Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Seaside Spot
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
April 16, 2004 7:23AM — Gimnyeong-ri High School, Jeju
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk dust and salt. It always did, being this close to the ocean. When the windows were cracked open, the wind carried in the sound of waves breaking somewhere beyond the school walls, steady and distant, like breathing. The fourth row by the window caught the best of it—the light, the breeze, the endless blue stretching past the glass.
Choi Ae-sun sat there, or rather slept there.
Her head rested directly on the wooden desk, cheek pressed flat against years of carved names and pencil scratches. No arm folded beneath her, no bag used as a pillow—just bare wood and trust. Her long hair spilled across the desk in a dark curtain, moving slightly every time the sea wind slipped in. Her breathing was slow, even, the kind that came from someone who had stayed up too late drawing instead of sleeping.
The morning bell had already rung, Lee Min-sung noticed.
He always noticed everything—test answers left half-erased on the board, the exact second the teacher’s footsteps echoed down the hall, the way the classroom grew louder by exactly three decibels before homeroom. He noticed patterns. Systems. Rules.
And Ae-sun, asleep beside him, broke all of them. She was his deskmate by last name order, a decision made by the school and never questioned again. Choi. Lee. Window seat. Fourth row. Fixed.
Min-sung sat straight, uniform neat, bag placed carefully under his chair. His notebook was already open, pen aligned with the margin. He had finished reviewing the material ten minutes ago.
His eyes, however, were not on the page. They drifted quietly, involuntarily—to her.
Ae-sun looked smaller when she slept. Less guarded. Her brows weren’t knitted in that soft, worried way they usually were, and her lips were slightly parted, as if she’d meant to sigh and forgotten halfway through. A faint pencil smudge marked the side of her hand—graphite, probably from last night.
He knew a lot of things about her without asking. That she liked the window open even in winter, she drew when she thought no one was watching, she flinched slightly at sudden noises but relaxed when she heard the ocean, and she would never lean on him, not once, even when she would fall asleep like this.
Min-sung told himself, as he always did, that this was normal. That noticing your deskmate was inevitable when you sat beside them every day. That the quiet pull in his chest was just habit. Proximity. Nothing more.
Love wasn’t logical.
A chair scraped somewhere behind them. Someone laughed too loudly. Ae-sun stirred, her nose wrinkling faintly, but she didn’t wake. Her head shifted—just a little closer to the edge of the desk.
“She was going to wake with a stiff neck.” Min-sung hesitated as he said that in his mind.
It was a small thing, really. Barely a decision. He reached down, slow and careful, and slid his notebook—not his arm, never that—just his notebook, thick and solid, a safe distance—under the side of her head.
Her cheek landed against it with a soft thump.
Min-sung pulled his hand back immediately, posture unchanged, expression as cold and unreadable as ever. No one noticed what he’d done.
Ae-sun slept on, unaware, the ocean reflected faintly in the glass beside her. And Min-sung—who believed he went to school only to study, who believed he had no friends, no distractions, no unnecessary feelings—sat beside the girl who fit his world in ways he hadn’t yet learned to name.
Outside, the waves kept breaking.
Rain had stopped just as suddenly as it started, leaving the windows dotted with clear droplets that caught the light. Someone near the back of the class claimed they’d seen dolphins earlier—probably a lie—but it was enough to make half the room lean toward the glass.
So-hee was one of them.
“Look,” she whispered loudly, pointing past Ae-sun’s shoulder. “The ocean looks pretty today. Way better than math.”
Ae-sun smiled faintly and leaned toward the window, resting her chin on her hand. The sea stretched out endlessly, pale blue and calm, the kind of view that made her chest feel quiet.
Then—
Buzz.
Her flip phone vibrated softly in her blazer pocket.
She blinked, startled, and carefully slipped it out under the desk, shielding it with her sleeve. The small screen glowed dimly as she flipped it open just enough to read.
Bullet Storm — Group Chat
Leaf: Let’s go for a round?
Ae-sun’s lips curved upward despite herself. She typed quickly, thumbs light.
Hydrangea: I’m at school.
She snapped the phone shut just as—
Buzz.
Right beside her, Lee Min-sung’s Nokia vibrated once against the desk.
The sound was so similar it almost blended together, like an echo.
Neither of them looked at the other.
Min-sung calmly reached for his phone, glanced at the screen for less than a second, then slid it back into his pocket as if nothing had happened. Ae-sun tucked hers away at the same time, heart beating a little faster for no reason she could name.
So-hee leaned back in her chair and whispered, “If there were dolphins, they’d probably be late to class too.”
Hyun-woo snorted quietly.
Min-sung adjusted the curtain so the light wouldn’t glare on the desk. Ae-sun turned back to her notebook, ocean still reflected faintly in the glass.
Homeroom felt quieter than usual.
The ocean outside the windows was restless today, waves breaking harder against the shore, but inside the classroom there was a tight, nervous stillness. The homeroom teacher stood at the front with a stack of papers, tapping them lightly against the desk to straighten the edges.
“Midterm results,” she said.
A collective groan rippled through the room.
Papers were passed down the rows. The soft shff of paper against paper sounded too loud. Ae-sun sat stiffly in her chair, fingers curled around the edge of her desk, eyes fixed straight ahead like that might somehow delay the inevitable.
Her paper slid onto her desk.
She stared at it.
210 / 240
For a moment, she didn’t react. Then she blinked, once, twice, as if the numbers might rearrange themselves.
Fifth.
She quietly exhaled, shoulders relaxing just a little. It wasn’t perfect—but it was good. Better than she’d feared. A small, shy smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.
Next to her, Min-sung had already glanced at his paper.
238 / 240
He didn’t smile. He never did. He simply placed the paper neatly on top of his notebook, pen aligned parallel to the edge, as if the score were just another fact—expected, inevitable.
Behind them, So-hee let out a dramatic whine.
“I’m not looking,” she muttered, turning her paper face-down immediately. “If I don’t see it, it’s not real.”
Hyun-woo had both hands over his exam like it might bite him. “I studied,” he said weakly. “I swear I did.”
So-hee peeked at his score by accident and immediately looked away. “I take it back. I don’t want to know yours either.” Ae-sun stifled a quiet laugh, pressing her lips together.
He reached over, just slightly, and tapped the corner of her exam paper with his pen. Not pointing—more like acknowledging it. When she glanced up at him, he met her eyes for half a second. “Well done,” he said quietly.
Ae-sun’s ears warmed. She nodded, clutching the paper a little closer to her chest. “You too,” she murmured, even though it felt obvious, even though everyone already knew.
