REMI ✿

Hyoman was an idiot. Everyone at Eunjang, no, everyone in Yeongdeungpo knew it. He was huge, loud, abusive, and always looking for someone to mess with to feel superior.

And that afternoon, his target was Yeon Sieun.

The third-floor hallway was almost empty. Classes had ended over half an hour ago. The girl was walking toward the exit with her backpack slung over one shoulder when she heard the noise. She peeked around the corner and saw the scene. Hyoman had Sieun cornered against the lockers. Hyoman was shouting stupid crap, trying to intimidate him, jabbing Sieun's shoulder with his giant index finger.

Sieun, for his part, was completely silent. His face showed not a trace of fear, just that same bored expression he always wore. But the girl, who knew him well enough, noticed how Sieun's right hand was slowly sliding into his pants pocket, probably reaching for a pen to stab Hyoman in the neck or the eye.

Sieun was going to fight. And even though she knew Sieun was a monster when he set his mind to it, Hyoman had twice his weight and size. Panic took hold of her. She didn't want to see Sieun fight, didn't want to see him hurt, and she also didn't want him expelled for shoving a pen into that gorilla's brain.

Without thinking twice, instinct overrode reason.

She ran toward them and threw herself right in the middle, shoving Hyoman's chest with both hands to push him away from Sieun.

"Leave him alone, you idiot!" she shouted, positioning herself in front of Sieun like a human shield. "The PE teacher's coming up the stairs. If he sees you messing with another student, you're getting detention for the whole month."

Hyoman looked at her with disgust, caught off guard by the interruption. He glanced toward the stairs and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He didn't want trouble with the teachers.

"You got lucky this time, runt," Hyoman spat at Sieun before turning on his heel and stomping away down the hallway.

The girl let out all the air she'd been holding in her lungs. She turned around to face Sieun with a small, relieved smile, expecting him to say something like "thanks" or at least give her a nod.

But when she looked at him, the smile vanished from her face in an instant.

Sieun wasn't relieved. He was furious.

His eyes, normally so calm, were now shooting sparks. His jaw was clenched so tight there was a visible tic in his cheek, and the hand he had in his pocket was trembling.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Sieun asked. His voice wasn't a yell, but it was so cold and cutting it felt like a slap.

"What? I... I was helping you," she stammered, confused by his reaction. "Hyoman is huge, Sieun, he was going to hit you. I just wanted him to leave..."

"I didn't ask for your help!" Sieun suddenly exploded, raising his voice in a way that made her stumble back a step in shock. "You think I can't defend myself? You think I'm some useless loser who needs a girl to stand in front of a guy twice her size?"

"I didn't say that! I was just worried about you," she defended herself, feeling a knot forming in her throat.

"Then don't worry about me!" Sieun shouted, stepping toward her, his expression almost terrifying. "What do you think would've happened if Hyoman decided to hit you instead of me, huh? Did you even think about that? Stay out of my problems! If you're going to do stupid things and put yourself at risk for me, then don't come near me."

The hallway fell silent.

Sieun's words echoed off the walls. They were cruel, unfair, and straight to the heart. The girl stared at him with wide eyes. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

She'd only tried to protect the boy she liked, and he was treating her like she was a nuisance, like she was weak or stupid.

Sieun, seeing the glint of tears in her eyes, seemed to realize what he'd just said. His mouth opened slightly, his expression softening for a microsecond, as if he wanted to take his words back.

But her pride and her hurt were faster.

"Fine," she said, her voice trembling but steady, gripping the straps of her backpack. "You don't have to worry, Yeon Sieun. I won't come near you ever again in my damn life. Keep your problems."

She turned around and ran down the hallway, leaving him completely alone.

The following days were absolute hell.

She kept her promise to the letter. The next day, she didn't sit near him in class. When lunchtime came, instead of going to the rooftop where she always hung out with Sieun, Humin, Gotak, and Juntae, she went to eat alone in the library.

Tuesday was the same. When Sieun walked down the hallway and spotted her in the distance, she would immediately turn around and walk the other way. If they somehow ended up in the same space, she ignored him with such coldness that it made the atmosphere awkward for everyone else.

Humin noticed right away.

"Hey, Sieun," the brown-haired boy said on the rooftop Wednesday, chewing on a piece of bread. "What did you do to her? She hasn't come to eat with us for three days, and this morning I saw her hide in the girls' bathroom just so she wouldn't run into you on the stairs."

Sieun was sitting on an old wooden crate, staring at a textbook he hadn't read a single page of in the last twenty minutes. His expression was as stoic as ever, but inside, he was going absolutely insane.

He wasn't angry at her. He never had been. He was angry at himself—terrified.

When he saw the girl step in front of Hyoman, all Sieun saw was Sooho falling in the middle of the ring. He saw another person he cared about getting hurt because of him. The fear of losing someone else made him explode in anger to push her away from danger.

But his words came out as an attack on her pride, and he ended up hurting her far more.

The silence between the two of them was killing him. He missed how she always left a carton of strawberry milk on his desk in the mornings. He missed her voice. He missed her teasing him about always studying.

"It's nothing," Sieun lied, slamming the book shut. "She'll get over it."

But she didn't get over it.

Thursday came. The girl was emptying her locker at the end of classes. The sky was gray and it was starting to pour outside, making the hallways feel darker than usual.

She shut the metal door of her locker, and when she turned around, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest.

Sieun was standing there. Just a couple of meters away, blocking the path to the main stairs. His hands were in his pants pockets, his dark bangs falling over his eyes, and he was staring straight at her.

The girl felt a pang in her stomach. She missed him, of course she did, but she was still deeply hurt by the way he'd yelled at her. She pressed her lips together, grabbed her backpack, and started walking toward him, intending to pass right by him as if he were just another piece of school furniture.

But when she tried to step around him, Sieun took a step sideways, cutting her off.

She frowned and stepped to the left. Sieun moved left, blocking her again.

"Move," she grunted, without looking him in the face.

Sieun didn't budge. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't. You told me not to come near you, and that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm very good at following orders. Now, move," she demanded, her voice full of all the resentment she'd built up over those four days.

Seeing that Sieun had absolutely no intention of getting out of her way, the girl turned on her heel and started walking fast in the opposite direction, toward the old hallway where the rarely used classrooms were. She wanted to reach the back stairs to escape him.

But Sieun wasn't going to let her go this time. He started following her. His steps were silent but quick.

The girl, realizing he was chasing her, sped up almost to a trot. She entered the old hallway. It was completely empty and silent. She spotted a classroom door wide open. She figured if she went in there and exited through the back door of the same classroom, she could lose him.

She ducked into the empty classroom. The chairs were stacked up on the desks, but her plan was a total disaster.

Before she could reach the other door, she heard the sound of the main door closing behind her. And then, the unmistakable sound of the metal lock clicking shut.

She spun around.

Sieun had just locked the door. He was leaning against the wood, breathing a little harder than normal, watching her with an intensity that made her step back on pure instinct.

"What the hell are you doing, Yeon Sieun? Open the door!" she yelled, dropping her backpack onto one of the chairs.

Sieun pushed himself off the door and started walking toward her. His face was deadly serious. "I'm not opening it until you stop running from me. You've been ignoring me for four days."

"Because you told me to go to hell!" she shot back, feeling the frustration rising in her throat again. "You yelled at me. You made me feel like I was some stupid nuisance just for trying to keep that gorilla from breaking your face. And now you lock me in a classroom because I'm not paying attention to you? You're a hypocrite."

She tried to sidestep him to reach the door and undo the lock, but Sieun was much faster. In a sudden, agile movement, Sieun grabbed her by the waist with both hands. She let out a choked gasp of surprise when she felt him lift her off the floor with incredible ease, as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

Before she could protest or kick him, Sieun plopped her down onto one of the student desks.

They were face to face. With her sitting on the desk, their faces were at exactly the same height. Sieun stepped forward, positioning himself between her legs so she couldn't jump off the desk. He placed both hands on the wood, on either side of the girl's hips, completely cornering her.

"Put me down, Yeon Sieun," she demanded, her breathing ragged from the surprise and from the sudden closeness of his body. Her heart started pounding hard. She could smell the soap he used, she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body through their school uniforms.

"No," he replied, curtly.

Sieun looked her in the eyes, and for the first time all week, the girl saw that the barrier he always wore had shattered. His dark eyes looked vulnerable, tired, and desperate.

"I didn't yell at you because you were a nuisance," Sieun began, his voice dropping to a much rougher, softer tone, almost a whisper blending with the sound of the rain. "I yelled at you because I almost went insane from panic."

The girl frowned, confused, stopping her struggle. "Panic? About what?"

Sieun clenched his jaw, dropping his gaze for a second to her hands resting on the edge of the desk, before looking back into her eyes.

"When I saw you step in front of Hyoman... my mind stopped working," Sieun confessed. Every word seemed to cost him enormous effort, because he didn't like talking about his feelings. "I know how to fight. I can take hits. But you can't. Hyoman could've broken your jaw with one punch. He could've seriously hurt you. And if something had happened to you because of me... if you'd gotten hurt trying to protect me... I would've killed myself."

