yayis 🍒

Sehun knew exactly why JongIn had pulled every string he could to get them assigned to this visit when the station had already completed its annual outreach quota. A knowing smile tugged at his lips. JongIn had planned this. And he'd done it so smoothly that it was almost beautiful.

Minseok had absolutely no idea what was waiting for him.

But now that Sehun knew JongIn had orchestrated the whole thing, he was more than ready to become the world's most entertained spectator... and its biggest instigator.

When Central Station's massive red fire engine rolled into the kindergarten playground with the slow confidence of a giant, Minseok and his partner expected the usual explosion of excited children.

Instead, both of them paused.

About thirty five-year-olds sat neatly on the grass in perfect rows.

And there she was.

A pair of sunglasses rested on top of her head while she held a clipboard as though she ruled the entire playground. She looked completely relaxed, completely in control.

When the engine shut off and the truck doors opened, none of the children ran toward the firefighters.

No shouting.

No chaos.

With nothing more than a subtle gesture from her, every child stayed exactly where they were, greeting the firefighters together in perfect unison.

Minseok stepped down from the truck, his heavy boots echoing against the pavement. The uniform looked unfairly good on him. The thick-duty pants and dark station shirt fit comfortably over his broad shoulders.

He barely managed two steps before something strange twisted in his chest.

The closer he got, the faster his heartbeat became.

JongIn... you bastard.

He'd been right. The teacher was stunning.

—Good morning, ma'am —Minseok greeted, forcing himself back into firefighter mode. He removed his cap in one smooth motion, revealing sharp feline eyes.—I'm Lieutenant Kim. We're ready to begin the demonstration whenever you'd like.

She greeted him with a sideways smile, letting her eyes travel discreetly over his impressive frame before meeting his gaze again with unmistakable playfulness

—Good morning, Lieutenant. Welcome.—Her voice was soft. —Firefighter JongIn told me quite a bit about your station... although he somehow forgot to mention Central was sending their finest.

Her tone remained perfectly professional for a schoolyard, but there was an unmistakable warmth behind it that caught Minseok completely off guard.

He blinked. Twice.

Behind him, Sehun quietly snorted.

The tips of Minseok's ears had already started turning pink.

She turned back to the children, introducing Lieutenant Kim and Firefighter Oh before the demonstration officially began.

Soon, the playground filled with excited laughter.

Rather than simply answering questions, Minseok had Sehun introduce the children to the equipment on the truck.

While Sehun helped several kids hold the heavy fire hose, Minseok carefully helped them try on one of the oversized structural firefighting coats they wore during actual fires.

The jackets swallowed the children whole.

Their helmets bounced over their eyes.

She moved effortlessly around the group, snapping photos with her phone.

At one point, she aimed the camera directly at the lieutenant.

Minseok was kneeling in front of one little boy, adjusting the oversized gear.

Hearing the familiar sound of the camera shutter, he looked up.

She held his gaze.

Then, to his complete surprise, she lowered the sunglasses covering her eyes with a single finger... and winked.

Minseok became so flustered that the glove he'd just picked up slipped straight out of his hands and landed on the ground with a dull thump.

Watching his lieutenant awkwardly scramble to retrieve it, Sehun had to clear his throat to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

Seeing his lieutenant's obvious fluster, Sehun adjusted the cap on his head and flashed the children the kind of smile that, to anyone who knew him, gave away exactly how much fun he was having.

—Alright, alright, hold on!—. Sehun called, raising his voice just enough to get everyone's attention—. We've already seen how adorable the kids look in the gear... But we're forgetting someone very important. Who thinks the teacher should try on Lieutenant Kim's jacket too?.

The response was immediate.

—Yeeees!—the children shouted in unison.

—Teacher! Put it on!— a pair of twins sitting right in front of Minseok chanted excitedly, clapping their hands.

She laughed, and Minseok felt another knot tighten in his stomach.

Ever since he'd stepped off the truck that morning, he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her for very long. There was something about the effortless way she moved around the children, how naturally she shifted from keeping thirty five-year-olds perfectly organized to laughing right alongside them, that completely unraveled him.

And then there was the way she smiled at him.

As if they'd known each other for years.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time someone had managed to make him this nervous.

He watched her fold her arms and shoot Sehun a challenging look.

Then she turned back to him.

The sight alone froze him where he stood, the glove he'd finally recovered still hanging loosely between his fingers as he silently debated whether or not he should strangle Sehun later.

—Well, Lieutenant Kim—she said in a light, playful tone as she took two slow steps toward him, while he remained kneeling beside a few of the children—. Looks like we've got a very demanding audience today.

She stopped in front of him.

—Do you think a girl like me could handle your uniform?

Minseok swallowed.

At that moment, he genuinely couldn't tell whether she'd made a perfectly innocent comment or whether she'd just delivered the boldest line he'd heard all morning.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn't sure which possibility made him more nervous.

He cast a quick glance around.

The children had already gone back to giving Sehun and the fire engine their full attention.

Thank goodness.

Minseok slowly got to his feet, forcing himself to offer her a professional smile, though the sparkle in his feline eyes betrayed him. It took him a second longer than usual to answer.

—It's... fairly heavy gear, ma'am.—He cleared his throat—.But if you're willing... I don't see why not.

He paused.

For a split second, he wondered if his own response had accidentally sounded just as suggestive.

Recovering quickly, he looked toward his partner.

—Sehun, hold her clipboard.

That immediately caught Sehun's attention.

Still wearing the most insufferably entertained grin imaginable, he walked over while the children eagerly followed behind him.

Minseok picked up the massive turnout coat resting on the hood of the truck.

She handed her phone and the clipboard to Sehun.

Then Minseok stepped closer.

Much closer.

Standing only inches behind her, he lifted the heavy coat, surrounding her in his space before carefully settling it over her shoulders.

The oversized jacket fell around her body with surprising weight.

Lieutenant Kim was now standing only a few inches behind her.

She caught the clean scent of his cologne as it blended with the rough smell of firefighter gear, worn leather gloves, and smoke that seemed permanently woven into the fabric.

For the first time since she'd started teasing him that morning she had to remind herself they were standing in front of thirty small children.

—Slide your arms through—Minseok murmured.

His deep voice sounded right beside her ear.

Low.

Quiet.

Meant only for her.

Behind them, the children continued playing with Sehun, blissfully unaware.

She slipped her arms into the oversized sleeves.

The coat completely swallowed her, its weight forcing her shoulders back ever so slightly.

There wasn't much room between them.

As Minseok adjusted the coat over her shoulders, the front of his chest barely brushed against her back.

She felt herself freeze.

Before she could react, he had already stepped around to stand in front of her.

His large, practiced hands moved to the front of the coat, fastening each heavy metal clasp one by one.

