Anna

Chapter 2 - The Ring

Warning: swearing and smoking

A few days passed and Anna didn’t return to the bowling alley. 

There were no texts, no calls and no sudden appearances. At first Seongje didn’t think about it at all. People came and went every day. Most of them he never bothered remembering. But the place felt unusually boring that week. School was the same dull routine it always was. 

The Union had nothing new going on either, no new fights, no territory disputes, nothing interesting enough to hold his attention for long. Everything felt slow, predictable , and Seongje hated being bored. When Seongje was bored, he usually found ways to entertain himself. Sometimes that meant starting fights lor just stirring up trouble to get a rise out of others. 

That afternoon he was leaning back in a chair at the bowling alley, lazily spinning something between his fingers. The silver ring. He had almost forgotten about it until he found it again in his pocket earlier that day. Now it turned slowly between his thumb and index finger, catching the faint overhead lights every time it turned.

Seongje studied it for a moment, then leaned forward and grabbed his phone. An idea came to him. Not a particularly good one. But it would at least kill some boredom. He placed the ring on the table, snapped a quick picture, and sent it to the number saved in his phone.

Anna.

He didn’t type anything. No explanation. Just the picture. Then he slipped the ring back into his pocket and leaned back again, waiting to see if anything interesting would happen.

—

The next day Anna came back. Seongje noticed her the moment she walked through the doors of the bowling alley. This time she didn’t look worried. If anything, she looked relieved. There was a faint brightness in her expression, like she had been waiting for confirmation of something. She didn’t glance around the room nor acknowledge the Union members watching her, she just walked straight toward Seongje, just like last time. Seongje was sitting near the counter scrolling through his phone when her shadow fell across the table. He looked up slowly, already knowing who it was.

Anna held out her hand toward him. “You have my ring?” She said it almost expectantly. And this time she was smiling.

Seongje stared at her for a second. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “난 너 안 올 줄 알았는데.” (I thought you weren’t coming back.) 

He leaned back in his chair casually. “그래서 버렸는데.” (So I threw it away.)

Anna blinked. Her expression shifted instantly into something between disbelief and irritation. “…뭐?” (…What?)

“Where did you throw it away?”

The question caught him slightly off guard. He had expected her to yell at him or insult him or at least look furious, but instead she just wanted to know where. Seongje tilted his head, studying her reaction carefully. Then he lifted his chin slightly and pointed toward the back exit of the bowling alley. Anna didn’t say another word. She simply turned and walked toward the door. Seongje watched her go, mildly amused.

For a moment he assumed that would be the end of it. But ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. Seongje frowned slightly. Then his phone rang.  He stood up and walked toward the back exit while answering it.

“…어.” (…Yeah.)

He pushed the metal door open with his shoulder and stepped into the alley behind the bowling center. The air outside smelled like cigarettes and damp cardboard. The narrow space behind the building was lined with metal dumpsters pressed against a long brick wall. Trash bags overflowed from the lids, some already split open, spilling food containers and crumpled napkins across the pavement.

Seongje leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette while listening to the voice on the other end of the call. Then he noticed movement near the dumpsters. His eyes shifted. Anna was crouched on the ground, digging through garbage. For a moment he just stared. She had already opened several bags. Plastic wrappers and food containers were scattered around her feet. Her hands were dirty now, smudged with grease and old sauce stains, but she didn’t seem to care. She opened another bag and started digging again. She was completely focused and she didn’t even notice he was standing there.

Seongje slowly lowered his phone. “…야.” (…Hey.)

Anna didn’t respond, she kept searching.

Seongje frowned. “…씨발 너 뭐 하냐.” (…What the fuck are you doing?)

Anna’s hands paused for a second, but she didn’t look up. “I have to find that ring.” Her voice sounded tight.

Seongje scoffed and took a drag from his cigarette. “존나 비싼 거냐.” (Is it fucking expensive or something?)

Still no response. Anna opened another trash bag and started digging again.

Seongje watched her silently for a few seconds. Then he shook his head slowly. “…미쳤네.” (…She’s insane.)

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. Holding it up casually between two fingers, he tilted his head. “아.” (Ah.)

A smirk spread across his face. “요기 있네.” (Oh. Here it is.)

Anna froze.

 Slowly she looked up. For the first time he noticed her eyes were wet. There were faint streaks across her cheeks where she had wiped her face with dirty hands. Seongje’s smirk faltered for just a moment. Anna stood up. She walked toward him quietly. She didn’t say anything. She simply grabbed the ring from his hand. Then she turned and started walking back toward the door. Seongje followed a few steps behind her, hands sliding into his pockets again.

“…그냥 반진데.” (…It’s just a ring.) He shrugged. “존나 지랄한다.” (You’re making a big fucking deal out of it.)

Anna stopped walking. The alley suddenly felt very quiet. Then she turned around and slapped him. The sound cracked sharply through the narrow alley. Seongje’s head snapped slightly to the side. For a moment neither of them moved. Silence settled between them. Slowly, Seongje turned his head back toward her. His eyes were colder now.

“…야.” (…Hey.) The word came out low like a warning.

Anna’s chest rose and fell quickly.

Tears were sliding down her face now, but she didn’t step back.

“That ring belonged to my best friend.” Her voice trembled. “She was the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Seongje said nothing.

“She fought cancer almost her entire life.” Anna tightened her grip around the ring in her hand. “This was the last gift she gave me before she died.”

The alley went quiet again. Seongje stared at her. Anger still flickered somewhere behind his eyes. She hit him. Nobody did that. Nobody. But something in him paused. He remembered the way she had been digging through garbage like nothing else in the world mattered. Like the dirt on her hands and the smell and the humiliation meant absolutely nothing compared to finding that ring. He watched the tears falling down her cheeks and for the first time since meeting her… Seongje felt a faint, unfamiliar sense that maybe he had pushed the joke too far. 