The girl's breath caught. All the anger she'd been feeling evaporated in a single blow, replaced by a knot of tenderness and sadness. She knew what had happened to Sieun's best friend in the past. She knew he lived with that trauma every single day of his life.

"I can't lose anyone else," Sieun continued, bringing his face a little closer to hers, his eyes shining with a painful intensity. "And least of all you. I was so scared that the only thing I knew to do was yell to push you away. I was an idiot. I was a complete asshole for how I spoke to you, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But please... don't ignore me again. I swear these four days have been absolute torture."

The girl's eyes filled with tears, but this time they weren't from anger. She raised her trembling hands and, with great gentleness, cupped Sieun's face. His cheeks were a little cold, but she didn't care. She stroked his skin with her thumbs.

"You're the biggest idiot in this whole school, you know that?" she whispered, her voice cracked, but with a small smile creeping onto her lips.

Sieun let out a sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath for four straight days, and rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, savoring the simple contact of her hands on his face.

"I know," he murmured. "Just... don't put yourself in danger for me again."

"And don't you ever yell at me again, because next time I'll be the one hitting you," she warned him, though the tone of her voice was pure sweetness.

Sieun opened his eyes and looked at her. Their gazes met, and in that instant, the atmosphere completely shifted. There was no more fear or anger. There was a built-up electricity that both of them had been ignoring for months.

Sieun didn't think anymore. He didn't want to talk anymore.

He tilted his head and crashed his lips against hers.

The girl let out a small gasp of surprise at the urgency of the movement, but immediately closed her eyes and kissed him back with the same intensity. Sieun released the edge of the desk and slid his hands up her waist, pulling her forcefully against his body so there wasn't a single centimeter of space between them.

The kiss was clumsy at first, full of desperation. Their teeth knocked together, but they quickly found their rhythm. Sieun kissed her as if she were oxygen and he'd been drowning all week. He parted her mouth a little more, slipping his tongue inside to deepen the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness she always had.

The girl tangled both hands in Sieun's soft, dark hair, tugging slightly at the strands at the nape of his neck, which drew a low, deep groan from the back of his throat. That sound made her legs tremble.

The empty classroom filled with the sound of the rain outside and the wet noise of their mouths kissing desperately.

Sieun was completely out of control, something extremely rare for him. His hands, always so precise, now roamed the girl's back with pure need, gripping the fabric of her uniform, sliding down to grab her firmly by the hips to keep her pressed against him on the desk.

They pulled apart just a few millimeters from the urgent lack of air, both breathing through their mouths, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

"God..." Sieun panted, staring at her swollen, wet lips, feeling his head spin in the best possible way.

"Shut up..." she whispered back, grabbing him by the lapels of his school blazer and pulling him in to kiss him again.

This time, the kiss was slower but far hotter. Sieun tilted his head, searching for a better angle, carefully biting her lower lip before sliding his tongue back in. One of the boy's hands slipped from her hip to her thigh, squeezing it over her uniform skirt, which made the girl instinctively arch her back and let out a small sigh into his mouth.

They stayed there, locked in that old classroom, kissing until their lips ached and the cold of the room disappeared completely thanks to the warmth of their bodies. All the anger of the week burned away on that desk.

When the final bell finally rang through the school speakers, signaling it was time for the janitorial staff to close the building, they had no choice but to pull apart completely.

Sieun rested his forehead against her shoulder, trying to calm his racing breath and the frantic pounding of his own heart. She stroked his back, smiling like a fool, her hair completely disheveled and her cheeks flushed.

"I guess you don't hate me anymore," Sieun murmured against her neck, pressing a quick, soft kiss to the exposed skin of her collarbone, tickling her.

"I never hated you, you idiot," she laughed, gently pushing him back by the chest so she could look at him. "But you owe me like a thousand cartons of strawberry milk for the stress you put me through."

Sieun straightened up. His bangs were still a little messy, and his lips were noticeably red, which made him look a hundred times more handsome than usual. That tiny, almost invisible smile he reserved only for her appeared on his face.

The message group of people who participated in animal fostering wouldn't stop making your phone vibrate during the day. That sometimes happened when an animal couldn't find a home and needed one immediately. It was very common in cases of older animals or those in situations requiring extra care due to illness. But to your surprise, that wasn't the case.

It was a kitten. Black with tiny white details. The same one you had been following for days and that, for some reason, had captivated you more than anyone in that active adoption and donation group.

You felt very tempted to adopt her several times, but you knew it would be impulsive to take her only to have to give her back if your landlord found out about her existence, so you contented yourself with looking at a few photos fondly and accepting that eventually she would find a permanent place.

However, a problem arose, and the person who was going to take her couldn't provide that support anymore, returning the cat to one of the students in the group. Apparently, she had a bad adaptation with the willing adopter, who already had another older cat, and the animals almost got into a serious fight. Now, for safety reasons, she had been separated from that cat and, consequently, was left without a new home.

Your heart tightened more than it ever had in all the time you'd been part of the group. It wasn't just about the cat's situation. It was the fact that you had wanted her from the beginning. In some way you couldn't explain, the two of you had formed a connection. You could imagine yourself with her, sleeping with her, hearing her purr as you studied and she rested on your lap. You could almost smell her.

You almost… Ah, screw it! You thought. And in a moment of total impulse, you volunteered to take her. Your problems with the landlord would have to wait.

[…]

You were stroking the still‑nameless cat's fur as she rubbed against your hand and purred, when finally the impulsiveness of your action came to the surface.

Honestly, you didn't mind keeping her as a big secret so much, but that secret didn't depend entirely on you—it went far beyond that. How could you guarantee she wouldn't raise any suspicion when you were away at college? It wasn't as if you could take her in your backpack or monitor her 24 hours a day.

No, you couldn't imagine going back on your decision, but you also couldn't stop cursing your own lack of restraint. No, you couldn't blame the cat's sweet eyes or the way she meowed at you so affectionately. You only had yourself to blame, and honestly, yourself to find a more viable solution. And no, giving her back to the adoption group—which would feel like a second rejection to her—was not among the options.

You took a deep breath, trying to find a way out, any way out.

Until something you had never considered came to mind. Or rather, someone.

Yeon Si-eun.

[…]

Your boyfriend stood before you after opening the door of his apartment, staring at you as if there was a bomb in your arms instead of a cat. It was a little hard to tell what he was thinking, mainly because you had called saying you needed to see him urgently, and suddenly you were at his doorstep with a large bag in one arm and a kitten in the other, curiously staring back at him.

Si-eun knew better than to bombard you with questions, especially while you were still in the hallway of his building, so he just made space for you to enter and closed the door behind you.

Still in silence, he guided you—though he didn't really need to, since you already knew every corner of that apartment very well—to his room, where you sat down on his bed. The kitten still in your lap while you set the bag on the floor.

"I imagine the urgency has to do with…" Your boyfriend gave you the cue to start explaining.

"She doesn't have a name yet."

"Right."

You didn't know exactly why you had said the cat didn't have a name, as if that was what Si-eun was asking. You knew that wasn't what he wanted to know. He wanted to understand what his girlfriend was doing here in the middle of the night with a kitten and a giant bag.

Even with all the curiosity in the world, Si-eun didn't pressure you to say everything immediately, and you couldn't help but notice how his gaze kept drifting toward the cat. You never tired of admiring your boyfriend's expressive eyes, but that wasn't what caught your attention about them now. They were staring intently into the kitten's eyes on your lap. Both the cat and your boyfriend seemed to be studying each other—the two of them with the most beautiful eyes in the world.

You almost felt like an intruder in the situation.

"She won't bite," you said, breaking the spell. "She's very calm."

Si-eun blinked first. Of course he did.

"You brought her here because your building doesn't allow pets," he stated. It wasn't a question.

You nodded, hugging the kitten against your chest as if she could protect you from the conversation. "I'm not going to ask you to keep her forever. Just… for now. Until I figure out what to do. Until I find a way."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he approached—one slow, calculated step—and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside you. Not too close, but close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his arm. The cat turned her head to stare at him again. And then, with an audacity that only a kitten could have, she stretched out her neck and sniffed his fingers.

Si-eun didn't move.

She sniffed for a few more seconds, blinked slowly—which you knew was a sign of trust in cats—and then rubbed her cheek against the tip of his index finger.

Your heart leaped.

Si-eun finally looked away from the cat and fixed his gaze on you. "She stays," he said, simple as that—simple like he always was with you. "For now."

The relief that flooded your chest was so overwhelming that you almost cried. "Si-eun-ah, thank you so much, I swear I'll figure this out as soon as possible—"

As you were still trying to plead your case, Si-eun got up, went to his closet, and took out an old t‑shirt. He folded it into a perfect square and placed it on the floor beside his bed, as if he were setting up a miniature campsite.

"Is that for her?" you asked, incredulous.

"She needs a place to sleep." But Si‑eun quickly added in his classic rational tone, "But I'm not sleeping with her either."

You almost laughed. "She's not going to steal your bed, Si-eun-ah."

