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Urgent steps echoed through the quiet hallway, cutting into the fragile stillness of a morning that had barely begun. It carried a warning he already understood.
Today wouldn’t be peaceful either.
The door slammed open, crashing against the wall hard enough to shatter whatever illusion remained.
“Dokja! Emergency.”
He didn’t look up from his monitor. “Sooyoung, it’s still company hours.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. I happen to like this job. I’d rather not get fired.”
“You won’t.”
He finally glanced up.
She looked deadly serious—never a good sign.
He exhaled slowly. “What is it this time?”
“Remember the bet I made at the last reunion?”
How could he not? The night ended with Han Sooyoung—loud, reckless, and very drunk—declaring she’d show up next time with a boyfriend, and somehow, for reasons unknowen he’d been dragged into it too.
His brow twitched. “The very expensive one you made with Heewon?”
“Yes.”
“What about it? If you’re here to ask for money, I’m stopping you right now—”
“I’m not paying 300,000 won over something that stupid. Are you?”
He grimaced. “I was planning to talk my way out of it. Technically, only you and Heewon shook on it.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Technicalities won’t save you. They’ll eat you alive.”
“They?”
“Our friends.” She said it like a verdict.
She started pacing, muttering under her breath. Then she stopped.
Slowly, she turned back to him—eyes glinting with something he already didn’t trust.
“Hey. You don’t have anyone either, right?”
Dokja hesitated. “…No.”
“Perfect.” She snapped her fingers. “Then we go together.”
His brow knit. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“As a couple.” She said it like it was obvious. “You’re my boyfriend for one night, I’m your girlfriend, everyone shuts up, and we both keep our money.”
He stared at her. “You think anyone’s going to believe that?”
“I can be very convincing.”
He gave her a flat look. “Even I know when you’re lying.”
“Correction—only you know when I’m lying.” She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she still hadn’t solved. “I still don’t know how you do it. But everyone else? Completely fooled.”
She wasn’t wrong. She’d written half the university newspaper under a false name and denied it to everyone’s faces. And no one had questioned how she secured an apartment in Seoul straight out of graduation—no one except him.
“So?” she pressed. “Are you in?”
“I don’t know…”
“Well, decide fast. The reunion’s tomorrow.” She shrugged, already turning away. “If you’re not in, I’ll just find someone else.”
Something tightened in his chest before he could stop it.
“I don’t think I should.”
For a fraction of a second, something slipped through her expression—small, fleeting. Then it was gone, replaced with her usual careless indifference.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you there.”
She reached for the door, already halfway out when she added, almost absentmindedly—
“Gu Daesung’s been messaging me. Maybe I'll just take him.”
Dokja went still.
Of all people.
His jaw tightened. He could already see it—Daesung’s hand on her waist, his voice too familiar, too close—Absolutely not.
“Wait.”
He was on his feet before he realized it, fingers closing around her wrist to stop her.
Heat rushed to his face. He refused to examine why.
“…Fine.” He exhaled, quieter this time. “I'll do it.”
She blinked, caught off guard for a beat—then her expression broke into something bright and immediate.
“Thank you!”
She stepped into him without hesitation, arms sliding around his neck, pulling him close.
His entire face flushed. “H—Hey, what are you doing?”
“Practice.” Her voice was light, but her grip tightened just slightly. “If we’re going to sell this, we have to make it believable.”
He stiffened, hands hovering uselessly at his sides.
“…This is going to be a disaster.”
Sooyoung only smiled against his shoulder.
“Disaster?” she murmured. “Please. This is going to be my best lie yet.”
And despite everything—despite knowing better—
he almost believed her.
__
The apartment hummed with quiet—the faint clink of dishes being put away, the soft buzz of the city filtering through the window.
Dokja and Sooyoung settled onto the sofa, side by side. A hair’s breadth separated them, yet the space felt charged, taut with everything left unsaid.
“So, we need to get our stories straight,” Dokja said, leaning back, one arm draped along the couch. He took a sip of beer, gaze sharpening in thought. “Think about who’s most likely to poke holes.”
“Heewon. Definitely Heewon,” Sooyoung said without hesitation.
“I agree. But also… Joonghyuk. He’s too skeptical.”
