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“Dance dance dance dance dance dance dance!”
The chant comes closer before the tiny body does. Seungmin doesn’t look up at first. He’s halfway sending an important email, fingers hovering over his keyboard, jaw slightly clenched in concentration. The living room is calm, afternoon sunlight pouring through the curtains. Minhee is curled up on the couch with a book balanced against her knees.
“Dance dance dance dance dance dance!”
The sound now includes stomping. Uncoordinated, but dangerously enthusiastic.
Seungmin closes his eyes for one second. “What now,” he asks flatly, finally lifting his head.
Yongbok appears in the middle of the living room like a summoned spirit. Her hair slightly messy, determination radiating from her entire five-year-old frame.
“It's decided. I wanna learn dance!” she announces.
Seungmin blinks at her. “You… what?”
Yongbok spins in a circle. Almost loses balance, but regains it with dramatic flair. “Dance! Cha cha cha...” she repeats, as if that explains everything.
Minhee turns a page in her book without looking up. “She’s been watching those music videos with Channie.”
“Lord,” Seungmin mutters.
Yongbok plants her feet wide apart. “Papa, look!” she commands. Before either parent can respond, she throws one arm in the air and begins moving. Her hips sway half a beat too late, while her arms windmill without much coordination. At one point she attempts what might be a body roll and instead looks like she’s shivering dramatically.
But her face... her face is serious.
Focused.
Then, she ends with a pose, one hand on her hip, one pointed upward, chin lifted proudly.
Seungmin stares. Minhee lowers her book just enough to look over the edge. “That was... impressive,” the woman says solemnly.
“I know!” Yongbok beams.
Seungmin leans back in his chair slowly. “Why,” he asks carefully, “why do you suddenly want to learn dance?”
Yongbok gasps as if he’s insulted her. “It’s not suddenly!”
“Oh?”
“Yes!” She begins counting on her fingers. “Number one... dancing is cool.”
Fair.
“Number two... Uncle Han said dancing makes you popular.”
Seungmin exhales sharply through his nose. “So he's the one.”
“Number three,” Yongbok continues confidently, “if I learn dance, I can dance at Papa and Mommy's anniversary.”
Minhee’s lips twitch, and Seungmin’s expression softens slightly. “And?” he prompts.
Yongbok leans closer, lowering her voice dramatically. “If I dance good, maybe I can go on stage.”
“Stage?” Seungmin echoes.
“Yes,” she nods very seriously. “Big stage. With lights. One day Channie will make super songs and I'll dance.”
Minhee finally closes her book completely and watches her daughter properly now.
“Do you even know what dance class is?” Seungmin asks.
“Yes!” Yongbok replies instantly.
“What is it?”
She pauses. “Uhm... dancing.”
Minhee laughs softly. Seungmin rubs his temple. “You’ll have to practice,” he says. “It’s not just jumping around.”
“I can practice!” Yongbok insists. “I practiced just now!”
“That was not practice,” Seungmin says. “That was performance.”
Yongbok gasps in delight. “Yes!”
Minhee chuckles. “You’re absolutely not helping.” Then she sighs, swiveling slightly to face her fully. “Dance classes cost money,” she says.
Yongbok nods seriously. “My Papa got a lot of money. If not... I have coins... a lot. Gold coins from grandpapa and Grandmama. Savings.”
“Three coins,” Minhee corrects gently.
“Four,” Yongbok argues.
Seungmin folds his arms. “You’ll have to go regularly. Even if you get tired.”
“I don’t get tired.”
“You fell asleep eating yesterday.”
“That was different.”
Seungmin fights the smile threatening to break through.
Yongbok takes a few small steps closer. “Papa,” she says softly now, less dramatic. “Please?”
There it is.
The hopeful tilt of her head. The hopeful puppy eyes.
Seungmin glances at Minhee, and the woman shrugs lightly, a small smile playing on her lips.
“She has your stubbornness,” he says.
“That’s a compliment?”
“It is... absolutely not.”
Yongbok reaches up and grabs Seungmin’s sleeve. “I promise I will practice every day,” she promises solemnly. “I will not complain. I will be strong dancer.”
“Strong dancer?” Seungmin repeats.