There was barely any space left between them.

Every time he secured another buckle, his fingertips accidentally brushed the fabric stretched across her chest.

Minseok stubbornly kept his eyes fixed on his own hands, concentrating with everything he had on hiding the slight tremor in his fingers.

His breathing, however, had grown noticeably uneven.

The tension in his jaw was impossible to miss.

She noticed.

Realizing just how focused he was on fastening the coat, she leaned forward ever so slightly...

Closing the distance even more.

—You know, Lieutenant—she whispered, carefully lowering her voice so it wouldn't carry beyond the space between them. —JongIn talked about your station quite a bit before we scheduled today's visit.

Minseok continued fastening another clasp.

—But now that I've seen you in person—she went on softly—. I have to say he didn't do you justice.

His fingers stopped instantly.

Right on the final clasp near her collar.

His head snapped up.

His eyes widened.

Every trace of composure he'd been clinging to disappeared in an instant.

The faint blush that had only reached the tips of his ears spread across his cheeks then all the way down his neck.

For a long second, he simply stared at her. Speechless.

His hands remained frozen just below her collarbone while she met his gaze with that same fearless spark dancing in her eyes.

—P-Professor...—was all he managed before his voice cracked. He immediately cleared his throat, making one desperate attempt to regain what little dignity he had left.

From atop the fire truck, Sehun burst into loud, unrestrained laughter.

—Careful, Lieutenant!—he shouted. —You forgot the helmet!

The spell broke.

Moving far quicker than necessary, though still slightly clumsy, Minseok grabbed the heavy black helmet.

—Please tilt your head forward—he said quietly, trying to reclaim every ounce of professionalism he still had left as he carefully lowered it onto her head. The oversized helmet slipped down nearly to her eyebrows, forcing her to lift her chin with an amused smile.

Minseok simply stared. She looked tiny inside his turnout gear. Completely swallowed by the oversized coat.

And somehow... Incredibly powerful.

He was beginning to have a very difficult time remembering that he was technically still on duty.

Just as Minseok was about to answer her challenge, finally setting his shyness aside, the moment was shattered. One of the little girls came running across the playground as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.

—Teacher!—she cried.—Mrs. Molly's gray kitty climbed way up the tree and it's crying!.

The teacher immediately looked toward the fence at the back of the playground. Sure enough, a tiny gray ball of fur clung desperately to the trunk several meters above the ground.

Sehun stepped forward without missing a beat. Handing her phone back to her, he gave Minseok an exaggerated pat on the back.

—Well, looks like we got lucky—he announced with a grin.—Lieutenant Kim isn't just our captain. Rescuing cats is basically his Friday specialty.—He turned toward his superior with the most innocent smile he could fake.—Isn't that right, Lieutenant?

She raised an eyebrow.

Despite the weight of the turnout coat, she took a small step closer until she was once again standing near enough for Minseok to feel the warmth of her presence.

—Oh—she said, her smile growing just a little more playful as her eyes slowly traveled over him from head to toe.—Your specialty?—She tilted her head.—I certainly hope you don't disappoint me up there, Lieutenant.

Minseok swallowed.

Between her subtle teasing and Sehun's painfully obvious setup, he felt completely cornered.

Still... His pride as a firefighter, and perhaps an even stronger desire to impress her, won the battle.

—Don't worry, Professor —he replied. This time his voice came out steady, and the competitive spark returned to his feline eyes.— Sehun.—He never looked away from her.—Bring me the extension ladder.

—Yes, sir—Sehun answered far too cheerfully. Within moments everything was ready. Minseok climbed the ladder one rung at a time.

The late morning breeze ruffled his dark hair, and the station shirt stretched across his broad shoulders with every controlled movement upward. Whatever nerves she'd managed to stir in him only moments ago disappeared the instant he started climbing.

Up there He was completely in his element.

Every movement was precise. Graceful.

Confident.

Almost feline.

When he finally reached the frightened cat, his voice softened into something surprisingly gentle.

—It's okay—The little gray cat protested with a nervous meow and tried to retreat even farther along the branch.—I've got you.

Slowly, patiently, he reached forward until the tiny animal finally allowed itself to be gathered beneath his arm. Only then did he begin his descent.

The moment his boots touched solid ground again, the playground exploded into cheers.

The children clapped, shouted, and bounced excitedly around him. Minseok walked straight toward her.

Without saying a word, he carefully placed the little gray cat into her waiting arms. As she accepted it, her fingers deliberately brushed against his bare knuckles.

The touch lasted only a second. Even so Minseok instinctively held his breath.

His dark eyes met hers with unmistakable intensity.

—Here you are, Professor—he murmured, his voice nearly an octave lower than before. The tips of his ears were now completely red.—I hope today's demonstration lived up to expectations.

This time He took a risk. A tiny, almost hesitant wink accompanied the end of the sentence.

She blinked in surprise before smiling.

—Thank you, Lieutenant.—Holding the cat securely against her chest, she met his gaze without looking away.—That was an absolutely heroic rescue.

From the back of the truck, Sehun's lazy, teasing voice cut through the moment.

—Professor, for safety reasons and official department protocol—he called dramatically—. I think you should give the Lieutenant your phone number.—He paused just long enough to make sure everyone was listening.— You know... so he can file the confidential rescue report.—Another beat.— Or... just in case you ever need a firefighter to calm your nerves after another life-threatening kitten emergency.

She laughed openly.

The warm sound instantly shattered the composed atmosphere Minseok had been trying so hard to rebuild. She looked back at him, silently trying to figure out whether he actually wanted that.

Judging by the smile he was no longer making any effort to hide, the answer seemed obvious.

—Well—Minseok began, rubbing the back of his neck with uncharacteristic awkwardness.— I could... send you the educational material we covered with the children today.—He hesitated.—And... if it wouldn't be too much trouble—His eyes briefly flickered toward the phone she was holding.—I was wondering if you might be willing to share some of the pictures you took.

She smiled knowingly.

—I suppose that doesn't leave me much room to say no.—After a brief pause, she added—. After all... it would be a shame not to send you photographic evidence of your heroic rescue, Lieutenant.

She held his gaze just a little longer.

—Go ahead.—She recited her number slowly enough for him to type it into his phone.—But make sure that report stays strictly within your private chat.

A crooked smile finally appeared on Minseok's face. The tension melted from his jaw, replaced by equal parts relief and quiet confidence. His thumb hovered over the newly saved contact before he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

The wooden door opened, revealing her.

She was slightly disheveled from the wind outside, her coat damp from the rain, a determined look on her face that Chanyeol knew all too well. The very same look she used to win every debate against him back in their second year.

“I knew you'd be here,” she said, closing the door behind her and setting her briefcase down on one of the chairs along the path to Chanyeol's desk. “The lights in your office are the only beacon still left on in this entire damn building.”

