Chapter Text
The first snowflakes of the year danced lazily from the gray Seoul sky, blanketing the city in a soft, hushed white. Cha Eun-sang trudged up the stairs to her modest apartment, her breath forming misty clouds in the crisp air. It had been a long day at the university library, buried in textbooks and notes for her literature exams. Her coat was thin, a hand-me-down that barely warded off the chill, and she rubbed her hands together as she reached her door.
There, dangling from the doorknob like a forgotten Christmas ornament, was a vibrant red scarf. Eun-sang froze, her heart skipping a beat. It was the exact same one—bold crimson, soft wool, with that faint, familiar scent of expensive cologne clinging to it. Memories flooded back: high school hallways, tense stares, and Choi Young-do tossing it at her with that arrogant smirk, as if it meant nothing. But it had meant everything back then, a tangled thread in their complicated web of emotions.
She plucked it off the knob, her fingers tracing the fabric. Tucked inside was a small note, handwritten in bold, slanted script she recognized immediately. “This time I’m giving it to you properly. Wear it so I can find you in any crowd. – YD”
Eun-sang’s cheeks flushed, not just from the cold. Young-do? After all these years? They hadn’t spoken since graduation, when life had pulled them in different directions—her to scholarships and part-time jobs, him to the family business empire. She’d heard rumors: he was running Zeus Hotel now, sharp-suited and unapproachable. Why this? Why now?
She unlocked her door and stepped inside, the warmth of her tiny space enveloping her. Dropping her bag on the floor, she unfolded the scarf fully, wrapping it around her neck experimentally. It was ridiculously soft, warmer than anything she owned. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Idiot,” she muttered to herself, echoing his old nickname for her. But there was no bite in it, just a nostalgic ache.
That night, as snow piled up outside her window, Eun-sang couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, the note burning a hole in her mind. What did he want? Closure? A joke? Or… something more? By morning, the city was a winter wonderland, and she made a decision. She’d wear it. If nothing else, to see if he’d really show up.
The campus buzzed with students bundled against the cold, laughter echoing as snowballs flew. Eun-sang adjusted the red scarf as she walked to her first lecture, the color standing out like a beacon against her black coat. Heads turned, but she ignored them, her mind racing. What if it was a prank? What if—
“Cha Eun-sang.”
The voice was low, teasing, right behind her. She whirled around, nearly slipping on the icy path. There he was: Choi Young-do, taller than she remembered, his dark hair dusted with snowflakes, wearing a tailored wool coat that screamed luxury. His eyes, those piercing eyes, locked onto hers with that same intensity from high school, but softened now, almost vulnerable.
“Young-do?” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the scarf. A faint smile played on his lips. “You wore it. Good girl.”
Eun-sang’s face heated up. “It’s warm. That’s all.”
“Liar.” He reached out without warning, his gloved hands gently tugging the scarf tighter around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin, sending a jolt through her. “Idiot, you’ll catch a cold like this. It’s not even wrapped properly.”
His ears, peeking out from under his hair, turned a deep red—redder than the scarf. Eun-sang stared, caught off guard by the sight. The almighty Choi Young-do, blushing? “Are you… embarrassed?” she teased, her voice gaining confidence.
“Shut up,” he grumbled, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he lingered, adjusting the folds with unnecessary care. “It looks better on you now. Less like a rag I threw at a beggar.”
She swatted his hand lightly. “Hey! I wasn’t a beggar. And you didn’t throw it nicely back then.”
Young-do chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, well, I was an idiot too. Consider this my apology. Late, but proper.”
They stood there in the falling snow, the world fading around them. Students hurried past, but Eun-sang felt anchored by his presence. “Why now?” she asked softly. “After all this time?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Saw the forecast for first snow. Remembered how you always complained about the cold in high school. Figured you still do.”
“I don’t complain that much,” she protested, but her smile betrayed her.
“You do. ‘It’s freezing, Young-do! Why don’t you ever wear a scarf?’” He mimicked her voice terribly, high-pitched and whiny, making her laugh.
“Stop! I don’t sound like that!”
“You totally do.” His grin widened, boyish and genuine. “Come on, let’s walk. Your class is that way, right?”
“How do you know my schedule?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as they fell into step.
“I have my ways. Hotel mogul privileges.” He winked, but then his expression turned serious. “Actually, I asked around. Mutual friends. Didn’t want to stalk you or anything.”
Eun-sang raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like stalking.”
“Fine, maybe a little.” He admitted with a shrug. “But only because I missed bugging you.”
Her heart warmed at that. “You missed me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Cha Eun-sang.” But his red ears said otherwise.
As they walked, snow crunching under their boots, conversation flowed easier than she expected. “So, Zeus Hotel? CEO now?” she asked.
“Yeah. Dad handed over the reins last year. It’s… a lot. Board meetings, deals, the works. Boring as hell sometimes.”
“Sounds glamorous.”
“It’s not. You? Still buried in books?”
“Literature major. Dreaming of writing someday. But for now, exams and coffee.”
He nodded approvingly. “You always had that spark. Remember that essay you wrote in class? The one about lost dreams? Teacher raved about it.”
Eun-sang blinked. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you.” His voice dropped, sincere. “The way you’d bite your lip when nervous, how you’d stand up to me even when scared. You were the only one who did.”
She stopped walking, turning to face him. “Young-do… why the scarf? Really?”
He sighed, breath visible in the air. “Because back then, I was too proud to say I cared. Throwing it was my dumb way of showing it. Now? I want to do it right. No games.”
Her chest tightened. “And if I say no? If I throw it back?”
“You won’t.” Confidence laced his words, but his eyes pleaded.
She pretended to consider, then looped the scarf around his neck too, pulling him closer. “Fine. But only if you share it sometimes. Deal?”
“Deal.” He leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. “You’re freezing. Let’s get coffee. My treat.”
Inside the campus café, steam rising from their mugs, they talked for hours. “Remember that time you tripped me in the hallway?” Eun-sang said, sipping her latte.
“You deserved it. You ignored me all day.”
“I was avoiding your bullying!”
“Bullying? That was flirting.” He deadpanned, making her choke on her drink.
“Flirting? You’re delusional.”
“Am not. Admit it, you liked the attention.”
“Maybe a little,” she confessed, blushing. “But you were mean.”
“I know. Sorry.” He reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “Won’t happen again.”
The touch was electric, warm. “Good. Because I’m not that high school girl anymore.”
“And I’m not that jerk. Mostly.”
They laughed, the sound blending with the café’s chatter. As the afternoon waned, snow still falling outside, Young-do walked her back to her apartment. “Wear it tomorrow?” he asked at her door.
“Maybe. If you show up again.”
“Count on it.” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, Eun-sang.”
“Goodnight, Young-do.”
Inside, she hugged the scarf, heart racing. This was just the beginning.
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