“Then talk to him first,” she suggested. “Before the reunion. If he questions you early, he won’t sway public opinion.”
Dokja nodded once. “I’ll stop by his office on the way.”
“So it’s settled.” She lifted her can toward him. “I handle Heewon, you handle Joonghyuk.”
He tapped his can against hers. “Deal.”
They spent the next stretch stitching together timelines—half-truths and convenient details, practiced enough to sound natural. At some point, the conversation thinned into something quieter. The TV murmured in the background, city lights slipping through the blinds in thin bands.
Then, gradually, the air shifted.
Their laughter faded, leaving behind something heavier. A quiet that lingered too long.
Sooyoung leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You think we should… maybe try being intimate?”
Dokja’s eyes flicked to hers. “They won’t actually push us to make out in front of everyone. Will they?”
Her grin widened. “You never know. Heewon can be insanely thorough.”
He hesitated, and she caught it instantly.
“Come on,” she teased, tilting her head. “It’s just a kiss. Are you scared?”
“Let’s at least start small first,” he said, with all the caution of someone proposing a trial period.
“Fine.” Her smirk deepened. “Put your arm around me.”
She nudged his shoulder, casual—but there was something underneath it, something deliberate.
He went still. “I—”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you even afraid of?”
He exhaled, then leaned in despite himself. Slowly, like testing something unfamiliar, he slid an arm around her and pulled her closer.
The boldness of it startled her.
“Too stiff,” she said lightly, steadying her voice before it could give anything away. She tugged at his arm, guiding him closer with a small, insistent pull. “Relax. Move your hand—here.”
He followed without protest.
“Lower… a little more.”
His hand shifted, careful, deliberate, until it settled at the small of her back. Warm. Steady.
She leaned into him, their sides brushing, the contact no longer accidental.
Slowly, she adjusted his arm around her waist, anchoring him there.
“Better?” she asked, glancing sideways.
His grip tightened just slightly, drawing her closer. “Better,” he said, voice low—too controlled to be careless, too soft to be neutral.
“Now…” She tilted her head just enough. “Kiss my cheek.”
He paused, then leaned in. The kiss was brief, precise—almost polite.
Too careful.
Her stomach tightened—not because of the contact, but because of how quickly he pulled away.
She caught his hands before he could retreat, guiding them back up, pressing them gently against her face.
“Come on, Dokja,” she murmured, leaning into his touch. “Do better.”
His palms framed her face, thumbs brushing lightly over her cheekbones. The contact lingered this time.
She laughed—quiet, unsteady, breaking the tension for a second too long.
“Speak for yourself,” he said, watching her. “You can’t even stop laughing.”
“Yeah, well… we’ll see how it feels,” she said, bolder now. Her hand slipped behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair. He jolted at the touch, breath catching for a fraction of a second.
“What now?” she whispered.
“Your hands are freezing,” he said softly, capturing them and warming them between his. His gaze sharpened, narrowing on her. “You’re nervous.”
“Yeah, well… at least I’m not showing it,” she murmured, her lips twitching. “Unlike you. You’ve been blushing this whole time.”
“You’re blushing too,” he countered, the faintest quiver betraying his composure.
They stilled.
The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the space between them—too close now to ignore.
“Dokja,” she said softly, “we’re not fooling anyone like this, are we?”
“Maybe we’re trying too hard.”
“What’s that supposed to—”
He moved before she could finish.
One arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other hand slid to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, steady but unyielding.
Their foreheads met.
Their breaths tangled—warm, shallow, shared.
“Is this close enough?” he asked, voice low enough that she felt it more than heard it.
She shook her head, barely.
“Not yet.”
Their breaths brushed again—closer this time, hovering just short of something more.
The ride over had been quiet.
Not tense—just… absent.
Dokja had braced himself the moment he got into the passenger seat, already preparing for it—the inevitable questions, the kind Joonghyuk never softened.
Only the low hum of the engine, the steady rhythm of tires against asphalt.
Halfway through, Joonghyuk spoke.
“Why come all the way here?”
His eyes stayed on the road, one hand resting loose against the wheel.
Dokja blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “I wanted to talk to you.”
A beat.
Joonghyuk’s fingers tapped once against the steering wheel.