Your boyfriend just looked at you with that expression that said "I'm not taking that risk" without having to open his mouth. The cat, however, had already lost interest in him and was now nestling deeper into your lap, her tiny eyes slowly closing.

"How cute. She's sleepy," you murmured, stroking her head. "That was a lot of excitement for one day."

Si-eun watched the scene for another moment, then got up from the bed. "Are you sleeping here too?"

The question was practical, not an invitation. He was already grabbing an extra pillow from the closet, as if your presence there was already a foregone conclusion. Because it was. That was how it worked between you.

"If it's not a bother…"

"It's not." He tossed the pillow onto the bed, next to yours. "But the cat stays on the floor."

"Si-eun-ah, she's tiny…"

"On the floor."

You sighed, but smiled. He was already pulling off his hoodie, leaving himself in his usual black t-shirt, and flopped onto the bed beside you with a low grunt. The cat meowed in protest at the movement but didn't open her eyes.

You didn't dare argue with your boyfriend since you were already asking too much of him. He wasn't mistreating the cat or anything, and not in a million years would he ever do that. You could only respect the boundaries he would set for taking care of her. Even so, something inside you felt that this situation wouldn't stay that way: you knew Si‑eun's soft heart better than anyone.

Adjusting your position in bed, turning your back to your boyfriend, you looked at the kitten one more time as she rested at the floor, on top of Si-eun's folded shirt, and then you finally felt relaxed enough to rest.

[...]

The next morning, very early, since you and Si‑eun had college, you both woke up to a surprise: the cat had climbed onto the bed and nestled herself between the two of you, sleeping soundly. She yawned, showing her pink tongue, and then started purring loudly. The kitten stretched, sinking her tiny claws into the blanket, and then turned to stare at Si-eun up close. He stared back, motionless.

"Good morning," you said, still sleepy.

"She was purring in my ear." His voice was rough with sleep. "For almost half an hour."

"And you didn't move?"

"She was sleeping."

Your heart melted. "You're an idiot, Yeon Si-eun."

He frowned, confused. "Why?"

"Because you pretend you don't care, but you do."

He didn't deny it. Instead, he sat up in bed carefully so as not to fully wake the cat—but she was already awake and meowed, demanding attention. Si-eun hesitated for a second, then slowly ran one finger between her ears. The purring grew louder.

"She's going to need food," he said, switching to practical mode. "And a litter box."

"I brought everything in the bag."

"Right." He got up. "I'll make coffee."

And he left, leaving you and the cat in bed. You weren't sure if he was running away from the situation or just being himself. Probably both.

[…]

Over the next few days, you instructed Si-eun on the best ways to take care of the cat, and he sent you photos and videos daily, along with descriptions of how the day had gone. It was a funny ritual, but you couldn't help finding it adorable. Even though your boyfriend wasn't obligated to be so dedicated given all his commitments with his own college, he still made an effort to keep you informed of everything.

Eventually, however, you noticed that over time, the messages became more frequent and the descriptions less distant, as if Si-eun was actually starting to see this as more than just another task.

Ever since you had left the still‑nameless kitten at his apartment, you hadn't been able to return because you were in the middle of a chaotic exam week. But now that week was over and you could finally breathe a little, it was time to pay your boyfriend another visit.

[…]

When you arrived at the apartment, Si-eun opened the door with the cat in his arms. She was curled around his arm like a baby, her front paws hanging down and her little head resting against his chest. He didn't say anything — just made space for you to enter.

"She doesn't want to get down," he commented, as if it were a technical analysis.

"And you don't want to put her on the floor," you teased, laughing.

Your boyfriend didn't answer. He just walked to the sofa and sat down, adjusting the cat on his lap with a care you rarely saw in him. She was purring like a little engine.

"She has a name now," he said, looking away. "It's Nabi."

"Nabi? Why Nabi?"

He was silent for a second, running his fingers slowly along the cat's back. "Because she's black. And small. And…" He hesitated. "Black butterflies are rare. When they appear, it's a sign. She appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of everything else."

Your heart tightened. He wasn't just talking about the cat.

"And you think she's a sign?"

"I don't know." He stared at the kitten, who was now closing her eyes in pleasure. "But she's not leaving."

"What?"

"She stays." His voice was firm but low. "Permanently. If you want. I've already decided."

You were speechless. That wasn't how you had agreed things would go. It was supposed to be temporary, just until you sorted out the situation with your building. But there was Si-eun — the same Si-eun who didn't like unexpected things, who planned everything, who rarely opened up — offering a permanent home to a kitten he barely knew.

"Are you sure?" you managed to ask.

"She's already adapted. It wouldn't make sense to take her away now." He shrugged, as if it were pure logic. But you knew him better than that.

"Si-eun-ah…"

"She likes me." He finally looked her in the eyes. "And I… don't mind her staying."

"You don't mind?" you repeated, laughing softly.

"That's what I said." The tips of his ears were slightly pink. The cat meowed, demanding more affection, and he immediately obliged.

You sat down next to him on the sofa, leaning your head against his shoulder. "You're in love with her."

"She's a cat." He answered immediately, as if nurturing that feeling for an animal didn't make sense.

"And you're hopelessly in love."

Si-eun neither confirmed nor denied it. But when the cat meowed softly, your boyfriend cracked a small smile. Nabi was home.

She treats him with absolute respect for his space and his time, never smothering him with demanding questions or unnecessary drama. Instead, she shows her love through practical acts of service: slipping a cup of coffee onto his desk while he is studying without saying a word, organizing his notes when she sees he’s completely exhausted or just sitting next to him reading a book in complete silence.

She is the only one capable of catching his subtle mood shifts or physical fatigue before anyone else, making her his ultimate safe haven.

𝑨𝒉𝒏 𝑺𝒖-𝒉𝒐:

His ideal type is a genuine, cheerful, transparent and down-to-earth girl. Su-ho values honesty above all else and absolutely hates mind games or being messed around. He needs a girlfriend who can be his anchor… someone mature but with a warm heart, who truly understands the grueling, exhausting pace of life he keeps up between his multiple jobs.

She treats him with immense warmth, spontaneity and a deeply sweet protective instinct. She is someone who genuinely laughs at his jokes, but still has the backbone to stand her ground and tell him: "Break time means resting... sit down and eat."

Her affection is incredibly physical and comforting: giving him long, heavy hugs after a brutal shift, whipping up a quick meal for him or insisting on walking with him in the dead of night so he isn't alone. With her, Su-ho can finally stop being everyone else's protector and just let himself be taken care of.

𝑶𝒉 𝑩𝒆𝒐𝒎-𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒌:

His ideal type is a girl with bulletproof emotional stability, immense empathy and total transparency. Beom-seok is incredibly fragile, paranoid and prone to misinterpreting people's intentions out of a deep-seated fear of rejection. His ideal girlfriend has to be highly secure in herself… an open book who never gets tired of clearly reassuring him of her affection.

She treats him with constant validation, infinite patience and absolute honesty. She’s the kind of girlfriend who never hides a single thing from him, making sure never to trigger his insecurities or jealousy. She doesn't treat him with pity, which Beom-seok would absolutely despise… instead, she gives him top priority in her life. She speaks to him gently but firmly whenever he starts to doubt himself, using daily gestures to remind him that he is loved for exactly who he is, helping him soothe his chronic fear of abandonment.

𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐-𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈:

His ideal type is a direct, loyal girl with zero emotional filters and a strong sense of companionship. Woo-young values straightforward codes of loyalty. His ideal girlfriend would be a pragmatic girl with a lot of character… someone who knows how to hold her own but thoroughly enjoys sharing a relaxed, drama-free everyday life with him.

She treats him with blunt honesty, camaraderie, and unconditional support. Their dynamic feels incredibly natural, like two best friends who also happen to be deeply in love. She doesn't try to change Woo-young’s lifestyle… instead, she becomes his anchor. If he messes up, she’ll call him out on it straight to his face with no sugarcoating, but at the same time, she’s the first person to have his back or sit down for a bite to eat with him just to listen to him vent after a tense day.

𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒃𝒊𝒏:

His ideal type is a girl with a strong, independent personality who isn't easily impressed. Yeong-bin uses cruelty and money to camouflage his own weaknesses. His ideal girlfriend can’t be a submissive girl, whom he would only end up walking all over out of sheer frustration. She needs a firm moral compass and enough maturity not to be blinded by his delusions of grandeur.

She treats him with firmness, clear boundaries, and a disarming honesty. She doesn't laugh at his cruel jokes or feed into his arrogant attitude. By treating him without fear and demanding maturity from him, she forces him to step down from his high horse. Their relationship is the only space where Yeong-bin doesn't have to "act" like the rich, tough guy... she strips away his facade with a single look in private, making him realize he doesn't need a power trip to win her love.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑯𝒖-𝒎𝒊𝒏:

His ideal type is a peaceful, deeply sweet and empathetic girl with great emotional stability. Baku carries a massive amount of tension and a complex background, so his ideal girlfriend represents the pure concept of "home." She has to be a great listener, someone who won't get spooked or judge him for the physical conflicts and street fights he constantly finds himself wrapped up in.