Chanyeol adjusted his glasses once more before resting his elbows on the desk and intertwining his long, tattooed fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice had returned to that formal tone he always used as a shield whenever he was around her.

“The Prosecutor's Office isn't a social club for alumni, counselor. What are you doing here at this hour?”

She moved closer to his desk, ignoring the distance in his voice. Stopping just a few feet away, she forced him to lift his head to meet her gaze. The scent of her perfume began to fill the office, completely overtaking the smell of cold coffee and old ink.

“My client gave a detailed description of her attacker this morning, Chanyeol. And it doesn't match the suspect Jongin's unit arrested at the docks tonight. They have the wrong man.”

Chanyeol didn't blink, but his knuckles turned white.

He knew she was right.

He also knew that by having that information, she had just stepped straight into the wolf's den...

I've actually been thinking about starting my own business. I've always dreamed of opening a café, but cafés require a huge investment, and that's something I simply don't have right now. Still, I've let myself dream a little. I've designed menus, come up with drink ideas, and almost all of them are inspired by EXO or Chanyeol. I really want to make it happen, even if I have to start as small as possible.

Will it work? I honestly don't know.

That uncertainty kept me awake at night, and my stress just kept getting worse. Almost all of April and the entire month of May, I was constantly sick. I felt like I was about to fall back into the same depression I experienced the last time I lost my job. All I could think about was wanting the daily stress and suffering at work to finally end.

But then June was about to begin, and with it came a few concerts I already had planned. So I made a decision: stop thinking about everything that was stressing me out and just enjoy as many concerts as I could.

I managed to get last-minute tickets to see Monsta X on June 6th. I already had tickets for Zayn on June 14th, and I flew to another city with my friends to see The Rose on June 17th. After we got back home, I started taking advantage of all the free concerts our city has been hosting for the FIFA Fan Fest since we're one of Mexico's World Cup host cities. I saw Imagine Dragons on June 21st, DPR IAN on the 23rd, and next up is Santos Bravos on the 28th.

And... I don't know. It feels like a lot of that weight I've been carrying has finally started to lift.

I'm still thinking about how to start my café, what drinks I want to serve, whether they'll be named after EXO songs or the members themselves... but I don't feel nearly as overwhelmed anymore.

So I wanted to come back and share some of the stories I still have waiting to be finished. Maybe one of them catches your attention enough that I can make it my priority and finally bring it to you.

I hope I get at least one reply. Honestly, that alone would be enough motivation for me to sit down and write again. 🤍

- Chen;

Voldemort has taken control of the Ministry of Magic, and the new regime is ruthless. Every suspect is interrogated, and anyone unable to prove their magical lineage is sent straight to prison.

Jongdae and his friends are part of a small resistance, helping half-bloods and Muggle-born families hide or escape before they're caught. But then there's her. She refuses to hide. She isn't afraid to fight.

Jongdae, however, is terrified of losing her.

When he learns that extraordinary service to the regime can earn him a reward, he makes an impossible decision. If it means keeping her alive... what is he willing to sacrifice?

---

- Kyungsoo;

At Hogwarts, everyone is convinced the two of them can't stand each other.

They believe it too... or at least they keep trying to.

But when an apparently harmless Potions lesson forces an impossible truth into the open, the rivalry they've hidden behind for years begins to crumble.

---

- Yixing;

She's the assistant to Theseus Scamander, Head of the Auror Office at the British Ministry of Magic. Yixing works alongside Newt Scamander as his assistant and magizoology partner.

He's heard the rumors about Theseus's new girlfriend. Young. Beautiful.

What he never expected was to discover those rumors were about her.

His first love.

The one that was never meant to be.

Once, she and his best friend shared a magical love story. Now that fate has brought them together again, she's farther out of his reach than ever...

Or at least, that's what Yixing believes.

---

- Jongin;

This one is loosely connected to The World Cup: Between Glory and Reality.

Jongin visits his sister at the magical hospital where she works so they can celebrate his team's qualification for the World Cup final.

What he doesn't expect is for his heart to be stolen in the corridors of that magical hospital.

---

- Junmyeon;

• Junmyeon has the gift... or perhaps the curse... of seeing exactly how much time people have left to live with nothing more than a touch. He keeps himself isolated to avoid carrying the unbearable weight of knowing when everyone will die.

Then he meets her.

For the first time in his life... he can't see her clock.

She's an anomaly.

Terrified of what that could mean, he tries to stay away from her. Yet fate keeps bringing them together in the most unexpected corners of the city.

• In a world where memories can be bought and sold like digital files, Junmyeon works as a collector... a curator of forgotten memories.

Everything changes when he finds a memory that seems to belong to him, despite having no recollection of ever living it.

She's in that memory.

But in reality, she's a complete stranger working in the Department of Data Cleansing... where unwanted memories are permanently erased.

---

- Chanyeol;

Everyone knows Park Chanyeol as Seoul's most feared Chief Prosecutor: brilliant, relentless, and completely untouchable.

What no one knows is that behind his flawless reputation, he's spent the last decade hiding an obsession he was never able to bury.

Her.

When a serial killer resurfaces and makes her his next target, the only way to keep her alive is to place her under the protection of the one man she's spent years trying to avoid.

As the bodies continue to pile up, buried university secrets, unresolved feelings, and impossible tension begin clawing their way back to the surface.

Chanyeol is willing to break every rule, defy the prosecution, and even destroy his own career to stop the killer.

Because this time...

He's not fighting for justice.

He's fighting to save the only person he's never stopped loving.

---

- Baekhyun;

As the Wizarding World trembles beneath Grindelwald's growing influence, Baekhyun becomes convinced that Grindelwald's ideology is the only way he and the woman he loves can finally be together.

She tries to stop him.

She begs him to see reason.

But Baekhyun mistakes obsession for love... until the day she calls him insane and walks away, telling him he's become someone completely different from the man she once fell in love with.

Only then does he begin to question every choice he's made.

---

I'm still not sure who I want to write this one for, but I really love the idea;

He works at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary as a dragon keeper. She's writing a book about the different professions in the Wizarding World, and when she's assigned to cover the sanctuary, they pair her with its most experienced guide.

Out of all the dragon keepers there, he's known for being the friendliest, kindest, and easiest to get along with.

What starts as a simple research assignment slowly becomes something much more dangerous... because spending every day surrounded by dragons turns out to be far less terrifying than falling for the man who's devoted his life to them.

She stared at it for longer than necessary. There was no anger, only a slow sinking feeling, as if that single sentence had finally confirmed everything she’d felt hours before. She sank into the nearest chair, the parchment still held between her fingers.

—So you can be at peace —she barely whispered, more to herself than anyone. She let out a short, humorless laugh—. Peace.