“You couldn’t wait until the reunion?”
Dokja hesitated.
Then, before he could overthink it—before he could default back into deflection—
“Han Sooyoung and I are dating.”
The words landed flat between them.
Joonghyuk didn’t react.
Didn’t look at him.
Didn’t even pause the car.
The silence that followed stretched long enough that Dokja felt it settle into something heavier.
He waited for the questions.
The scrutiny.
It never came.
Joonghyuk only looked ahead, expression unreadable.
“...About time.”
A beat passed.
Then Joonghyuk clicked his tongue.
Like he’d just remembered something irritating.
Dokja frowned. “What?”
But he didn’t answer. And had already pulled to a stop, shifting the car into park like nothing had been said.
The engine went quiet.
The bar’s neon lights bled faintly across the windshield.
For a moment, Dokja didn’t move.
The bar was already alive when Sooyoung arrived—low lights, brass fixtures catching dull glints, a soft pop ballad threading through the air. Laughter spilled from the corner booths, glasses clinking in uneven rhythm. The whole place smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and fried food.
For a moment, she had the absurd thought that if this were some dystopian manhwa, a translucent scenario window would be hovering in front of her by now.
[Main Scenario #1 — Proof of Relationship]
Clear Conditions: Prove the authenticity of your relationship.
Reward: ???
Failure Penalty: 300,000 won
That would be fitting.
Inside, Heewon spotted her immediately, hand already raised, grin sharp under the neon glow. Their booth looked less like a table and more like a stage—half-empty glasses, expectant faces, the quiet hum of something about to go wrong.
“So,” Heewon started the second Sooyoung slid in, eyes sweeping her over before settling in. “Guess that means we win.”
“Win what?” Sooyoung asked, flat.
“You know. The bet.”
“Oh, that?” She leaned back, stretching lazily. “Completely forgot.”
“Sure you did,” Heewon muttered into her drink.
“If you’re worried about me, don’t be,” Sooyoung said, voice easy, almost bored. “I’m very much in love.”
“When do we meet the lucky bastard?” Jihye cut in, sliding into the booth in a scatter of bracelets and noise.
“He’s on his way.”
“Perfect.” Heewon rested her chin on her palm, eyes gleaming. “I’ll see through the act in five minutes.”
Right on cue, the door creaked open.
Yoo Sangah and Lee Seolhwa stepped in first, laughing about something that dissolved the second they spotted the group. They made their way over in a rush of greetings and shifting seats.
Then Yoo Joonghyuk entered—cutting through the crowd with that same unbothered, inevitable presence.
And just behind him—
Kim Dokja.
Sooyoung stood.
The table quieted—not fully, but enough. Heewon leaned forward. Jihye stilled mid-sentence. Even the music seemed to dip, bass thrumming low in the background.
Dokja stopped in front of her.
For once, neither of them spoke.
Then, with deliberate ease, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
It wasn’t rushed. Not careless.
Just enough to be seen.
The noise around them dulled, as if the moment folded in on itself. Neon light flickered across stunned faces, catching in wide eyes and parted lips.
Sooyoung smiled—smooth, effortless, like it had always been meant to happen this way. She slipped her arm through his and guided him toward the booth.
“Hey,” Dokja said, clearing his throat as they reached the table. “So… yeah. Sooyoung and I are together now.”
Jihye’s jaw dropped so far Sangah reached over and pushed it shut with two fingers.
Silence held—thin, suspended—
Then—
A flurry of movement.
Bills slid across the table.
Hands exchanged money with groans, muttered curses, reluctant laughter.
Dokja blinked. “Wait—hello?” He glanced around, bewildered. “Did no one hear what I just said?” He leaned closer to Sooyoung and whispered, “Did they not hear?”
“They heard,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as Sangah discreetly passed another bill into Heewon’s waiting hand. “What was that?”
“Oh, this?” Sangah said mildly, sliding yet another note forward. “Just… settling something.”
“What something?” Sooyoung pressed.
Joonghyuk returned from the bar, setting two drinks down without a word. Then, just as casually, he pulled out two crisp ₩50,000 bills and pushed them toward Seolhwa.
“It’s a long-running bet,” he said.
