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Her phone nearly slips from her grasp.
Instead, a bra strap slips—woman's angular shoulders catching the soft light, her tank top bunching up where her arm presses shyly against her body. The fabric rides up, revealing a toned midriff with muscles sheathed like a dagger in its scabbard.
The rhythmic, sultry music washes over Cheong Myeong, drowning out everything else as she stops scrolling through recommendations; she cannot tear her gaze away from the way the girl’s neat breasts shift with movements that seem natural yet, right now, feel so indecent.
Only when the girl reaches for the camera and pulls it closer—briefly revealing the left bra cup pulling away from her skin to show a small drawn heart—and the video loops back to the start, does Cheong Myeong snap out of her trance.
She locks her phone.
Sets it aside.
Her face burns as she rubs it, trying to calm herself down.
It was just the surprise of it. She’d seen plenty of female bodies—in the mirror, or in the shower after training. If she’d been completely unfazed then, this reaction was just a fluke.
* * *
Images of those collarbones and the dark strands of hair falling over them haunt her all the next day—as do the long fingers adjusting the bra straps in a way that looked like an invitation to take them off. And damn, that woman definitely trains—and not just for looks. Not *only* for looks.
Cheong Myeong slaps herself across the face, startling Yoon Jong, who was explaining the homework to Iseol.
"I’m done for the day."
"What, do you and Tang Bo have plans?" Soso asks, placing the swords back on the rack.
"Uni is a fucking pain in the ass," she grumbles, already at the door. In that video, the tank top hugged wonan's chest and waist, but the edges were looser—as were the straps—making the garment look worn. Like something meant for lounging at home. Or something that had belonged to someone else.
"Damn it," Cheong Myeong mutters, pulling out her phone. After making sure no one is around, she plays the video again—this time with the sound off—feeling her ears burn as the opening seconds play.
* * *
Back in the privacy of her apartment, Cheong Myeong collapses onto her bed, groaning at her exhaustion—even though she hadn't really done anything all day.
A notification pops up on her phone.
'Unnie, want to go to the movies?'
She agrees without thinking, only realizing the time a moment later.
'Leech, we have classes tomorrow'
'We can watch something at my place! It’s been ages since you slept over~ Don't you miss the warmth of my arms?'
Images flash through her mind: the woman pulling the camera into a hug—a memory from that video, as well as others she’d watched later. Images of that woman, and of the others too.
'You’re the one who complains that I kick in my sleep.'
'If you didn't kick, you’d be the perfect woman of my dreams. You’re allowed to have a few flaws.'
"Pfft," Cheong Myeong snorts aloud at the joke. "What a brat."
'But still, it really has been a while. Don't you miss your Bo-ya at all?'
'Leech'
Cheong Myeong glances at the clock again; the hour hand is creeping toward midnight. She shouldn't have stayed out so long. No matter how hard she tried to shake off the restless feeling those videos stirred up, she’d eventually find herself opening them again—barely settled before searching for new ones.
'If you don't want to come to my place, I'll come to yours!'
"You really are relentless," Cheong Myeong smiles, getting out of bed and changing into loungewear.
Less than ten minutes later, the sound of the doorbell fills the apartment.
Tang Bo grins playfully, holding up two bottles of alcohol while bags of snacks dangle from her elbows.
"Here I am! You can't get rid of me that easily."
Cheong Myeong takes the bags and alcohol and puts them in the kitchen without saying a word to her unexpected guest, who closes the door and takes off her coat.
"Unnie, are you upset? That’s not like you. And even if you *were* upset—you opened the door for me; you didn't just kick me back out the moment you took the food and booze."
A long hand rests against her face. It’s a pleasant coolness that makes her want to close her eyes.
"You’re burning up! Did you spend the whole day training after uni again? I told you—take breaks, let your body rest! It’s not enough that you’re on your feet all day at uni; you go and exhaust yourself afterwards, too!"
Cheong Myeong rolls her eyes.
"I left practice early today. I went for a walk."
Tang Bo goes quiet, shooting her a strangely sharp look.
"I couldn't focus on training; I wanted to clear my head," Cheong Myeong adds.
"Did something happen?"
"Nothing," comes the too-quick reply.
