Episode 3
3 March 2025, Monday. Late afternoon. SNU's chemistry faculty, Building 500, rooftop.
The rooftop of the faculty building felt nothing like the lecture halls below.
Soft K-pop played from portable speakers, mixing with laughter and the clatter of paper plates. Long tables had been pushed together, covered in trays of fried chicken, tteokbokki, kimbap, piles of chips, and rows of soda bottles—along with a suspicious number of cups that Mi-yeon pretended not to notice. Seniors moved through the crowd with easy confidence, clapping to gather groups for games, calling out rules, keeping the energy high but contained. The freshmen clustered around the tables like curious fledglings, peeking out of their nests, unsure where to land.
It was loud. Crowded. Alive.
Den and Mi-yeon claimed seats at the edge of a table marked "Group 107."
Mi-yeon chose the corner because it felt safer—fewer eyes on her. Den simply sat opposite her because it was the nearest empty seat. He dropped his backpack beside the chair and scanned the spread of snacks with mild suspicion.
Before they could even settle, a cheerful girl with shoulder-length dark hair and mischievous eyes looked over—then lit up.
"Oh! Mi-yeon!" she exclaimed, leaning across the table. "Everyone, this is Mi-yeon! She's my dorm roommate!"
Mi-yeon opened her mouth to respond, but the boy sitting next to the girl beat her to it. He had a pleasant face—sharp enough to be handsome. Relaxed enough to seem approachable—and a grin that carried just a hint of teasing.
"Seriously?! What a coincidence," he said, turning to Den. "And I'm dorm neighbors with this guy! Hey Hyung, stop looking at the snacks so skeptically! I assure you they are delicious and appetizing!"
Den eyed the unfamiliar Korean "student treats" with caution, finally picking up something small and relatively harmless-looking.
"It might be delicious, Min-jae," he said, not entirely convinced, "but we might have different definitions of appetizing."
He popped the piece into his mouth.
The table erupted in light laughter.
Kang Min-jae nodded approvingly: "Chew, chew. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Den muttered around the food, "You're not helping."
Ma Chang-woo—solid, almost chubby but clearly strong—leaned back with a satisfied sigh.
"I like it," he said, with a hint of bragging clear in his voice: "Tastes way better than army rations."
The quiet boy, sitting next to him, startled and straightened:
"Chang-woo-ssi! You already served in the army?! So you're two years older than us?
I've been just calling you by name—I'm sorry."
He dipped his head sincerely, genuinely apologetic.
Chang-woo grinned and slung a casual arm around his shoulders.
"Relax, Do-hwa. We're classmates now. Just call me hyung."
Mi-yeon found herself smiling at the exchange. Chang-woo's kindness was effortless, almost disarming.
Her gaze drifted for a moment—and caught another girl at the table resting her chin in her hand, eyes lingering on Chang-woo with quiet interest. When the girl noticed Mi-yeon looking, she quickly turned away, pretending to fix her hair.
Meanwhile, Mi-yeon's cheerful roommate—Lee Han-bin—wasn't done highlighting her newfound friend. She started pouring soju into cups with enthusiastic energy.
"Mi-yeon? Why are you hiding like a little mouse over there?" she teased gently. "Come on, let me introduce you properly!"
She pointed around the table with dramatic flair.
"This is Yuna—she's the nicest!"
Han Yuna waved brightly, her smile wide and welcoming. Mi-yeon nodded shyly in return.
Han-bin continued without pause.
"And this is Soo-yeong and Se-a. Aren't they gorgeous? Leave some of the boys for the rest of us, okay?"
Laughter rippled around the table. Hwang Se-a giggled, a little embarrassed. Kim Soo-yeong offered a gracious, almost regal smile.
"Oh, stop," Soo-yeong said lightly. "All the girls in our group are pretty."
Her gaze flicked to Mi-yeon. "Right, Mi-yeon?"
Mi-yeon startled slightly.
Sure, point me out… why wouldn't you.
"Y-yes… of course… everyone is really pretty," she answered quietly.
From the far end of the table, a cool voice cut in.
"And some are smart too."
Baek So-mi sat straight, notebook already open in front of her as if this were a study session instead of a party.