She treats him with unconditional tenderness and endless patience. She’s the classic girlfriend who welcomes him with open arms no matter if he shows up with a bruised face from a fight. Instead of scolding him harshly, she gently patches him up while making sure he’s well-fed. She speaks to him in a soft tone that instantly diffuses Hu-min’s impulsive temper, prioritizing his emotional well-being and making him feel profoundly safe and held.

𝑮𝒐 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏-𝒕𝒂𝒌:

His ideal type is a grounded, deeply understanding girl with a fierce, unbreakable loyalty. Because Gotak tends to be reactive and hides deep insecurities about his place in the group, his ideal girlfriend needs to be his emotional anchor. She has to be a mature girl who doesn't flinch at his angry outbursts and knows how to see the massive heart hidden behind his tough-guy front.

She treats him with constant validation and firm but loving boundaries. She knows exactly how to bring him back down to earth when he gets worked up, speaking to him calmly but firmly. She makes sure to make him feel like the center of her universe, keeping his fears of being sidelined at bay. Her affection shows in the little everyday details: texting him to make sure he got home safe, defending him in front of others and constantly reminding him how much he’s worth all on his own.

𝑵𝒂 𝑩𝒂𝒆𝒌-𝒋𝒊𝒏:

His ideal type is an incredibly intelligent, sharp girl with a strong backbone and impeccable composure. Baek-jin has zero tolerance for weakness or people who are easily manipulated. His ideal girlfriend must possess immense mental fortitude, she isn't intimidated by his presence and has the intellectual capacity to challenge him or keep pace with him in conversation.

She treats him as an equal, with frankness and a subtle touch of irreverence. She doesn't treat him like a boss nor does she fear him like the rest of the world, she speaks to him peer-to-peer. She creates the only safe space where Baek-jin can completely take off his mask as the ruthless leader of the Union. In private, she uses her razor-sharp wit and clever sarcasm to crack his poker face, offering him absolute loyalty built on mutual trust, never on fear.

𝑮𝒆𝒖𝒎 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒋𝒆:

His ideal type is a bold, unpredictable girl with a quick wit and a thick emotional armor. Seong-je is cynical and gets incredibly bored by predictable or submissive people. He needs a girlfriend who can mentally stimulate him, someone with a streak of rebellion or mischief in her personality who isn't scandalized by his chaotic energy.

She treats him with constant challenges and a deeply playful, sharp complicity. She plays verbal tennis with him, throwing his provocations and ironic remarks right back at him instead of getting offended or scared off. She doesn't try to "save" him or change his wild nature, she enjoys it. However, behind closed doors, she knows exactly when to stand her ground with a cold look that tells Seong-je he’s crossed a line… earning his absolute respect because she is the one woman he would never dare to cross.

𝑩𝒂𝒆𝒌 𝑫𝒐𝒏𝒈-𝒉𝒂:

His ideal type is a girl with a patience of steel, great maturity and sharp intuition. Dong-ha is a cruel, sadistic delinquent who usually hides behind a mocking smirk to make everyone else uncomfortable, but deep down, he carries profound insecurities whenever he’s defeated or loses control. His ideal girlfriend needs to be incredibly grounded… someone who isn't spooked by his chaotic side or his obsession with money, possessing enough stability to be his only real axis.

She treats him with a mix of absolute firmness and unconditional loyalty. You dont celebrate his cruel streaks nor do you let yourself be intimidated by his provocations... if he gets unbearable or arrogant, you know how to shut him down with a single cold stare, earning his respect because you are one of the incredibly rare people he can't manipulate.

The school cafeteria was always a noisy mess, with the sound of metal trays clattering against plastic tables, students shouting over the last pieces of cake, and the echo of conversations blending into a constant buzz that gave anyone a headache.

But she didn’t mind the noise. She was sitting at her usual table, trying to focus on her lunch. In front of her was Sooho, her best friend, devouring his second tray of food as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Sooho’s mouth was full of rice and meat, but that didn’t stop him from talking nonstop.

She stirred her soup with her chopsticks, distracted, her gaze drifting toward the cafeteria entrance every few seconds, searching for a particular figure.

A slightly shorter boy, with dark brown hair, slouched shoulders, and an expression that was always neutral. Yeon Sieun.

Sooho, who seemed focused only on his food, actually had the eyes of a hawk. He swallowed his bite, took a huge gulp of water, and slammed his cup down with a mocking grin.

“Your eyes are going to fall out if you keep staring at the door,” Sooho said, resting his chin on his hand. “Who are you waiting for so desperately? Santa Claus?”

She jumped in her seat, startled, her cheeks heating up. She quickly lowered her gaze to her soup.

“I wasn’t looking at the door,” she lied, trying to sound casual, though her voice came out higher than usual. “I was just thinking about… the history exam. Yeah. The history exam.”

Sooho burst out laughing, loud enough that a couple of students nearby turned to look.

“Please. You’re terrible at lying,” Sooho said, pointing his chopsticks at her face. “You’re waiting for Sieun. Again. Like every single day.”

“Shut up, Sooho!” she hissed, wide-eyed, panicking that someone might have overheard. “Don’t say it so loud.”

“Why not?” Sooho shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Everyone knows you’ve got that weird crush on him. It’s so obvious even the teachers notice. You turn red every time he breathes near you.”

“That’s not true. We’re friends. I see him as a friend,” she tried to defend herself, crossing her arms, though she knew it was a useless lie.

Sooho rolled his eyes, popped a sausage into his mouth, and kept going. Teasing her was his favorite pastime after eating and sleeping.

“Seriously, I don’t get it,” Sooho said, leaning forward with exaggerated confusion. “What exactly do you see in that guy?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, what do I see?”

“I mean it,” Sooho lowered his voice but kept his mocking tone. “It’s Yeon Sieun. He doesn’t talk unless he has to. He never smiles. He spends all day buried in physics or math books. He looks pale enough to have anemia, he’s short, and if the wind blows too hard, he might fall over… though yeah, we all know he hits like a maniac, but that’s not the point.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” she snapped, indignation flaring in her chest.

“It’s the truth!” Sooho laughed at her protective reaction. “He has no sense of humor. If you tell him a joke, he looks at you like you’re a lab rat that escaped its cage. He doesn’t get hints. He doesn’t care about girls, video games, or junk food. He only cares about grades and sleep. Do you really like someone that boring?”

That was the limit.

She could handle Sooho mocking her feelings. She could handle him saying she was obvious. But she wasn’t going to let him insult Yeon Sieun.

She dropped her chopsticks onto her tray with a sharp clatter, pressed her palms flat against the table, and leaned forward, her eyes blazing. Sooho blinked, surprised.

Then she started talking. Or rather, she launched into a completely unhinged monologue.

“You don’t know anything, Ahn Sooho,” she said, her voice rising without her realizing, forgetting they were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. “Yeon Sieun isn’t weird. And he’s not boring! He’s the most incredible, fascinating, perfect person in this stupid school.”

Sooho’s mouth fell open, unsure whether to laugh or be scared.

“What do I see in him? I see everything!” she went on, waving her hands, months of bottled-up feelings spilling out. “First of all, his face. Have you even looked at his face properly? He’s gorgeous! Those big dark eyes, always so focused, and when he looks at you, it feels like he can read your soul. His lashes are so long. He’s adorable! He looks like an angry kitten all the time, and that makes him a million times more attractive!”

Sooho raised his eyebrows, sipping his juice, enjoying the show.

“And it’s not just his face!” she kept going, breathless. “I love how he is. I love that he’s quiet, because when he talks, you know it matters. I love that he’s so smart. It’s sexy. Do you know how sexy it is to watch someone solve a three-line math equation without blinking? It’s too much for me!”

She clutched her chest dramatically, her cheeks blazing red.

“You say he doesn’t smile, but that’s not true. I’ve seen him smile. It’s tiny, almost invisible, just for a second, but when you catch it, it feels like winning the lottery. And he’s so protective. He has a huge, loyal heart hidden behind that serious face.”

Sooho set his cup down, his mocking grin fading. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

But she didn’t notice. She was at the peak of her frenzy, adrenaline pushing her confession out loud.

“I like him,” she admitted, fists clenched. “I like him so much I feel like I’m going crazy. He’s so damn cute I want to wrap him in a blanket and hide him in my room so no one else can see him. I don’t want any other girl near him. Sometimes I wish I could drop to my knees in the hallway, pull out a candy ring from a vending machine, propose to him right there, and make him mine forever! I want to marry him, Sooho! I want him to be my husband!”

She exhaled in a huge sigh, finally empty. Relief washed over her.

She leaned back in her chair, breathing hard. “Wow… I needed to say that out loud.”

She looked at Sooho, expecting him to laugh hysterically, call her crazy, or send her to therapy.

But Sooho wasn’t laughing. He was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, chopsticks dropped.

And he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on the space behind her shoulder.

Confused, she waved a hand in front of his face. “Sooho? What’s wrong? Did I say something too weird? Okay, yeah, the kidnapping and marriage part sounded intense, but you know me, I exaggerate…”

Sooho swallowed hard, then pointed behind her. “You… you should turn around.”

