#seochangbin

Bang Chan was used to chaos, but usually the chaos came in the form of recording equipment, stray lyric sheets, and his own bad habit of falling asleep at his desk. Not in the form of a seven-year-old girl tugging determinedly at his sleeve, chin raised like she had already planned out the rest of her life.

“Appa,” Hana said with that unblinking seriousness he’d learned to both fear and admire, “I want to learn taekwondo.”

Chan blinked down at her, adjusting the strap of the tote bag on his shoulder. “Taekwondo? That’s… sudden. Where did this come from?”

“To fight people who mess with you.” She folded her arms, voice firm, like she was explaining a law of nature. “It’s very important. If Hana says, then it is what she says.”

He coughed into his fist, partly to hide a laugh and partly because his heart gave that stupid soft squeeze it always did when she came out with things like this. “Oh yeah? You want to protect Appa?”

“Yes. You always protect me. Now I protect you.” She puffed out her cheeks in indignation. “It’s fair.”

Chan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright. There were plenty of reasons to say no—busy schedules, money, the reality that his daughter didn’t actually need to fight anyone—but when Hana set her mind on something, she rarely let go. And really, how could he argue when her reason was him?

So that’s how he ended up pushing open the door of the bright dojang at the edge of their neighborhood, Hana clutching his hand with the same determination she had declared her mission. The air smelled faintly of rubber mats and detergent. Kids in crisp uniforms scampered across the polished floor, their shouts echoing between the high walls.

Chan looked toward the front desk, searching for someone to talk to. At that exact moment, a woman broke away from a small cluster of adults near the mat. She had that kind of brightness that didn’t just sit on her face—it radiated, lighting up the space around her. Her hair was tied back neatly, her smile quick and genuine as she approached.

“Hi there,” you said, voice lilting with a friendliness that instantly put him at ease. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh—uh, yeah.” Chan cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how rumpled his t-shirt looked. “I was wondering if I could enroll my daughter in classes here.”

“Of course!” you replied, the cheer in your tone natural rather than forced. Your gaze flicked around as though searching. “Where is she?”

Chan suppressed a chuckle, tilting his head down. “Look lower.”

When you glanced down, a small girl stood practically pressed against his leg, big eyes peeking up at you through strands of her hair. Your expression softened immediately.

“Well, hello there.” You crouched gracefully until you were at Hana’s level, hands resting on your knees. “What’s your name?”

“Hana,” she said, voice clear but shy.

“Hana,” you repeated warmly, like you were trying the name on your tongue. “That’s a very pretty name. Are you excited to try taekwondo?”

Hana nodded, still watching you closely.

“Well then, we need to find you the perfect uniform.” You leaned in conspiratorially. “We have two colors you can pick from—blue or white. Which one do you think would look best on you?”

She tapped her chin like she was considering an international treaty, eyes flicking between the options displayed on the rack behind the desk. Finally, she broke into a grin. “Blue. Blue is strong.”

You laughed, the sound ringing bright. “Blue it is, then.”

Within a few minutes, you returned with a neatly folded uniform and a brand-new white belt. You showed Hana how to slip her arms into the jacket, adjusting it gently over her small shoulders. She wriggled happily, admiring the sleeves like they were royal robes. Chan found himself smiling, leaning against the counter as he watched you guide the belt around her waist, knotting it carefully but firmly.

“There,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “Perfect fit. You look ready to conquer the world already.”

Hana’s grin could have powered the building.

You stood and looked at Chan again. “I’ll get Hana into her class now, and once she’s settled, I’ll come back to explain how everything works—schedule, fees, parent area, all that.”

“That sounds good,” Chan said, grateful that you seemed to have this entire process down to an art.

You offered Hana your hand, which she took without hesitation. As you led her toward the mat, Chan couldn’t help noticing how gently you spoke to her, pointing out where to leave her shoes and bow before stepping onto the practice floor. You introduced her to a younger instructor—Felix, you said—who beamed at Hana like she was already his little sidekick. He crouched to her height, demonstrating a stretch, and Hana mirrored him eagerly.