Tang Bo’s playfulness vanishes, replaced by a serious expression. One second, two, three. Those green eyes seem to bore right through her, but the truth is too embarrassing to share. Even with Tang Bo.
"Unnie."
"Nothing serious."
This time, her friend believes her and, after a few more seconds, relaxes.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got a suitor?” she teases, already reaching for the spicy snacks.
Naturally, Cheong Myeong grabs them first, relieved by the change of subject.
“Well, I’ve never met an idiot quite like that before.”
* * *
Gradually, she began saving them so she could watch them again in secret from time to time. Cheong Myeong wasn’t proud of it, but she wasn’t ashamed either. There were far worse ways to discover an attraction to women. And no one knew what played out in her phone as she lay there with her hand between her legs, biting the insides of her cheeks until they bled from the intensity of the sensations.
Now, she didn't just wait for videos to find her; she actively sought out different creators.
Yet, none of them could quite replicate the effect that first woman—the one who started it all—had on her.
* * *
Tang Bo sat with her chin resting on her unnie’s shoulder, watching as she messaged her brother about their upcoming plans. She had a perfect view of that beautiful, luxurious, muscular yet soft chest and those toned shoulders—and she felt a bodily warmth that Tang Bo herself couldn't achieve, despite having trained since childhood.
"Want to go to the café on the corner? They have new desserts."
"Mmh, just a sec."
Tang Bo nodded, rubbing her cheek against the pleasant fabric of the other woman's turtleneck.
Cheong Myeong finished typing and selected photos from her gallery—posters for events they had attended or planned to attend, ranging from concerts and the circus to food tours and sightseeing trips. After spending a whole week hopping from pub to pub, Cheong Mun kept pestering them for stories about where they’d been. Tsk, it had only happened once! Just once!
Tang Bo’s train of thought was interrupted by a video preview amidst the random photos. Several videos. Very familiar videos. Her own videos—the ones she’d filmed in that second apartment where she didn't actually live.
"Hmm? Unnie, what are these videos? Do you like girls?"
Please. Please say yes.
Cheong Myeong, having selected and sent the posters, turned sharply toward her.
"Huh?!" Tang Bo taps the screen to open the gallery and points to a video where a girl arches her back on the bed, pulling her miniskirt down to cover the gap between her panties and stockings.
Cheong Myeong freezes; her eyes dart around frantically, searching for an excuse.
"Get off my phone," she rasps, locking the screen.
"But unnie, there are dozens of videos like that," Tang Bo says, blinking innocently without pulling away.
Maybe today is the day she works up the courage to confess again. If her unnie gets so flustered by these videos, then not all hope is lost, right? She wouldn't save things she didn't like!
A fist rises into the air.
Tang Bo straightens up abruptly, pointing at the sky and laughing nervously:
"Oh, unnie, look! There’s a funny cloud—it looks just like a doorknob!"
The fist lowers.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tang Bo notices that Cheong Myeong’s ears and neck have turned so red they could rival the accessory in Tang Bo’s hair.
* * *
Cheong Myeong is lying across the bed, playing on Tang Bo’s console. It’s a lovely view: a slender back, clothes disheveled from the scuffle, and rumpled sheets—the kind that look decent only on laundry day, when Tang Bo actually decides to make the bed.
Without trying to hide it, Tang Bo picks up the other woman's phone, unlocks it, and sits down beside her.
The videos include plenty of clips featuring Cheong Myeong's family or Tang Bo, but if you open the "Downloads" folder... every video from Tang Bo’s channel is there. At first, they’re jumbled—a few popular ones, then some less popular ones, then popular ones again. Recommendations, presumably. Then comes a section where they run from newest to oldest—which means her unnie went to her channel and watched everything from start to finish? And finally, from now on all her videos have been saved chronologically as they were released.
Oh, crap. Tang Bo needs to calm down.
"What are you doing over there?" Cheong Myeong grumbles lazily, not turning away from the TV. "Installing those gacha games for me again?"
"Why bother? You wouldn't play them anyway."
Naturally, other videos are saved alongside hers. Several people—all women. Tang Bo deletes them with a clear conscience.
"Then what are you fussing over?"
"Admiring your bathroom selfies, of course. And looking for nudes."