“On what?” Dokja asked, increasingly alarmed at the amount of money changing hands.
Sangah smiled, entirely unbothered. “That you two would end up together.”
A beat.
“It was never if,” she added lightly. “Just… when.”
Sooyoung narrowed her eyes when one landed in front of Jihye. “You’re not even old enough to be part of this.”
“Unnie,” Jihye shot back, already pocketing it, “I’ve been here longer than you think.”
Sooyoung wasn’t looking at her anymore. Her head turned slowly.
Straight to Heewon.
“This is your doing.”
Heewon took a sip of her drink, unbothered. “And look how well it turned out for her.”
“Exactly,” Jihye said, unapologetic.
The table erupted.
Jihye clapped like she’d just won something personally. Seolhwa pocketed the money with visible satisfaction. Joonghyuk took a slow sip of his drink, looking far too unsurprised.
Before the noise could peak, Heewon raised a hand.
“Hold on,” she said, smile sharp again. “They could still be faking. These two lie for fun.”
“Excuse me?” Sooyoung arched a brow, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Have we ever hurt you in some way?”
That did it.
The dam broke—voices overlapping, accusations flying, laughter spilling loud enough to drown out the music entirely.
And for once, Sooyoung didn’t push back against it.
Didn’t cut through it.
She stayed where she was—arm still looped through his, shoulder brushing his—
and let the noise swallow them whole.
At some point in the night, the guys drifted off toward the bar for another round.
And Sangah took the chance, leaned across the table, eyes narrowing just slightly.
“You know,” she said, almost thoughtfully, “it actually makes sense now, Sooyoung-ssi. I always wondered why Dokja left Minosoft. He was on track for another promotion, and then he just walked away.”
Sooyoung blinked.
“It was because of you, wasn’t it?” Sangah continued, tone calm—too calm. “He wanted to work with you. I should’ve realized it back then.”
A small pause.
Sooyoung’s smile came easily—automatic—but her fingers tightened beneath the table.
She had asked him first.
Back when the idea of starting her own company was still half-formed, more impulse than plan. She had only thrown it out there, testing the shape of it.
He’d quit within the week.
At the time, she’d assumed it had nothing to do with her.
Minosoft had been unbearable, after all—the culture, the management, the endless projects that went nowhere.
That had been explanation enough.
Hadn’t it?
Her laugh came out light—too light.
“That’s a stretch.”
But the thought had already taken root.
If nothing was real, then nothing could fall apart.
What if this isn’t fake?
The thought barely had time to settle before Seolhwa leaned forward, practically bouncing in her seat.
“You’re finally together!” she said brightly. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. Honestly, I thought it would’ve happened ages ago. Especially after that thing with Gu Daesung.”
Jihye tilted her head at once. “What thing with Gu Daesung?”
“He’s Sooyoung’s ex,” Heewon said dryly, not even looking up from her drink.
Sooyoung waved a hand. “We went out once or twice. He wasn’t exactly memorable.”
Seolhwa smiled—the kind of smile that meant she had no intention of letting that stand.
“That’s not how Joonghyuk tells it.”
She leaned in, lowering her voice just enough to pull everyone closer.
“Gu Daesung had a reputation. Cheating on exams. Cheating on girlfriends.”
Sooyoung shrugged. Easy. “People always think they’re the exception. That they’ll be the one who changes him.”
Jihye recoiled. “Unnie—seriously?”
Sooyoung laughed, lighter this time. “I’m kidding. It wasn’t serious.”
A beat.
“Just… passing time.”
She didn’t elaborate.
“So what happened?” Jihye pressed.
“We dated a few weeks,” Sooyoung said. “It ended cleanly. If he cheated, I didn’t know.”
“Oh, he did,” Seolhwa cut in, almost gleeful. “Dokja caught him.”
That landed.
“Caught him?” Jihye echoed.
“Cornered him,” Seolhwa said. “With evidence.”
That got Heewon’s full attention.
“I didn’t know he had it in him.”
"And this is important to the story because?" Jihye asked
“Gu Daesung was on the university judo team,” Sangah said.
“Big scary man,” Heewon added, staring. “Wait—how did Dokja pull that off?”
Seolhwa’s mouth curved.