The homeroom teacher cleared her throat. “Top student, as usual—Lee Min-sung. First place.”
Scattered applause followed, Min-sung didn’t react. Ae-sun glanced at him again, then back at her own score, something light and steady settling in her chest. Outside, the waves crashed against the rocks, loud and endless.
Behind them, So-hee had her head down on the desk. “I hate school,” she declared.
Hyun-woo nodded in full agreement.
The ten-minute break barely started before the classroom loosened into noise.
Ae-sun stayed in her seat, sketchbook open, pencil moving gently as she redrew a hydrangea for the third time. Min-sung stood up to toss something into the trash, leaving his notebook behind on the desk—closed, unassuming. So-hee noticed.
She leaned over, flipped it open without thinking. “Let’s see if the top student writes secret formulas—” She stopped, this wasn’t schoolwork.
Dates. Short lines. Neat handwriting that felt… private. So-hee’s eyes skimmed, then locked onto one sentence.
She inhaled sharply and shoved the notebook toward Hyun-woo, who had just returned from the hallway with a grin. “Look,” she whispered.
Hyun-woo read it once. Then twice. “Ae-sun is cute when she sleeps.” He slapped a hand over his mouth right after reading that statement aloud, shoulders shaking. “No way.”
Ae-sun was still completely oblivious, erasing a line and redrawing it with care. “I have to tell her,” So-hee whispered, already turning— back?
Min-sung had come back.
He took the notebook from her hands in one smooth motion. His face was blank, unreadable—but his eyes were sharp enough to make the message unmistakable.
Don’t.
So-hee immediately raised her hands. “I didn’t see anything.”
Min-sung tucked the notebook under his arm and said nothing.
Hyun-woo, however, leaned against a desk and cleared his throat loudly.
“Wow,” he said casually, far too pleased. “Some people spend break time playing games. Some people are out here writing secret side quests.”
Min-sung shot him a look and Ae-sun glanced up. “Huh?”
“Nothing,” Hyun-woo said quickly, still smiling. “Just saying—some people are way more dedicated than others.”
The bell rang before anyone could explain anything.
The classroom door slid open with a soft thunk.
“In we go, in we go—before I lose my chalk again.”
Mr. Sakamoto stepped inside, bald head catching the sunlight from the window as if it were part of the lesson. He wore the same slightly wrinkled dress shirt he always did, sleeves rolled up, chalk already smudging his fingers. A few students straightened automatically; others smiled.
“Good afternoon,” he said in accented Korean, cheerful. “Today, we practice brains. Not suffering. Very important difference.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
He set his worn briefcase on the desk and turned to the board. “We do peer teaching today. Smart students help smart students become more smart.”
Groans. Applause. A mix.
Mr. Sakamoto turned around, eyes already scanning the class. “Lee Min-sung,” he said brightly. “You explain.”
Min-sung stood without comment.
“And,” Mr. Sakamoto added, glancing down his seating chart, “Choi Ae-sun. You learn.”
So-hee made a sound like she’d just witnessed fate itself. Hyun-woo mouthed wow.
Ae-sun stiffened but nodded, hands folding neatly on her desk. Min-sung pulled his chair slightly closer—not too close, just enough to see her work.
“Okay,” he said quietly, pointing to the problem. “This part. You already know it.”
She blinked. “I do?”
He nodded. “You just don’t trust it.”
He wrote a short line in her notebook, careful not to crowd the page. Ae-sun followed his logic, eyes tracking his pen, and something clicked. Her shoulders relaxed.
“Oh,” she murmured. “That’s… easier than I thought.”
Min-sung’s lips curved, just barely.
Mr. Sakamoto strolled by, peering over their shoulders. “Ah! Very good teamwork,” he said, pleased. “You see? Math is like friendship. You do not shout. You sit. You think.”
Ae-sun smiled at that.
Min-sung glanced at her, then back at the numbers, heart steadying in a way he didn’t quite understand.
At the back of the room, Hyun-woo leaned toward So-hee and whispered, “If this were a game, Min-sung would be carrying.”
So-hee nodded solemnly. “And Ae-sun just unlocked a new level.”
At the front, Mr. Sakamoto clapped his hands once. “Alright! Next problem. No fear. Fear makes numbers angry.”
The ocean shimmered outside the window, chalk dust floated in the air, and for once, math felt almost gentle.
The classroom hummed quietly, students scribbling numbers or tapping pencils. Ae-sun hunched over her notebook, eyes narrowed at a particularly tricky problem. Min-sung leaned against the edge of her desk, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning her calculations.
“See,” he said softly, “you’re skipping this step here.” He leaned slightly closer to point, his shoulder brushing against hers just enough for Ae-sun to notice without moving.
She stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away, craning her neck to follow his pen. Their chairs were closer than usual—Ae-sun had scooted forward a little, and Min-sung had adjusted his chair without realizing, the gap between them now barely noticeable.
“Ah… okay,” she murmured, and he tilted his head slightly to watch, his presence steadying her focus.
When she moved her notebook to line it up with his for clarity, their knees brushed lightly under the desk. Ae-sun froze for half a second, the accidental contact sending a small ripple through her, but she told herself it was nothing.
“Better,” Min-sung said quietly, straightening. He didn’t move away, though, just stayed there, quietly observing her work. The ocean light coming through the window caught his profile, and Ae-sun blinked, shaking off her thoughts.
For the next few minutes, they worked side by side, leaning in just enough that the world outside—the noisy chatter, So-hee’s whispers, Hyun-woo’s fidgeting—faded into the background. Just her, him, the numbers, and the soft rhythm of pencils scratching on paper.
By the time Mr. Sakamoto strolled by, cheerfully clapping his hands, Ae-sun realized she’d actually understood the problem. And Min-sung… well, he didn’t smile, but the faint tilt of his lips suggested he knew she had.
The bell would ring soon. Ten minutes left in class. And somehow, the math wasn’t the only thing that felt a little easier to navigate.
The problem was already solved.
Ae-sun stared at the page anyway, pencil hovering like she was waiting for it to argue back. Min-sung knew she understood it—he’d watched her get there step by step—but he didn’t move away.
Instead, he pointed at the margin.
“You could also do it this way,” he said quietly, even though it was unnecessary. “It’s… longer. But safer.”
She glanced up at him. “Oh.”
He leaned in slightly to write the alternative steps, careful not to crowd her space. Their shoulders brushed, just barely, the contact light enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.
“Yours was fine,” he added after a moment, almost reluctantly.