Her heart stopped. Slowly, like in a horror movie, she turned her head.

And there he was.

Less than half a meter away, standing right behind her chair, holding a tray of food. Yeon Sieun.

His posture was the same as always, shoulders slightly hunched, uniform neat. But his face…

He was staring at her, eyes wider than usual, lips pressed tight. His knuckles were white around the tray.

And worst of all, the tips of his ears were bright red.

He had heard everything.

Every single word.

The silence stretched for what felt like centuries.

Her soul left her body. Her brain short-circuited. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

She had to say something. Anything.

“H-hi, Sieun,” she squeaked, her voice like a terrified mouse.

Sieun blinked, glanced at his tray, then at Sooho—who was covering his mouth to keep from laughing—and finally back at her.

“Hi,” Sieun said, calm as always, though his ears betrayed him.

Act natural! her brain screamed.

She grabbed her chopsticks with trembling hands, picked up a big piece of kimbap, and shoved it into her mouth, planning to smile and pretend she’d been talking about an actor.

But panic betrayed her. The rice went down the wrong way.

She choked. Violently.

Coughing, clutching her throat, face turning purple.

Sooho jumped up. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

She couldn’t speak, tears streaming, pounding her chest.

Sooho slapped her back hard, nearly knocking her into her soup, but it worked. She gasped for air, wheezing, eyes watery.

“Drink water, idiot!” Sooho shoved a cup at her.

She gulped it down, coughing, alive but mortified.

“Just let me die,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Please, Sooho, hit me with a tray and let me die here.”

Sooho, relieved she wasn’t choking anymore, burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over.

She stayed hidden in her hands while Sooho laughed like a maniac in the middle of the cafeteria.

Then she heard the sound of a tray being set down on the table, right in the empty seat beside her.

Sieun hadn’t left.

He sat down calmly in the chair next to hers, arranging his chopsticks and spoon.

She peeked through her fingers. Sieun was right there, sitting beside her. His expression had returned to its usual neutrality, but the faint red tint on his ears and cheeks hadn’t faded.

He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, slid it across the table toward her elbows without looking her in the eye.

“Wipe… your eyes,” Sieun said softly, his voice low and almost gentle.

She lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were red and watery from coughing. She looked at the napkin, then at him.

Sieun kept his gaze on his food, stirring rice with his spoon. He looked uncomfortable, but not disgusted or horrified by her outburst.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered, taking the napkin and drying her face, feeling like the clumsiest person alive.

Sooho finally calmed down, wiping away a tear of laughter, and leaned on his hands with a mischievous grin.

“Well… now that we’ve avoided a tragedy, and all the cards are on the table… Sieun.”

Sieun stopped stirring. “What?”

“I was wondering… since you’re going to be my best friend’s future husband, when’s the wedding? Should I rent a suit?” Sooho teased mercilessly.

She kicked Sooho under the table, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning again.

She glanced at Sieun, expecting him to get up and leave with his tray.

But Sieun didn’t leave.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, took a bite of food, chewed slowly, swallowed, then looked at Sooho.

“There’s no date yet,” Sieun said, completely serious.

Sooho’s eyes widened, then he burst out laughing again, clapping his hands.

She froze, her heart racing wildly.

Sieun turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. His gaze was intense, making her breath catch.

“Though…” he added quietly, almost just for her, “I guess you’d have to get the candy ring from the vending machine first, right?”

And there it was.

That tiny, almost invisible smile she had described in her monologue. It flickered across his lips for a second before disappearing, but she saw it clearly.

You opened your mouth to say something. Actually, you only tried. The words got stuck in your throat as his fingers tightened just a little more in disdain. The way he looked at you seemed like he wanted to crush your existence somehow. So you looked away, trying to think of something else, trying to steady your breathing—unsure if it was uneven just because he was choking you, or because you felt nervous under that cold stare and the uncertainty of whether you'd actually done something wrong.

Only when you closed your eyes did Si-eun finally say something. He had stayed silent almost the entire time since he entered your house. He'd pulled you into a kiss without explaining, and now he was on top of you on the sofa, literally leaving you breathless.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

You opened your eyes, and your boyfriend looked at you as if you somehow owed him an answer.

"Don't you want to complain? Am I not being a total asshole right now?"

Si-eun's tone was completely different from anything you'd heard in all the time you'd been together. His voice felt like it was slowly dissecting you, analyzing you. Of course, you knew he was naturally an analytical person, but this seemed different—passive-aggressive. He wasn't analyzing the situation to understand it; it felt more like he wanted to mock it.

"I like it when you choke me," you answered with a half-truth. It was true that you had introduced that kink into your relationship—but not like this. It had always been respectful, and Si-eun had always been careful not to push you past your limit.

"But you're not enjoying it now, are you? I'm hurting you."

I'm hurting you.

You couldn't help but ask yourself again what was going through your boyfriend's mind. You knew he had a harder time saying certain things openly than others, but you never imagined he'd act like this if the problem was you.

"Why?"

You asked without elaborating. Si-eun could interpret that in many ways—none of them good.

Why are you doing this, Si-eun? Why are you hurting me?

You felt his hands suddenly loosen from your neck, as if he'd been startled by your question—even though it hadn't actually been asked out loud. His eyes changed, suddenly recognizable. Less coldness, more surprise. At you? Or maybe at the situation? You had reached him somehow.

You had brought him back to himself.

You let out a relieved sigh you didn't even know you'd been holding as he let you go. Si-eun looked down at your skin and was shocked to see the area slightly bruised. He pulled away from you as if you were scorching fire, and he'd been left with third-degree burns—when in reality, it was the opposite. You were the one who'd been burned.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to…" Si-eun tried to say something as he climbed off you on the sofa, trying to look anywhere but at the mark he'd left on your neck—but his eyes kept drifting back, drowning in guilt.

You slowly sat up on the sofa, adjusting your position to face him properly. Despite everything, you were still worried about him. Despite everything, he was still Yeon Si-eun.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Si-eun shook his head quickly, almost desperately. You had misunderstood everything. The fault was his. Again.

Why couldn't he just have more control over things? Si-eun wondered in anguish. Why couldn't Su-ho wake up? Why couldn't those bastards from the Union leave him alone?

You still weren't perfect at reading Si-eun, but with so much practice, you were slowly learning the small signs. Especially when his eyes wanted to cry, but he wouldn't allow himself to. Maybe not in front of you. Maybe not even in front of himself.

"Si-eun-ah." Without thinking too much, you got up from the sofa and pulled him close in a tight hug. Your affection was bigger than you yourself realized.

Si-eun couldn't react, couldn't hug you back. It was as if he'd forgotten how to move his arms.

"Did something happen with your friend? Is that it?"

Yes. And so much more than that. Si-eun wanted to tell you, but he was still paralyzed by the magnitude of your gentle love.

"Or is it school? Is someone saying something?"

Also yes. That too. It's that, it's all of it.

"Si-eun-ah…" You gave him a little space, trying to look at his face, searching for some sign you hadn't caught yet. That's when you saw the silent tears streaming down his face. You had never seen them before. It left you breathless. Again.

You—who had always been the one doing the translating in this relationship—suddenly fell just as silent. Those words were new to you, new to your dictionary.

So this time, the translation came from him.

"It's… a lot of things. But some of it is my fault, too. I'm not being a good friend." He then looked at you. "Or a good boyfriend." You wanted to silence him. For the first time, he was opening up, but it was too frightening—so you wanted to cover your ears. "I want to have control over things, and I can't."

Si-eun rubbed his face with the edge of his hoodie, trying to dry his tears. Somehow, he wanted to go back to being the same as always in front of you, even though it was impossible. He had already said more than he had in an entire year. He had opened up more than a thousand wounds. The past would never return. You could never remember things the same way again.

He looked like he was thinking of saying something else, or trying to muster some kind of courage to hear the words come out of his own mouth. That's when you cupped his face by his wet cheeks. He immediately fell silent, just watching you.

"Then let it happen. You're human, Si-eun-ah. It's normal not to be able to control everything." Your fingers stroked his cheeks slowly. "Don't try to be above that. No one expects perfection from you. At least, I don't."

"I hurt you."

"I know."

"That's unacceptable."

''I know.''

Si-eun took a deep breath, frustrated at showing you that side of himself, those flaws—showing them to you. Of all people, you—the only person he couldn't blame in the middle of all this. The only person he didn't want to get involved.

"Then break up with me."

He said it calmly, like he was stating the weather. Like the solution was simple math.

You didn't move. Neither did he.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. Si‑eun's hands—the ones that had been around your neck moments ago—were now limp at his sides. He wasn't pushing you away. He wasn't pulling you closer either. He was just… frozen.

"Did you hear me?" His voice was quieter now, but sharper at the edges. A warning. Or maybe a plea dressed up as one.

You had learned to read him. The slight tension in his jaw. The way his eyes flickered away from yours for just a second before forcing themselves back. He was waiting for you to agree. To say "fine" and walk out the door. To prove him right—that he was someone who hurt the people he cared about, that he didn't deserve to keep you, that he didn't deserve anyone.

But you didn't.

