Chapter 26. Lee Jaeheon (6)

She knew she wouldn’t be able to write a word with him still sitting there, so she closed the laptop with a decisive snap.

“That’s my answer. You got anything else to say?”

“So the only problem is that I’m young?”

“…Not sure how you reached that conclusion, but yeah. Unfortunately, I find younger guys a bit exhausting.”

They say you can get anything in life if you work hard enough but age wasn’t one of those things. Her reasoning was solid, unarguable. As she started packing up her things, Jaeheon pressed a hand on her closed laptop and leaned in.

His eyes were icy. But she wasn’t scared.

“It’s not like I asked you to date me. What’s there to be so wary of? Oh… is it because I said I liked you?”

He let out a small laugh.

“Sunbae, why are you so cute? You said you liked things casual, but I guess that was all talk. The moment I actually played along, you panicked.”

No. He was the one pretending now. Her heart was pounding, sure—but the one acting all cool to cover up his nerves? That was Jaeheon.

He’s scared, she realized.

Eunkyo could see it clearly: his bravado, the false ease, all of it born from fear.

Why? Why are you trying so hard with me?

Was it because she stood out from the people around him? Because he liked her looks, her body? Or was it just plain curiosity?

Oddly calm now, Eunkyo reached up and ran her thumb across his twisted smile.

In that instant, Jaeheon froze. Their eyes met, his gaze locked on her.

Outside, rain pattered on the café awning. Inside, only the sound of quiet, even breaths remained.

“CCTV.”

One word stopped him in his tracks, just as he looked ready to pounce.

His hands pressed lightly against the table, and he slowly eased back, putting on a casual smile. Then, with a wry expression, he raked a hand through his hair, picked up her pen, and scribbled his number onto a napkin beside the coffee cup.

“Save it. We’ve already kissed. Not even knowing your number feels a little too reckless, don’t you think?”

He gently held the napkin out toward her—then turned to leave.

“And it’s dangerous out. You should get home soon. There’s always some crazy people around here.”

Eunkyo stayed seated, watching him as he left. Only after a long moment did she look down and notice what was written under the hastily scribbled number: ‘Basement.’

She let out a soft, dry laugh and dropped the napkin into Jaeheon’s half-finished coffee.

If she’d really wanted his number, she could’ve gotten it easily. That wasn’t the issue.

The reason she hadn’t saved it was simple—fear, just like he said.

Once you exchange numbers, you start texting. Emotions start slipping into typed words. And when that happens—misunderstandings follow. Confusion. Mess.

Maybe it was easier to think of this as just one moment of recklessness.

But she knew better.

This wasn’t going to be just one fleeting mistake.

She rubbed her temples with both hands. Her phone, flipped screen-down beside her, buzzed.

It was a message from Jo Sunggeon—an invitation to a film screening, along with the address of the venue.

Eunkyo packed up her things, but instead of heading out, she locked the front door again and slipped into the supply room.

She sank onto the foldable cot Haeda sometimes used, and rubbed her face.

She wasn’t going downstairs. Not yet. Something in her gut said that Jaeheon was still wearing one more mask.

Staring out through the small supply room window at the pouring rain and the blurred glow of streetlights, she waited in silence.

* * *

She’s not coming.

If it was Jung Eunkyo, she wouldn’t open that door. He knew that, which was why he dared to leave the note telling her to come down.

Jaeheon stared at the firmly shut door. Then, with a sigh of resignation, he lay back on the studio couch.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Sunggeon. Probably the same one sent to Eunkyo.

He skimmed it without much interest—the address, the time, the screening details.

It had been over ten years since he’d first seen her.

It was after school, right in front of his house. She was one of his father’s students—his father, the university professor. She was the only girl among them.

She’d stood there, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes before pressing the doorbell with trembling fingers. Jaeheon had watched her curiously from behind the window.

Maybe she’d been torn apart by one of his father’s sharp-tongued critiques. She couldn’t stop crying.

What could possibly hurt that much?

But the real problem was—her tear-streaked, red-tipped face was heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Hi.”

She seemed like someone from a completely different world than the girls his age, who were obsessed with fashion and appearances. She never stopped crying, yet she hid her feelings so well and smiled so easily.

Yeah, it was love at first sight. So much so that it brought his twisted adolescence to a screeching halt—his head was filled with nothing but Jung Eunkyo.

He suffered through a hopeless fever of emotion he couldn’t confess. Just to see her, who came to the house every day and endured his father’s verbal abuse, he stayed home more diligently than ever.

She was strange, pathetic even… but she was beautiful.

Months passed like that, and the seasons changed.

Then one day, Jung Eunkyo stopped coming.

After that, as his parents’ relationship crumbled and they began the divorce process, he figured that had pushed her even further away.

Like most first loves, it faded into the background for a while.

At least, until she reappeared—as the girlfriend of Lee Dohyun, the eldest son of the man his mother remarried.

He simply thought he had to take back the first love that had been shamelessly stolen from him.

That was all. Just that.

“Ha.”

Then why the hell… does it feel so fucking awful?