As I was leaving class, I barely made it three steps into the hallway before Nari's hand gripped my arm.
Tight. Restrained, but firm.
"You're being serious about this?" she asked, her voice low.
I glanced at her, unimpressed. "What does it matter to you, Nari?"
Her grip didn't loosen.
"You don't let just anyone in, Saehwa," she muttered, eyes narrowing. "But her? You barely know her."
I sighed, shaking her hand off my arm with ease. "And?"
"You don't even know if you can trust her."
I smirked, dusting off my sleeve as if her touch had been nothing more than an inconvenience. "And what makes you think I trust anyone?"
That silenced her for a moment.
She watched me carefully, trying to figure out what I was thinking.
But she wouldn't.
She never did.
I stepped past her, my voice smooth, unwavering. "Don't interfere with my business, Nari. Unless you want me to interfere with yours."
I didn't need to look back to know she was glaring.
Let her glare.
I had somewhere to be.
Pulling out my phone, I glanced at the time—cutting it close.
I clicked my tongue. Damn it.
Without wasting another second, I strode toward the exit, heading straight for the car waiting outside.
The driver barely had time to open the door before I slipped in, shutting it behind me with a sharp click.
"Home. Fast," I ordered.
The car sped through the city streets, weaving smoothly through traffic as I stared out the window, my mind already a step ahead.
One hour.
Not a second to waste.
By the time we pulled up to the estate, I was already stepping out before the driver could fully stop. The doors to the house swung open as I entered, my steps swift and precise.
"Miss Saehwa—"
"I'm not eating dinner," I cut off the housekeeper's words before she could ask. "Don't prepare anything for me."
I didn't wait for a response, making my way straight to my room.
The moment I stepped inside, I shrugged off my blazer, tossing it onto the chair by my desk. The school uniform was too formal, too rigid. Tonight called for something different.
I walked to my wardrobe, scanning through my options before settling on something simple but refined—a black fitted blazer over a dark turtleneck, paired with well-tailored slacks. Clean. Sleek. Effortlessly polished.
Not too casual. Not too formal. Just enough to set the tone.
I slipped on my watch, fixing the sleeve of my blazer before grabbing my phone. Thirty minutes left.
Perfect timing.
With one last glance in the mirror, I stepped out of the room, heading back toward the car.
"Where to, Miss?" the driver asked as he held the door open.
"Kyo's Koffee."
The door shut, and the car pulled away from the estate, the city lights stretching out before me.
As we neared the café, I found myself tapping my fingers against my knee, an old habit I rarely indulged in.
I wasn't nervous.
But I was… anticipating.
Yeon Hyerin, let's see what you've prepared for me.
The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of Kyo's Koffee, a quiet but well-known café nestled in one of the more refined areas of the city. The warm glow of its interior lights spilled onto the pavement, casting soft shadows against the glass windows.
I stepped out, adjusting the sleeve of my blazer as the door shut behind me.
The faint hum of conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I entered. Calm. Cozy. A stark contrast to the rigid world of Seonghwa.
I scanned the room.
And then—I saw her.
Hyerin sat near the window, her posture relaxed, fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. She had changed.
A simple, well-fitted white blouse paired with dark jeans, a contrast from the uniform she always wore. Casual, but well put together. Her dark brown hair, which was usually tied back neatly, was now softly framing her face, falling in loose waves over her shoulders.
And for the first time—she looked… normal.
Not like a student competing in Seonghwa's cutthroat system. Not like someone burdened by a past tied to my father.
Just Hyerin.
She glanced up, and the moment her eyes met mine, something shifted in her expression—a brief flicker of something before she quickly masked it.
I smirked, striding over with smooth, easy steps before sliding into the seat across from her.
"You clean up well," I mused, resting my chin against my palm.
Hyerin exhaled, setting her cup down. "You're late."
I tilted my head slightly, smirking. "Did I upset you by being three minutes late?"
Hyerin exhaled, shaking her head. "Not really. I'm used to people being late all the time."
Her fingers tapped lightly against her coffee cup, gaze lowering slightly as she continued, "In a world of main characters, I think I'm more of a background character. Someone who never really exists."
Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact. Like she had accepted it.
Something in me stilled.
What an interesting thing to say, Hyerin.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbow against the table.
"Hyerin," I murmured, my voice softer than before. "To me, you're the only one that's special in this world."
Her fingers stopped tapping.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
That got to you, didn't it?
She looked up, meeting my gaze, but this time—she couldn't mask the flicker of hesitation, the uncertainty in her eyes.