Ae-sun smiled at that, small and surprised. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
They fell silent again—but it wasn’t the awkward kind. Just… suspended.
Ae-sun looked up once more, meaning to say thank you, and caught him already looking at her.
Not quickly. Not accidentally.
Their eyes met.
One second passed.
Then another.
Min-sung didn’t look away first this time.
“I—” he started, then paused, as if recalculating. “You always get the concepts. You just hesitate.”
She blinked. “I do?”
“Mm.” His gaze dropped to her notebook, then back to her face. “You don’t need to.”
The words settled between them, heavier than a math tip should be.
Ae-sun’s fingers tightened around her pencil. “I guess… I don’t like being wrong.”
He considered that. “Neither do I.”
That made her laugh—quiet, but real.
The sound seemed to surprise him. His lips twitched, almost a smile.
“You draw during breaks,” he said suddenly, like he’d been holding onto the thought. “What do you usually draw?”
Ae-sun hesitated, then answered, voice soft. “Flowers. Mostly.”
He nodded, as if filing it away carefully. “They’re… detailed.”
She looked at him again, a little startled by the observation. Their eyes met once more—just a beat too long—before the bell rang, sharp and loud.
They both flinched, then laughed softly at the same time.
Min-sung straightened, clearing his throat. “Uh—good job. Today.”
“You too,” Ae-sun replied.
As they packed up, neither of them missed the fact that, for the first time, he’d started the conversation—
and she’d wanted it to continue.
After that moment, Mr. Sakamoto launched into a few more problems, pacing the aisles with his usual enthusiasm and occasional jokes that made half the class laugh and the other half groan. Ae-sun and Min-sung stayed paired, exchanging quiet comments when they needed to, their voices low and careful. The numbers came easier now—not because they were simpler, but because the tension had softened into something comfortable.
Min-sung explained less. Ae-sun asked more.
Once or twice, their eyes met again—brief, accidental, quickly averted—but each time felt a little less startling than before.
When the bell finally rang, Mr. Sakamoto clapped his hands and declared, “Good work today! Math did not defeat you.”
April 16, 2004 11:49PM— Gimnyeong-ri High School, Jeju
The class flowed out into the hallway.
By the time the next period ended, the day had slipped into its familiar rhythm: lectures, notes, the quiet scratch of pencils, the ocean visible through passing windows as students moved from room to room. Ae-sun found herself glancing sideways more often than usual, and Min-sung—who normally vanished into his own silence—stayed nearby without explanation.
Then came the sound everyone was waiting for.
Lunch bell.
Chairs scraped back, conversations erupted, and the hallway filled again. So-hee immediately appeared at Ae-sun’s side, already complaining about how hungry she was, while Hyun-woo trailed behind, half-asleep and dramatic as ever.
Ae-sun gathered her lunch bag, heart oddly light.
Across the room, Min-sung zipped his backpack and looked up just in time for their eyes to meet once more—easy this time, unforced.
Lunch didn’t even fully begin before So-hee clapped her hands once, eyes bright with a dangerous idea.
“Okay,” she announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “We’re not eating in the cafeteria today.”
Hyun-woo squinted at her. “Did something happen to the cafeteria?”
“No,” she said cheerfully. “But something better exists.”
Ae-sun hesitated. “Better… how?”
So-hee was already walking. “Fresh air. Quiet. No teachers yelling at us to sit properly. Trust me.”
Min-sung followed without comment, hands in his pockets, as if this were all part of a routine he hadn’t been told about but accepted anyway.
They slipped down a side corridor most students ignored, past old notice boards and a narrow stairwell that smelled faintly of dust and cleaning solution. At the end was a small staff closet—paint peeling, door propped open.
Inside, an older man was sorting supplies, humming to himself.
So-hee leaned in, grinning. “Uncle Do-shik!”
The man looked up and smiled immediately. “Ah, So-hee. Skipping lunch again?”
“Just relocating,” she said sweetly. Then, without shame, added, “Can we climb the wall again?”
Uncle Do-shik sighed like this was a conversation he’d had a hundred times. “Only if you don’t fall. And don’t make noise.”
“We won’t!” she said instantly, already backing away.
Hyun-woo mouthed, again? at Ae-sun, who looked equal parts nervous and curious.
Behind the closet was a low stone wall, half-hidden by overgrown grass and salt-worn shrubs. It wasn’t tall—but tall enough to feel like crossing a boundary.
So-hee climbed first, practiced and quick. Hyun-woo followed, grumbling but eager. Ae-sun hesitated, gripping the stone, unsure—
Min-sung stepped closer.
“You can step here,” he said quietly, pointing. “It’s stable.”
She nodded and climbed, heart pounding.
And then—
Beyond the wall, the world opened.
Rocks stretched out below them, dark and uneven, kissed by white sea foam. The ocean tides rolled in slow and endless, crashing softly against the shore. No voices. No bells. Just wind and water and sky.
Ae-sun inhaled sharply.
“Oh…”
So-hee beamed like she’d just revealed a secret treasure. “Told you.”
They sat on the rocks, lunch bags forgotten for a moment, the salt air curling around them. Min-sung settled beside Ae-sun—not too close, not too far—both of them facing the sea.
So-hee stood up on the rocks like she was about to make an announcement to the entire ocean.
She planted her feet wide, hands on her hips, chin lifted proudly as the wind tugged at her hair. “You’re welcome,” she declared.
Hyun-woo squinted up at her. “For what?”
“For this,” she said, sweeping an arm dramatically at the sea, the rocks, the sky. “For saving you from the cafeteria’s mystery stew. For expanding your world.”
Ae-sun laughed softly, hugging her lunch bag to her chest. “You didn’t even explain where we were.”
“That’s because explaining ruins the magic,” So-hee replied. She turned in a slow circle, nearly slipping before catching herself. “Behold—So-hee’s Secret Spot. Population: elite.”
Min-sung watched her with quiet amusement, eyes following her movements to make sure she didn’t actually fall. “You’ve brought people here before,” he said.
“Obviously,” she said. “But not everyone. You guys should feel honored.”
Hyun-woo clapped lazily. “Speech! Speech!”
So-hee bowed exaggeratedly, nearly toppling again. “I’d like to thank the ocean for existing, the wall for being climbable, and Uncle Do-shik for pretending not to see us.”
Ae-sun smiled, the sound of the waves filling the pauses between their voices. So-hee finally plopped down beside them, satisfied, grinning like she’d just won something invisible.
“Told you,” she said. “Fresh air fixes everything.”