Cheong Myeong, as always, ignores the double meaning in her words and snorts:
"I don't take photos of myself."
"And who said I was looking for yours?"
After all, if the flirting doesn't work, she can just laugh it off.
…
"Please put the bottle down."
Cheong Myeong clicks her tongue and sets the soda bottle on the floor.
"If you're so eager to look at dicks, go to chat rouletts."
Tang Bo puts phone aside, lying down next to Cheong Myeong and resting her head on her crossed arms.
"What if I want to see boobs?"
"You see your own in the mirror every day—isn't that enough?"
Her unnie blushes slightly, as always, without even realizing it. It only happens when Tang Bo shows affection through her posture or her gaze. Why won't this impossible woman understand words?!
"I don't see yours every day."
Please. Just how much more direct does she have to be?
Cheong Myeong shoots her a bewildered look and grumbles:
"You want to die?"
But there’s no embarrassment, no realization that this isn't a joke.
"If you suffocate me with your tits, I wouldn't mind!" Tang Bo’s playful mood returns as he turns away to watch the game.
"Pfft, how shameless" Cheong Myeong smiles.
* * *
Cheong Myeong opens the new video the moment she gets home. The notification had been burning a hole in her pocket all day—a day that felt long and tedious without Tang Bo.
The woman in the video acts out a plea for help with her body, lifting her short skirt to reveal a bruise. With her hip shape, it’s easy to get bruised during a fall; Tang Bo had taken a tumble while rollerblading recently and complained about a bruise afterward, too.
Come to think of it, it had looked similar. It had that same dark line from the curb in the upper third, a smaller bruise beneath the main one, pale edges, and a scrape—and, incidentally, it ran in the same direction as the one on this woman...
The hand stroking the thigh around the bruise suddenly dives lower, hooking the edge of a warm, thick knit stocking and trying to pull it up; the fingers tense and arch, miming a futile effort. The very next movement tears the stocking; fingers punch right through the dense fabric. It’s dangerous—the way Cheong Myeong's cheeks burn at the thought of the fabric’s toughness, it looked that even a knife would require effort to cut through it.
A finger slips beneath the cloth, caresses the skin underneath, and withdraws.
Then two fingers spread the torn fabric, as if...
Cheong Myeong swallows hard, feeling a hot knot coil in her lower belly.
And the fingers—Tang Bo keeps her nails well-groomed, but she recently broke the one on her index finger, so it’s the only short one now. This girl has the same thing.
The realization strikes her like a hammer hitting a bell, making her toss her phone onto the pillow and push herself up on the bed.
It’s Tang Bo. It’s the same physique, and she was definitely wearing some of these clothes to their meetups—even those stockings; Tang Bo had recently mentioned that the toes had worn through and she was planning to throw them out. That’s why Cheong Myeong felt like she knew how the fabric felt, she really did!
And the moles—those rare distinctive moles visible on her arms and stomach—they match, too.
A wave of heat washes over her body at the thought that this is Tang Bo. She arches flirtatiously, lifting a leg and moving her fingers rhythmically; her chest rises with rapid breathing.
Cheong Myeong feels not just her face, but her entire body begin to burn.
Her legs go weak as she lies back down; her fingers, gone cold with the realization, carefully pick up the phone and hold it before her face. The video starts over, showing everything from the flirtatious movements to the way she plays with the hole in the stocking.
Cheong Myeong feels her throat go dry.
Damn.
Now she wants to kiss.
* * *
As always when they meet, Tang Bo links her arm through Cheong Myeong’s and presses her chest against Cheong Myeong’s shoulder; that contact—combined with the memory of how Tang Bo looked in that tight shirt with the top buttons undone—sends a jolt of electricity racing through her body.
"Unnie!" her friend beams, and—oh, damn—when Cheong Myeong pictures how Tang Bo’s face could look at those moments, making those movements and striking those poses, her mind comes to a complete standstill. A softness—uncharacteristic of this tough woman—presses against her hand; and even thoughCheong Myeong has felt it countless times—even helped her put on her bra and adjust her breasts when Tang Bo had burned her hands and couldn't dress comfortably on her own...
"The concert was cancelled because of the fire; maybe we could just go for a walk?"