Instead, you slid your hands from his cheeks down to his wrists. His pulse was racing. For someone so logical, his body was terrible at lying.

"You don't want that," you said quietly.

Si‑eun's expression didn't change. But his fingers twitched against yours.

"It doesn't matter what I want."

"It does to me, Si-eun-ah. All about you matters to me.''

He flinched.

It was small—barely a twitch of his brow—but you caught it. You always caught it. His hands, still loose in yours, didn't pull away. But they didn't hold on either. They just stayed there, like he had forgotten what they were supposed to do.

"That's the problem," he said finally. His voice was low, almost hollow. "You care about things you shouldn't."

You shook your head slowly. "That's not for you to decide. That's not another thing for you to try to control."

Si‑eun's jaw tightened. He looked down at where your fingers wrapped around his wrists—at how easily you held him there. He could have broken free. He was stronger than you, and you both knew it. But he didn't.

"I hurt you." He said it again, like a fact he needed to nail down again and again. "I could do it again. I don't…" He stopped. Swallowed. "I don't know why I did that."

That admission cost him. You could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his breathing went shallow. Si‑eun always knew why. He analyzed everything. So admitting he didn't understand his own actions was like admitting he was losing control of himself.

"Then figure it out," you said softly. "Not alone. With me."

He finally looked at you. Really looked. The coldness in his eyes had thawed into something rawer—something almost fragile. He hated that. You could tell.

"What if I can't?"

"Then we figure that out too."

His hands moved. Not to push you away. Not to pull you close. Just… turned, so his palms met yours. Fingers brushing against fingers. Hesitant. Almost shy.

''Do you trust me?'' And then you added. ''Do you trust me to love you? The real you?''

Si‑eun went very still.

His fingers, which had just been brushing against yours, stopped moving entirely. You could feel the subtle tension running through his hands—like he was holding himself back from something. Gripping something invisible.

He didn't answer right away. Of course he didn't. Si‑eun never answered big questions quickly. He had to turn them over in his mind, examine them from every angle, find the weak points.

"The real me," he repeated quietly, not quite a question. His voice was flat, but there was something underneath it—something bitter. "You mean the one who just choked you."

"I mean all of it." You didn't look away. The good. The bad. The parts you don't even like about yourself.

His throat moved as he swallowed. His eyes dropped to where your hands were still loosely tangled together. He stared at them like they belonged to someone else.

"That's not smart." he said finally. 

"I didn't ask if it was smart. I asked if you trust me to do it."

Si‑eun was quiet for a long moment. The silence wasn't empty—it was full of everything he couldn't say. The fear. The guilt. The desperate, hidden want to believe you.

"I trust you. But I don't know if I should."

You finished the action he couldn't complete yourself: you laced your hands fully with his. Si‑eun was trembling slightly, and that almost scared you. The unfamiliarity of your boyfriend's fragility was unsettling, but at the same time, it showed even more how much he needed this. How much he needed someone to help him find solid ground.

"Just let me try," you said finally, your fingers firmly intertwined with his. "Just let me welcome you into my home with your favorite tea while I talk about things you don't even care about, but you listen anyway. And one day, when you're ready, you'll start talking too. About the things only you know."

The way you put it sounded simple. Above all, you were a simple person, and maybe that was why Si‑eun had become attached to you. You never asked for more than he could give. Your presence alone was enough to make him want to stay close and push his limits slowly. The environment you provided made all the difference—it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket, one he didn't think he deserved, but he chose to stay under it anyway.

Si‑eun nodded at last. It was useless to argue with you, especially when you were the one who had kept him sane since Byuksan. You were the ground beneath his feet, the floor for when he thought he had nowhere left to collapse.

"So… about that time‑travel series I told you about, Twinkling Watermelon. Have you watched it yet?" You asked, breaking into a smile.

"No." Si‑eun gave a small, shy smile in return, appreciating the attempt at normalcy. "What was it about again?"

So you pulled your boyfriend onto the sofa and talked into his ear for what felt like hours. Si‑eun could only appreciate the way you did it—in silence.

You were trying to type for what seemed like the thousandth time when your phone vibrated in your hand, and you dropped it in fright. When the Slam Dunk theme song started playing, you grabbed it again. That song only played when one person called—a certain basketball-obsessed guy named Park Hu-min.

With some apprehension, you slid the screen and accepted the call.

"JAGIYYYYYYYYYYA!" His voice was so loud that you dropped the phone, temporarily destroying your eardrum.

Leaving your phone on the bed, you switched the call to speaker. Baku's voice continued echoing through your room like a record player, but you didn't have the strength to interrupt his excitement, especially because you were still trying to figure out how to ask for that favor.

"Jagiya, are you there? Why aren't you answering me?" Now he sounded like a little puppy asking for its owner.

"Ah, sorry, I'm a bit out of it today. What were you saying, oppa?"

"I JUST PASSED BY THAT STORE I TOLD YOU ABOUT, AND THOSE BASKETBALL SHOES ARE ON SALE! THE RED ONES! WOULDN'T THEY LOOK GREAT ON ME? HUH, HUH?"

You cracked a small smile, imagining him standing in front of that sports store drooling over shoes. He was a person with such simple desires. Maybe that was what captivated your heart so much. It didn't take much to be with him. Sometimes, just sharing ramyeon while watching a basketball game was what made the best date.

"Anything would look good on you, oppa. But yeah, I think your color is definitely red."

"I'M GOING TO DYE MY HAIR RED! YOU'LL SEE! I'LL LOOK EXACTLY LIKE SAKURAGI! You'll have the honor of dating Sakuragi! That's almost like winning the lottery!"

You started laughing in response, and when you were about to say something back, you felt a cramp so sharp that you let out a kind of grunt. Because you were on speaker, Baku heard it too.

"Jagiya?" His voice changed, becoming more serious. "What was that?"

You stayed silent for a while longer, embarrassed and trying to imagine the thousand possible reactions from your completely unpredictable boyfriend. Would he laugh? Would he find it gross? Actually, did Hu-min even remember that women went through that once a month?

"Jagiya?"

"Are you still outside?"

"Yeah?" He answered, a little confused.

"Buy me some pads?"

The call went silent. Your heart tightened. Park Hu-min being silent was about as common as pigs flying, and you had achieved that feat with a single sentence. You had silenced the most talkative being in the universe.

"No, wait, I—"

"YOU'RE FINALLY GOING TO TRUST ME WITH THIS MISSION?"

You couldn't understand. His tone seemed unusually happy and even celebratory. Baku was truly an enigma sometimes.

"Mission?"

"Yeah, you finally asked me to buy pads and all those weird things you use. OH MAN, I'M SO EXCITED! I THOUGHT YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO ASK ME!"

You stared at your phone lying on the fluffy sheets, and honestly, it seemed like the strangest object in the universe with an excited voice coming out of it wanting to buy you pads.

"You're excited to… buy pads?"

"Of course I am! There's nothing more perfect to officialize a relationship than you trusting me with this! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD THAT IDIOT GOTAK THAT ONE DAY YOU WOULD ALSO DO WHAT ALL GIRLS DO, BUT HE SAID I WAS TOO STUPID FOR YOU TO EVEN CONSIDER ME AN OPTION!"

Gotak wasn't exactly wrong. But you would never let that mission that Baku had created in his head fall apart, especially because it was making him weirdly happy.

"I'm near a pharmacy. Tell me, what size do you use?"

You almost choked on the question.

"Oppa… That's not sold in sizes." You felt a mix of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

"But the size of your things… isn't it different?"

You couldn't believe what you just heard.

"HU-MIN-AH, THAT'S NOT HOW IT'S SOLD!"

"Aish, calm down, calm down… I didn't know, okay? They're so different. How am I supposed to bring the right one, then?"

"I'll send you a message with the list of my preferences. Just ask someone working at the pharmacy for help if you don't understand something."

"Preferences? Isn't this like condoms where any one is the same? Well, condoms do have sizes, I guess…"

"I'll send you a list, and you will follow it." You reinforced in a firm tone. Maybe he really did have an IQ of 99. Maybe Gotak was right. "Got it?"

"Yes, lady of my heart! Your Sakuragi will complete the mission with efficiency!"

When the call ended, you wondered what the hell you had just done, but there was no going back. You were dating a hard-headed guy, and he would make sure to deliver the entire pharmacy if you asked him to. So you quickly wrote the list of trusted brands, but didn't even think about the most obvious things—like specifying whether you wanted wings or not, whether you wanted a nighttime style. Honestly, whatever Baku managed to bring would be fine.

After a while, your boyfriend was already impatiently ringing your doorbell. You knew it was him not just because of the bell, but because he was yelling your name—something your neighbors hated every time he came to see you. Sometimes he remembered not to yell, but today, since he was in mission mode, he certainly wouldn't remember.

When you opened the door, however, the sight of him surprised you more than you thought possible, and that was saying a lot because you had imagined many possibilities: Baku was standing in front of you with two plastic bags, almost overflowing.

"Jagiya, look, I brought them!" He said as he lifted the bags.

You took a deep breath and silently opened the door a little wider, making space for him to come in. He set the bags on the floor momentarily to take off his shoes and stand in his socks, and you saw that both bags were full of pad packages.