And for once, no one argued.
Hyun-woo wandered closer to the water’s edge, crouching down to sift through the scattered stones. He picked one up, turned it over in his fingers like he was inspecting something important, then straightened.
“Alright,” he announced. “Observe.”
He flicked the pebble toward the water.
It bounced once.
Twice.
Then sank immediately.
Ae-sun blinked. “That… was only two.”
“So?” Hyun-woo said defensively. “Quality over quantity.”
So-hee snorted. “You threw it like you were apologizing to the ocean.”
“Okay, okay, let me try again.”
He grabbed another stone, this one flatter, and swung his arm with far too much confidence. The pebble skipped once and then shot off at a weird angle, splashing closer to the rocks than intended.
So-hee burst out laughing. “You’re banned.”
Ae-sun picked up a small stone herself, hesitating. “I’ve never done it before.”
Min-sung glanced at her hand. “Aim lower,” he said quietly. “And don’t use your wrist. Use your arm.”
She nodded, focused, and tossed the stone.
It skipped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Ae-sun gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “I did it!”
Hyun-woo stared. “Beginner’s luck.”
Min-sung watched the ripples fade, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.
So-hee flopped down onto the rocks, propping her chin on her hands like she was about to tell a story no one could escape.
“You want the real story of this place?” she asked, eyes sparkling. “Not the boring, obvious part where we climb a wall and get to see the ocean?”
Hyun-woo leaned back lazily, clearly ready for a dramatic tale. Ae-sun tucked her legs under her, curious. Min-sung just tilted his head, silent but attentive.
“So,” So-hee began, “years ago—like, way before any of you were born—I found this spot because Uncle Do-shik—my personal hero—told me about a wall nobody notices.” She gestured to the one they had climbed. “He said it was his secret place, but I… borrowed it.”
Ae-sun tilted her head. “Borrowed?”
“Yes! Borrowed. I mean, technically, it’s still Uncle Do-shik’s, but he doesn’t care as long as I don’t fall off.” She wiggled her fingers like she was emphasizing don’t fall off.
Hyun-woo snorted. “Sounds like a lifelong passcode to trouble.”
“Exactly!” So-hee said. “And the best part—beyond the wall? Rocks, ocean, quiet. It’s like the world stops for a second. Nobody bothers you. No cafeteria food, no teachers, no other students.”
Ae-sun glanced at the waves below, the sunlight sparkling on the water, the rhythm of the tides almost hypnotic. “It really does feel… different,” she murmured.
Min-sung nodded subtly, gaze steady on the horizon. “Hidden well,” he said simply.
So-hee clapped her hands together. “Right? And now, you’re all officially part of the elite club of people who know it exists. Don’t forget—your oath is: respect the spot, don’t make noise, and never, ever push anyone off the wall.”
They all laughed softly, and for a moment, the ocean and the wind and So-hee’s endless energy made the world feel quietly magical.
The group eventually settled on a flatter stretch of rock, backs against the low wall, staring up at the sky.
“So,” So-hee said, “clouds. Who can see the best shapes?”
Hyun-woo squinted and immediately declared, “A dragon. Obviously.”
Ae-sun lay back slowly, letting her sketchbook rest on her chest, and tilted her head toward the clouds. At first, she didn’t see much—but then a wispy shape drifted across the pale blue, and her lips curved. “That one… looks like a bird with long wings.”
Min-sung, surprisingly, didn’t look away. He followed the cloud’s drift, pointing subtly with a finger. “That… maybe like a sailboat,” he said quietly.
Ae-sun turned her head toward him. “A sailboat? I… see it,” she murmured, impressed that he had noticed.
They fell silent, side by side, their shoulders almost touching, eyes tracing the shifting clouds. The occasional gust of wind ruffled their hair, the distant sound of waves crashing beneath them blending into a soft rhythm.
Hyun-woo and So-hee were still arguing over dragons versus mermaids, but Ae-sun barely noticed.
For a long while, the only movement was the clouds drifting lazily across the sky and the subtle awareness of -Min-sung’s presence beside her. No words were necessary; the quiet, shared moment stretched on comfortably, like the tide itself.
Ae-sun realized, softly, that this—this quiet, unobtrusive closeness—felt… safe. And she liked it more than she expected.
Ae-sun had shifted on the rocks, trying to find a comfortable position. Between the uneven stones and the way she had curled her legs under her, her muscles tensed without her noticing.
“Ow…” she muttered suddenly, pressing her thigh. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Ah—my leg’s cramping.”
Min-sung, who had been quietly observing the waves beside her, glanced over immediately. “Here?” His voice was low, calm, almost careful.
She hesitated, cheeks warming. “Uh… yeah. I… I just need to stretch it.”
He paused for a fraction of a second, then, in that same quiet, measured way he did everything, shifted slightly and motioned her to rest her legs across his lap. “Just… horizontal. Should be easier.”
Ae-sun blinked. “Oh—okay…”
She lifted her legs gingerly, placing them on his thighs. Min-sung’s hands hovered for a moment, awkward but steady, before he began to gently massage her calves and thighs, his touch careful, not lingering unnecessarily.
Ae-sun exhaled, the tension slowly easing. “…Thanks,” she murmured softly, unsure why her heart was beating a little faster.
Min-sung didn’t respond immediately—he just kept moving his hands with quiet focus, thumbs pressing lightly along the muscle. He didn’t look at her face, only at her legs, maintaining a sort of respectful, concentrated calm.
“So-hee,” Hyun-woo called from a few feet away, breaking the quiet, “I think she’s part octopus now.”
Ae-sun flushed and laughed nervously. Min-sung’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but he didn’t stop the massage, only glanced up briefly.
Minutes passed in a comfortable silence, broken only by the distant rhythm of the waves. Ae-sun flexed her leg slowly, feeling the tension melt, and carefully pulled it back once she felt better.
“Better?” Min-sung asked.
She nodded, cheeks still a little warm. “Yeah… much better.”
The bell rang, sharp and final, pulling the group away from the seaside spot. Ae-sun tucked her sketchbook back in her bag, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and followed the others back to the classroom.
When they arrived, the room was quiet. The teacher hadn’t come in yet, and a few early students were scattered around, chatting quietly or fiddling with pens. Ae-sun and Min-sung slid into their usual paired desks. The desks were the kind used in many Chinese high schools—tight together, two students to a table, practically glued side by side.
Ae-sun shifted uncomfortably, stretching her legs under the desk. Another cramp hit—small, sharp. She froze.