Anna wiped her face quickly with the back of her sleeve. Then she turned and walked back into the bowling alley. Seongje didn’t stop her, he stood there for another moment. Slowly he lifted his hand and touched his cheek where she had slapped him.

“…씨발.” (...Fuck.)

He pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it. But he didn’t smoke right away. Instead he stood there quietly, staring at the door she had disappeared through.

Then he muttered under his breath. “…존나 또라이네.” (…She’s fucking insane.)

Chapter 1 – The Bowling Alley

Warning: swearing and smoking

The bowling alley was Seongje’s usual spot. On Friday nights it belonged to him. The lights were always too dim, the music  too loud, and the air permanently thick with cigarette smoke and cheap beer. Laughter echoed from different lanes, bowling balls thundered down polished wood, and the neon lights flickered across the glossy floor.

To everyone else, it was just another late-night hangout. To Seongje, it was territory. The Union members knew it too. They didn’t need rules written down anywhere. The hierarchy was obvious in the way people moved, the way conversations lowered when he walked by, the way everyone instinctively glanced toward him before doing anything important.

Seongje sat back in his chair near the center of the room, a cigarette resting loosely between his fingers, watching everything like he always did. He didn’t talk much unless he had to. He didn’t need to. People naturally paid attention to him. Or at least… they usually did.

Tonight something was off. He noticed it first in the small things. A couple of the guys standing near lane four kept glancing behind him. Another one had completely missed his turn to bowl because he was staring somewhere else. Even the ones pretending to listen while Seongje spoke were distracted, their attention drifting toward the same direction over and over again.

It was subtle. No one was openly drooling like idiots. They weren’t stupid enough for that. But Seongje could see it anyway. Their shoulders angled slightly toward the entrance. Their eyes flicked away mid-conversation. The faint shift in the room’s attention. He followed their line of sight. And that was when he saw her.

She was sitting in one of the molded plastic chairs beside the bowling lanes, her legs crossed neatly, her posture straight in a way that looked completely out of place in a place like this. The girl beside her, probably a friend, was bowling, laughing loudly every time the ball rolled into the gutter.

But she wasn’t paying attention to the game. She was looking down at her phone. Completely calm and uninterested. And somehow that made the situation even worse. Because every guy in the room was watching her. She looked like she had stepped out of a completely different world.

Her features were soft and delicate, her cheeks faintly rosy under the neon lights. Long straight black hair fell smoothly past her shoulders, catching bits of coloured light from the overhead signs. Her eyes were large and bright, and even from across the room Seongje could tell she had that kind of beauty that quietly stole attention without trying.

The kind of beauty that made people look twice or three times. The kind of beauty that controlled a room without speaking. She looked like a princess that had wandered into the wrong part of town. And judging from the way she ignored every single stare around her… She was used to it. 

Seongje exhaled slowly, smoke drifting lazily from his lips. He wasn’t angry. But it annoyed him. His guys were acting like idiots. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and stood up, stretching slightly before sliding his hands into his pockets. Then he walked toward her.

When he stopped in front of her chair, she still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

So he spoke. “야.” (Hey.) His voice was low and casual.

The girl blinked and lifted her head. “…네?” (…Yes?) Her voice held genuine confusion, like she had no idea why a stranger was talking to her.

Seongje tilted his head slightly, gesturing vaguely toward the rest of the bowling alley. “여기 애들 눈 돌아간 거 안 보여?” (Don’t you see the guys here losing their minds over you?)

She frowned slightly at the sudden comment. For a moment she didn’t answer. Instead she glanced around the room. As soon as she did, several guys immediately looked away, pretending they had been focusing on something else the entire time. She noticed it. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

Then she looked back at him. “익숙해요.” (I’m used to it.)

Seongje stared at her for a second. That wasn’t the response he expected. Most girls either got embarrassed or defensive. This one just accepted it like it was normal.

He let out a quiet scoff. “와… 존나 재수 없게 예쁘네.” (Wow… you’re annoyingly fuckin pretty.)

Her brows immediately pulled together. She leaned forward slightly, clearly irritated. “You should just mind your own business.” Without waiting for a reply, she stood up and walked away toward the small café counter at the side of the bowling alley.

Seongje watched her go.

“…재밌네.” (…Interesting.) He muttered it mostly to himself.

Then he turned to leave. But something caught his eye. A small glint of silver on the floor near the chairs. Seongje paused and bent down, picking it up between his fingers. It was a ring. A dainty silver band. . Light reflecting softly along its smooth surface. He turned it once between his fingers.

“The fuck is this…” He muttered quietly.

It didn’t look particularly expensive. He figured it must have dropped from someone's pocket or been taken off for bowling and forgotten about.   Without thinking much about it, he slipped it into his pocket and his mind was already forgetting about the girl.

The next morning the bowling alley was quiet. 

The place wasn’t even open yet. A few Union members were scattered around the room, half awake, some cleaning up leftover bottles from the night before while others lazily scrolled through their phones. Seongje sat alone near the back, leaning back in his chair, one leg stretched out while he stared down at his phone. He looked bored, because he was. Footsteps approached. He didn’t bother looking up at first. But when someone stopped directly in front of him, blocking his view, he slowly lifted his eyes. It was her. The same girl from last night. But this time she didn’t look calm. She looked worried. Her brows were slightly drawn together, and her eyes scanned the room like she was searching for something important. Still, she didn’t approach anyone else. She walked straight to him.

“뭐?” (What?) Seongje said flatly. No greeting. No interest. Just one word.

She crossed her arms slightly. “Did you see a silver ring last night?” Her voice carried urgency. “I lost it here and I can’t find it.”

Seongje’s hand instinctively brushed against the pocket where the ring still sat. But his expression didn’t change. “A ring?” He tilted his head. “못 봤는데.” (I didn’t see it.) he lied. 

Her shoulders stiffened slightly. “Then can you give me a call when you find it?”

Seongje blinked slowly. “Me?”

She nodded.

He let out a quiet scoff. “ 내가 왜?” (Why should I?)