"Oppa… Why is there so much?"

He stopped kneeling after being just in his socks and picked up the bags, pushing them toward you.

"Ah, I got the brand you wanted, but they're so different. What are these things with wings and without wings for? And there's one you only use at night? Does it need to be that specific? I thought it was just by size, but really, there weren't any by size. You prefer more specific things." He explained with a wide smile. "I brought two of each just to be safe."

Two of each? How much money had he spent on this?

"Ah! The lady also said that candy helps, so I bought some chocolates from the checkout. I got all the ones you like. There are even some new flavors! I wasn't sure if I should buy the green apple one, but it can't be that bad, right?"

Your mind couldn't stop calculating every single won. He had definitely emptied his wallet.

"Hu-min-ah, how much was all of this?" You lifted your gaze to him, stopping your examination of the bags.

"Ah, that I can't tell you! After all, the mission is secret!"

"But…"

"Did I do it right, Jagi? Did your Sakuragi bring you everything correctly?" His eyes were now shining, looking for approval. You were special, different to him. Every yes mattered, like a curious dog checking if it had pleased its owner.

You just nodded, trying hard not to laugh.

____ was not born empty; she was hollowed out by force.

She learned at seven years old, while curling up on the floor under the shadow of a man who smelled of cheap alcohol and suppressed rage, that fear was an unforgivable miscalculation. She discovered that crying only increased the intensity of the blows and that begging was just giving fuel to the aggressor.

So, one night, she simply pulled the plug.

It was a conscious decision. She stopped feeling the pain as her own and began to observe it as an external phenomenon, analyzing the trajectory of the belt and the rhythm of her father's breathing, dissociating from her own skin. In that internal silence, the scared little girl died, understanding that to survive in a world of predators, she had to stop being prey and become something that didn't bleed: a stone, an object, an untouchable void.

____ could feel things. She knew what warmth or joy felt like, but she chose not to. It was inefficient. Dangerous.

For her, emotions became a foreign language she had learned to speak fluently but refused to understand natively. Laughter was a contraction of the diaphragm. Crying, a useful tool to obtain pity. Worry, a master key to gain trust.

People were chess pieces. Some were pawns; useful, disposable. Others were bishops; dangerous, interesting. And the majority were simply the board: dead wood she walked upon to reach her objective.

That is why she transferred to Eunjang High.

Her old school had become... boring. She had already played with everyone worth the trouble. She needed a new ecosystem. And Eunjang, with its reputation as a "zoo of delinquents," promised to be entertaining.

But what really attracted her wasn't the violence. Violence was primitive and dirty; it reminded her too much of the helplessness of her childhood.

It was that rumor.

"Yeon Sieun. They say he left a guy in a coma. They say he almost killed another. They say he has no blood in his veins."

A monster. A predator disguised as a model student. Someone who, perhaps, had pulled his own plug.

____ smiled at her reflection in the school bathroom mirror, practicing her "shy and harmless new girl" face.

"Let's see what you have inside, Yeon Sieun," she whispered. She wanted to crack him open, see his gears, play with him until he broke, and then look for another toy.

The first time ____ tried to manipulate him, she failed totally. And that was exciting.

She sat at the desk next to his. Sieun was sleeping, his head resting on his crossed arms. ____ "accidentally" dropped her pencil case. The pencils rolled across the floor, some hitting Sieun's shoe.

In any other scenario, the boy would wake up, see a pretty girl in distress, pick up the pencils, and she would smile, initiating the bond.

Sieun didn't even move.

____ waited. Nothing.

She bent down to pick them up herself, making noise—a lot of noise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said with her rehearsed sweet voice. "Did I wake you?"

Sieun lifted his head slowly. His eyes were half-closed, tired and empty. He looked at her. No, he scanned her. There was no lust, no interest, not even real annoyance. Just... nothing.

"If you're going to throw things, throw them away from my desk," he said in a monotone voice.

He lowered his head again and went back to sleep.

____ remained with a pencil in her hand, blinking.

Anyone else would have felt offended or intimidated. ____ felt an electric shock at the base of her brain.

Efficient, she thought. He doesn't care about social convention. He doesn't care about my appearance. He only cares about his rest.

For the first time in a long time, someone hadn't fallen into her most basic trap.

"Interesting..." she murmured, putting the pencil away. She decided she would observe him a little longer.

***

____ had no morals, but she had aesthetics. She hated the bullies at Eunjang because they were loud, dirty, and stupid. They hit to feel big. It was pathetic.

But watching Yeon Sieun fight was like watching open-heart surgery.

It happened in the back hallway. A third-year guy, big and stupid, had cornered Sieun. ____ watched from the corner, eating a lollipop, waiting to see if it was true that he had no blood in his veins.

The big guy threw a wide punch.

Sieun didn't back down. He showed no fear. He simply took a side step.

Calculated, ____ thought.

Then, Sieun struck. It wasn't an alpha-male punch. It was a sharp blow to the throat with the palm of his hand, followed by a low kick to the knee that made a delightful cracking sound.

The guy fell, choking and clutching his leg.

Sieun looked down at him. There was no pleasure on his face. There wasn't that sadistic smile ____ sometimes had to repress when she hurt someone emotionally. On Sieun's face, there was only boredom. Like someone crushing a cockroach not because they hate it, but because it's in the way to the kitchen.

"We're done," Sieun said, adjusting his backpack.

____ felt a chill. Not of fear. Of admiration.

Most people saw cruelty. She saw purity.

Sieun didn't fight for ego. He fought for results. He was a functional person, just like her. Or at least, that's what she believed. Seeing him destroy someone with that coldness provoked something in her she had never felt: kinship.

We aren't so different, you and I, she thought, biting her lollipop. You use your fists and physics. I use words and lies. We both seek the same thing: to be left alone.

____ decided to change tactics. She stopped trying to be the "sweet friend" and tried being the "useful presence."

She sat with him in the library. She didn't speak. She simply studied. She knew Sieun valued silence above all else.

They had been like this for a week. She pretended to study math, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Sieun solved equations with a speed that was somewhat surprising.

Suddenly, Sieun stopped writing. He sighed.

Without looking at her, he slid his own notebook toward her.

"You've been on the same page for twenty minutes," he said without looking up from his vocabulary book. "Your breathing is irregular. You're getting frustrated, and the noise of your finger tapping is annoying."

____ looked at the notebook. Sieun had solved the problem she was pretending not to understand. He had written the formula step-by-step, in small, perfect handwriting.

"Copy it and stop making noise," he ordered.

____ looked at the formula. Then she looked at him.

He didn't do it out of kindness. He didn't do it to flirt. He did it because she was being inefficient and noisy, and he solved the problem in the fastest way possible.

For a normal mind, that would be rude. For ____'s mind, it was the most romantic gesture she had ever experienced.

He had observed her. He had analyzed her behavior. He had calculated a solution. And he had given her the answer.

"Thanks, Yeon Sieun," she said, and for the first time, her smile wasn't rehearsed. It was small, sharp, and real.

Sieun just nodded slightly, closing his eyes to go back to his nap.

____ traced his handwriting on the paper with her finger. You paid attention to me, she thought. Now you belong to me a little bit.

***

The moment ____ knew she was in trouble, that the objective had changed from "manipulate" to "possess," was a sunny day.

They were in class. The afternoon sun was coming through the window, hitting ____ directly in the face. She hated the sun. It made her hot and made it hard to see her phone screen.

She tried to shield herself with her hand, making a face of genuine annoyance.

Sieun, who was at the desk next to her, seemed to notice.

____ expected him to ignore her. Or perhaps that she would have to ask him to close the curtain to see if he obeyed.

But Sieun said nothing. He stood up in the middle of the teacher's explanation. The teacher stopped, annoyed.

"Yeon Sieun, what are you doing?"

Sieun walked to the window. He closed the curtain, blocking the ray of light that was bothering ____. The classroom darkened slightly.

"It was reflecting on the board," Sieun lied with a perfect poker face.

He sat back down.

____ knew it was a lie. The sun wasn't hitting the board. It was hitting her.

She looked at him. Sieun was looking at the board, ignoring her completely.

He had lied for her. He had defied authority minimally to improve her comfort. And he had done it without seeking gratitude, attributing it to a logical excuse so he wouldn't have to interact socially with her.

____'s heart, that organ she considered just a blood pump, gave a strange beat. A glitch in the system.

It wasn't gratitude. It was greed.

She looked at Sieun's serious profile, his lashes not too long, his expression of boredom that never changed.

He is perfect, she thought.

He wasn't a useless hero who saved everyone. He wasn't a loud villain. He was neutral; he acted under his own logic. And in that logic, he had included her.

____ felt a sudden and violent impulse. She wanted to crack his head open and see if she was in there. She wanted to isolate him from the rest of those idiots at school. She wanted that efficiency, that violence, and that silent attention to be exclusively hers.

She didn't want to play with him anymore.

If she did, he would stop functioning this well. And for the first time since she was seven, she felt the desire to protect something other than herself.

"Yeon Sieun," she whispered.