“Yes.”
He studies her for a long moment, then exhales slowly. “Fine.”
Yongbok freezes. “Fine?” she echoes.
“We’ll look for a beginner class,” Seungmin clarifies carefully. “Trial class first.”
There’s half a second of stunned silence. Then... Yongbok explodes. “YESSSSSS!” She jumps straight into Seungmin’s lap with absolutely no warning.
“Careful!” Minhee laughs.
Yongbok wraps her arms around his neck. “Bokkie's Papa is the best! The bestttt!”
“Yeah, yeah... I know,” he says dryly, steadying the chair.
She pulls back just enough to beam at him. “Dance dance dance dance dance!” And she begins wiggling again in his lap.
Seungmin looks at Minhee over Yongbok’s bouncing head, and the woman was smiling so wide.
Seungmin shakes his head and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I have no idea what I am getting myself into.”
It’s not one of those old neighborhood studios with peeling posters and cracked mirrors. This place is polished, minimal, with clean white walls, wide glass panels, and framed certificates lined neatly along the hallway.
“Papa,” Yongbok whispers, squeezing his hand. “It’s fancy.”
“It’s a dance academy,” Seungmin replies. “But looks like a palace.”
The name of the studio gleams in metallic lettering near the entrance. It only opened in town a few months ago, but somehow its reputation spread fast. Parents online had raved about the instructors, and videos of kids' performances had quietly gone viral, reviews kept mentioning discipline, professionalism, growth.
Seungmin had done his research.
If Yongbok was going to do this, she was going to do it properly.
He kneels in front of her now, adjusting the strap of her tiny bag. “You’re sure?” he asks one last time.
Yongbok nods so hard her ponytail bounces. “I am strong.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The little girl gasps, offended, and attempts a dramatic pose in the middle of the lobby again.
A staff member behind the reception desk smiles. “First class?” she asks warmly.
Seungmin stands. “Trial class.”
She nods and checks a list. “Beginner group is Studio B. You can wait outside the viewing area, or in the lounge.”
Seungmin glances down the hallway. Through one of the glass panels, he can already see children stretching on the floor, tiny bodies in colorful practice outfits.
Yongbok suddenly grips his hand tighter. Her confidence flickers, just slightly. “Papa comes inside?” she asks.
“I’ll be right outside,” he says calmly. “You’ll see me.”
She studies his face, then nods bravely. “Okay... let's go.”
He adjusts the strap of her bag and stands, taking her hand as they walk toward studio B.
The space is busier now. Parents gathered in small clusters, a few instructors speaking with guardians. The academy feels alive, exactly the way the online reviews had promised.
Seungmin doesn’t pay much attention to any of it. His focus remains entirely on Yongbok.
“You're gonna stop if it gets too much. Okay?” he says casually.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Try to understand the teacher. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel scared?”
Yongbok pauses. “Hm... little bit.”
He squeezes her hand lightly. “That’s normal.”
She nods seriously. They move through the lobby slowly, weaving between adults and children. Yongbok skips half a step ahead, still replaying movements with her free hand, the one she learned from some music video.
A few steps ahead of them, a group of men near the reception desk laugh at something. Their conversation fades as they begin to disperse, heading toward different exits.
Seungmin doesn’t look up. He’s watching Yongbok demonstrate an exaggerated arm wave.
“Not like that,” she says to herself. “Your elbow-”
That’s when it happens. The group shifts, and one man turns abruptly, mid-sentence, stepping forward without checking his path. At the exact same moment, Yongbok spins around to show her father another move.
They collide. It isn’t violent, but it’s sudden, small body bumping against a taller one.
“Oh, no!” The man instinctively reaches down.
Seungmin’s heart drops into his stomach. “Bokkie!”
The man’s hand shoots out to steady her, and Seungmin moves at the same time. For half a second, both adult hands hover around the same small frame.
Yongbok regains her balance on her own, slightly startled but not hurt. She dusts off the front of her dress with exaggerated seriousness.
“I’m okay,” she announces.
Seungmin exhales sharply, crouching beside her. “Are you hurt, baby? Did you hit your head?”
“No, Papa. I'm okay.”