She frowned, clearly frustrated now. “Don’t you work here? Aren’t you the manager?”

Seongje almost laughed. “Me?” He gestured vaguely to himself.

“Last night you were telling everyone to get back to work.” She looked genuinely confused.

Seongje stared at her for a second. Then he smiled. Before he could say anything else, she suddenly reached forward. And took the phone out of his hand.

“야.” (Hey.) Seongje said automatically. But he didn’t stop her. Instead he just watched her with an amused expression, eyebrows raised slightly like he was waiting to see what she would do.

She quickly dialed a number. Her own phone buzzed inside her purse. Once she confirmed the call, she hung up and handed his phone back to him. Then she pulled out her own phone and started saving the contact.

“What’s your name?” She asked, blunt and direct.

Seongje smirked. “금성제.” (Geum Seongje.)

She typed the name into her phone. Then added something else. Bowling Manager. Seongje leaned slightly to see. His eyebrows lifted.

And then he started laughing. “볼링 매니저?” (Bowling Manager?) He shook his head in disbelief.

She looked at him like she didn’t understand the problem.

Seongje laughed again. “재밌네.” (You’re interesting.)

Now she looked like she thought he was the strange one. Without another word, she turned and started walking away.

Seongje watched her for a second. Then called out. “야.” (Hey.)

She stopped. Turned around. Looked at him.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

She hesitated for half a second. Then answered. “Anna.”

Part 2: Next Day

Warning: swearing and smoking

tags: @madysdiaries@thegirlunivers-blog@heartshapesandcigarettes

The next day is quiet, too quiet. You’re usually the one who texts first, and when you do, Geum Seongje barely replies, if at all. Short. Blunt. Like it’s a chore. But today, you don’t and that’s different.

At the Union, Seongje leans back against the couch, cigarette between his fingers, half-listening to whatever Dongha’s saying.

His phone buzzes once. He checks it. Nothing. His thumb hovers over the screen for a second longer than it should. By now… you would’ve texted.

He clicks his tongue, locking the phone.

“하…” (Ah…)

Annoyed at himself for even noticing.

Time passes. Still nothing. Now it’s irritating.

He checks again. Same empty screen.

“씨발…” (Sshibal..)

His jaw tightens. He types before he can think too much about it.

“뭐하냐?” (What you doing?)

Sent.

⸻

Read.

No reply.

⸻

Seongje stares at the screen, eyes narrowing slightly.

Scoffs under his breath.

“씨발…” (Sshibal…)

Last night flashes in pieces, your voice, your face, the way you walked off. His tongue presses against his cheek. Was that just a fight… or? …He shuts the thought down immediately.

By evening, he’s had enough. When you turn the corner toward your place, you see him first. Leaning against the wall by your door. Smoking. Like he’s been there a while.

“야.” (Hey!) His voice cuts clean.

You stop. Look at him. Still pissed.

He flicks ash to the ground, eyes dragging over your face.

“씨발, 왜 문자 안 하냐.” (Why the fuck aren’t you texting?)

No greeting. No softening. Just that.

You stare right back.

“삐졌어.” (Still mad) You respond with flat honesty. 

He scoffs, but there’s something lighter underneath it, something that wasn’t there a second ago. Not a breakup, which is good.

“언제까지 삐질 건데.” (How long are you going to keep being mad?)

Seongje ask not as a question, but a demand.

You shrug, brushing past him, like you’re done talking. That’s when he moves fast. Your purse slips off your shoulder before you even process it.

“야!” (hey!) You spin around. “돌려줘!” (give it back!)

He doesn’t even look back, just starts walking. Your purse hanging from his hand like it belongs to him. You exhale hard, already following him.

“어디 가는데?” (where we going)

“밥.” (food) He responds short and final.

You roll your eyes and follow him. 

—---

The restaurant is small, tucked into the corner of your street, the kind of place you only notice because it’s always there. Nothing fancy. Plastic-laminated menus, slightly peeling at the edges. The sharp clatter of dishes from the kitchen, voices overlapping in quick, familiar bursts of Korean. The air smells like simmering stew and grilled meat.

You sit across from Geum Seong-je. Neither of you speaks at first. He flips through the menu lazily, one hand propping up his head, the other turning pages like he barely cares what’s on them.

“…뭐 먹냐.” (What are you eating?)

You shrug, not looking up. “몰라.”  (I don’t know.)

His eyes lift to you. Still annoyed. Still carrying the edge from earlier.

“…아직도냐.” (You’re still like this?)

You don’t answer. He exhales through his nose, irritation slipping out with it.

“씨발…” (Fuck…)

The menu snaps shut. He waves a hand toward the waitress without asking you again.

“김치찌개 두 개요.” (Two kimchi stews.)

You look up immediately. “I didn’t say I wanted that.”

He shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. “먹어.” (Eat.)

Silence settles again. You stir the water in your cup with your spoon, the soft clink of metal against glass filling the space between you.

Across from you, he watches. Just for a second.

“…아직 화났냐.”  (You still mad?)

You don’t look up.

“응.” (Yeah.)

A quiet scoff.

“와… 대단하다 진짜.” (Wow… impressive, seriously.)

You glance up sharply.

“You flirted with a girl you slept with.”

“옛날 얘기잖아.”  (That was a long time ago.)

“Still flirting!” You snap back. 

“걔 원래 그래.” (She’s just like that.) He responds. 

You stare at him. More like a glare. 

He sighs again, dragging a hand through his hair, tired of the topic, tired of going in circles.

“어제 말했잖아.” (I told you yesterday.)

A vague gesture with his hand.

“앞으로 안 한다고.” (I said I wouldn’t do it again.)

You don’t respond.

The waitress arrives then, setting the steaming pot between you. The scent of kimchi stew rises immediately; rich, hot, grounding.

Seong-je reaches for the ladle without thinking. He fills your bowl first. Pushes it toward you.

“먹어.” (Eat.)

You hesitate. Then pick up your spoon. For a while, neither of you speaks. Just the quiet rhythm of eating, spoons clinking softly against ceramic.