Without a word, Min-sung subtly moved his knees just enough for her to rest her legs across his lap again. She blinked, surprised, then eased them into place. He didn’t look up from his notebook, but his hands remained lightly on her calves, adjusting just enough to make her comfortable.
So-hee, who had already plopped into the row behind them with Hyun-woo, almost choked on her juice.
“Wait—wait, what?!” she whispered, wide-eyed. “She’s—again? On his lap?”
Hyun-woo nearly fell out of his chair laughing, pointing with both hands. “Are they rehearsing for some secret drama?! This is high school shipping level: maximum!”
So-hee pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle giggles, but her eyes kept darting forward. “I—oh no. I can’t. I just can’t deal with this in front of the class!”
Ae-sun, oblivious, was quietly grateful for the relief. She whispered a tiny, “Thanks…” and focused back on her notebook.
Min-sung, still unreadable, scribbled a few numbers and equations, completely ignoring the chaos behind him. He didn’t need to say anything; the gesture said everything.
So-hee whispered to Hyun-woo, gesturing wildly with her straw. “Look at them! Do you see that? Her legs! His lap! I can’t—”
Hyun-woo snorted, elbowing her. “It’s okay. I’m taking notes for the fanfic later.”
Ae-sun’s cheeks warmed slightly, not because she noticed them—but because of the closeness, the subtle care, the tiny moment that made math class feel… softer somehow.
Meanwhile, So-hee and Hyun-woo quietly continued their commentary, whispering increasingly ridiculous theories about what the next few minutes might hold, all while Ae-sun and Min-sung simply stayed side by side, the room fading away around them.
The classroom smelled faintly of chalk and old textbooks. Ae-sun shifted slightly in her chair, her legs still perched across Min-sung’s lap from habit—the cramped position from lunch at the seaside spot hadn’t helped. A small cramp shot up her calf, and she sighed softly.
Min-sung, sitting beside her as usual, glanced down. “Still uncomfortable?” he asked quietly, voice low enough that no one else could hear.
Ae-sun bit her lip. “…A little.”
Without a word, Min-sung moved his hands just slightly, pressing and kneading her calf gently. His touch was careful and precise, enough to ease the tension without drawing attention. Ae-sun exhaled.
She focused back on the blackboard as the teacher wrote a complex sentence in Hangul, but she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. The quiet care in his touch lingered longer than necessary, leaving her slightly flustered—but she appreciated it too much to pull away.
Min-sung glanced back at the board after a moment, still steady, still calm, his presence grounding her in a way the classroom couldn’t.
And all the while, Ae-sun’s legs rested on his lap, just comfortably enough that it felt natural, safe, and… nice.
April 16, 2004 4:36PM — Gimnyeong-ro-7-gil
So-hee didn’t even wait for Ae-sun to fully stand up before pouncing.
She slid in front of her, arms crossed, eyes sharp and far too awake for someone who’d just survived Hangul class. “Okay,” she said. “Explain.”
Ae-sun blinked. “E-Explain what?”
So-hee leaned in, lowering her voice dramatically. “Lap privileges.”
Ae-sun’s face went blank. Then red. Very red. “What—?!”
Hyun-woo, already slinging his bag over his shoulder, paused mid-step. “Oh, don’t pretend,” he added cheerfully. “We all saw it. Legs. Lap. Massage. Whole thing.”
“There was no—!” Ae-sun sputtered, hands flying up. “It was just—my leg cramped!”
So-hee gasped, clutching her chest. “So he comforted you? In class?”
Ae-sun glanced back instinctively. Min-sung was still at his desk, calmly packing his books, completely unaffected by the chaos unfolding a few feet away.
“He was just being… helpful,” Ae-sun muttered, trying very hard not to combust.
“So helpful,” Hyun-woo nodded seriously, “that I’m surprised he didn’t bring a blanket.”
“So helpful,” So-hee echoed, eyes glittering, “that I’m officially upgrading this from ‘forced childhood neighbors’ to ‘suspicious slow-burn.’”
Ae-sun buried her face in her hands. “You’re both impossible…”
From behind them, Min-sung finally stood, adjusted his bag strap, and walked past—expression blank as ever.
So-hee watched him go, then turned back to Ae-sun with a wicked grin.
“Oh, Ae-sun,” she said softly. “You are done for.”
Ae-sun had no idea what that meant—but judging by her burning ears, it probably wasn’t good.
So-hee watched Min-sung disappear down the hallway, then slowly turned back to Ae-sun with a look that made her stomach drop.
She clapped her hands once. Loud.
“Alright,” So-hee announced, voice carrying just a bit too far. “I’ve decided.”
Ae-sun stiffened. “Decided what.”
“The ship name.”
Hyun-woo perked up instantly. “Oh? Already?”
“Yes,” So-hee said firmly. “Because after today, it’s no longer theoretical.”
Ae-sun groaned. “So-hee, please—”
“So,” So-hee continued, ignoring her completely, “we have Choi Ae-sun and Lee Min-sung.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Choi-Lee? No. Min-sun? Too obvious.”
Hyun-woo snapped his fingers. “SunSung!”
So-hee grimaced. “Sounds like a detergent.”
Ae-sun covered her face with her notebook. “You’re doing this in the hallway…”
So-hee’s eyes lit up. “Aesung.”
Hyun-woo nodded approvingly. “Clean. Efficient. Romantic.”
“It is none of those,” Ae-sun muttered, cheeks burning.
So-hee grabbed her shoulders dramatically. “Congratulations,” she declared. “From this moment on, you are officially sailing.”
“Sailing where?!” Ae-sun hissed.
“Toward inevitable feelings,” Hyun-woo said cheerfully.
Right on cue, Min-sung glanced back down the hallway, just in time to see Ae-sun flustered and So-hee making wild hand gestures. He paused, unreadable, then turned away again.
So-hee leaned in close to Ae-sun’s ear. “He looked back,” she whispered.
Ae-sun froze.
“So,” So-hee added smugly, “ship confirmed.”
Ae-sun barely had time to react before So-hee was already halfway down the hallway, waving her arm wildly.
“Bye, Ae-sun!!” So-hee called over her shoulder, practically sprinting. “We’re getting tteokbokki before the rain gets serious!”
Hyun-woo jogged beside her, laughing. “If we’re late, I’m blaming you!”
“Worth it!” So-hee shouted back.
Just like that, they were gone—voices fading down the stairs, leaving the hallway suddenly quieter.
Ae-sun stood there, blinking, then looked toward the windows. Outside, the sky had darkened, gray clouds rolling in from the ocean. A few drops of rain began to tap softly against the glass.