“He laid everything out—every piece of proof he had—and told him exactly what would happen if he didn’t back off.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
Heewon leaned back. “Ah. Blackmail. Very Dokja.”
“That tracks,” Sangah said.
A ripple of laughter moved around the table.
Jihye clasped her hands, eyes bright. “Okay, that’s disgustingly romantic.”
Sooyoung laughed.
Soft. Controlled.
“Romantic,” she echoed.
Something inside her pulled tight.
She hadn’t liked Gu Daesung. Not really.
She’d said yes out of spite—because she knew Dokja couldn’t stand him. Because back then, Dokja had been too busy following that foreign exchange student around, always just out of reach.
It had been easier to believe that.
Easier than admitting she was the one who’d pulled away first.
And yet, even then, he had noticed.
He hadn’t made a scene. Hadn’t said anything.
He’d just handled it.
Quietly. Thoroughly.
She had treated it as trivial. Temporary. Not worth thinking about twice.
Dokja hadn’t.
He’d made sure it ended before it could ever reach her, closing it off so completely it might as well have never existed.
Not for credit.
Not to be seen.
He’d just… never been too busy for her at all.
Her fingers loosened slightly against the table.
And she still couldn’t decide what unsettled her more—
that he had taken something so insignificant and treated it as if it mattered,
or that she had been the one who walked away first, and he’d stayed anyway.
“What about you, Sooyoung-unnie?” Jihye asked, leaning forward. “Have you ever done something like that for Dokja?”
Sooyoung swirled her drink, gaze fixed on the glass. “Unfortunately, I haven’t.”
Heewon scoffed.
“What are you talking about? Of course you have.”
Sooyoung waved a hand. “No—”
“Yes, you have.” Heewon set her glass down. “First year. Those anonymous submissions about Dokja’s mother that kept getting sent to the school paper? You filtered them out yourself.”
Sooyoung stiffened. “Heewon—”
“And when it got worse,” Heewon went on, “you went to your father and had cease-and-desists sent out.”
“Cease-and-desists?” Seolhwa echoed.
“Wait—how do you know that?” Sangah asked.
“Hyunsung told me.”
“I told you what?”
Hyunsung had appeared at the edge of the table, a fresh drink in hand, brows drawn in confusion.
Heewon didn’t even look at him. “About Sooyoung shutting down those submissions about Dokja’s mother.”
“Oh.”
He paused, then nodded. “Yeah.” he says scooting in beside heewon on in the booth.
All eyes turned.
Hyunsung shifted slightly under the attention. “I saw her at city hall a few times back then,” he said. “Later I found out why.”
He glanced at Sooyoung, almost apologetic.
Sooyoung looked down at her drink. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“You got lawyers involved,” Seolhwa said.
“That’s dramatic.” Sangah added
"Very you." Jihye finished.
None of them noticed Dokja had already come back.
He stood a few steps away, drinks balanced in both hands, unmoving.
He had heard everything.
It was Sooyoung who saw him first—
and froze.
Silence rippled outward.
“…That was you?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Laughter broke immediately—Jihye clapping, Seolhwa lighting up, Hyunsung letting out a low whistle. The table buzzed with disbelief, with delight, with the thrill of something uncovered.
But neither of them joined in.
Dokja stood there, staring.
Sooyoung forced a laugh, tugging lightly at her sleeve. “I just—” She shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
It sounded casual.
It wasn’t.
Because now they both knew.
Everything they’d done in silence—quiet, separate acts that had never been meant to meet—
And for a brief, fragile moment, the noise around them dulled.
Sangah waved Dokja over, already mid-conversation with one of her Minosoft colleagues, and drew him toward the patio doors when the man recognized him.
That gave Heewon just enough time to grab Sooyoung by the wrist and drag her outside.
She didn’t take her far—just behind the patio door, close enough that the music still bled through the thin wood.
Heewon crossed her arms, watching her carefully.
“You two… you’re really together?”
“Yes,” Sooyoung said, too quickly.
Heewon didn’t look convinced.
“Have you thought about what happens,” she said slowly, “if one of you isn’t pretending?”
Sooyoung stilled.
“That ruins everything.”
Behind her, beyond the thin wooden door, the bar carried on.