After a few bites, he mutters,

“…존나 삐졌네.”  (You’re really fuckin sulking, huh.)

Your foot nudges him under the table, not hard, but enough.

“야.” (Hey.) You glare at him.

For a split second, his mouth almost curves. Almost. Then he leans back slightly, voice turning casual.

“근데 너 질투하는 거 처음 본다.” (But this is the first time I’ve seen you jealous.)

You freeze. Then scoff, too quick.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

One brow lifts.

“…그래?” (Really?)

He settles deeper into his chair, watching you now.

“그럼 왜 그렇게 화났는데.” (Then why were you that mad?)

Your gaze drops to your bowl.

“…몰라.” (I don’t know.)

For once, he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t push. He just watches you quietly for a moment. Then shrugs.

“그래.” (Okay.)

Another bite. Conversation ends there. But the tension has shifted. It’s still there but softer now. Quieter. Familiar. Normal. A few minutes pass before he speaks again, like it just crossed his mind.

“…민아 오면.” (If Mina shows up.)

You look up.

He continues

“무시할게.” (I’ll ignore her.)

Like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t matter. But you know him well enough to understand, that’s his version of reassurance.

You study him for a second. Then mutter, almost under your breath

“…당연하지.” (Obviously.)

A small smirk tugs at his lips.

“이제 됐냐.” (You good now?)

Plot: A quiet walk home turns tense when you confront Seong-je about the girl who openly flirted with him, someone he casually admits he’s slept with before. What starts as a controlled question unravels into a deeper conflict about respect and boundaries

Warning: swearing and smoking

tags: @madysdiaries@thegirlunivers-blog@heartshapesandcigarettes

Kimchi - Part 1

The walk back is quiet. Too quiet. You haven’t said a word since you left the Union hangout, and the silence stretches long enough to turn noticeably heavy, almost deliberate. Beside you, Geum Seong-je notices after a few minutes. He glances over, a cigarette resting lazily between his lips, the ember glowing each time he inhales.

“오늘 존나 조용하다.” ( You’re fucking quiet today.)

You keep walking. No answer. Smoke spills from his mouth in a slow exhale, drifting into the cold night air. He watches you for another beat, brows pulling together slightly.

“…야.” (...hey.)

Still nothing. By the time you reach the street just outside your building, the tension has settled in fully, thick, unspoken, impossible to ignore.

And then— “Who was that girl?”

Your voice cuts through the silence, flat and controlled.

Seong-je squints, like the question doesn’t quite land.

“누구?” ( Who?)

“The girl who was flirting with you.” You snap back.

He pauses, thinking for a second, then nods like it clicks.

“아… 민아?” ( Ah… Mina?)

You stop walking. The shift is subtle, but he notices immediately.

“You guys seemed to get along really well.” Your eyes narrow just slightly when you say it.

Seong-je shrugs, casual. too casual.

“그냥 아는 애야.” (Just someone I know.)

A quiet laugh slips from you. Not amused. Not light. Something sharper.

“Right.” You start walking again.

He catches the tone this time.

“…뭐야 또.” (What now.)

You stop again. “You flirted with her.”

“걔가 먼저 왔잖아.” (She came up first.)

“And you flirted back.”

He looks at you, genuinely confused, like he doesn’t see the problem at all.

“장난이었는데.” (It was just a joke.)

“That didn’t look like a joke.”

A sigh leaves him, already irritated, like this conversation is dragging somewhere unnecessary.

“민아 원래 그래.” (Mina’s just like that.)

You stare at him. “And that makes it okay?”

He takes another drag from his cigarette, unfazed.

“그거랑 이거랑 뭔 상관이야.” (What does that have to do with this?)

Your eyes flash. “Because you have a girlfriend.”

That lands. Seong-je looks at you for a moment, then nods once, like you’ve just stated something obvious. The ease of it makes it worse.

You cross your arms. “Have you slept with her?”

There’s the slightest pause. Barely half a second.

“예전에 몇 번.” (A couple of times.)

The bluntness of it hits harder than anything else.

You shake your head slowly. “And then she sits there flirting with you… in front of me.”

Another shrug.

“장난이었다니까.” (I told you, it was a joke.)

You let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, disbelief laced through it.

“You really don’t see the problem.”

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t. You look at him for a long moment, something in your expression dimming. Then you sigh.

“You know what?” You take a small step back. “Forget it.”

Now he’s watching you properly. Alert. Careful.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

He blinks.

“…뭐?” (...What?)

You gesture vaguely back the way you came.

“You flirting with girls you’ve slept with while I’m standing there?”

You shake your head. “I’m not doing that.”

A scoff escapes him.

“뭐야 또. 그걸로 헤어지자고?” (Seriously? You want to break up over that?)

“Yes.”

Now he’s staring.

“씨발… 진짜?” (Fuck… you’re serious?)

“Yes.”

He runs a hand through his hair, irritation rising fast now.

“그걸로?” (Over that)

“You slept with her.”

“옛날 얘기잖아.” (That was before.)

“And you were flirting with her.”

“장난이라니까.”  (It was a joke.)

You look at him like he’s missing something fundamental.

“You don’t respect me.”

His brows knit together.

“…뭔 소리야.” (...What are you even talking about?)

“If you did, you wouldn’t act like that in front of me.”

His tongue clicks against his teeth, frustration slipping through.

“씨발… 별 걸 다.” (Fuck… you’re making a big deal out of everything.)

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

“This isn’t going to work.”

That’s when his expression changes. Just slightly.

“…야.” (...hey)

You turn toward your building. “I’m going upstairs.”

His hand closes around your wrist. Not rough. But firm enough to stop you.

“야. 잠깐.” (Hey. Wait.)

You glance down at where he’s holding you.

“Let go.”

He doesn’t.

“…진짜냐?” (Are you serious?)

You nod once.

“Yes.”

A sharp exhale. “와… 씨발.” (woah…Sshibal)

He lets go, dragging a hand through his hair again, agitation written all over him.