Green eyes shine as they look at her. A dimple appears on her cheek from the faint smile that suits Tang Bo so well.
"Sure. Let's just stop for some beer first."
Even the cold metal in her hand doesn't help calm her down. Tang Bo won't let go of her hand—clinging like the leech she is—but a turbulent mix of realization, shame, and the fear that Tang Bo might find out rages in her mind, driving out every other thought.
Wait.
Tang Bo saw those videos in her gallery. Tang Bo had even been using her phone, saying she was looking for photos...
Cheong Myeong turns her head slightly, looking at the dark brown mass of hair resting on her shoulder, at that utterly calm gaze, and at the smile that appears when Tang Bo notices her looking.
Right. If Tang Bo doesn't want to talk about it, Cheong Myeong will simply pretend she didn't recognize her.
That decision brings a little calm.
A little.
The weight of what she did last night—even knowing that the mysterious woman was Tang Bo—still hangs on her shoulders, distracting her from the conversation. The weight of impulses she hadn't wanted to stop. Pleasure tinged with guilt.
"Unnie," Tang Bo purrs as they finally sit down on a bench. "Do you have any plans for the evening?"
Cheong Myeong turns toward her, noticing how her long fingers twirl the nearly empty beer can as if it were fine wine. Given her family background, she must be far more accustomed to the real thing than to cheap beer from a corner shop.
Her face is so close it blots out the entire world; she can feel her breath.
"I’d like to steal you away until nightfall—or better yet, until morning. You know I won’t let you get bored."
Tang Bo gazes at her, her face drawing nearer, and parts her lips slightly; her slender, vivid lips open, the pink skin glistening with alcohol and saliva.
Too close.
Cheong Myeong pulls back, creating some space.
Tang Bo remains leaning against the bench between them, blinking in confusion.
"Unnie? Did something happen?" her green eyes gaze back, bewildered.
Cheong Myeong breathes slowly, trying to calm her wildly racing heart and keep the heat rising in her cheeks from showing. It’s the way Tang Bo looks at her—eyelids half-lowered, lips slightly parted, close enough that a mere turn of the head would lead to a kiss. The way the scent of perfume drowns out everything else, even the smell of cigarettes. The way a stray lock of hair slips from her clip and brushes against Chong Myung’s cheek.
She can’t act like her usual self.
"We aren't dating, so we shouldn't be acting like this," Cheong Myeong mutters, still trying to regain her composure.
Only after the words leave her lips does she realize what she’s said. Damn it—let Tang Bo take it as a joke, let her start asking what’s actually wrong!
Tang Bo stares at her for a few seconds with a surprisingly blank expression—one Cheong Myeong rarely sees on her.
"We could fix that," Tang Bo says finally, her expression unchanged. There isn't even a trace of the playful tone she used earlier.
"Okay," Cheong Myeong replies the moment the words sink in.
"For instance, we could... wait, what?"
Her mouth falls open in indignation—so it was a joke after all?! Then what else was a joke? Her words about how much their friendship meant to her? The compliments? The stories about her past? What kind of sense of humor is that?!
Cheong Myeong snaps her mouth shut, clenching her teeth and fists. The corners of her eyes sting, and she can’t tell why—is it the rising wind kicking up dust, or the other woman’s surprised reaction?
"Forget it," she says, standing up and heading toward the park exit.
She barely takes a step before arms wrap around her waist; the weight of a grown young woman presses her feet hard against the asphalt.
"UNNIE! WAIT! DON'T GO! YOU'RE REALLY NOT JOKING?! Give me a chance—I didn't know I could just ask! I’d love to! Absolutely! I just didn't expect you to say yes!"
Cheong Myeong looks in disbelief at the tear-filled green eyes pressed against her waist, the pitifully pouting lip, and a gaze burning with hope and determination.
"You! You’re such a leech!"
Hearing no rejection, Tang Bo breaks into a wide grin, hooking a finger into the waistband of Cheong Myeong’s trousers.
"Yeah, I’m pretty good at sucking. Want to try?"
Blood pounds in her temples—a rush caused by a mix of embarrassment and anger.
"Huh?!"
Tang Bo stands up without letting go; the embrace shifts from her hips to her ribs, and their faces are suddenly incredibly close again.