“…I forgot my umbrella,” she murmured.
Min-sung, standing beside her, followed her gaze. He paused, then reached into his bag and pulled out a black umbrella, simple and slightly worn. He didn’t look at her as he spoke.
“You can share mine.”
Ae-sun looked up at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”
He nodded once. “It’s on the way.”
They stepped outside together. By the time they reached the school gates, the rain had picked up, light but steady. Min-sung opened the umbrella, holding it a little higher than necessary. Ae-sun moved closer so they could both fit beneath it, their shoulders brushing.
The sound of rain filled the space between them, soft and constant.
They walked in silence at first, careful to match each other’s pace. Ae-sun could smell the faint scent of detergent on his jacket, feel the warmth radiating from his arm.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
Min-sung adjusted the umbrella slightly so it covered her more. “You’re welcome.”
Behind them, somewhere near the street, So-hee’s voice echoed faintly—probably still talking about ship names. Ae-sun smiled to herself as the rain continued to fall, the world narrowed down to the steady rhythm of footsteps and the shared shelter above their heads.
The rain fell steadily, a soft rhythm on the black umbrella above them. The streets glistened, slick from the afternoon drizzle, and the distant hum of the ocean drifted in from the harbor.
Ae-sun walked slightly closer, careful to stay under the umbrella. She noticed that Min-sung kept angling it subtly toward her, shielding her from the rain while letting the water hit his own shoulder and sleeve.
“You’re getting wet,” she murmured softly, glancing at him.
He didn’t look at her. “It’s fine,” he said simply, adjusting the umbrella again to cover her more fully.
She hesitated for a moment, feeling a little guilty, but the warmth under the umbrella—and the steady presence beside her—made her heart skip.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Min-sung’s grip on the handle didn’t change. “Just… hold still,” he replied, voice low and calm, almost as if the rain and the walk were the only things that mattered.
Ae-sun hugged herself slightly, shivering as the rain chilled her fingers. Her breath puffed out in small clouds, and she hesitated, glancing at Min-sung.
“…Can… I…?” she began, her voice uncertain. “Could I… put my hand in your pocket?”
Min-sung glanced at her briefly, expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he shifted his hand slightly inside the pocket of his jacket.
Ae-sun’s hand slipped in gingerly, her fingers brushing against his. She stiffened slightly, the warmth spreading immediately through her fingers.
“You’re… cold,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
“I—thanks,” she said softly, unsure whether to look at him or the wet street beneath their feet.
He adjusted the umbrella just a fraction again, tilting it more over her, and she realized his shoulder was getting wetter—but he didn’t move back.
Ae-sun froze mid-step, looking down. “Ah… my shoe,” she muttered, frowning at the velcro strap of her school shoe that had come undone.
Min-sung stopped immediately. “Let me,” he said simply.
She hesitated for a moment, then handed him the umbrella. “Okay… but don’t get too wet.”
He knelt down carefully on the slick street, holding the velcro strap in his hands. Ae-sun balanced the umbrella over him, a little awkwardly, making sure the rain didn’t hit him too much.
“Thanks,” she said softly, keeping her voice low.
Min-sung didn’t reply. His focus was on the strap, but she noticed the small details—the careful way he aligned the shoe, the slight furrow of his brows, the way his sleeves got damp from the rain without complaint.
Ae-sun’s heart skipped a beat when his hands brushed hers slightly as he fastened the second strap. “Almost done,” he murmured.
She nodded, gripping the umbrella a little tighter. The sound of the rain, the wet streets, the faint smell of tteokbokki from the distant stall—all of it faded behind the quiet intimacy of the moment.
“There,” he said finally, straightening up. “Secure.”
Ae-sun smiled, a little embarrassed but grateful. “Thanks… again.”
Min-sung adjusted the umbrella over them, tilting it slightly toward her once more, and they continued walking down the rainy streets, side by side, the world softened by rain and small, careful gestures.
They slowed down as Ae-sun’s house came into view, the familiar blue gate and little garden making her stomach flutter in a comfortable, homey way. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, the streets glistening under the soft afternoon light.
Min-sung held the umbrella a little lower now, letting it cover mostly her. Ae-sun hesitated at the gate, shifting on her feet, unsure how to pull away from this slow, quiet walk.
“Thanks… for walking me home,” she murmured, voice soft.
Min-sung inclined his head slightly, expression unreadable but calm. “You’re welcome.”
They lingered like that, a small pause stretching into a fragile, perfect silence. Ae-sun’s eyes flicked up at him; he didn’t look at her, but somehow she felt seen.
Then—suddenly—Min-sung’s phone rang, loud and unmistakable.
“Oiiii… why won’t you pick up…”
Ae-sun froze, her eyes widening. That tone—that was her voicemail. From months ago. The one she left when he was supposed to pick her up for a school event while her parents were away.
Min-sung’s lips twitched slightly, almost a smirk, though his face remained mostly unreadable. Ae-sun’s hand shot up, covering her mouth.
“You… you set that as your ringtone?” she whispered, disbelief and amusement battling in her voice.
He looked at her calmly, holding up the phone in one hand. “Sorry..” He said as he awkwardly bowed his head.
Her blush deepened as she took a step back—but her feet didn’t move far. She awkwardly glanced at him, shaking her head. “I— It’s alright!-“
For a long moment, neither spoke. And in that quiet, under the umbrella, the streets of Jeju, the rain, and the slow-burn of their connection felt… entirely theirs.
Finally, Ae-sun sighed softly. “Bye bye!!” She said as she waved at him with a smile that made him weak.
Min-sung gave the faintest nod, trying to play it cool, “Mm..”
She stepped through her gate, glanced back, and their eyes met one last time before the door closed softly behind her.
Ae-sun stepped inside, shaking off the damp from the drizzle, and was immediately met with the comforting aroma of her mother’s cooking—spicy kimchi stew mingling with the faint sweetness of freshly steamed rice. Her stomach growled, but she barely registered it.
She had one thing on her mind: logging into Bullet Storm. Her minicomputer sat waiting on the desk, the familiar login screen promising hours of escape and strategy. She padded toward it, excitement bubbling.
“…Ae-sun?” her mother called from the kitchen, voice gentle but firm.
She paused, hand hovering over the keyboard. “…Yes?”
“I need you to call your friends’ households,” her mother said. “We’re celebrating Min-sung’s grandfather’s retirement this weekend. Make sure everyone can come.”
Ae-sun groaned inwardly but nodded. “O-okay.”