The man straightens slowly. “I’m so sorry, dear,” he begins, voice low and steady. “I wasn’t looking-”
Yongbok freezes at the voice. Her eyes lift, then it goes wide. Her mouth opens in a perfect O, and she lets out a loud gasp.
“It’s you!” she squeals. “Mr. Mommy! It's really you!”
The words ring out far too clearly. Seungmin’s head snaps up, and only then does he properly look at the man.
And his world tilts.
For a split second, his brain refuses to process what his eyes are seeing.
Same eyes. Same sharp nose. Same mouth. Same arch of eyebrow when concerned. The same face he wakes up beside every morning.
But-
Broader shoulders. Shorter blue strands, hair styled differently, clothes tailored sharply over a distinctly male frame.
It’s Minhee.
And it’s not.
It’s like someone took his wife’s reflection and shifted it sideways into another life. Another gender.
Seungmin forgets how to breathe.
“Mr. Mommy, do you remember me?” Yongbok asks hopefully.
The man’s expression changes too. Recognition. Clear and immediate. “Yong... Yongbok?” he says slowly.
His voice is deeper than Minhee’s.
But the cadence... the tone. It’s disturbingly familiar.
The man crouches down to her level, steadying her gently by the shoulders. “Yongbok... how can I not remember you, little angel... are you hurt?” he asks softly.
Yongbok shakes her head, still staring at him in awe. “No, Mr. Mommy. I'm alright.”
He brushes invisible dust from her sleeve carefully, hands precise, controlled, while Seungmin still remains frozen, stunned beyond belief.
Because standing in front of him-
Helping his daughter to her feet-
Is a man who looks exactly like his wife.
But isn’t.
And for the first time since Minhee told him about the mall incident, Seungmin finally understands.
It wasn't a prank. It wasn't a fun lie. And this isn’t just resemblance.
This is something else entirely.
The man’s hand lingers for half a second on Yongbok’s shoulder. Then, gently, he ruffles her hair. Then he straightens to his full height, smoothing down the sleeve of his black jacket.
Up close, the resemblance is almost worse. The angles are sharper, yes, the jawline slightly more defined, the expression carries a different weight.
But it’s there.
That face. Those eyes.
He looks at Seungmin now. Something flickers across his features, something like amusement. “And... you must be... Seungmin.”
Seungmin blinks. His brain is still catching up to his vision. “Yes,” he manages.
The man lets out a quiet scoff of laughter, entertained as he extends his hand. “Minho,” he says smoothly. “Lee Minho.”
The syllables echo too close to home. Even the structure feels similar.
Seungmin stares at the offered hand for a fraction too long before shaking it. Minho releases first, and glances down at Yongbok, who is still looking between them.
“Let me guess,” Minho says lightly, tilting his head. “You came to teach dance?”
Yongbok giggles immediately. “No.”
Minho hums thoughtfully, tapping his chin with exaggerated seriousness. “Hmm.” He narrows his eyes playfully. “Then… you want to learn dance.”
Yongbok bursts into louder giggles. “Yes!”
Minho smiles. And there it is again. That same curve of lips Seungmin knows too well.
“That’s a wonderful decision,” Minho says warmly. He crouches slightly to Yongbok’s level again. “Dance is fun. But it’s also discipline.”
Yongbok nods very seriously, as if she fully understands discipline.
Minho’s gaze flickers up to Seungmin briefly. “Then,” he says lightly, gesturing down the hallway, “let’s go?” He steps aside, one hand extended politely in invitation.
Yongbok looks up at her father. Seungmin still feels like he’s standing slightly outside his body. But he nods.
Yongbok grabs his hand again instinctively.
Minho turns, walking ahead at an unhurried pace. As they move down the hallway toward Studio B, other instructors greet Minho with subtle nods of respect. Seungmin notices the way people straighten slightly when Minho passes, the way conversations lower.
Minho slows slightly so Yongbok can keep up, glancing down at her. “Ready for your first class?” he asks.
“Yes!”
Seungmin walks half a step behind them, trying to steady the strange thrum in his chest. Soon studio B comes into view.
Minho pauses at the door and steps aside, holding it open. He looks at Seungmin once more, that amused glint still faint in his eyes, as if he’s aware of exactly how disorienting this must be.
