, their talk shifted naturally to lighter ground. Sieun opened up about his work, meeting their curiosity with quiet honesty—long hours as a prosecutor as he did his best to uphold the law and justice, how it was like to work closely with an actual hero like his brother-in-law the infamous Senior Superintendent General. Yoojung responded with wide-eyed interest, adding stories from university life, teasing that professors and prosecutors shared the same eternal enemy—bureaucracy. Bora laughed and offered stories from the firehouse, from carrying soot-streaked children to safety, returning pets to grateful arms, to comically slow shifts where calls were only about cats stuck on rooftops.
It was in that rhythm of shared stories and laughter that something fragile yet strong began to form between them, a thread of camaraderie none of them had expected. They compared the oddities of their schedules, joking that none of their jobs seemed to respect sleep, and noted how each of them carried responsibilities requiring steadiness no matter the circumstance. For Bora, what stood out most was Sieun’s manner of speaking—never boastful, never exaggerated, but plain and steady, words that grounded themselves in truth. It made her trust him almost instantly, the kind of trust she usually only gave to those proven in fire and ash. Yoojung, meanwhile, was clearly charmed by his dry humor, her laughter spilling bright and unrestrained, warmer than anything Bora had heard from her in weeks. That sound made the air lighter, softening the edges of everything. Watching them banter—Sieun with the faintest smile and Yoojung with sharp wit—Bora felt an unexpected recognition, as though Sieun had always belonged, not a stranger but someone who had been waiting for their paths to cross.
Without realizing it, they had talked for over an hour, slipping so easily into conversation that it felt as though they had been friends for years. It was only when a stretch of silence lingered too long that Bora tilted her head, noticing the house was unusually quiet. The children, who had earlier charged into the living room with noisy energy, had not returned once to interrupt or demand snacks. Exchanging a knowing glance with Yoojung, Bora set her cup aside and stretched her legs, suggesting with a wry smile that perhaps they should check before the kids decided to dismantle the furniture. Sieun chuckled at the thought but rose with them, the three adults moving almost conspiratorially down the hallway, half-expecting chaos. What they discovered, however, was far from disaster—everything was startlingly in order, backpacks zipped and stacked neatly against the wall, shoes aligned as though awaiting inspection. The only irregularity was the children themselves, seated in a perfect row before the television, eyes locked to the screen with rapt and motionless attention.
On the screen, the news was covering the release of a new coming-of-age musical film, bright graphics flashing across the television as a reporter explained that the entire production had been inspired by the discography of Watermelon Sugar. Bora blinked at the group’s name, instantly recognizing it as Ilha’s favorite—and, apparently, Hyuntak’s guilty pleasure too. At this point, it was impossible for her not to know much about them. Evidently, they’d been around for a while—over a decade, with eight albums released including the latest one that had gotten Ilha so excited. Over the years, the artists had become massive in South Korea, somehow managing to compete against all the pop boybands and girlbands, and were now quickly gaining ground abroad. These days had Ilha treating their tracks like gospel, blasting them through the fire station until even tone-deaf Taeman had their riffs stuck in his head. Bora herself had unwillingly memorized half their songs by osmosis and even liked more than a few, though she’d sooner stick her head in a tiger’s mouth than admit that to Ilha’s face. Usually, she just rolled her eyes and teased him, relishing how defensive it made him. Still, hearing that their work was being turned into a family-friendly musical aimed at pre-teens and young adults made her lips twitch somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
Maybe Ilha really did have good taste after all.
Eyes going back and forth between the television and the children, Yoojung cleared her throat and asked lightly, “What are you three watching so seriously?”
Her tone was amused, and Beom immediately twisted around to answer, her ponytail bouncing with enthusiasm as she explained that the news was about the new movie, and that she and Sihyeon had already promised each other to see it on Saturday. Sihyeon nodded in agreement as eagerly as he possibly could for someone with his reserved nature, before nudging Woojin with an encouraging grin. Woojin hesitated only for a second before turning to his mother, his expression shifting into something dangerously close to a pleading puppy-dog face. Both Bora and Yoojung had grown up seeing that look on Taeman's face, and even Bora could admit that on Taeman it had been unfairly cute. On his ten year old who looked like a cuter version of that idiot? Criminally adorable, it should be illegal.