He shifted his attention from the board and looked at her, with that expression of what now?

"You have an eyelash on your cheek."

Sieun blinked. He was going to wipe it away himself, but ____ was faster.

She reached out. Her fingers, usually cold, touched the warm skin of his cheek. It was a two-second contact. She removed the imaginary eyelash.

"Ready," she said.

Sieun looked at her a second longer than usual. Perhaps he detected something in her eyes, something darker than the simple kindness of a classmate. But since it wasn't a physical threat, he dismissed it.

"Mmm," he made a sound, and turned back to the board again.

____ turned to the front, clenching her own hand under the table.

Oh, yes. The plan had definitely changed.

She wasn't going to play with him anymore. She was going to hunt him. She was going to make that indifferent monster addicted to her, just as she was starting to find his existence fascinating.

You are mine, Yeon Sieun, she thought with a predatory smile while the teacher kept talking. You just haven't realized it yet.

***

The transition from "observing" to "invading" was so subtle that, to anyone else, it would have gone unnoticed. But not to them.

Two months had passed.

Two months in which ____ had managed to infiltrate Sieun's fortress of solitude silently, inevitably. Now, being in his room, surrounded by his books and the low hum of his computer, felt like a right she had spent days earning.

They were sitting on the floor, Sieun's back resting against the bed, a notebook open on his knees. ____ was beside him, supposedly reading, but she hadn't turned the page in ten minutes.

Her attention was fixed on Sieun's neck. On the way his Adam's apple moved slightly when he swallowed saliva. On the constant, rhythmic pulse under his pale skin.

____ analyzed the sensation in her chest. It wasn't butterflies. Butterflies were for stupid little girls who believed in fairytales. What she felt was hunger.

It was a possessive and territorial need to mark him, to verify if the electricity he generated when fighting also existed when he was touched in another way.

Seeing him from afar was no longer enough. She needed to have him close. She needed to verify if he also had an off switch that she could turn on.

She slammed her book shut. The sharp sound broke the silence of the room.

Sieun stopped writing, but he didn't look up immediately.

"You lost the thread," he said, his voice calm, already used to her interruptions.

"I got bored," ____ replied.

She moved. She didn't move away; she moved closer. She slid across the carpet until her shoulder bumped against his. Sieun tensed his muscles for a microsecond, but he didn't pull away.

That was the victory. He didn't repel her.

____ reached out and, boldly, took the pen from his fingers. She let it drop to the floor, far away, just as he had said that first day: away from his desk.

Sieun turned his head slowly. His dark eyes met hers. That look that was always calculating angles and numbers was now focused solely on her.

"What are you doing?" he asked. There was no anger. Only curiosity.

"Checking a hypothesis," she whispered.

____ leaned in and closed the distance. It wasn't a romantic move. It was a deliberate collision.

When her lips touched his, she expected coldness. She expected indifference.

But Yeon Sieun was not indifferent.

The reaction was immediate. Sieun didn't pull back. On the contrary, one of his hands flew up, not to push her away, but to grab her by the nape of her neck. His fingers tangled in her hair with a firmness that felt almost violent, pinning her against his mouth.

The kiss wasn't gentle. There was no hesitation. It was efficient, intense, and fucking real.

____ felt a jolt run down her spine, much more potent than the admiration she felt watching him fight. This was different.

Sieun kissed her with the same intensity with which he solved a complex math problem. Exploring, dominating, responding. There was a latent heat beneath that facade of a disinterested boy, a fire that only burned if you knew which switch to press.

She climbed onto his lap, without breaking contact, seeking more friction, more of him. Sieun let out a heavy sigh against her mouth and his hands moved down to her waist, gripping tightly, anchoring her to him.

In that chaos of ragged breathing and urgent touches, ____'s mind reached a brilliant conclusion.

I found him, she thought, as she bit Sieun's lower lip and felt him respond by squeezing her hip. He's not a toy. He is my equal.

For the first time in her life, ____ wasn't acting. She wasn't manipulating the situation for a benefit. She just wanted to be there, fused with the only other person in the world who understood that silence could be a language and that control was the purest form of affection.

____ took off her hoodie in a single movement, like someone discarding a mask they no longer need, throwing it away along with the pen. Underneath she wore only a thin black t-shirt that clung to her body due to the heat that was already starting to accumulate between them.

Sieun watched her from the floor, back still against the bed, chest rising and falling fast, legs open inviting her to stay in his space. His eyes, normally empty, were now dark, dilated, focused completely on her.

She smiled. A small, sharp smile, without feigned warmth, but with pure possession.

"Your turn."

Sieun didn't need to be told twice. There was no hesitation, nor that clumsy shyness that most boys his age feigned or felt.

He lifted his hands and grabbed the hem of ____'s black t-shirt. His fingers grazed the skin of her abdomen, hot and firm. He didn't ask for permission; she had already given it to him by removing the first layer.

He pulled upward in a fluid motion and ____ lifted her arms, allowing the garment to disappear.

She was left exposed before him.

Anyone else would have let out a stupid compliment about how pretty she was. Sieun didn't. He looked at her. His eyes roamed her torso, her breasts covered by the simple fabric of her underwear, her ribs visible as she breathed heavily.

He looked at her as if he were memorizing a map, looking for pressure points, weaknesses, territory.

That look aroused her more than any dirty word.

"You're cold," he observed.

____ looked down. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the fabric of her bra.

"I'm many things right now, Sieun. Cold is the least of them."

He pulled her down again, crashing his mouth against hers with urgency. This time, it was he who took control. One hand went up to clutch the nape of her neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while the other went down her bare back, tracing her spine until it reached the waistband of her jeans.

____ moaned against his mouth. It wasn't an acted sound. It came straight from her throat, an involuntary response to the rough touch of Sieun's hands on her soft skin.

"Touch me," she demanded, breaking the kiss to bite his lower lip.

Sieun slid his hand to the front and covered one of her breasts. He squeezed. It wasn't a gentle or romantic touch.

It was a possessive grip, measuring weight, texture. ____ arched her back instinctively, pushing herself against his palm.

"You're loud," he murmured against her neck, lowering his kisses toward her collarbone.

"And you're too slow for someone who thinks so fast," she panted.

Sieun let out a low laugh, a vibration she felt in her own chest.

"I'm just being meticulous."

With a quick movement, he unclasped her bra. The fabric fell away. Sieun pulled back a few inches to look at her again, and this time, the glint in his eyes darkened.

He leaned in and, instead of kissing her, ran his tongue through the valley between her breasts, slowly moving up until he captured a nipple with his mouth.

The sensation was electric. ____ threw her head back, tangling her fingers in Sieun's hair, pulling him closer. He sucked hard, rhythmically, while his free hand moved down toward the button of her jeans.

"Damn it..." ____ whispered. Her mind tried to process the friction, the wetness, the heat. But it was all too much. Pleasure, her brain registered. Pure and absolute pleasure.

Sieun undid her pants and slipped his hand inside. His fingers slid along the edge of her underwear, seeking the heat between her legs. When he touched her, ____ gave a slight jump.

She was wet. Soaked.

Sieun looked up, his lips wet and red.

"Seems the hypothesis is correct," he said, with that monotone voice that now sounded husky and terribly sexy.

"Shut up and keep going," she ordered, breathless.

Sieun obeyed her, but in his own way. He got rid of his own pants with almost comical efficiency, kicking them away or letting himself fall back onto the mattress. When he returned to her, there were no more pauses.

He lifted her slightly by the hips and lowered her onto him.

The entry was a shock of reality. ____ gritted her teeth, feeling him fill her completely, stretching her, invading her.

Sieun groaned, throwing his head back against the mattress, eyes closed and jaw tensed.

"Shit..." escaped him.

____ stayed still for a second, adjusting, feeling his pulse inside her. It was a brutal physical connection.

She started to move.

First slow, testing the rhythm. Sieun put his hands on her hips, guiding her, his thumbs digging into her skin. Then, the rhythm broke.

Need overpowered technique.

Sieun started thrusting upward, hard, sharp. ____ moaned with every hit, her nails digging into his shoulders. The sound of their bodies colliding, the ragged breathing, the smell of sex and sweat filled the silent room.

"Look at me," Sieun ordered suddenly.

____ opened her eyes. She looked at him. He was staring at her, unblinking, totally present.

"You are mine," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a fact. A declaration of property.

"I am yours," she replied, and for the first time in her life, she felt no fear in saying it.

She felt power.

Sieun grabbed her by the nape of her neck and pulled her down to kiss her savagely while increasing the speed, driving them both to the edge. ____ felt the tension building in her belly, a wave that grew and grew until it broke.

She screamed his name against his mouth as the orgasm hit her, shaking her entire body. Sieun followed her seconds later, with a hoarse groan, emptying himself inside her, trembling beneath her body.

They stayed like that, one against the other, silence slowly returning to the room, but it was no longer the same silence as before. Now it was a shared silence.

____ rested her forehead on Sieun's shoulder, listening to his heart decelerate.

Her mind, which had been looking for an answer to all the sensations she thought lost, managed to find nothing more than: The subject is perfect.