You step toward the door. “Goodnight, Seongje.”

One step.

“야.” (hey)

His voice stops you. You pause, but don’t turn. Silence stretches between you again.

Then, under his breath “…씨발.” (...Sshibal)

Another beat.

“알았어.” (alright.)

You turn back slowly. He’s shoved his hands into his pockets now, gaze angled away, jaw tight.

“그게 그렇게 거슬리면.” (If it bothers you that much.)

A vague gesture.

“민아 같은 거.” (That stuff with Mina.)

A pause.

“말 안 하면 되잖아.”  (I just won’t do it.)

He looks at you again. Still annoyed. Still stubborn.

“앞으로 안 한다고.” ( I won’t do it again.)

Another beat.

Then, blunt

“너 신경 쓰이게 안 할게.” ( I won’t make you worry.)

A small jerk of his chin.

“됐냐?” (That enough?)

You stare at him. Because it isn’t soft. It isn’t an apology. There’s no warmth in it, no sweetness, no effort to dress it up into something romantic.

But this, this is him yielding. In the only way he knows how. The street falls quiet again. And for the first time since this started, he’s not brushing it off. He’s waiting. Actually waiting. For you. You don’t answer. You just turn, push open the door, and walk inside without looking back.

Behind you, he stays where he is. Hands in his pockets.

Head tipped back slightly as he mutters under his breath,

This is a preview of my new story! Enjoy <3

Lina has spent her entire life inside the polished walls of Lorncroft ; an elite private school where reputation is everything and perfection is expected. She’s the model student. The obedient daughter. The girlfriend everyone approves of. But behind the image, she is quietly suffocating.

Her relationship is stable, respectable, and carefully curated — yet loveless. Her boyfriend (Eugene) monitors her choices under the disguise of concern. Her parents dictate her future in the name of opportunity. Every step of her life has already been decided.

Then an exchange student arrives from Korea: Geum Seong-je.

Chapter 6:

The rest of the school day passed in a blur of routine. Lina kept her head down and her voice even, careful not to let Eugene see how irritated she still was. The absurdity of it lingered, the way he had said he forbade her from seeing someone. As if she were something to manage. It wasn’t as though she wanted to see Seong-je. It was just… unavoidable.

Her afternoon periods were empty. Since she had detention after school, she drifted toward the library instead of going home. She liked it best at this hour. The upper floor was nearly deserted, soft amber lamps glowing between tall shelves, dust floating lazily in the light. Old books. Long hallways. A kind of silence that felt heavy instead of peaceful.

Lina chose a table near the far wall and began laying out her books in neat, deliberate stacks. A chair scraped softly across the floor. She looked up. Seong-je dropped into the seat beside her like it belonged to him. No greeting. No explanation.

Lina rolled her eyes. “You can’t sit here.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs under the table. “Why not?”

She replied, “It’s the quiet floor.”

He glanced around. No librarian. No students within earshot. “Seems pretty quiet.”

She exhaled slowly. “You’re annoying me. So you should leave.”

He chuckled, low and unbothered, as if that had been the goal all along. “I really bother you, huh?”

“What do you want?” she asked flatly.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table now. His voice lowered, casual but deliberate. “Saw your boyfriend earlier.”

Her stomach dropped, but her expression didn’t change. “Stop talking about him.”

His head tilted slightly. “Touchy subject?”

She looked away, busying herself with her pencil case, fingers fidgeting more than necessary.

He noticed. “He told you not to talk to me?”

Her hands stilled. Silence. That was enough to answer.

Seong-je clicked his tongue softly. “Figures.”

“You don’t know anything,” she snapped.

He leaned in, not touching, not crowding. Just close enough that she felt the shift in air between them. Close enough that if either of them moved an inch, their mouths would brush.

“I know this,” he murmured. “You’re not very good at doing what you’re told.”

She leaned back quickly, heat rushing to her face. He was too close. He saw the blush. His mouth curved, faintly amused.

“Why are you even here?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Library’s empty. You looked bored.”

She snapped, “You should go.”

He didn’t move. “You gonna make me?” he asked softly. He leaned in again, slower this time. His gaze dipped, briefly, to her mouth. Then back to her eyes. She looked directly at him as well. She hadn’t really looked at him before. His eyes were darker up close. Sharper. Intent. Her pulse thudded so loudly she was certain he could hear it. He could definitely see the colour rising in her cheeks.

“Careful,” he said quietly.

“With what?” she whispered.

He stood then, finally giving her space. “Looking at me like that.”

She froze.

He stepped past her chair, close enough that she caught the faint scent of smoke and clean cotton. Just before walking away, he paused beside her. “Next time,” he said, “don’t come somewhere this empty if you’re trying to behave.”

And then he was gone. Lina remained in her seat, pulse racing, heat still lingering under her skin. I’ve never felt like this, she realized. Not once. Not even with her boyfriend.

—

After an hour of studying alone, Lina finally felt steady again. The quiet had done its work. There was something almost mechanical about studying, the repetition, the structure, the certainty of right and wrong answers. It soothed her. In books, everything followed rules. You memorized, you practiced, you succeeded. Predictable. Manageable. It wasn’t exams that unsettled her. It was Eugene. His expectations. His rules disguised as concern. His tone when he said things weren’t negotiable. That was the exhausting part.

She began stacking her books carefully, sliding her notes into place. A faint giggle drifted through the hallway. She paused.

Silence.

She shook it off and zipped her pencil case. Another sound, softer this time. A breath. A rustle. She looked up. The upper floor had been empty for nearly an hour. No footsteps. No turning pages. Just lamps and dust and stillness.

This time, she stood. The noise came again, distant, muted, from deeper within the stacks. Toward the old history section. No one ever went there. The shelves were taller, closer together. The lighting dimmer. She shouldn’t have followed it. But she did. Each step felt louder than it should have. The air thicker. When she turned the last corner, she saw them.