“Mum,” Woojin began, voice small but insistent. “Can I go with them? Please? Even Sihyeon hyung is going to watch the movie. My friends all said that it’s supposed to be really good, and everyone’s saying it’s, like, the coolest movie right now.”
His hands fidgeted as though ready to clasp together in an actual begging gesture, and Bora quickly bit back a laugh at the sight. Meanwhile Yoojung pursed her lips, clearly caught between wanting to indulge her son and worrying about the film’s content. Her hesitation was obvious enough that Bora, standing at her side, could already guess her line of thought—that protective mother’s instinct rising whenever Woojin demanded to step into a world not fully designed for his age.
Before Yoojung could speak, however, Sieun casually stepped into the pause. “I’ve already checked the movie’s summary,” he said in that calm, matter-of-fact tone that left no room for theatrics. “It’s safe for pre-teens. They only used the tame songs for this one—none of the more controversial or political tracks Watermelon Sugar is known for.”
His reassurance was delivered so smoothly it almost sounded rehearsed, but the effect was immediate: Woojin’s hopeful eyes sparkled brighter, Beom let out an audible sigh of relief, and even Yoojung seemed to ease slightly, though she still folded her arms as if pretending she hadn’t been swayed so easily. Bora, unable to stop herself, grinned at the entire tableau, her gaze flicking between Woojin’s barely-contained excitement and the almost absurdly composed prosecutor who had just won him the chance to see his first band-inspired musical.
“Wait a second,” Bora said suddenly, narrowing her eyes at him with mock suspicion. “Don’t tell me you actually like this band, too?”
Sieun didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. I’ve always been their biggest fan since the beginning.” His tone was as dry and unflinching as if he were stating a fact about a court case.
The room stilled for a moment. Bora blinked, caught between laughter and disbelief, while Yoojung’s jaw went slack before she managed a startled laugh. Neither had expected him to actually admit to such a thing—much less so bluntly—and for once, even Bora had no immediate quip ready.
Recovering first, she leaned back with a smirk. “Well, that explains everything. Now I finally get how you and Hyuntak ended up best friends.”
For the briefest second, Sieun’s lips twitched, his eyes twinkling in that warmth and mirth as he gave his giggling son and goddaughter a wink. “Naturally. Though, if you ask him, he’ll insist he’s the bigger fan. It’s been a long-standing debate. The kids can attest to that.”
That earned a surprised snort from Bora and an incredulous shake of the head from Yoojung, both of them suddenly picturing the stoic prosecutor and Hyuntak of all people bickering like schoolboys over who loved a band more. Before either could follow up, Sieun’s gaze slid toward the clock on the wall.
“It’s been great talking to you guys, but we should get going,” he said, rising to his feet with practiced ease. He turned toward the kids, his expression softening just slightly at their pouts. “Sihyeon-ah, Beom-ah, come on. Time to go home.”
The two kids sighed dramatically, but in the end, Beom jumped up from her place on the couch and practically bounced toward the door before remembering her manners and circling back to give Bora and Yoojung a polite bow. Sihyeon followed more quietly, his small hand slipping naturally into Sieun’s, his other hand tugging lightly at Beom’s sleeve so the precocious girl wouldn’t race ahead. Sieun inclined his head toward both women in a gesture that was equal parts formal and courteous.
“Thank you for having us,” he said, his tone carrying that same steady warmth as before—measured, but not distant. Then, with the faintest tilt of his head, he added, “We had a great time. I really hope we’ll get to meet again soon.”
And just like that, the three of them were gone, slipping into Sieun’s SUV with Beom and Sihyeon’s chatter still trailing in the air even after the door shut. Bora, Yoojung, and Woojin stood together at the threshold, waving as the car pulled out of the driveway. Woojin shouted a cheerful goodbye, the children calling back promises about the Watermelon Sugar movie night until their voices were swallowed by the street beyond. When the hum of the engine finally faded, the house seemed to exhale with them. The sudden quiet felt almost startling after the lively energy that had filled the room only moments before. Once Yoojung sent Woojin off to finish his homework, she and Bora settled back into the living room, where Bora sank onto the sofa with a breath that came out half-laugh, half-sigh.
“Well,” she said, glancing at Yoojung with wide-eyed disbelief. “That was not what I expected at all.”
Yoojung chuckled softly. “Yep. They’re certainly as interesting as you said they’d be.”
END OF PART 1