Sangah was still deep in conversation with her coworkers.
Dokja wasn’t—not anymore.
Something in the air shifted—her voice, softer than usual, pulling his attention before he could stop it.
The words landed heavier than they should have.
For a moment, Sooyoung didn’t speak.
Then, quieter—like she was only just hearing it herself—
She opened her mouth—
stopped.
“…I have been,” she said finally. “For a long time.”
The door shifted softly behind her.
Heewon’s gaze flicked past Sooyoung—and stilled.
“I just didn’t realize how much.”
For a brief moment, she looked between them.
Then she understood.
Her expression softened.
Dokja stood just inside the doorway.
“Sooyoung.”
Without a word, Heewon stepped aside. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She slipped back inside, the door closing softly behind her.
“Dokja—”
He didn’t answer.
He stepped closer instead, closing the distance with care, as if something might break if he moved too fast. His hands found hers—hesitant at first, then steady.
He didn’t look at her.
Only at the way her fingers trembled in his.
“You said you’re in love with me.”
“Yeah,” she said, too lightly. “And?”
He didn’t let it pass.
“Did you mean it?”
She let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh, trying to pull her hands back. “You tell me. You’re the one who always knows when I’m lying.”
“I do.”
His grip tightened—just enough to stop her.
“But I might be biased.”
Her brows knit. “Biased?”
He exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly.
“Because I need it to be true.”
That stopped her.
Her eyes lifted to meet his.
“And if it is?” she asked, quieter now. “What then?”
He held her gaze this time.
Didn’t look away.
“Then I would tell you I’ve been in love with you this whole time, too.”
The words settled between them—no hesitation, no take-backs, just finally said.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then something in her expression softened, like the tension she’d been holding had nowhere left to go.
“…Took you long enough,” she muttered, but there was no bite to it.
He huffed a quiet laugh.
It came easier now—no more pretending.
* * *
The night before—
“Is this close enough?” he asked, voice low enough that she felt it more than heard it.
She shook her head, barely.
“Not yet.”
This time, he didn’t hesitate. His mouth met hers fully—warm, certain, tentative only for a heartbeat before deepening. Her fingers, already tangled in his hair and shirt, drew him closer until the space between them disappeared. The kiss turned hungry, urgent, everything careful unraveling at once.
Dokja’s hands slid from her waist up the curve of her spine, fingers tracing heat along the path. She arched toward him, soft gasps escaping between kisses, guiding him without thinking. The tempo shifted—slower now, deeper—each breath a tether pulling them further in.
She shifted, straddling his lap with a low laugh that trembled against his mouth. Her lips never left his. Her hands skimmed his shoulders, down his arms, feeling the tension in him coil and ease beneath her touch.
He groaned, head tilting to capture more of her, tasting her in unsteady, searching passes until the hesitation gave way. Every brush of their mouths sparked; every shared exhale drew them closer.
“Sooyoung…” he breathed between kisses, voice roughened, almost pleading.
She answered with a soft sound that might’ve been his name, her teeth catching his lower lip, tugging him closer by the collar.
He framed her face with both hands, thumbs brushing her flushed cheeks as she leaned into him. The back of her head fit in his palms, her hair slipping through his fingers like silk. Her hands slid down his chest, clutching at his shirt, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her touch.
Their movements were uncoordinated at first—then fluid, instinctive, as if they’d always known this rhythm but had only just remembered it. The world receded: the couch, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the soft amber light painting their skin.
He leaned back slightly, drawing her with him. She followed, folding over him, her weight warm and certain. One of his arms circled her waist; the other tangled in her hair, cradling the back of her head as if afraid she’d slip away. She gasped against his mouth, the sound dissolving into a kiss that deepened, their tongues teasing, claiming.
Dokja’s grip tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against him, feeling every line of her body against his. She moved with him, slow, deliberate, her hands exploring his chest and shoulders like she was memorizing him by touch.
The kiss had stopped being a kiss. It was dialogue now—a wordless exchange of want and wonder. She laughed once against his mouth, breathless and giddy, and he caught the sound with a smile, kissing her slower, deeper—savoring her like a secret.