She gave Soo-yeong a long, cold look, challenging her territory, and then looked at Mi-yeon:
"I saw your high school records, Mi-yeon. Very impressive. It'll be interesting to compete with you for the rankings."
Only then did she glance around the table: "I'm the class representative, by the way. Baek So-mi. Feel free to talk to me if you need something."
The group fell into easy chatter after that—Han-bin and Yuna pulling everyone into a quick round of "Human Bingo."
Mi-yeon sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, taking it all in.
For the first time that day, the noise didn't feel quite so overwhelming.
Den glanced at her once, an almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his mouth.
She didn't notice.
But something in the air around their table had already begun to shift—small, fragile connections forming before anyone noticed.
As people around became louder and more informal, Mi-yeon grew more tense, a paper cup clutched in both hands like an anchor.
Just a bit noisy, she thought. That's all.
Nearby, after a few drinks, Han-bin stood with some senior student, laughing a little too loudly at something he said.
She nodded often. Her smile flickered—bright, then uncertain. When another girl brushed past and bumped her shoulder, Han-bin immediately apologized, even though it wasn't her fault.
Mi-yeon noticed.
Why does her smile feel tense, she thought. Is she scared? Like me?
The senior leaned closer to Han-bin to explain one of the game rules that had been just announced, his tone patient, almost careful. He didn't touch her. Didn't crowd her. Just stayed present.
Han-bin's ears turned red.
Mi-yeon looked around.
Across the table, Baek So-mi sat at a high table with a notebook open, already writing something—rules, names, observations. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't drinking. Her eyes tracked people.
She's evaluating, Mi-yeon realized with a quiet chill. Like this is all… data.
Kim Soo-yeong, meanwhile, had gathered her new satellite group effortlessly. Hwang Se-a clung close to her side, phone already in hand, filming short clips for social media.
Some girl leaned in to Soo-yeong and whispered loudly enough for effect,
"This place is so chaotic. I swear, people from the countryside must feel right at home."
Soo-yeong smirked, eyes drifting briefly toward Mi-yeon again before returning to her friends.
Mi-yeon pretended not to notice.
She took a sip from her cup and immediately regretted it—it was soda, too sweet, fizz burning her throat. She coughed quietly, mortified, until the sensation passed.
"Careful," a female voice said easily.
Oh Yu-ra stood beside her now, one hip leaned against the table, cup in hand. Up close, she was even more striking—but not sharp. Relaxed. Confident in a way that didn't demand approval.
"First-day rookie mistake," Yu-ra added with a grin. "They always make it too sweet."
Mi-yeon bowed slightly out of reflex. "I—yes. Thank you, Sunbae."
Yu-ra's eyes flicked past her briefly—to Den, who was listening to a senior explain the next activity with polite disinterest.
"Huh," Yu-ra murmured. "So you're his pair."
Mi-yeon stiffened. "N-no—I mean—yes, for the task."
Yu-ra laughed softly. "Relax. I'm not interrogating you."
She took a sip of her drink, then added, more casually,
"He's… clumsy with his words, but not in an annoying way. That's unusual for a foreigner."
Mi-yeon didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't.
On the other side of the room, that student who earlier was chatting with Han-bin, leaned against a pillar with a group of older boys, laughing too loudly, too often. His eyes roamed the freshmen girls with open appraisal, lingering where they shouldn't. Someone just called him by the name.
Ha Jun-gi.
When his gaze brushed Mi-yeon, he smirked faintly. Something cold slid down her spine. She shifted closer to the table instinctively.
I don't like him, she thought immediately. I don't know why. I just don't.
Ko Su-ho's voice cut through the noise.
"Alright! Enough warming up."
Claps echoed. Seniors gathered attention efficiently.
"We're moving on to team activities now," he announced. "Everyone will be split into three teams. Don't argue—it's random. Let's do some friendly competitions before most of us are too drunk to do that safely."
At his last comment, the rooftop broke into grins and laughter.
Mi-rae stepped forward with a small stack of colored bands.
"Blue team," she called, handing out bands. "You'll be with me."
Han-bin blinked, then smiled nervously as Min-jae received the same color. They exchanged a look—surprised, then quietly pleased.
"Red team," Su-ho continued. "You're with me."