As if that were what she had been asking for. She rested her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands, finally allowing the exhaustion to catch up with her. She hadn’t had a moment to process anything: not the hospital, not the argument, nor the emptiness now filling the apartment. She closed her eyes and, for a fleeting second, she was back there: lights far too white, the erratic rhythm of labored breaths, her hands stained with blood. The weight of something she couldn't save.

The roar of the fireplace startled her. She straightened up, her back aching and her head feeling foggy, as if she had just jolted awake. Through the Floo Network, Jongin stepped out, dusting ash from his training robes. He carried a bag of food and an expression she knew all too well.

—Hey… —he said, setting the bag on the table, right on top of Sehun’s note—. I went to the hospital.

She blinked, processing his words.

—They said you didn't show up today. ¿Are you okay? —Jongin tilted his head, observing her with focused concern.

She looked around, trying to make sense of what Jongin had just said. ¿She hadn’t gone to work? Finally, her gaze settled on the window across the room; the light outside looked like twilight. Her eyes shifted back to her brother. His question was simple, but it was enough. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to sugarcoat it, nor would she pretend for his sake. Jongin sighed and sat across from her, pointedly ignoring the note still peeking out from under the food bag.

—¿What happened?

She hesitated, not knowing where to begin.

—Yesterday… —her voice was softer than she expected—. I lost a patient.

Jongin remained silent, just watching her.

—It was a child —she added, swallowing hard—. A werewolf attack… it was too much.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn't awkward. It was Jongin giving her the space she needed.

—I did everything I could —she continued, though her voice began to crack—. But it wasn’t enough.

Jongin lowered his gaze for a moment, taking it in.

—I’m sorry.

She gave a faint nod.

—I tried to call him —Jongin looked up at her again—. But he was training.

She let out a bitter laugh. No more words were needed; she leaned back into her chair, as if her body had suddenly become too heavy to hold up.

—And when I got home… —she glanced at the corner of the parchment on the table—. We ended up fighting.

Jongin followed her gaze and, for the first time since he arrived, took note of the parchment. He didn't comment on it.

—¿Was it bad?

She shook her head slowly.

—No. —And somehow, that made it worse—. It was… —she searched for the right word, but came up empty.

Jongin understood. He leaned over the table, crossing his arms.

—He’s staying at the facilities. I saw him this morning. He’s a wreck, even if he won’t admit it. He’s just reviewing the same play over and over.

—He chose to be there —she replied, her voice hollow—. He told me the World Cup and what happened to me yesterday were… comparable.

Jongin tensed. For a heartbeat, the protective brotherly instinct flared in his eyes, but then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

—He’s an idiot, one with a head full of Quidditch and fear.

She looked at him in surprise.

—¿You talked to him?

It was Jongin’s turn for a humorless laugh.

—I tried. Before your fight. Apparently, he didn’t listen much. He’s terrified of failing —Jongin explained gently—. He thinks that if he stops to be human, to be your boyfriend right now, he’ll lose his edge and it’ll cost us the cup. He’s convinced his entire worth depends on that trophy. It’s not that he doesn’t love you… it’s just that right now, he doesn’t know who he is without a broom in his hand.

A heavy silence followed. She looked down at her hands, which still seemed to carry the exhaustion of the hospital.

—I can’t keep being the last priority, Kai. I don’t have any strength left to wait.

He reached out and squeezed her hand over the table.

—I know. And you shouldn't have to. The problem wasn't what you said, it was maybe how you said it. He’s so buried in this that anything that isn't the match… feels like a threat.

—I’m not a threat —she said.

Jongin sighed.

—I know. And I also know that if you don't go to that stadium, you're the one who won't forgive yourself. Not for him, but for you. You’ve spent years supporting him to get here.

The words settled slowly. She pressed her lips together as tears began to sting her eyes.

—He doesn't want me there. He said I’m a distraction.

Jongin let out a short, dry laugh.

—He told you that because you’re the only one who can snap him back to reality, and he’s scared to death of reality right now. But listen to me: if we win, he’s going to search for you in the stands. And if we lose... you’re the only person he’ll want to see when he climbs off that broom, believe me.

Jongin stood up and pulled a golden ticket with the national team's seal from his pocket. He placed it on the table.

—It’s for the main stands, the family section. You’ll be right at the front, with the best view. You don’t have to tell him; go as his girlfriend, go as my sister, whatever you want. But don't let his stupidity rob you of the right to see the end of this journey.

He walked toward the living room, heading back to the fireplace. He turned back and offered a small smile.

—Eat… —he pointed at the bag—. You’ve got a long trip ahead, and I’m not just talking about Ireland.

He gave her a wink as the emerald flames of the Floo Network engulfed him before he vanished.

The days leading up to the trip were a blur of anxiety and determination. The hours at the hospital felt longer, her shifts increasingly grueling. She hadn't heard a word from Sehun or Jongin since her brother's visit. She knew they were in the midst of peak pressure and preparation.

When the day finally came and she was finalizing the details to travel to the Portkey location that would whisk her away to the vast moors of Ireland, her phone began to vibrate. It was Jongin.

When she picked up, her brother’s voice lacked its usual brightness. It sounded strained, muffled by the roar of dozens of people in the background; he was likely already in the locker rooms.

—Tell me you’re on your way —Jongin said, skipping the pleasantries.

—I’m getting there. ¿Is it really that bad? —she asked, a small hollow forming in her stomach.

—Worse. Sehun is a ghost; he’s a total disaster —Jongin let out a heavy sigh—. He’s here, physically he’s the best on the team, but his mind is elsewhere. He blew three basic blocks today. If he doesn’t find his focus, Canada is going to demolish us. His ultimate nightmare is coming true: he knows he’s unfocused and he’s terrified that he’ll be the reason we lose the cup.

She pressed the phone tighter against her ear.

—He needs to know you’re here —Jongin continued, lowering his voice—. I haven't told him because I want him to see it for himself. I know that the moment he spots you in those stands, he’ll be the ruthless Beater we know again. Just... hurry, please.

From the second she hung up, the journey to Ireland became a whirlwind of nerves. Despite what Kai said, she had no idea how Sehun would react to seeing her. Maybe he didn't want her there; maybe he was still angry. Her mind was racing so much that she did everything on autopilot: packing her small bag, making sure the house was in order, and finally appearing on the hill where a group of wizards waited to take the Portkey to Ireland together.

She didn't even feel the characteristic uncomfortable tug at her navel during the transport.

Upon reaching the moors, she saw that the campsite looked like a city built of light. Enchanted tents dotted the hillsides. In the distance, the massive stadium rose majestically; she was still occasionally struck by how breathtaking magic could be for such feats of engineering.