Seong-je stood with his back against the bookshelf, one shoulder resting lazily against the wood. Ella, the notorious whore, was close to him, too close. Her fingers hooked into the collar of his blazer as she kissed him with more urgency than subtlety. His hands rested at her waist, steady, like he could remove them whenever he wanted. She leaned into him as if trying to pull him deeper into the moment. He didn’t lean back, nor didn’t rush. If anything, he looked almost… detached. Like he was allowing it, like it entertained him. It felt one-sided. And he was the one deciding how long it lasted.

Lina’s breath caught. She should have turned around immediately. She almost did. But then—

Seong-je’s eyes opened. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop. His mouth was still against the girl’s. And yet his gaze shifted. Straight to Lina. There was no surprise in his expression. No embarrassment. If anything, it was deliberate. His eyes held hers, steady, assessing. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he smiled. The kind of smile that said I know you’re watching.

Hi everyone! thank you soooo much for all your love and support with my first fanfic! As you can tell, I LOVE Geum Seongje and got so inspired to write a longer story about him. I'm debating to post it here or wattpad. tbh, I never used Wattpad...

Warning: swearing, smoking, seongje being dominant

tags: @madysdiaries @thegirlunivers-blog @heartshapesandcigarettes

Chapter 4:

He doesn’t say another word as he leads you down the narrow hallway toward the back, away from the others. 

The noise from the bowling alley dulls the further you walk, replaced by the low hum of old lights and the faint smell of smoke soaked into the walls. He pushes open a door and steps aside just long enough for you to enter before following in and closing it behind you.

The room is empty — just a worn couch, a low table, and nothing else that makes it feel welcoming. No windows. No noise. Just the two of you.

Seong-je drops onto the couch like his body finally remembered gravity. He leans back, exhales deeply, and releases a long cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

“말해 (Talk),” he says casually.

You stand there for a moment, stunned by how normal he’s acting — how untouched he seems by everything that’s been eating at you since yesterday.

He finally looks up at you, brow creasing in irritation.

“You said you wanted to talk,” he says flatly. “Why the fuck aren’t you talking?”

You swallow, then move closer and sit down beside him.

“What was that yesterday?” you ask, voice tight.

He blinks.

Genuinely confused.

“What?”

The disbelief hits harder than anything else.

“You kissed me,” you snap, the words finally spilling out. “And then you acted as if nothing happened.”

He lets out a short laugh, smoke escaping his mouth as he tilts his head back.

“Because nothing did happen,” he says lightly.

The room goes quiet.

Heat rushes to your face — embarrassment first, then something sharper underneath it. You don’t respond, and he notices immediately.

He studies you for a second, head tilted slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. Then his lips curve—slow, lazy, unmistakable.

“…Wait,” he says, realization dawning in his voice. “Was that your first kiss or something?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, breath puffing out with the smoke still lingering in the air. Not loud. Amused.

“존나 귀여운데 (That’s fuckin cute).”

Something in you snaps. It’s not even the words themselves. It’s the ease with which he says them. The way he leans back, like the moment meant nothing. Like that kiss—your racing heart, your confusion, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about it afterward—was just another thing he did without thinking.

Because it meant something to you.

You didn’t want it to. You didn’t ask for it to. But it did. And realizing that—realizing you were standing there feeling stupid and exposed while he treated it like a joke—makes your chest burn.

To him, it was nothing. Just an impulse. Just boredom. Just fun.

And now he has the audacity to tease you for it. To turn something that left you awake all night into something small and embarrassing.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand moves and you slap him. The sound echoes in the small room. You are both taken aback by this. You have never slapped someone before. You hadn’t meant to do it. You had acted out of impulsiveness. For a split second, you’re terrified you’ve just made a massive mistake. 

But Seong-je doesn’t get angry. He slowly looks back at you — not shocked, not offended.

Amused.

A smile spreads across his face, lazy and unsettling.

You’re baffled with his response. “You’re sick,” you say, shaking now. “You know that?”

You stand abruptly, heart pounding, every instinct screaming at you to leave.

You turn— And he grabs your wrist violently and stops you.

Before you can pull away, his hand hooks around your waist and he pulls you into his lap.

The kiss comes hard and sudden—unyielding, almost reckless. It isn’t gentle or asking. It’s meant to stop you, to silence the words still burning on your tongue, to erase the last thirty seconds like they never existed.

Your mind scatters.

Anger collides with the familiarity of his kiss. You want to resist. You mean to. But his mouth moves against yours with practiced confidence, and the heat of it pulls you under before you can think.

You hate how good he is at this.

Hate how easily your anger starts to soften, how your body betrays you even as your heart still aches. Somewhere in the blur, you shift closer, turning fully toward him, instinctively settling into his space like it’s always been yours.

The kiss deepens—slower now, more deliberate. Less about silencing you and more about holding you there.

He flicks his cigarette away without looking, both hands coming up to steady you, to keep you close. The world narrows to the warmth between you, the rhythm of breath and heartbeat, the way he kisses you like he’s trying to convince both of you of something.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss.

Your lips still brush his as you whisper, breath shaky, “You’re so annoying.”

His answer is immediate—not in words at first, just another kiss, softer this time, knowing. When he finally speaks, it’s against your mouth, a faint smile in his voice.

Warning: swearing, smoking

tags: @madysdiaries @thegirlunivers-blog

Chapter 3:

You don’t sleep at all that night.

Every time you close your eyes, it’s there again— the suddenness of his mouth on yours, the way your thoughts disappeared the second he touched you, the certainty in his grip as he’d already decided how the night would end.

You turn onto your side. Then onto your back. Then back again.

Does he like me? The question feels stupid the moment it forms, but it doesn’t go away.

If he doesn’t, then why you? Why the constant showing up at the convenience store? Why sit beside you when there were empty seats everywhere? Why step in when you were scared?

And then—why the kiss?

Your chest tightens as the memories stack on top of each other, impossible to separate now. The teasing. The danger. The way he looked when he fought. The way he looked when he kissed you.