Mi-yeon froze when a red band was placed into her hand.She nodded quickly, trying not to draw attention.
"And black team," Yu-ra said smoothly, lifting the last band. "Lucky you. You're with me."
Den received a black band.
So did Soo-yeong. Her lips curved—slow, calculating—as she noticed.
Mi-yeon noticed that too, regretting immediately that Den was not in her team.
The room reshuffled slightly as students moved toward their assigned seniors.
Three teams formed. Energy shifted. Everyone was openly curious about what would happen next, but certain that it wouldn't be quiet.
And Mi-yeon, standing under Ko Su-ho's banner, felt a strange certainty of team camaraderie.
Soo-yeong didn't miss the timing. She waited until Mi-yeon was clearly pulled into Ko Su-ho's group. Then Soo-yeong adjusted the strap of her bag, smoothed her hair once, and stepped toward Den with practiced ease. Not rushed or obvious. The kind of movement that says: "this is natural, of course I'm here."
From the other side of the room, Mi-yeon noticed. Her stomach tightened.
And now she will charm him, she thought. Soon I'll be invisible and for him as well.
Soo-yeong stopped just close enough to Den to be unmistakable, but not invasive. Her smile was perfect—soft, warm, familiar to every Korean boy who had ever been taught what "ideal femininity" looks like.
"So," she said lightly, tilting her head, "looks like we're on the same team."
Her voice was sweet. Almost lazy.
Den turned to her.
He was polite. That much was undeniable. He answered her greeting, met her eyes, and listened when she spoke.
But that was all.
There was no shift in his posture. No spark of interest flickering to life. Didn't mirror her smile. Didn't sweeten his voice.
He reacted the way one reacts to… weather.
"Yes," he said simply. "Looks like it."
Soo-yeong waited half a second longer than necessary. Expecting some typical guy reaction to her close presence.
Nothing happened.
For Den, it felt like unnecessary conversation.
She tried again, smoothly.
"You're adapting fast," she said. "New country, new language, new people. That's impressive."
"Thank you," he replied. "I am trying."
Another opening, gently offered.
Another nothing.
Her friends drifted closer, instinctively forming a semi-circle—support artillery arriving right on cue.
"She's being so modest and kind with you," one of them added brightly. "Soo-yeong was the most popular girl in her high school. But she approached you to ensure that you adapt well in our group."
"She is such a sweetheart, isn't she?" another chimed in. "You'll see later."
They laughed softly, inviting him in.
Den nodded once. "Cool."
That's it.
No compliment returned. No curiosity or "tell me more."
Soo-yeong felt it. Not rejection—not yet—but resistance. Like water sliding off glass.
She leaned in just a fraction, lowering her voice, making it personal.
"You know," she said, smiling, "your name is hard to pronounce. Would it be better if I called you… Oppa?"
She looked at him flirtatiously.
Den smiled back. Friendly but unimpressed.
"Better not. We just met, and I would hate for anybody to think poorly of you. People may assume that you are flirting with me."
Words landed softly. But they did land.
For the first time, Soo-yeong's smile stiffened—not visibly, not to anyone else. Just enough for her to feel it in her jaw.
Her friends didn't notice. They kept talking. Kept selling, trying to package her for him.
And that only made it worse.
Because the harder they pushed, the clearer it became: whatever usually happened around her was not happening here.
From Ko Su-ho's team, Mi-yeon watched without meaning to. She told herself she was only looking because the room was loud. Because movement draws the eye.
But she saw it.
The way Soo-yeong smiled.
The way Den answered.
And nothing ignited.
Confusion replaced fear.
Why isn't he reacting? She is so stunningly beautiful.
Anyone else would be…
The thought trailed off.
Soo-yeong stepped back eventually, her expression smoothing over into something pleasant and neutral.
"Well," she said lightly, as if nothing unpleasant had occurred, "see you during the game."
She turned away with practiced grace, her friends following. But inside, irritation coiled tight.
Den exhaled once, quietly, as if the air had cleared.
He didn't look toward Mi-yeon. But Mi-yeon sensed something had loosened in her chest anyway—something she hadn't realized was tense.
He… really didn't care.
She didn't know why that mattered. It just did.
Min-jae drifted closer once Soo-yeong and her entourage moved away.