The knot in her stomach tightened as she watched the crowds begin to stream toward the stadium for the start of the match. She didn't feel ready to face Sehun, even from a distance. Once she found her tent and realized she couldn't stall any longer, she looked at the two tickets in her hands: the standard ticket she’d bought months ago, and the gleaming golden one Jongin had given her.

Still feeling overwhelmed by her brother’s words, she decided against the main stands. She followed the crowd and climbed almost to the very top, far away from the heart of the action, where she could hide her face by blending into the sea of people.

The team roared onto the pitch for their opening demonstration, but she could see Sehun was rigid, his gaze distant; he flew behind the rest. He looked flawless in the national kit, but Jongin, flying close by, kept casting him worried looks.

She watched her brother scan the main stands with desperation; she saw his eyes narrow in suspicion when he failed to find her in the family section. Jongin took a sharp turn, soaring higher as his eyes searched through thousands of faces, until his gaze finally locked onto a single point in the crowd.

She stood up immediately, hoping to head off her brother’s next move, but Jongin didn't waste a second. He flew straight toward her, stopping right in front of the railing. There was no warm greeting, no smile, only a stern expression and an authoritative gesture pointing toward the main stands. It was a command.

She sighed, gave a small nod, and began to weave through the people still finding their seats, her heart thumping against her ribs. She reached the front row of the section, just behind the magical barrier, exactly as the match began.

The pace was relentless. Sehun was playing defensively, but it looked more like fear—he was avoiding the kind of risks he usually took with ease. During a counterattack, a Canadian Beater sent a Bludger whistling dangerously close to a Korean Chaser's head. Sehun’s reaction was a beat too slow.

It wasn't a lack of skill. It was doubt. And in Quidditch, doubt is a death sentence.

The scoreboard was bleak: 200 to 30 in favor of Canada. The Korean team was beginning to buckle under the pressure. The Canadian Chasers were fast and clinical, moving the Quaffle with a synchrony that seemed impossible to break.

From her vantage point, she could see the Korean Seeker circling high above, maintaining his distance. She knew what that meant: they couldn't catch the Snitch yet. Even with the 150 points, it wouldn't be enough to overtake Canada’s lead. They needed time; they needed the Beaters to do their jobs.

In a momentary lapse in the Canadian defense, the Korean Chasers managed to start scoring. 50… 80… 120… The gap was closing, but Canada wasn't backing down.

In a brutal counter-offensive, a rival Beater launched a Bludger with such force that it slammed into Sehun’s shoulder. She bolted to her feet, gripping the railing, completely forgetting her desire to remain unnoticed.

She saw Sehun sway on his broom, his face twisted in pain, but he didn't pull back. Jongin was at his side in an instant, shielding him while Sehun found his balance. Without a second thought, she screamed his name, pulling a banner from her cloak that she’d made years ago, his name stitched in shimmering orange sparks.

At the sound of her voice, Sehun’s eyes frantically searched the stands until they landed on her, standing there, holding his name high. It seemed as though the pain in his shoulder was instantly drowned out by a surge of pure adrenaline. Breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face, and clearly stunned that she was there, he flew directly toward her section. His eyes locked onto hers.

The world seemed to fall away. With the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he gave her a wink and swung his broom back toward the fray. The transformation in Sehun was immediate. The fog in his eyes cleared, replaced by an electric spark. Seeing her there, cheering for him despite everything, was the anchor he had been missing. Sehun gripped his oak bat, gave her a look over his shoulder that carried a silent promise, and ascended vertically at a staggering speed.

Jongin’s shouts echoed from across the pitch as he watched his partner finally rejoin the fight. Sehun intercepted the next bludger with a hit so powerful the sound rang out through the stadium like a gunshot. He was no longer playing scared, and he wasn't going to let anything get near his team.

The stadium erupted when the score hit 210 to 160. Only a 50-point difference. This was it. Sehun raised his bat to the sky, a signal to the Seeker, just as a golden glint appeared on the far side of the pitch for the second time that night. The Korean Seeker went into a vertical dive, but the Canadian Beaters weren't about to make it easy.

A stray bludger was launched directly at the Seeker. Sehun, on the opposite side of the field, wouldn't be able to reach it in time to deflect.

—¡Sehun, launch me! —Jongin roared.

In a move forbidden in any minor league, Jongin gripped the tail of Sehun’s broom as Sehun pushed off with every ounce of his strength. Jongin was catapulted like a projectile, his body nearly horizontal. He intercepted the Bludger millimeters from the Seeker, knocking it away with the edge of his bat.

A second later, a deathly silence fell over the stadium, lasting only a heartbeat. The referee’s whistle blew three times. The Korean Seeker soared upward, his right arm thrust toward the sky. Between his fingers, the Golden Snitch’s wings were still fluttering in vain.

Korea 310 – Canada 210.

The explosion of joy was deafening. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to wave her banner with everything she had. They had won. They were World Champions.

Sehun didn't join the team’s celebration immediately. While the others cheered and flew in victory laps, he slowed his broom. His eyes, rimmed with red from the tears he was holding back, went straight to the front row of the main stands.

He pulled up in front of her, hovering at the railing. He was a mess: his kit was torn, his face was caked in mud and sweat, and the hand still clutching the bat was trembling slightly. Sehun said nothing; he simply reached his hand out to her through the magical barrier that was beginning to fade. She dropped the banner and reached out to take his hand. She used her other hand to gently brush the dirt from his face.

Sehun leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

—We did it —he whispered.

—You did it —she replied, beaming with pride.

—Not without you.

Sehun smiled, a genuine smile she hadn't seen in months and in that moment, the weight of the glory was finally replaced by something else. The chaos of the victory celebration pulled them apart before they could say another word.

Despite being one of the stars of the night, Sehun moved through the post-match party like an elegant shadow, dodging reporters and officials trying to drape medals around his neck. He only had eyes for one person. He found her near the main bonfire, laughing with Jongin. As Sehun approached, he caught Jongin’s gaze. His best friend gave him a knowing smile and a slight nod. No words were needed; Jongin would handle the formalities, the fans, and the excuses for the press.

Jongin stood up, turning to Sehun.

—Get her out of here —he said quietly, giving Sehun an affectionate pat on his newly healed shoulder—. I’ve got you covered, champ.

Sehun didn't hesitate. He took her hand and they began to walk toward the edge of the campsite, where the Irish grass was heavy with dew and the noise of the party began to fade into the background. They stopped in front of a small tent for official Portkeys. On an old wooden table sat a mundane, battered object: an old leather boot glowing with a faint blue aura. It was their ticket back to Seoul.

Sehun stopped and turned her to face him. The Irish moonlight washed over them.

—¿Do you know what the first thing I thought was when the match ended? —he asked, lacing his fingers with hers.

—¿The cup? —she guessed with a playful grin.