For the first time since I met her, she wasn't calm, composed, or completely unreadable.
She was caught off guard.
And I liked that.
She cleared her throat, quickly shifting her focus back to her drink. "That's a bold thing to say," she muttered.
I chuckled. "Is it?"
The silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken.
Then, she exhaled, shaking her head as if pushing the moment away.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
I smirked. "I try."
Before she could say anything else, the waiter arrived with my order, placing the cappuccino and the slice of tiramisu in front of me.
I picked up the spoon, breaking off a small bite of the cake before glancing at her.
"Want to try?" I asked smoothly, holding the spoon out slightly.
Hyerin blinked, then frowned. "You're offering me the first bite?"
"Why not?"
She hesitated, eyeing me suspiciously before sighing and leaning in slightly.
I watched, amused, as she took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully.
She swallowed, then glanced away. "...It's good."
I chuckled, setting the spoon down.
For the first time tonight, she wasn't trying to put distance between us.
Good.
Because I wasn't planning on letting her go anywhere.
I watched as Hyerin took a sip of her coffee, her fingers curled around the cup, her gaze flickering toward the window. Still guarded, but less than before.
Progress.
I leaned back in my seat, taking a slow sip of my cappuccino, the bitterness cutting through the lingering sweetness of the tiramisu. The warmth of the café hummed around us, blending with the soft murmur of conversations and the faint hiss of the espresso machines.
A comfortable silence settled between us.
Then, quietly, she asked, "You're really like this with everyone?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
She rolled her eyes slightly. "Saying things like 'you're the only one that's special' so easily. Offering the first bite of your dessert. Making people feel like…" she trailed off, pausing, before finishing in a quieter voice, "like they matter."
So that's what was bothering you, Hyerin.
I smirked, tilting my head slightly. "Would it bother you if I was?"
She scoffed. "I don't care."
Liar.
I chuckled, taking another sip of my coffee. "You think I say things I don't mean?"
She met my gaze then, sharp, searching. "I think you say things that make people want to believe you."
Interesting.
I set my cup down, fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic.
"You might be right," I admitted.
Her brows furrowed slightly, like she hadn't expected me to agree so easily.
I leaned forward, resting my chin against my palm, my voice dropping just slightly.
"But you know what else is true?" I murmured.
She stiffened, caught in the weight of my stare.
"I don't waste my time on things that don't interest me," I said smoothly, watching the way her fingers tensed slightly around her cup.
"My so-called friends—Nari and Jiwon. You've seen them, haven't you?" I continued, voice calm, deliberate. "They orbit around me, they linger in my space, but do you think I actually let them in?"
Hyerin didn't answer, but I saw the way her lips pressed together, thinking.
I leaned back, tapping my spoon lightly against the edge of my plate. "I don't hang out with them outside of necessity. I don't accept their invitations, their attempts to feel close to me. And I certainly don't tell them they're special."
I tilted my head slightly, studying her. "Because, really, are they?"
She inhaled slowly, as if carefully choosing her next words.
"They're your friends," she finally said.
I let out a quiet chuckle. "Are they?"
Hyerin hesitated, eyes flickering toward me again, finally understanding what I meant.
"They're just following a script, Hyerin," I continued, my voice softer this time. "Playing their roles, saying the right things, waiting for the right moments. It's all predictable."
I set my spoon down, meeting her gaze fully.
"But you," I murmured, "you don't follow a script."
Her breath hitched, but she quickly masked it.
"You don't try to please me. You don't force your way into my space, you don't pretend to be something you're not." I exhaled slowly, watching the way her fingers twitched slightly. "That's why you're the only one who's interesting to me."
Silence.
Hyerin looked away, her grip tightening around her cup, like she was holding onto it to ground herself.
I smirked slightly, but this time, my voice softened.
"And I never break a promise, Hyerin," I said. "Yet alone make one."
She swallowed, blinking once before shaking her head, letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
"You really know how to mess with people," she muttered.
I smiled, tilting my head. "Am I messing with you?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she picked up her coffee, taking a slow sip before setting it down again.
"...I don't know yet," she admitted.
Ah.
Now that was the most honest thing she'd said all night.
I leaned back, satisfied.
"Take your time," I murmured. "I'm patient."
She exhaled, shaking her head again. "You really are exhausting."
"And yet, you're still sitting here with me."
She sighed, but this time—this time, she smiled.
Just slightly. Just enough for me to notice.
And that?
That was a victory.