Only a handful of children is inside, repeating a short combination while an assistant instructor counts the beats.
“One, two, three- hold. Again.”
Yongbok stands somewhere in the middle of the group, arms raised slightly too high, feet slightly too wide, determination painted across her face.
Outside the glass wall, Seungmin stands with his hands loosely folded, Minho right beside him. The music hums faintly through the door.
Yongbok attempts a turn, over-rotates, recovers, and keeps going.
Minho exhales softly through his nose, almost a fond chuckle. “So…” without looking away from the glass, he begins casually. “Planning on running a DNA test? You know... to see if we're really some long lost twins,”
Seungmin turns his head sharply. Minho finally looks at him fully now, one eyebrow lifted in faint amusement. Seungmin stares at him for a second. Then, he scoffs lightly.
“It’s strange,” Seungmin admits, voice low. “This much resemblance…” His eyes flick back to Minho’s face to study it, compare it unconsciously to the countless mornings he’s woken up beside Minhee.
“I thought Lina was exaggerating,” he continues quietly. “But…” He trails off. There aren’t really words for it.
Minho nods slowly. “I was stunned too,” he says, while his gaze drifts back to the children inside. “The first time I saw your wife. I thought I was looking at a mirror.”
Seungmin exhales slowly. The shock hasn’t fully settled yet. It’s still sitting somewhere in his chest like unfinished business.
He shifts slightly. “You work here?” he asks.
Minho nods. “I do workshops. Guest sessions mostly.” He gestures lightly toward the studio space. “I have my own studio in the central city. And regular classes. But those are for teenagers.”
There’s pride in his voice when he says it.
Earned pride.
“Performance training. Stage presence. Advanced choreography.”
Seungmin absorbs that. “And this?” he asks.
Minho’s expression softens as he looks at Yongbok attempting another spin. “This... is different.” He folds his arms loosely. “I like kids. They’re enthusiastic. Honest. Full of energy.” His lips curve faintly. “Like Yongbok.”
Inside, Yongbok suddenly throws her arms up in what she clearly thinks is dramatic flair. It is not. But it is sincere.
Seungmin watches her carefully. His heartbeat has steadied, but the disorientation lingers. He clears his throat lightly.
“You never know,” Minho says after a moment, tone thoughtful. “Any one of these little hopefuls could be the next big thing in K-pop.”
Seungmin’s lips curve into a faint, amused smile. “Yeah, right...” he agrees. He glances at Yongbok again, who is currently two counts behind the music. “Or maybe she’ll just be very dramatic at family gatherings.”
Minho lets out a soft laugh. The sound is different from Minhee’s. Deeper. But the way his eyes crease, too similar.
Inside, Yongbok tries the combination one more time. This time she lands the turn correctly. Her face lights up at her own success.
Both men smile at the exact same moment.
One amused.
And the other, still stunned, still adjusting.
Yongbok occupies her chair like she owns it. Her dance bag is on the floor, a juice box is in her hand.
The academy cafeteria is quieter than the lobby. A few parents linger with coffee cups while children sit with juice boxes and snacks.
And one little girl is talking. Nonstop.
“And then teacher said, no no no, elbow like this-” she demonstrates mid-sip, nearly hitting Seungmin’s shoulder. “and then I did it properly. And then I didn’t fall. And then I almost fell. But I didn’t.”
Seungmin nods slowly. “Very heroic.”
Minho sits across from her, elbows resting lightly on the table. He’s listening, eyes focused, expression warm but composed.
“And what was the hardest part?” Minho asks gently.
Yongbok gasps like it’s a serious question. “The turning.”
“Why?”
“Because the room goes spinny.”
Minho nods thoughtfully. “That happens.”
Seungmin watches the exchange quietly. There’s something unsettling about how naturally Minho interacts with her. Like he’s done this a countless times before.
Yongbok suddenly stands on her chair slightly before Seungmin gently presses her back down. “No standing.”
She sits, but continues animatedly. “And he said I forgot step three, but I will not forget next time.” Then, she suddenly gasps. “Oh, no! I need proof! That I met Mr. Mommy!”