Sehun shook his head, his expression serious.

—I thought that I didn't want to spend another second being "Sehun, the Beater." I just wanted to be Sehun. Your boyfriend. The guy who makes you terrible coffee in the morning and has no idea how to make it up to you for being such an idiot these past few weeks.

She let out a soft laugh, feeling the knot that had lived in her chest since their fight finally dissolve.

—The coffee isn't that bad —she lied, earning a smile from him.

—Let’s go home —he said, a sweet urgency in his voice—. I want to put this kit in a closet, turn off the magical phone, and forget that Bludgers, stadiums, or training schedules exist. Just us.

Sehun reached for the Portkey, but before he touched it, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a kiss that tasted like relief, like an apology, and like a fresh start. A kiss that confirmed that while he had conquered the world that night, his home would always be wherever she was.

—On three —he murmured against her lips.

They both touched the leather boot at the same time. The world around them dissolved into a whirlwind of color and wind, and in the blink of an eye, the cold Irish air was replaced by the familiar warmth of their living room in Seoul.

The keys were still on the table where she had left them. The silence in the apartment was no longer heavy; it was welcoming. Sehun let go of the Portkey, took a deep breath, and hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked out at the city lights, a city that didn't yet know its heroes had returned.

—Welcome home —he whispered.

Sehun had been chosen as one of Korea’s representatives to participate in the selection during the World Cup. He belonged to one of the most acclaimed Beater duos in the sport alongside his inseparable childhood friend, who was living the dream they had always imagined for their careers right by his side.

Ever since they won the semifinal and had to prepare to face the Canadian National Team in the World Cup Grand Final, Sehun had immersed himself in longer training sessions, more match replays to analyze the competition, and, above all, more hours studying strategies that could grant them the championship.

So deep was his immersion in training that, at times, he wouldn’t leave the pitch until well after dawn.

Someone else was watching all of this with a mixture of amusement and concern on the same team: Kim Jongin, the other member of the tournament's most famous Beater duo, Sehun’s best friend, and the older brother of a person who had spent days looking at a hospital calendar filled with schedules and overtime, waiting for the day of the final to arrive: Sehun’s girlfriend.

Jongin knew both of them far too well, and that was why he began paying close attention to Sehun.

One afternoon, after a brutal training session, the team was resting in the locker rooms. Sehun was still watching a replay of one of the Falcons' matches from last season on a floating screen.

Jongin sat down beside him with a bottle of water.

—You know training ended twenty minutes ago, ¿right?

Sehun didn’t look away from the play on the screen.

—I’m just reviewing a play.

—Yeah, sure.

Jongin took a sip while his eyes remained fixed on the side of Sehun’s face, which was tight with concentration. Silence surrounded them as the other players left, saying their goodbyes. When Jongin felt they had more privacy, he said:

—My sister says she’s barely seen you lately.

That did catch Sehun’s attention, making him tear his eyes away from the match and turn to look at him.

—I’m training —he said, showing little emotion on his face, but with a slight furrow in his brow. ¿Where was Jongin going with this?

But Jongin said nothing more than a simple:

—I know.

Sehun felt a bit impatient; this seemed like a waste of time to him, he still had more plays to review.

—We are in the Quidditch World Cup final.

Jongin raised an eyebrow.

—Yes, I noticed. I was there when we qualified.

Sehun looked back at the screen.

—Then you know and understand how important this is.

Jongin rested his elbows on his knees.

—I also know something else.

Sehun sighed, turning once more to look at Jongin with an expression of irritation on his face.

—¿What? —he asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding as irritated as his expression.

—That you’ve been living in this stadium for days, even when we aren’t on the pitch.

Sehun frowned even more, if that were possible.

—¿You too?

—¿Too what?

—Saying that I’m obsessed.

Jongin shrugged.

—I didn’t say that.

—But you thought it.

—Maybe.

Sehun shook his head.

—You don’t understand.

Jongin let out a small laugh.

—Believe me, I understand perfectly.

Sehun looked at him skeptically. Jongin pointed to the screen.

—The World Cup final. The most important match of your life, the pressure not to screw it up —he smiled, looking at Sehun, who for the first time that night was looking directly at him; then he added—. I understand because I’m playing that match too.

That made Sehun fall silent. Jongin watched him for a moment before saying:

—But there’s a difference between focusing… and forgetting about everything else.

—I’m not forgetting anything —Sehun spat, returning to his irritation.

Jongin tilted his head.

—¿When was the last time you had dinner with her without talking about Quidditch? —Jongin asked because he knew him very well. Sehun didn’t answer—. Or ¿When was the last time you listened to her talk about her work while actually paying attention, and not with your mind lost in a match replay?

Sehun looked down.

—It’s not fair.

—I never said it was —Jongin said before taking another sip of water.

Sehun was starting to look a bit uncomfortable, while the match replay continued to play in the background.

—I’m just saying my sister isn’t against your dream.

—I never said she was —Sehun cut him off.

—You’re treating her as if she were, as if she were obstructing your path.

Sehun let out a long sigh.

—I just need to focus right now.

—And you’re doing it so well that you’re leaving everything else out.

Sehun pressed his lips together. Jongin looked at him with a half-smile.

—Look… I’ve been watching the two of you since we were teenagers.

Sehun raised an eyebrow and said:

—That sounds ominous.

—I just mean my sister doesn’t need you to win the World Cup.

Sehun looked at him confused. Jongin stood up from the bench.

—But she does need to know that she’s still part of your life while you’re trying to win it. Don’t get things confused.

And he left him alone in front of the screen that still showed the small figures of the Falcons players flying across the pitch.

For the first time that night, Sehun lost interest in continuing to review plays.

Although he didn’t return to his apartment immediately; he went back out to the pitch with his broom and, mounting it, took a few laps around the stadium.

Jongin had left him with many thoughts in mind, but he needed to stay focused on the strategy he had to follow to win the final. So, as the wind hit his face while flying, he tried as hard as he could to empty his mind of anything that wasn’t his next match.

The apartment seemed to be in silence when she entered. She closed the door quietly, with the kind of calm that settles in when someone arrives too tired to make noise. She placed her keys on the table carefully, as if any sound could break something invisible in the air.

Then she heard it: Sehun was in the living room.

From where she stood, she could hear the screen in that room was on and heard the excited, muffled voices narrating a match.

She walked to the door separating the hallway from the living room and stood there watching him for a moment.

He hadn't realized she had arrived.

Sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze was fixed on the floating screen where a play was being repeated over and over. Players moving in perfect patterns, bludgers dodged at the last second, strategies that only he seemed to see with such intensity.

—¿That match again?

Her voice wasn’t accusatory, just full of exhaustion.

Sehun barely turned his head.