He was one of those boys who tries to sound casual but fails just a little—eyes still following Soo-yeong's back, voice lowered, awe barely disguised. There was admiration in his tone. And envy.
"Hyung," he said, shaking his head, half-laughing. "You talked to her like she wasn't interesting at all."
He exhaled sharply. "That kind of beauty… I'd have melted instantly."
Den looked at him, then away. He shrugged.
"Things don't melt that fast where I came from. North and all."
Min-jae stared at him for a second—then laughed, half in disbelief, half in surrender.
"Don't be so cocky, one day you will face a girl too hot even for you."
Den smirked.
"Eventually I will."
Den turned his head.
Across the room, Mi-yeon turned away fast—before their eyes could meet.
The host's voice cut through the growing noise, bright and merciless.
"Alright! First round!"
He grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
"Each team will choose one person. These three unlucky souls will dance on stage to K-pop. Let's see who survives—uh, I mean—who's the best!"
Laughter rippled through the rooftop.
"Team leaders, let your teams decide who goes on stage!"
Before Oh Yu-ra could even open her mouth, Kim Soo-yeong stepped forward half a pace.
"We already have someone," she said smoothly, with the confidence of a person used to being obeyed.
"Let it be Hwang Se-a. You said you trained at a dance academy, right? Obviously you're the best choice."
Se-a blinked, surprised—but not displeased.
"Well… yeah," she said, trying not to sound too proud.
No one argued.
Den didn't react at all. He was looking somewhere past the crowd, completely disengaged from the internal politics. Yu-ra noticed, exhaled softly through her nose, and nodded.
"Alright. Black team—Se-a it is."
Applause. Cheers. Se-a waved slightly, already enjoying the attention.
On Mi-rae's side, things were quieter.
A brief, awkward discussion. One name was suggested. Someone else hesitated.
Min-jae cleared his throat.
"I can do it," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not good, but… it's fine."
Han-bin looked at him with wide eyes.
"Are you sure?" she asked, voice tight with worry.
He smiled—small, reassuring. "It's just dancing."
Mi-rae studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Alright. Thank you, Min-jae."
He stepped forward to polite applause, already bracing himself.
Then there was Ko Su-ho's team.
Mi-yeon felt it before it happened.
The shift, familiar and unsettling.
Kang Tae-oh, a sleazy-looking freshman with painted blonde hair, tilted his head, lips curving slightly—not into a smile, but into something sharper.
"Well," he said coolly, loud enough to carry, "we should pick someone memorable. Otherwise it won't be fair."
A few students snickered.
His gaze slid deliberately to Mi-yeon.
"How about Jeong Mi-yeon?" Tae-oh continued, voice perfectly reasonable. "She has been quiet so far. Wouldn't it be good for her to… participate?"
A beat.
Then laughter.
Not roaring or cruelly loud, but enough to sting.
Someone added, "Yeah, it'll be fun."
Another said, "Come on, everyone has to do something once."
A third nudged Mi-yeon's shoulder lightly. "You'll be fine."
Mi-yeon's mind went blank. Her newly gained sense of team camaraderie evaporated in an instant.
No.
Please no.
I can't.
I don't dance.
I don't belong on a stage.
Hands touched her back, light but insistent.
She was pushed forward—not violently, but carelessly, wrapped in laughter that pretended to be encouragement.
Her feet moved without her permission.
Den saw it.
The way it happened too fast. How no one asked her.
Mi-yeon stiffened like an animal caught in headlights.
Ko Su-ho's jaw tightened.
He didn't like it. His eyes flicked to Tae-oh, then to the laughing students, then to Mi-yeon standing there—small, pale, clearly terrified.
He exhaled deeply through his nose.
"…Alright," he said finally, voice controlled. "Red team—Jeong Mi-yeon."
Applause erupted. Too loud. Too cheerful.
Mi-yeon stood frozen near the front, hands hanging at her sides. Her thoughts screamed.
They don't even believe in me.
They just want to laugh.
She didn't look at the audience. Her eyes darted, aimless.
And then—barely conscious of it—she found Den.
He wasn't smiling. Not even a little.
She sent him a silent plea:
Please, Den-ssi, make me disappear.