"I’ve said this before, but you didn't get it then. I love you. Not like family. Not like a friend. I love you with all my heart; I want to spend my life with you. I want to be with you—right by your side. I want you—from head to toe, from your laughter to your tears. I want to share your curiosity, your happiness, and your sorrow. Please, just understand this time: I love you. I want to kiss you. I want to sleep with you. To touch you."
The other’s words echo inside her skull.
Yes.
Tang Bo had already said all of this.
But Cheong Myeong had thought it was just friendly affection. That, yes, it wasn’t familial—it was friendship. And that they weren’t just friends—they were best friends. That being together, living together, sleeping in the same bed—it was all just a friendly sort of closeness, like how Cheong Myeong would lounge about with the brothers she wasn't blood-related to, unable to imagine a future without them.
That those words—'I want to cover you in kisses, from head to toe'—were merely the kind of tender affection adult women had shown her in childhood when she’d been on her best behavior.
That when Tang Bo spoke of them potentially dating, it was just a joke about how close they were—closer than anyone else in each other's lives.
That when Tang Bo tried to kiss her, it was just drunken antics, a joke that had gone too far.
Damn.
So, all this time... So, Tang Bo...
Cheong Myeong doesn't look away from the green eyes before her—eyes drawing closer, slowly but inexorably. Like a predator that has hypnotized its prey.
"Unnie, since you agreed... Do you feel the same way?"
That light, high, airy voice, laced with timid hope, cuts into her heart more sharply than a dull knife.
"Yes."
Even if she only realized it tonight—lying there with damp fingers and a mind gone blank, trying to understand why the mere thought of Tang Bo beside her—touching her, kissing her—made her body fill with a restless agitation and stole the breath from her lungs.
She had never felt as good as she did when imagining herself with Tang Bo, recalling her naked body and the scent of her skin, or picturing that familiar voice whispering words of tenderness. Kisses, embraces, a burning gaze.
Tang Bo’s breath scorches her lips, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Thinking of something nice?" that snake purrs.
"You," Cheong Myeong says, being a little coy as she soaks up the intense reaction.
The other woman’s lips taste like cigarettes—a nasty habit she’s grown used to over the years they’ve known each other. Right now, even that seems to have a certain charm.
Unable to handle more than a few seconds of lip-to-lip contact, Cheong Myeong turns away, trying to catch her breath.
"Unnie, I haven't even started yet," Tang Bo whispers in her ear.
Her heart is pounding faster than it ever did after a grueling workout.
"It’s my first kiss," Cheong Myeong tries to snap back, hugging her in return, but she’s cut off by a soft laugh.
"I know. And it’s charming. Just like you. But when has a lack of experience ever stopped you?"
True enough.
Turning back with a wide grin, Cheong Myeong tightens her grip and bares her teeth—teeth whose durability she never doubts.
Tang Bo pulls back nervously, but before she can start feigning fright again, Cheong Myeong leans in and presses her lips against hers. Her nose digs into a cheek, their lips bump together, and her teeth bite into the inside of her lip, nearly cutting the skin.
Damn.
It shouldn't be this hard.
People do this all the time in movies—even out on the street.
Tang Bo follows her when Cheong Myeong tries to pull away, continuing the kiss and brushing her tongue against hers.
"We're out in public," Cheong Myeong whispers, and thankfully, Tang Bo doesn't take the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
"Then let's go to my place?"
"Don't push your luck."
“Hmm, I can promise not to do anything unless you ask me to?”
Cheong Myeong calms down a little, though she senses a catch.
“No need. Just know restrain.”
Tang Bo rests her head on Cheong Myeong’s shoulder, sighing happily.
“Still, get permission to stay the night. I want to hold you as I fall asleep. You’re so warm, and your chest is so soft—all my worries melt away like the first snow.”
Her heart gradually stops trying to leap out of her chest, and her cheeks cool down—not completely, but enough to feel comfortable.
“Alright. Buy some Peking duck for dinner; we haven’t had it in a long time.”
Tang Bo chuckles softly and nods, squeezing her especially tight before pulling away.
Her wet green eyes shine with something sincere—something unusually open. Reaching out, Cheong Myeong wipes a tear from her cheek, hoping it was a tear of happiness.