Dragging herself to the telephone, she started dialing. First, the Lees—Min-sung’s parents picked up almost instantly. She conveyed the details quietly and efficiently, careful not to make it awkward. Next, the Kims—So-hee’s household, which erupted into a burst of enthusiasm on the other end, So-hee herself shouting in the background. Finally, the Kangs—Hyun-woo’s family, who were polite but teasing in their tone.
“Done,” Ae-sun muttered, sinking into a chair. She rubbed her temples and finally turned toward her computer, ready to dive into Bullet Storm as Hydrangea.
But before she could lift the lid, the doorbell rang.
She glanced up and blinked. Standing there was Min-sung, dripping slightly from the rain, a faint curl of steam still rising from his hair from the shower he must have taken right after getting home.
“…You’re early,” she said softly, surprised.
He didn’t answer immediately—just gave a small, neutral nod and stepped inside, shaking off the remaining droplets. His usual unreadable calm was present, but Ae-sun could feel the subtle warmth radiating from him as he moved past her.
She barely had time to breathe before realizing that this would not be a quiet, solo session of Bullet Storm after all.
The living room was gradually filling with warmth and chatter. Ae-sun had finally managed to get a few rounds of Bullet Storm in, though Min-sung had quietly settled nearby, watching her more than playing himself.
A soft creak came from the stairs, followed by a groan.
“Ugh… why is it so bright?”
Eun-woo appeared, tousled hair and half-open eyes betraying a day spent almost entirely in bed. His fever had given him a free day from school, but now, rubbing his temples, he trudged downstairs.
“Eun-woo,” Ae-sun said, standing quickly. “You’re up!”
He grumbled something incoherent, collapsing onto the sofa, still shivering slightly. Ae-sun placed a blanket over him before turning back to the kitchen.
Not long after, the doorbell rang again. This time, it was Min-sung’s family—his grandfather, mother, and father—arriving with trays of food. Min-sung followed them in, his calm presence easing into the bustle effortlessly.
Ju-kyung, who had been quietly playing with her dolls in the corner, suddenly perked up.
“Min-sung-ssi!” she shouted, running as fast as her little legs would carry her.
Ae-sun blinked. “Huh…?”
Before she could react, Ju-kyung reached him, wrapping her tiny arms around his leg and refusing to let go. Min-sung froze for a moment, expression blank, then crouched slightly so she wouldn’t strain herself. His hand rested gently on her head as if to steady her, his movements careful, almost protective.
Ae-sun watched, baffled but amused. “Why… does she like you so much?” she asked quietly, half to herself.
Min-sung didn’t answer. He simply helped Ae-sun carry plates to the table, one hand on the dishes, the other carefully keeping Ju-kyung’s grip secure as she happily clung to him.
The scene was oddly heartwarming: the little sister laughing, Min-sung steady and patient, and Ae-sun caught somewhere between admiration and quiet envy at how naturally he handled it.
The table slowly filled with dishes—steaming rice, seasoned vegetables, kimchi, and other home-cooked delights—while the chatter of families mingled, Eun-woo groaning softly from the couch, and Ju-kyung happily settled at Min-sung’s side.
Ae-sun couldn’t help but notice: for all his usual cold and reserved demeanor, Min-sung had a way of making everyone, even the smallest and loudest, feel completely safe. And in that moment, she felt a little closer to understanding why Ju-kyung adored him so much.
Soon enough, the door opened again, and the Kang and Kim families poured in, laughter and chatter filling every corner of Ae-sun’s home. The living room became a whirlwind of voices, clinking dishes, and excited movement—almost too much for Ae-sun’s sensitive nerves.
So-hee, ever perceptive, noticed Ae-sun shrinking slightly into herself, shoulders tensing as the social anxiety crept in. She clapped her hands together, decisive as ever.
“Right!” she said. “The kids and teens are going upstairs! There’s enough space in Ae-sun’s room, and we can eat there. Less… chaos.”
Eun-woo and Ju-kyung’s eyes lit up instantly, while Hyun-woo and So-hee started corralling the other kids. Ae-sun hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
“Upstairs… okay,” she murmured, relieved. “That’s… fine.”
The group migrated upstairs, setting the room into a cozy makeshift dining area with mats and small plates. The chatter and laughter continued, but in a controlled, contained way that made Ae-sun’s anxiety ease.
Meanwhile, Min-sung stayed downstairs with the adults for now, helping with dishes and serving food. Ae-sun’s mind kept drifting back to her Bullet Storm minicomputer sitting quietly on the desk in her room. She wanted to play, but she knew better than to do it in front of so many people. Her FPS skills were a secret—top-tier, hidden even from her closest friends. She had cultivated the perfect cover story: “I only play Tamagotchi Go or pet simulator games.” Anyone asking about online gaming would hear about virtual pets and farming sims, nothing more.
Min-sung occasionally thought about her—Hydrangea, the anonymous Bullet Storm player he had almost figured out. A small mishap had made him suspicious: maybe a reaction, a comment, or a familiar tactic in-game. But every time, Ae-sun denied it.
“Hydrangea? That’s… not me,” she said firmly whenever the topic almost came up. “I only play Tamagotchi Go.”
He believed her. Or at least, he said he did.
Upstairs, the kids and teens ate together, the room filled with giggles, light teasing, and the occasional crumb flying onto the floor. Ae-sun watched from a corner, quietly content. She was surrounded by friends and family—but for once, it didn’t feel overwhelming. The space was small, safe, and her secret could remain just that: hers.
And somewhere downstairs, Min-sung thought about her, the careful smile she gave when no one was looking, and the mystery of the hidden FPS player known as Hydrangea, not realizing how close he already was to the truth.
The upstairs room was a whirlwind of laughter, blankets, and scattered plates of tteokbokki. Hyun-woo leaned forward with a mischievous grin, holding a particularly fiery-looking piece between his chopsticks.
“So-hee,” he said conspiratorially, “I dare you to eat this one. Extra spicy. You can’t back out.”
So-hee gasped, dramatic as ever, while Ae-sun’s eyes flicked to the offending piece on the plate. She tilted her head, realizing quietly that skipping it was a very good idea.
“Uh… no thanks,” Ae-sun said softly, and the corners of her lips curled as she watched the scene unfold.
So-hee, trusting Hyun-woo a little too much, popped the spicy piece into her mouth. Within seconds, her eyes widened, she gasped, and a cough escaped.
“W-what is this?!” she exclaimed, grabbing for her water bottle. Hyun-woo dissolved into laughter, clutching his stomach.