Seungmin tilts his head and Minho’s lips twitch. Yongbok turns urgently to her father. “Papa, phone! Selfie!”
Seungmin hesitates for half a second. Then hands it over. Yongbok climbs off her chair and wedges herself between them without asking permission.
“Come closer,” she commands.
Minho leans in smoothly, lowering himself slightly to her height. Seungmin stiffens instinctively for a second before adjusting. Yongbok stretches her arm as far as it will go.
“Smile!”
Click.
She immediately checks the screen, her eyes widen in delight. “Mommy, and Mr. Mommy look same!” she announces loudly.
Seungmin closes his eyes briefly. “It's Uncle Minho, Bokkie.”
“It's alright, Seungmin,” Minho exhales a quiet laugh. “I'm okay with whatever makes this little angel happy,”
“It’s for Mommy, and Channie, and Uncle Han... and Auntie Honey, Auntie Innie, and Binnie... all of them,” Yongbok explains proudly. “They will scream.”
That thought alone makes Seungmin imagine it. The chaos.
Yongbok suddenly looks up at Minho with complete sincerity. “Come to our house.”
Minho blinks once, as Seungmin freezes. “Yongbok-” he begins.
“Please come, Mr. Mommy,” she insists, leaning slightly over the table. “To meet my family. They are all good people. They'll love you. So, sooo much.”
Seungmin’s mind flashes rapidly through possible outcomes. Hyunjin dropping something, Jisung accusing him of cloning technology, Jeongin demanding explanations.
Absolute mayhem.
Minho watches him carefully.
Seungmin exhales. It would happen eventually anyway. This bizarre parallel couldn’t remain separate forever.
He straightens slightly. “If you’re free sometime,” Seungmin says formally, tone composed again, “you’re welcome to come over.”
Minho studies him for a moment. Then nods once. “I’d like that.”
Yongbok claps excitedly. “Yes!”
“Not today,” Minho adds quickly. “but I'll come, let's see when.”
Yongbok happily smiled, and goes back to sipping her juice, humming a tune from class.
“How?”
The question comes for the nth time as Seungmin pace around the living room.
Minhee doesn’t even look up at first. She just huffs out a laugh. She’s seated cross-legged on the couch, hair loosely tied back.
Seungmin just stares at her. “You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing once in front of the couch. “No one,” he says firmly, “no one would say you two aren’t twins.”
Minhee bites her lip to stop another smile.
“As if you two are made with the same mold,” he continues. “Same eyes. Same face. Same... everything.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Even the attitude?” she teases.
He stops pacing. “Unfortunately.”
She laughs again. Seungmin exhales sharply, but there’s no anger in it. “I thought you just exaggerated,” he admits. “I thought maybe similar features, same vibe, but this?”
Minhee rests her chin on her palm, studying him. “I should’ve been there,” she complains dramatically. “I wanted to see your face.”
“You would’ve enjoyed it too much.”
“Obviously.”
Seungmin’s expression shifts slightly. “Yongbok invited him.”
Minhee’s eyes widen instantly, and she sits up straighter. “And?”
“And I invited him properly.”
Minhee’s smile spreads slowly. “Oh,” she says, almost mischievous. “This is going to be fun.” Seungmin gives her a look as the woman starts counting on her fingers. “Hyunjin will scream.”
“Sung will accuse us of cloning.”
“Innie will faint.”
Seungmin nods. “Obviously”
Minhee leans back again, gaze drifting to the ceiling. “Min... do you think,” she says slowly, “Hyunjin and Innie have boy versions too?”
Seungmin blinks. She turns to him, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What if there’s a male version of me… maybe a female version of you?”
Seungmin stares. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s very funny.”
“Lina,”
“Imagine,” she continues, now fully entertained by her own theory, “a girl version of you. A girl version of Jisung.”
Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t.”
“Or a boy who looks exactly like Hyunjin.”
“Stop.”
She grins wickedly. “A whole alternate gender universe.”
He drops his hand and just looks at her. “You’re enjoying this too much. But... if it's true... it’s strange,” he admits quietly.
She nods. “Yeah.”
And somewhere between curiosity and chaos, Minhee waits.
For that day to come.