—I’m still reviewing the left Beater’s play —he said as he turned back to the screen immediately, as if he were unable to miss even a second.

She nodded, though he was no longer looking at her.

As she took off her hospital robes, her hands were still shaking from the events of her day. She walked toward the kitchen.

—Today was a horrible day.

She said it aloud; she truly had a very bad day and wanted to talk to him about it to release some of the guilt she was feeling.

Sehun didn't answer; instead, she only got a distracted sound, something automatic as a response:

—Mm.

She stood still for a second, her back to him. She tried to process if what had just happened was real, but she decided to go on with what she wanted to tell him.

—I lost a patient.

The silence that followed was different; it felt heavier. Sehun paused the video.

—I’m sorry.

And, though she didn't see him, she realized he didn't turn toward her. He didn’t get up from the sofa either, and above all, he didn’t ask anything else.

She walked to the edge of the sink, leaning against it and looking down to continue.

—He was just a child, I could have done better… —her voice broke—. I should have done better, but his injuries were too severe. It was the worst werewolf attack I’ve seen in my career.

There was no reaction from Sehun. She turned around.

—I tried… —she paused for a second, swallowing hard—, I tried to get in touch with you.

Sehun frowned slightly.

—I was training.

She sighed.

—I know.

The answer came quickly. Too quickly. She took a few steps forward to get a better view of where he was sitting.

—You were also training when I called you afterward.

Sehun sighed, finally turning to look at her.

—I can’t be checking my phone all the time.

He didn’t say it harshly, but the way he said it, as if it were something obvious he didn’t have to explain to her, that was what hurt.

She nodded slowly.

—No… of course.

A small silence grew between them.

—I just thought that… —she started, but couldn’t finish the sentence as she felt her throat tighten with the immense urge to cry that was flooding her. Sehun watched her, waiting. She shook her head gently—. Nothing.

She turned away, approaching the sink again and turning on the tap even though there was nothing to wash. The sound of running water filled the space between them. Sehun spoke again.

—We are a week away from the final.

She closed her eyes for a second. There it was.

—I know —she replied.

—Then you understand that I can’t get distracted now.

She let out a small, humorless laugh.

—Am I distracting you?

Sehun frowned again.

—I didn’t say it like that.

—You don’t have to say it —she interrupted him. She turned back toward him—. Lately, every time I try to talk to you, I feel as if it bothers you, as if I’m interrupting something.

—That is exactly what you are doing.

Silence fell like something solid between them. Sehun seemed to realize too late what he had just said, but he didn't take it back.

She stared at him.

There was no anger in her eyes, that made it worse.

—I needed you today.

She didn’t say it loudly, there was no reproach in her tone; she said it as a fact.

Sehun pressed his lips together slightly.

—And I need to win this match.

The blow was clean, direct. It took her a second to react.

—Those things aren't comparable.

—To me, they are.

That was what finally broke the tension. She looked down for a moment, nodding very slowly.

—Of course, to you, they are.

Sehun stood up then, stepping slightly toward her.

—This is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life.

—¿And at what point did I stop being a part of that?

The question stopped him. He didn't answer immediately.

—You aren’t.

She looked up.

—That’s not what I’m saying —he hurried to say.

—Well, that’s what it seems like.

The air between them became denser.

—I think you aren't understanding what is happening —Sehun said, this time with a hint of frustration.

She looked at him in silence for a few seconds.

—No —she finally replied—. I think I do understand.

Sehun shook his head. Before he could say anything, she spoke first.

—I understand that it doesn't matter what happens to me… you’ve already decided what is important.

That made him tense up.

—That’s not true, what you’re saying isn’t fair.

She let out a small breath.

—I never said it was fair.

The silence returned, but this time it felt like a distance between them.

—I’ve been trying, I’ve changed my shifts —she added more quietly—. Adjusted my on-call hours… trying to be available for you, for whatever you need.

Sehun said nothing.

—But I guess you didn't notice, because you’re never home anymore.

That sentence fell softly, but it weighed more than everything before it.

Sehun opened his mouth, but found nothing to say. She looked at him one last time, still without anger, not even with sadness, only with the immense exhaustion she had been carrying for a long time.

—I’m not going to ask you to choose —Sehun frowned—. Because I know you already did.

That hurt.

—But I’m not going to keep waiting for you to have time for me again, either.

Sehun felt something tighten in his chest.

—It’s not like that…

—It’s exactly like that —she interrupted him without raising her voice. Then she shook her head gently—. I just… I just needed you to be here today.

That was all. There were no screams, no more explanations. She took her bag and walked past him without touching him. Sehun didn't know how to stop her. The door closed with a soft sound. Too soft for everything that had just broken.

And for the second time that night, the screen behind him continued to show the play… but Sehun was no longer seeing anything.

A feeling that could be called guilt filled Sehun, but he didn't go after her; he didn't even move for the next five minutes.

And when he finally did, he took a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill, leaving a note for her on the table:

“I don’t want to bother you, I’ll be sleeping at the team facilities so you can be at peace at home.”

He took a few things and left the apartment.

Jun looked around and noticed a girl standing at the shop’s doorway, peering curiously inside. He immediately realized she wasn’t one of the people whose memory needed to be modified, since no one was questioning her or even paying attention to her presence.

Her hair fell forward as she tilted her head slightly, like she was searching for something. Completely focused on it, completely unaware of the magical chaos happening inside.

Junmyeon wasn’t sure why he couldn’t seem to look away.

Maybe it was her curious eyes scanning the room. Maybe it was the calm she seemed to carry while doing it. Maybe the way she furrowed her brows as she tried to focus on the dozen unfamiliar faces around her.

Or maybe it was simply because he thought she was incredibly pretty.

One of the Artefacts agents finally confiscated the clock, and the commotion that followed pulled Junmyeon’s attention back to what he was supposed to be doing. Quietly, he modified the memories of a few people nearby.

When he finished, she was still there.

She was talking to the elderly woman who ran the shop. Junmyeon could see the concern in her eyes as she asked if the woman was alright and tried to figure out what had happened.

She hadn’t seen anything, so there was no reason for Jun to approach her.

Still, when she left, he couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes.

And when Junmyeon walked out of the shop himself, he found himself looking in the same direction his gaze had drifted earlier.

He saw her enter a small bookstore across the street, greeting a few customers with a warm smile.

For some reason, that image stuck with him for days.

The first time Junmyeon walked into the bookstore was by accident.

For the first time in a long while, after finishing his shift at the Ministry, he ended up wandering the streets of London without a destination.

He could’ve apparated home.

He could’ve used the Floo Network.

But instead, he found himself walking through muggle London until he stopped right in front of that bookstore.

It stayed open later than most.

The walls were lined with shelves packed with books, some old, some older.

