It was a crisp autumn afternoon in 2013, the kind where the golden leaves danced lazily in the breeze before carpeting the pavement. The streets around Hanyang University buzzed with high schoolers, their laughter and chatter spilling out after a long day of surviving academic torment.
Among them stood Ga-young, a misplaced bookmark in an otherwise serious story. Sixteen, short, and deceptively delicate, she was all mischief wrapped in a neatly pressed navy school uniform. Her long, dark hair fell like silk over her shoulders, catching the dying sunlight in a way that made her seem both innocent and dangerous. Her smile curved like a secret, her eyes two sparks that could either light a candle… or set the whole street ablaze.
Her gaze snagged on a figure emerging from the university gates with a small group of friends — Min-jae.
At twenty-one, the architecture student wasn't just someone you saw, he was someone you noticed. Tall, broad-shouldered, and lean from years of basketball, his black hair fell into that annoyingly perfect, just-rolled-out-of-bed mess that fashion magazines pretended was accidental. His smile, rare and devastating, could unravel the most guarded heart.
The moment their eyes met, Min-jae's steps faltered. He muttered something to his friends, angling his body to turn away.
Too late.
"Are you running away from me now?" Ga-young's voice was light and teasing as she skipped forward, cutting him off. She swayed from side to side, a cat toying with a cornered mouse.
"Listen, kid—" Min-jae began, but his words sliced through hers like glass.
"I actually like it when you try to ignore me," she said with a cheeky grin, tilting her head. "It's… cute."
Behind him, Seok-min groaned loudly. "I told you, she's insane."
The sweetness in her eyes vanished like a switch had been flipped. She turned on him sharply, her gaze cold enough to freeze the autumn air. "I told you not to say that again, didn't I?" Her voice was low, edged with warning.
Before Seok-min could respond, Min-jae stepped between them. "Hey. I've told you to stop coming here, haven't I? You should go home."
"What if I don't want to?" she asked, her voice suddenly sugar again, melting into something soft and almost coy.
Hyun-woo scoffed from the side. "See? She's fake. She only talks like that with Min-jae."
Ga-young spun back toward Min-jae, her pout blooming as she batted her lashes. "Oppa~ I love you," she said, making all three of his friends visibly cringe.
"I've told you already," Min-jae said firmly, "you're too young. I can't be caught dating a minor, that'd ruin me."
Her lips curved into a cunning grin. "So… you're saying you'd date me if I wasn't a minor?"
"What?" His brows shot up, a flicker of disbelief and something else passing over his face.
She only laughed, light and dangerous, as if she knew exactly what she was doing. From her school bag, she pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. "I picked your favorite chocolates," she said, pressing it into his hands. Then her gaze softened, the teasing replaced with something almost genuine. "My graduation's just around the corner. It would be nice if you came."
Min-jae exhaled slowly, the weight of her persistence evident in his eyes. "I'll think about it."
"Don't think, just come," she said with a playful pout, her voice softening. "I'd be sad if you don't." And before he could respond, she gave him a cheeky wave. "Remember, I love you oppa." Then she spun on her heel and darted off, her dark hair streaming behind her like a ribbon in the wind.
Seok-min let out a sharp breath, muttering under his breath, "I really don't like that girl. She's trouble."
"Hey, don't be mean," Min-jae said casually, shoving the chocolate box into Seok-min's chest.
"What's this?" Seok-min smirked.
Tae-ho leaned in with a teasing glint. "Are you falling for the high schooler?"
"Don't talk nonsense," Min-jae said, brushing past them.
"Hey! Min-jae, wait up," Hyun-woo called, jogging after him.
The chocolate box stayed tucked under Seok-min's arm, but Min-jae's hands lingered in his pockets — his fingers brushing against nothing, yet still remembering the brief annoying warmth of her.