Her lips drifted from his mouth to his jaw—soft, teasing, exploratory. She pressed slow, lingering kisses along the edge of his cheek, nuzzling briefly before trailing down to the curve of his neck. The warmth of her mouth, the tickle of her hair against his skin, sent a shiver through him he hadn’t expected.
Then, as if on cue, they both stilled. The air thickened, weighted with sudden awareness. Sooyoung’s breath hitched; color rose swiftly to her cheeks. Before she could think, she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, mortified.
“I—I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice muffled and hot against his skin.
That was when she felt it—the press of his hips beneath hers, the small, unmistakable jolt that left her pulse stuttering. Heat unfurled low in her stomach, spreading fast, unstoppable.
Dokja froze, trying to catch up to what his body already knew. His hands, uncertain at first, found her hips—steadying her, grounding her, holding her there. The air between them trembled with everything neither dared to say.
Her lips lingered a moment longer against his neck, hesitant yet unwilling to break away. Then, drawn by something reckless, she risked a glance upward. Her cheeks burned, breath uneven. His gaze met hers—steady, dark, and edged with something unspoken but instantly familiar in her own chest: want.
The room was utterly still save for the shallow, uneven breaths passing between them—the faint hum of the city beyond, the shared pulse of tension that refused to fade.
Neither of them moved. They stayed suspended in that fragile, precarious quiet, aware of every inch of distance that hadn’t yet disappeared—and every inch that already had.
Sooyoung pulled back first, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I… I should go,” she whispered, the warmth in her cheeks refusing to cool.
Dokja didn’t move. His chest tightened, his hands hovering near her hips as if his body hadn’t caught up to her words. He tried to speak, to move, to pretend nothing had changed—but he couldn’t. Not yet.
She managed a small, apologetic smile before rising from the couch. Her steps toward the door were light, casual, but he barely saw them. His gaze stayed fixed on the empty space she left behind, his pulse still loud in his ears.
Behind the door, Sooyoung was also steadying herself, trying to gain back her composure, trying to rationalize what just happened. It took her a few seconds to notice—she’d left without her things. A low groan escaped her, somewhere between frustration, embarrassment and disbelief.
Moments later, the door creaked open again. Sooyoung slipped back inside, quiet as breath. “Ah—here,” she said softly, holding out what she’d forgotten. Her tone was gentle but measured, as if afraid even her voice might break the spell still hanging between them. “Sorry about that… see you tomorrow.”
Dokja still hadn’t moved. The flush had climbed all the way up his neck; instinctively, he dragged a cushion onto his lap, hoping it would hide what the moment had already betrayed.
She noticed. A soft laugh slipped out—barely a sound, but enough. He didn’t look up, couldn’t, even as her footsteps receded again, light and unhurried, the door closing softly behind her, leaving him alone with the quiet hum of the apartment and the warmth she’d left behind.
Still there.
“Dokja.”
He blinked.
Sooyoung stood a few steps ahead, already turned back, her hand held out toward him. Beyond her, the others were spilling out onto the street, drifting toward the corner where the road split, voices carrying into the night.
He didn’t realize when he’d slowed.
Only that he had.
A smile slipped through before he could stop it.
She caught it—of course she did.
“Have we always been like this?” she blurted.
The question hung between them, lighter than it should have been.
He stepped forward.
This time, he didn’t hesitate—his hand closing around hers, steady, sure.
“…Looks like it.”
“Finally,” Heewon called out from ahead, turning as she walked backward, grin sharp. “The lovebirds caught up.”
A few heads turned. Jihye snorted. Seolhwa laughed. Even Joonghyuk glanced back once before facing forward again.
At the intersection, the group slowed, then split—one by one peeling off in different directions, voices breaking apart with them.
Dokja didn’t let go.
Neither did she.
“Text me when you get home!” someone called.
His fingers tightened around hers.
The street opened up, quieter.
“Your place or mine?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Yours,” he said. “We’ve waited long enough.”
They turned together, steps falling into sync, hands still linked between them.
A few steps behind, Hyunsung slowed, watching them disappear down the street.
“You lost your bet,” he said lightly.
Heewon shrugged, slipping her hands into her pockets.
“Best ₩300,000 I’ve ever spent.”
He smiled.
Ahead, they didn’t look back.