A small bell rang when he stepped inside. He spotted her on the other side of the shop, standing on a small wooden ladder while placing books on the highest shelf.

—We’re closing soon,—she said without climbing down or even turning to look at him.

Junmyeon picked up the first book he saw on a nearby table.

—I’ll be quick.

That was when she turned around, giving him a curious once-over with a small smile.

—People who say that are usually the ones who stay the longest.

Junmyeon felt his legs go a little weak when she smiled like that.

He ended up staying forty minutes.

Then he came back two days later.

That time he bought a book he didn’t need.

A few days later he came back again.

They never talked much. Just small conversations. Book recommendations between shelves.

She assumed he worked for the government. Junmyeon never corrected her. It wasn’t exactly a lie, and it wasn’t like he could tell her the truth anyway.

One night, while Junmyeon was wandering between the shelves and she was closing the register, she said something that stayed stuck in his head for days.

—You’re very mysterious, you know?

Junmyeon looked up from the book he had been flipping through.

—How so?

—You show up on the quietest nights like you just appeared from behind a bookshelf, you browse the books for forty minutes and only buy books about the sky. You never talk about yourself—.She shrugged.—It’s interesting.—she said with a playful smile.—I just hope you don’t disappear out of nowhere someday.

Junmyeon froze for a moment before quickly recovering.

—Why would I?

—It’d be a shame not to see someone that interesting again.

For a second, Junmyeon thought maybe that was his sign. Maybe he could ask her to grab coffee after closing.

But the thought stayed exactly that. Just a thought.

The incident happened a week later.

An urgent report came into the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

Loose creature. Out of control. Soho district.

By the time Junmyeon arrived, chaos had already taken over. Broken windows. Bent street lamps. People staring up at the rooftops. Something moving between buildings.

An occamy.

Its silver-looking wings caught the streetlights as it glided from one rooftop to another, growing larger as it expanded into the open air. Impossible to ignore.

—Containment team!— someone shouted.

Obliviators began spreading through the crowd.

Junmyeon moved among the witnesses, memorizing faces. Until something he heard made him freeze.

—Jun?.

The sound hit him like a spell.

He turned slowly.

She was standing there on the edge of the sidewalk, eyes wide. Not with fear, but amazement.

And she was looking directly at him.

One of the obliviators beside him frowned.

—You know her?

Junmyeon answered without thinking.

—No.

But it was already too late.

She was walking toward him.

—What are you doing here?

The Ministry staff around him exchanged glances. Junmyeon felt the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders.

—Miss.—he said professionally,—please stay back.

She looked confused.

—Junmyeon, ¿Did you see that thing? ¿What is it?

One of the obliviators glanced at him.

—She knows your name.

Junmyeon closed his eyes for a second.

Mistake. Big mistake.

If it was discovered he had prior contact with a muggle witness… the consequences would be serious.

He could lose everything. Even his job.

He grabbed her lightly by the forearm and led her a few meters away from the crowd and the Ministry staff.

The glow of spells from raised wands lit the street as magizoologists finally managed to contain the occamy.

—Listen to me carefully,— Junmyeon said.

She looked at him with deep curiosity.

—¿You know about this?

Junmyeon pulled out his wand. His hands were famous for their precision. They never trembled.

But right now it felt like he was holding a weapon aimed at her.

—Junmyeon?

—You shouldn’t have been here tonight.

—That’s not really my fault.

Her attempt at humor fell into silence.

—That creature…—She looked at the wand, then back into his eyes.—The rumors are true, ¿Right? Magic exists.—She took a breath.

Junmyeon didn’t answer. Saying anything would only make things worse.

—You lied to me.

It wasn’t an accusation. Just a conclusion.

Junmyeon felt the thought he’d had days ago return. Asking her out for coffee. Walking through London. Getting to know her better.

All of that would disappear in an instant.

—You saw too much,—he finally said.

She watched him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

—So ¿What happens now?

Junmyeon raised his wand.

But hesitated.

If he left her memories intact, she’d remember seeing him there. She’d remember his name. And his coworkers had already heard her say it.

He had to erase everything.

Not just the creature.

Not just the accident.

Everything else too.

Every night in the bookstore.

Every recommendation.

Every laugh.

Every small moment.

She saw the hesitation on his face.

—Whatever you’re about to do… you look like you hate it,— she said softly.

Junmyeon swallowed.

—It’s necessary.

—For who?

He had no answer.

The occamy was finally locked inside an enchanted suitcase. The chaos was beginning to settle.

It was time.

Junmyeon whispered the spell, and blue light illuminated her face.

When it faded, she blinked.

Confused.

She looked around.

—Excuse me,—she said politely to him. —Is everything alright here?

Junmyeon slipped his wand away.

—Yes.

She nodded and turned to leave. But after a few steps, she paused.

She glanced back at him.

Her eyes rested on him with a trace of curiosity.

—¿Do we know each other?

Junmyeon couldn’t meet her eyes. Every memory had been erased. Every conversation. Every possibility.

—No.

She hesitated for a second, then gave him a polite smile, even when he avoided her gaze.

—Must’ve been my imagination.

And she walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Junmyeon remained there on the now-quiet street.

The Statute of Secrecy was intact again. His work was flawless, like always.

But as he prepared to disappear back to the Ministry, he thought something strange.

If he had been a little less efficient…

Maybe he would’ve had the chance to ask her for that coffee.

Days later, unable to forget the last look she gave him before her memories vanished, Junmyeon returned to the bookstore. But he didn’t dare step onto the sidewalk in front of it.

Instead he stopped near the corner, where he realized he had the perfect view of her inside.

Obliviators were trained to erase memories from people.

Not to deal with the ones they created themselves.

Junmyeon leaned slightly to get a better look at her face when she turned to help a customer. His chest tightened when he saw that smile.

He took a step forward, ready to cross the street and walk through that door again.

But he stopped.

Because he remembered something muggles believed in.

Déjà vu.

That strange feeling like something has happened before. Like a glitch from forgotten memories brushing past your mind.

He couldn’t risk it.

He couldn’t put her in danger.

So there, where he had spent forty minutes standing in front of the large bookstore window that allowed him to see her again, he made himself a painful promise: this would be the last time he ever came here.

Because he would remember every small interaction.

Every word shared between those shelves.

But she would never remember that on one quiet night, a man who sparked her curiosity had walked through that door and stayed forty minutes.

Inside the bookstore, under warm lights, the bell above the door rang as a customer walked in.

She looked up from the register with an automatic smile.

—Good evening, welcome.

The man browsed through a few tables before leaving.

She went back to what she was doing, organizing books on the counter and preparing a display for a new astrology volume that had just arrived.

She paused for a moment.

A strange feeling crossed her mind.

As if something was missing from the scene in front of her.

But she couldn’t remember what it might be.