You hate yourself a little for thinking it.

But you can’t stop.

The next day, your stomach is a mess of nerves as you walk toward the convenience store.

You’ve been coming here almost every day for six months. You know the sound of the door chime. The smell of instant ramen and coffee. The exact spot where you usually sit.

And yet, today, everything feels different.

You keep glancing at the entrance every time it opens, heart jumping at every shadow, every movement. Anyone with a maroon uniform makes your pulse spike—only to fall again when it’s not him.

You tell yourself it’s ridiculous.

He’s just some guy who used to annoy you.

Except— he’s not anymore.

After that night, after seeing him fight, after feeling his mouth on yours, the image of him in your head has shifted into something heavier. Sharper. Dangerous in a way that pulls instead of repels.

He was hot, you think, and immediately feel embarrassed by the thought.

Minutes pass. Then more. Eventually, you realize he’s not coming.

You let out a quiet sigh, more disappointed than you want to admit, and stand to leave. You walk outside with eyes on the floor, then you hear footsteps.

That’s when you look up. He’s walking toward you.

Your heart lurches so hard it almost hurts.

For half a second, you’re convinced he’s coming to you—that maybe he’s been waiting, watching, just like he always does.

But then he passes right by you.

Doesn’t slow. Doesn’t glance your way.

He stops at the vending machine right behind you, slips a coin in, and waits. The machine hums loudly in the awkward silence. He grabs the drink, twists the cap open, and takes a long sip.

Still doesn’t look at you.

Doesn’t acknowledge you at all.

Heat creeps into your face. You suddenly feel foolish—like you imagined everything. Like the kiss was just something that happened to you, not between you.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

It’s the first time you’ve ever spoken to him first.

He finally turns his head.

Looks at you.

Smirks.

And then—without a word—he walks away.

Just like that.

You stand there, frozen, the echo of his footsteps louder than they should be.

“What the hell…” You mutter to yourself.

By the next day, the confusion has curdled into something sharper.

Anger.

You can’t stand it anymore—the way he acts like nothing happened, the way he gets to walk away untouched while you’re left replaying everything over and over again.

So you decide you’re done waiting.

You find out where the Union building is.

A bowling alley.

The moment you step inside, you feel it—the noise, the cigarette smoke, the heavy presence of people who look like they’re always one wrong word away from violence. Laughter rings out too loudly. Conversations stop abruptly when you pass.

You understand now why people call them dangerous.

Your eyes scan the room, nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave.

Then you see him.

Seong-je sits with a group of boys near the back—Na Baekjin, Do Seong-mok, Baek Dongha. They’re leaning in close, voices low, expressions serious. This isn’t just hanging out. This looks like something being decided.

You hesitate. Maybe this was a mistake. You think to yourself.

Then Seong-je looks up.

His eyes land on you instantly.

The expression on his face changes—not surprise, but irritation. A clear what the hell are you doing here written all over his features.

He pushes back from the table and stands.

Hands slip into his pockets as he walks toward you, slow and deliberate, like he doesn’t care that every head in the place is now watching you.

He stops in front of you and lights a cigarette.

“The fuck are you doing here? Didn’t think you're the bowling type,” he remarks. 

Your throat feels tight, but you force the words out anyway.

“I wanted to talk,” you say quietly. “Can we talk alone, please?” 

Warning: swearing, smoking

tags: @madysdiaries @thegirlunivers-blog

Thanks everyone for your support :D

Chapter 2:

A few days pass, and for the first time in a while, Geum Seong-je doesn’t appear.

At first, the absence feels like relief settling into your shoulders, as you can finally breathe without constantly bracing yourself for irritation or confrontation. The convenience store feels quieter. Cleaner. You no longer have to watch where you sit or glance over your shoulder when the door chimes.

And yet, without meaning to, you begin noticing the empty space where he usually lingers.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. A weird habit, maybe. You brush the thought aside quickly, almost aggressively, as if acknowledging it would mean admitting something you don’t want to name.

It’s late afternoon when it happens.

The sky has begun to dim into that hazy in-between colour, and the convenience store lights flicker faintly against the glass windows. You step inside like you always do, moving on autopilot, already reaching for the strawberry milk in the fridge.

That’s when you hear it.

A sharp, deliberate whistle.

Your body stills before your mind catches up. Slowly, you glance toward the entrance and spot them—several boys leaning near the door, loud in the way people are when they know they aren’t being watched closely. One of them notices you looking and grins, his eyes dragging over you without shame.

“Hey,” one of them calls out, “you by yourself?”

You don’t answer. 

You pay quickly, hands trembling just slightly, and walk out without looking back. Almost immediately, you hear footsteps behind you. Laughter follows, echoing far too close for comfort.

You turn down the narrow alley that leads towards your neighbourhood, telling yourself that if you just keep walking, they’ll lose interest.

They don’t. They follow you. 

Their voices bounce off the walls now, louder and closer, and your steps quicken as your heart begins to pound in your ears.

Then—

“씨발, 뭐냐 (what the fuck).” Seong-je’s voice cuts cleanly through the noise.

You stop.

At the far end of the alley, partially hidden by shadow, Geum Seong-je leans against the wall, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. He looks completely at ease, as if he’s not witnessing anything unusual at all.

He takes a slow drag, exhales, and finally pushes himself upright.

His gaze lifts lazily toward the boys behind you, lips curling into a faint, amused smirk.

One of them shouts. “Fuck off, before you get injured.”

Seong-je lets out a quiet laugh, the sound short and humourless, and flicks his cigarette to the ground without even looking where it lands.

Then he moves.

There’s no warning, no dramatic buildup. He steps forward like this is something he’s done a thousand times before, and maybe he has. The alley fills with sudden motion, sharp and precise. Despite being outnumbered, he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t retreat. He strikes, pivots, and steps back with unsettling ease.

At one point, you catch sight of his expression. He’s grinning amusingly. You realize he is having fun. He is enjoying himself. 

