Seo Jun smiled to himself, like the name alone tasted private.
"The girl in seat E14."
Min Jae blinked. "That sounds like a lyric."
"It could be."
"You better not actually call her that in your head."
"I might."
"Oh god."
Seo Jun leaned back, letting his head fall against the cushion. His phone rested on his chest, screen dark. But he didn't need to see it. He knew the photo by heart:
Ha-eun. Smiling in his grandmother's garden. Wind in her hair. Eyes crinkled shut.
Min Jae pointed at him with his straw. "This is the same girl from that blurry fan photo, isn't it? The one leaving your van?"
Seo Jun didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Min Jae groaned. "You really like her?"
"I do."
"Han, your fans are sending her death threats just for breathing near you."
"I know."
"And you're out here catching feelings?"
"I know."
Min Jae gave him a look. "You sure you didn't fall on your head at rehearsal?"
Seo Jun tossed a napkin at him.
Min Jae laughed and dodged. "Okay, okay. Damn. This is real."
Seo Jun's smile faded to something quieter.
"I don't think I realized how real until she told me she just wanted to be friends."
Min Jae stared. "She friendzoned you?"
"In my grandmother's garden.."
"She's trying to protect herself."
"I know."
"Most girls wouldn't."
"I know that too."
Min Jae leaned back, exhaling. "She's different."
"She is."
There was a pause. Then, softly, Seo Jun added:
"She listens to me without asking me to perform."
Min Jae blinked. "Damn."
Outside the window, snow had started to fall, light, quiet, soft as powdered sugar. It dusted the glass, the hills beyond glowing under the haze of Seoul's lights.
"You're thinking about her even during comeback rehearsals?" Min Jae asked.
"Every minute."
"You're Seo Jun. You've been in love with fans and fantasies since pre-debut."
"Exactly." Seo Jun picked up his phone and scrolled. Old photos. Hair too long, dreams too big. Then the one he was looking for: Ha-eun, half-turned in the sun. "But she's not an illusion."
"She's real."
"She's the most real thing I've ever known."
"And she's scared," Min Jae said. "People are noticing her now. The photo. The rumors. The spotlight."
Seo Jun nodded. "I saw it in her eyes."
"You have the power to protect her. You just have to decide if she's worth the storm."
Seo Jun didn't hesitate.
"She is."
Min Jae gave a low whistle. "So what now? Love song on the winter comeback?"
Seo Jun's lips curled slightly. "I already wrote one."
"You what?"
He opened his voice memos. A melody poured from the speakers, soft piano, gentle percussion, then his voice: low, raw, almost whispering.
You sat in seat E14 /
Didn't know you changed the room /
And the sky bent down just to see /
What I saw in you...
The song ended. The silence afterward was reverent.
Min Jae exhaled. "Seo Jun... that's good."
Seo Jun looked at him.
"It's hers. All of it."
Min Jae stood, stretching. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and pulled back the sheer curtain.
Somewhere across town, Ha-eun might have been walking home alone, hood up, head low, trying to vanish.
But he knew one thing for sure.
He wasn't going to let her disappear.
Not from his songs.
Not from his life.
Not this time.
************
The studio lights cast a glow over mirrored walls and polished floors, every surface still humming from the last beat of rehearsal. Seo Jun slowed to a halt, breath even, sweat slicking the hollow of his throat. Behind him, Min Jae waited at the edge of the room with a towel and a phone.
"Yoo-woon's on line two," Min Jae said. "He needs confirmation for tomorrow's conference look."
Seo Jun wiped his face, tossed the towel aside. "Tell him I'll wear the cream Vante set."
Min Jae arched a brow. "Going full heartbreak prince?"
He grabbed the phone. "She's waiting."
———-
The video call connected.
Ha-eun's face filled the screen, framed by a loose half-knot of hair and the collar of a soft sweater sliding off one shoulder. She was walking to school, bundled in the cold, eyes uncertain.
"Are you okay?" Seo Jun asked, his voice gentle.
She hesitated. "They're already whispering. Some girls looked at me like I ran over their cat."
"They need new hobbies." He smiled. "Ignore it. It'll blow over."
Her mouth tilted, but the worry lingered.
"Where are you?" she asked.
He flipped the camera. Rows of designer suits and racks of stagewear gleamed. Limited-edition sneakers lined one wall. Jewelry cases glittered beside sunglasses worth a month's rent. Quiet luxury, curated to perfection.
"Show-off," she muttered.
He turned the camera back and leaned in to kiss the screen.
She laughed despite herself. "You're ridiculous."
"I know." A beat passed. "I miss you."
——-
When the call ended, Seo Jun lowered the phone slowly, gaze lingering on the dim screen. Min Jae entered with a tablet and a tight expression.
"Uh, Han Seo..."
Seo Jun didn't look up. "Now what?"
"There's someone here. Sitting room."
"Who?"
"Said she had to see you. Wouldn't take no for an answer."
———
He changed quickly, tugging on a crisp white shirt. The charcoal designer set for the press conference hung beside it, untouched. Outside the studio, the sitting room glowed in warm light, cream walls trimmed in black, velvet furniture, abstract canvases, and a quiet spread of untouched whiskey and imported chocolates.
She was there.
Ji-won.
Legs crossed, scrolling her phone, dressed like a headline. Off-shoulder blazer, tailored trousers, heels that stabbed the silence. Composed. Calculated.
Seo Jun stopped in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"
She rose, phone slipping into her handbag.
"I came," she said coolly, "to ask what the hell is wrong with you."
He blinked, unamused. "Excuse me?"
"You let that ridiculous story about you and that girl spiral. You didn't deny it."
"So?"
"You're embarrassing yourself. And me."
He folded his arms. "You?"
"Yes. Me." She stepped closer, voice tight. "I've stood by you for years. Let the public believe what they wanted. I never denied anything."
"And I never confirmed it either. Because we were never a thing."
"That's not true," she snapped. "You never broke up with me. You never said the words."
"Fine." His tone was flat. "Consider them said. We're done. Not that we ever started."
Her eyes flared. "Don't do this."
"I already did."
She drew a sharp breath. "You're throwing it away—for her?"
He didn't respond.
She sneered. "That filthy girl with the dirty shoes?"
The insult cracked like a whip.
Seo Jun stilled. Then, softly, too softly: "Don't you dare."
Ji-won froze.
"Don't you ever talk about her like that. Not here. Not to me. Not in my house."
The fury in his voice was low, quiet, lethal. She blinked, as if only now realizing he meant it.
She fumbled for her bag. "Fine," she said. "Let's see how long she lasts in your world."