Ae-sun couldn’t help it—she laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. It was a soft, musical sound that stood out amidst the chaotic room, and for a moment, she felt completely at ease, happy she hadn’t eaten that particular piece herself.
Ju-kyung, meanwhile, had been tucked away in Eun-woo’s room for the night, fast asleep after her earlier excitement, leaving the older kids to navigate the chaos of the tteokbokki feast.
The laughter, teasing, and playful chaos continued around her, but Ae-sun leaned back, smiling softly, quietly enjoying the lighthearted energy without getting swept up in it herself. The moment was small, but perfect.
The room was at peak chaos. So-hee had just leaned over Ae-sun’s tiny trash can, dramatically gagging as the extra-spicy tteokbokki overpowered her. “I—I can’t—ugh!” she wheezed, clutching her stomach.
Hyun-woo, ever the brave (or reckless) one, had taken a bite too. His face turned red, eyes watering. He stumbled back, gulping from his water bottle. “W-what is in this stuff?!”
Amid all the uproar, Ae-sun sat quietly on the floor, earbuds in, music flowing softly. Her fingers tapped lightly against her knees as she watched the chaos unfold in a calm bubble of her own making. She smiled quietly to herself, glad she’d skipped that piece of tteokbokki.
The door opened suddenly, and Min-sung stepped in, the sound of the latch echoing over the cacophony. The room froze for a split second. So-hee, mid-gag, paused, water bottle halfway to her lips. Hyun-woo blinked, hand still clutching his throat.
Min-sung’s expression was his usual unreadable calm, though a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he might be slightly… entertained?
Without a word, he moved past the commotion, scanning the room with sharp, quiet eyes. Ae-sun, still seated and lost in music, barely registered him at first. She hummed along to her song, tapping the rhythm with her fingers.
So-hee groaned quietly, now realizing Min-sung was there. “Uh-oh…” she muttered. Hyun-woo coughed nervously, lowering his bottle.
Min-sung didn’t comment. He simply walked toward Ae-sun’s corner, where she was calmly observing the chaos, and glanced at her screen.
“…Music again?” he asked, voice low and neutral.
Ae-sun shrugged, taking out one earbud. “Yeah… it helps.”
He nodded slightly, settling into a quiet spot nearby. The room was still chaotic, but somehow, the calm presence of Min-sung made Ae-sun feel a little safer, a little more grounded, even as So-hee and Hyun-woo struggled with the aftereffects of their spicy rebellion.
For now, the chaos could continue around them—but in her bubble of music, and with Min-sung quietly watching nearby, Ae-sun felt perfectly content.
Ae-sun had been reaching for a small plate of snacks that had rolled just a little too far across the floor. She leaned forward carefully, but her foot caught the edge of a mat, and before she could steady herself, she tumbled backward.
Her back hit something solid, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on top of Min-sung, facing him. The world seemed to narrow to his unreadable expression just inches from hers.
He didn’t panic. He only shifted slightly to catch her weight, his hand unintentionally tightening on her waist to steady her, fingers firm but emotionless—like nothing had happened, though Ae-sun’s heart was racing.
“Ah—!” Ae-sun stammered, frozen halfway between shock and embarrassment. Her cheeks flamed red, and she tried to inch away without causing more imbalance.
Just then, the door creaked open.
“So-hee! Hyun-woo!” Ae-sun’s mind froze. And of course, So-hee and Hyun-woo walked in right at that moment, eyes widening instantly.
“So… are you two—what—?!” So-hee squealed, clutching her hands over her mouth.
Hyun-woo’s jaw dropped, eyes practically comically wide. “Wait… did I just—no, she’s on top of him?!”
Ae-sun scrambled, mumbling frantically, trying to explain herself. “I-I was reaching for the snack! I slipped! It’s nothing, I swear!”
Min-sung, utterly calm, simply adjusted his hand to gently keep her balanced, tilting the umbrella-less part of his shoulder to let her slide off safely. His face remained neutral, unreadable. No panic, no blush—just… him.
So-hee and Hyun-woo continued their immediate overreactions: So-hee flailing dramatically, Hyun-woo gasping and pointing, their imaginations running wild.
Ae-sun groaned, burying her face in her hands, while Min-sung finally helped her sit upright, his hand lingering only slightly on her waist before letting go.
“Safe?” he asked calmly.
“Y-yes!” she stammered, still flushed and flustered.
“So!” So-hee began, whisper-shouting, “Officially… you two are caught! Right? Right?!”
Hyun-woo nodded furiously. “This is huge! Do we ship now or—”
Ae-sun groaned again, mentally wishing she could disappear into the mat. Min-sung simply gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod toward her, then returned to silently stacking the snack plates—like nothing had happened, leaving Ae-sun caught somewhere between mortification and an odd, fluttering warmth as she threw him a pillow with a force as hard as a volleyball strike.
Ae-sun’s face was buried deep in a pillow, cheeks burning bright red from the earlier incident. She could hear So-hee and Hyun-woo whispering and snickering like maniacs, still completely misunderstanding what had happened.
Then, the door creaked open again. Ae-sun stiffened, glancing up just enough to see her father stepping inside, a faint wobble in his stance. The faint smell of alcohol floated from him—a mixture of dinner wine and something stronger—making it immediately clear the adults downstairs had indulged a little.
“Alright…” he slurred slightly, voice carrying just enough to cut through the laughter and murmurs upstairs. “…A sleepover it is.”
So-hee’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “A—sleepover?!” she squealed, whisper-shouting.
Hyun-woo choked on a laugh. “Wait… is this… legal?!”
Ae-sun, still clutching her pillow to her face, groaned quietly. “Why… why are you even in here…”
Her father leaned against the doorframe, wobbly but beaming, clearly proud of himself. “Yeah, yeah! Everyone stays up here. Eat, play, whatever. No adults breathing down your neck.”
Min-sung, sitting a short distance away, didn’t flinch. He simply observed the room, expression unreadable as always. Ae-sun peeked out from behind the pillow just long enough to see him quietly adjust a blanket over his lap—still calm, still steady—while the chaos around them escalated.
So-hee whispered conspiratorially to Ae-sun, “See? I told you—this is fate! You’re officially stuck together now!”
Hyun-woo added dramatically, “And we have parental approval! This is huge!”
Ae-sun groaned, smothering another laugh and burying her face further into the pillow. Somewhere between mortification, disbelief, and the faint warmth of Min-sung silently beside her, she realized: the night had just officially entered chaos mode, and there was no turning back.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