He’s smiling. Like he’s entertained.

One by one, the boys fall, groaning and scrambling away, their confidence dissolving into panic. When it’s over, the alley is filled with nothing but laboured breathing and muffled pain.

Seong-je doesn’t spare them another glance.

He walks past you, grabs your wrist, and pulls you along with him.

His grip is hard, but it’s not violent. It’s firm, decisive, like this is simply what’s happening now.

You don’t resist. You’re too stunned, too shaken to even process what just occurred.

By the time you reach the main street, he releases you.

He lights another cigarette while asking, “Where’s your home?” He asks, like he’s asking out of convenience rather than concern.

“Oh—this way. Right beside the pharmacy.” You answer, still trying to steady your breath.

You begin walking. Your mind is foggy. 

He follows behind you like a protective dog. He doesn’t say a word; his presence alone is enough. 

You look up, and you see your place, and your heartbeat slows. You feel yourself relax as you come to your senses. You glance at him then and notice the split skin along his knuckles, the small cut on his lip.

“You’re hurt,” you say softly, reaching out without thinking.

He blocks your hand instantly, sharp and reflexive. “Don’t.”

“There’s a pharmacy right there,” you insist. “I’ll be quick.”

He exhales through his nose, clearly annoyed, but doesn’t stop you.

When you return, the two of you sit on the steps nearby. He slouches, arms resting loosely on his knees.

“I’m fucking fine,” he mutters.

“Hold still.”

To your surprise, he actually does. He doesn’t complain. Doesn’t pull away or make some careless comment about it being nothing. He just sits there, shoulders loose, chin tipped slightly down as you clean the blood from his knuckles like it isn’t worth mentioning—like pain is something he’s long since stopped registering.

Your fingers move carefully, more careful than you realize. You dab instead of wiping. You avoid pressing too hard. You treat him like he might break, even though you just watched him take down five guys without hesitation.

And then you feel it.

His gaze.

He’s looking at you—really looking. The way your brows knit together in concentration. At how you lean in without thinking. The way your hands hover for half a second before touching him again, like you’re silently asking permission.

The weight of his attention makes your chest tighten. Heat creeps up your neck, settles into your cheeks before you can stop it. You try to ignore it, try to focus on what you’re doing, but your hands feel suddenly unsteady. Too aware of how close he is. Too aware of his breathing, slow and steady, right in front of you.

He notices immediately.

That familiar smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth—not wide, not obvious. Just enough to let you know he’s seen right through you. Without warning, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s sudden and overwhelming, lacking any softness or hesitation, more impulse than intention. You’re startled, frozen for half a second too long, before your instincts kick in and you push him away.

“What was that?” you snap, breath unsteady.

He’s already standing.

Lighting another cigarette.

“You’re welcome,” he says lazily, glancing back at you. “For saving your ass back there.”

And then he turns and walks away, smoke trailing behind him, leaving you standing there—confused, shaken, and painfully aware of how little the moment seemed to matter to him.

Summary: Seong-je goes to the all-boys school across the street, and for reasons you don’t understand, he keeps appearing wherever you are. Sitting too close when there are empty seats everywhere. Flicking cigarette ash in your direction.

Main Characters: Geum Seong-je x fem!reader

--

This is my first fanfic ever!!

Chapter 1:

The convenience store sat right between the two schools like a neutral zone no one had officially claimed. Your all-girls high school on one side. The all-boys school across the street on the other.

You went there almost every day—after practice, before heading home, sometimes just to breathe. It was familiar. 

A cigarette butt skidded across the pavement and landed a little too close to your shoe.

“Hey,” you snapped, stopping short. “Watch it.”

The guy in the maroon uniform didn’t even flinch. Sharp glasses. Lazy posture. That stupid half-smile like he was amused by everything and nothing at the same time.

“My bad,” he said, clearly not meaning it.

You turned fully toward him now, irritation crawling up your spine. “This is the third time you’ve done that. Could you seriously stop?”

Instead of answering, he calmly pulled out another cigarette and lit it, eyes half-lidded as smoke curled into the air.

“You should just not be in my way then.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak.

Who says that?

You scoffed, shook your head, and walked away. Your friend was waiting nearby. You linked arms with her immediately.

“That guy is so annoying,” you muttered.

She glanced back once, her expression tightening. “You know him?”

“No,” you said. “Not really. But he keeps showing up at my favorite convenience store and bothering me.”

Her voice dropped. “That’s Geum Seong-je.”

You blinked. “…Okay? And?”

“He’s from that union.”

“Huh?” You frowned. “I don’t even know what that is.”

She stopped walking.

“You know—the union all those guys are in. They’re dangerous.”

You let out a short laugh. “Dangerous? He doesn’t seem like it. He just teases me and jokes around all the time. Honestly, he’s just an idiot.”

She didn’t laugh back.

“No,” she said firmly. “Don’t say that. Seriously—he’s dangerous. Try to avoid him.”

You shrugged it off. To you, he was just some guy who wouldn’t leave you alone. Someone who had too much time and not enough sense.

It had been six months since the first time you ever noticed him.

You’d been sitting outside the convenience store, sipping strawberry milk, legs swinging slightly as you watched cars pass. There were empty seats everywhere.

And yet—he chose the one right next to you.

You remember glancing sideways, confused, as he sat down like it was the most natural thing in the world. No greeting. No explanation. Just pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly, eyes forward.

You nearly choked on your drink.

“Me?” you asked, looking around once, just to be sure. “I’m… y/n.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, still not looking at you.

When you stood to leave, he spoke again, just as casually.

“다시 또 보자 (See you again).”

You frowned, unsettled, and walked away without responding.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

After that, he kept appearing—like a bad habit you couldn’t shake.

Sitting beside you without asking. Stopping you mid-walk just to say, “Oh. It’s you.” Flicking cigarette butts too close. Smirking when you glared.

Never flirting. Never apologizing. Never explaining himself.  It was like you were a source of entertainment he’d decided to keep.