Chan found himself exhaling in relief. His daughter was in good hands.

When you returned, you gestured toward a row of chairs behind a glass partition. “That’s our parent and guest area. You’re welcome to stay and watch every class—most parents do, at least for the first few weeks.”

“Good, good,” Chan said, nodding, though his eyes were still following Hana on the mat.

You pulled a clipboard from behind the counter and slid a form across. “Classes for beginners are twice a week, an hour each. We focus mostly on fundamentals—discipline, balance, stretching, basic forms. Nothing dangerous, I promise.” You chuckled. “The monthly fee is one hundred fifty dollars, and that includes uniform maintenance and belt testing when she’s ready. If that works for you, we can get her officially registered today.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Chan murmured, scribbling his information down.

You leaned one elbow on the counter casually. “She’s adorable, by the way. I don’t usually see kids her age so determined.”

Chan chuckled. “Oh, she’s determined, alright. She said she wants to learn so she can fight people who mess with me.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it, hand covering your mouth. “Did she really?”

“She really did.” He shook his head, both amused and embarrassed.

“That is possibly the sweetest—and funniest—reason I’ve ever heard for joining.” You tilted your head, eyes sparkling. “Sounds like she takes her job as your bodyguard very seriously.”

Chan rubbed the back of his neck, warmth creeping up his ears. “Yeah, I guess she does.”

By the time the class wrapped up, Hana practically skipped off the mat, chatting animatedly with Felix, who seemed equally charmed by her endless energy. When she spotted her father, she ran full tilt into him, almost knocking the clipboard from his hands.

“Appa! I kicked so high! And Felix said my balance is good and he said I can stretch better than some of the big kids!” She looked over at Felix, who gave a dramatic thumbs-up from across the room. Hana giggled.

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Chan said, crouching to catch her in a hug.

She immediately turned her attention to you, launching into another breathless retelling of the class as though you hadn’t just been watching. You bent down to listen, nodding and smiling, clearly enjoying every word.

Chan tried not to feel sheepish as Hana’s storytelling dragged on, her little hands flying with exaggerated gestures. After several long minutes, he finally cleared his throat. “Hana, come on, we need to let your teacher go. She probably has a lot to do.”

“Oh.” Hana looked at you apologetically, then back at her father. “But she listens so good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It’s really no trouble. Honestly, I love hearing what the kids think. They always have the best stories. Better tea than the adults, that’s for sure.”

Chan smiled despite himself. “Yeah… she does talk a lot.”

“She’s seven,” you said matter-of-factly. “That’s when their stories are golden. Don’t take that away from me.”

The way you said it—light, teasing, but kind—made something flutter uncomfortably in his chest. He swallowed quickly, standing straighter. “Well… thank you. For everything. We’ll, uh, see you next time.”

“Definitely,” you said, your smile lingering a little longer than it needed to.

As Chan finally guided Hana toward the door, his daughter waved enthusiastically over her shoulder. “Bye, Teacher Y/N! Don’t forget me!”

“I couldn’t if I tried,” you called back, hand raised in farewell.

Chan exhaled once they were outside, adjusting Hana’s bag over his shoulder. His daughter skipped along beside him, already recounting every detail again, this time in a slightly different order. He only half-listened, his mind drifting back to your smile, the warmth of your voice, the way you had looked at Hana like she was the most important person in the world.

He hadn’t expected much when he walked into that dojang—just a sign-up, a schedule, a new hobby for his daughter. He definitely hadn’t expected you.

And maybe he was imagining it, but the thought of seeing you again at the next class didn’t feel like a chore. It felt a little like anticipation.

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The day you met Bangchan, the stars shined brighter than ever. — that day was the best day you ever experienced.

Bangchan didn’t just come up to you, he approached you after a concert… the conversation was quickly cut off by some stays screaming and recording him, the company wouldn’t allow him to date or anything, if those videos were published to the internet, his career would be done for.

But that day, he, ever so smoothly, slipped a paper with his personal number on it. You smiled at the gesture and called him that night…

Ever since then, have you been calling each other almost everyday, taking breaks from dance practice/work? You were calling each other, day and night, even if the call option wasn’t available, there were still some texts in between.

One day, Bangchan called you all of a sudden, you were worried, did something happen? Were you two exposed? What had happened?

He called your name. “Nothing happened! Don’t worry, it’s just that… Today and tomorrow are my weekends, so I thought I could waste them by going on a date? Whatcha think?” you could feel the grin of his just through his tone.

“Alright,” you let out a soft giggle, “But what’s the theme? What should I wear?”

“Wear something classy and nice,” his voice was heard through the phone, “I would recommend a black dress, maybe?”

That first date was everything you needed to know about him, his charming personality, his funny words, the way he talks, the way he handles situations, it was just something that left you in awe of this man.

The day ended quickly, you didn’t feel the time pass by so fast… 

Date after date, turned into a proposal. After many dates, the man had finally gathered the confidence to get on one knee, and ask you to be his fiancee.

And, of course, you agreed, bouncing lightly on your toes out of happiness. He got up from the floor, and hugged you tight, his eyes were tearing up, he was slowly achieving his dreams, to be someone successful in his career and have a family.

You didn’t move in with him instantly, you first introduced him to your parents, and was thrilled that they accepted him, you were then introduced to his bandmates, the famous stray kids members, and had much fun at their dorm room! Laughing at their jokes and how they seemed to tease their beloved leader.

Even though he hated their teasing, yet he let them, because he was mesmerized by your laugh, your smile, how your eyes seemed to crinkle as you smile, how you recorded everything on your phone, yet didn’t publish them to the public eye, how you respected their privacy.

At the end of the night, he took you on a small-night walk, unaware of the eyes following you, one of the members? No, a fan of his, a saesang, one of the worst types of fans you could ever encounter as a celebrity…

Apparently, a saesang followed you both and took pictures of you on your special date, posting online, which then proceeded to raise questions on who was the girl with Bangchan? Why was she with him? Is that his girlfriend?

Bangchan then notices the post after going back to his dorm room, not before getting you home first, and his eyes widen in size — how were they oblivious to this? Why didn't he look around or focus on those details?

He then got a message from JYP himself, wanting to meet him later on to discuss something important.

Bangchan groaned, he was in for it, this was going to be very hard to fix… but no, he won’t lose hope, he will try his best and not lose his career nor his fiancee.

He closes his phone, placing it on the charger beside him before going to sleep, everything will be fine by the next day… he was sure of it.

By the next morning, the man woke up, took a long, needed shower, and began thinking how would he fix this? He couldnt lie and say this was Hannah, because your hair wasn’t blonde.. So, he didn’t know what to do.

He went to JYP’s office, as requested, the man wanted to have a chat to discuss something important, and Bangchan knew it was about you, about the posts going viral. He mentally prepared himself for the worse, would JYP forbid him from seeing you? Or something better? He couldn’t think about what would happen as his feet took him to JYP’s office.

Knocking on the door, he hears the fierce “Come in!” he walks inside, taking a deep breath, `` Good morning, JYP-nim,” Bangchan smiled at the manager, “What do you want to discuss?” he acted stupid, wanting to see if this chat will be about you or about something that involves his group.

“Ah! Just the man I was wanting to see, have a seat!” JYP gestured to the seat in front of his desk, `` I’ll go straight to the point,” JYP’s voice turned serious, stern even, “Who is the girl with you in those photos? You know the policy, no dating at all.” JYP reminded him about the policy, the one that made Bangchan want to punch the wall.