The Best of Tomorrow-Chapter 2.5

□ ◆ □

During self-study, Ryu Seon-jae slipped out of class with his MP3 player and headed toward the music room. He couldn’t focus on his workbook—he just wanted to lie down and listen to music. But the teacher had scrawled “NO FOOLING AROUND” in huge letters across the blackboard.

The afternoon sun bathed the hallway in a reddish hue. After passing through the quiet corridor, he arrived at the music room. As he quietly opened the back door, the sunlight spilling in lit the walls and floor in shades of crimson.

He shut the door behind him and put in his earphones. Just as he powered on the MP3 and moved toward the platform, he halted. Someone was already there. The MP3 screen lit up, and Seon-jae’s gaze shifted to the far corner of the room—to a girl sprawled over a desk. Her long hair splayed across the surface, her arms stretched out, and her small hand peeking out from beneath a coat.

He changed direction from the platform and approached cautiously. The hem of her gym pants, folded several times and tucked into her socks, gave her away—it was Im Sol. As he leaned in, he saw her cheek flattened from sleeping on her arm.

She wore Seon-jae’s gym pants, Baek In-hyeok’s gym jacket, and it wasn’t even the end of the school day. A student from another school, wearing someone else’s gym clothes, lying around in another school’s music room—how could it look so natural? What startled Seon-jae was not how inappropriate it was, but how pleased he felt seeing it.

A book rested in the crook of her arm on the desk. Judging from the ridiculous title, she hadn’t brought it to read—it seemed more like she’d brought it to give to him. A small, incredulous laugh escaped him.

The sunlight poured through the window, crinkling her eyelids ever so slightly. The room was equipped with blackout curtains since it sometimes doubled as a viewing room. Seon-jae turned to the window and pulled the curtain shut. The light dimmed, and when he turned back, Sol’s furrowed brow had relaxed.

She should’ve noticed the presence, but she kept sleeping.

Seon-jae pulled out a chair and sat next to her, resting his chin in his hand as he gazed at her. Her hair had slipped into the space between her lips. He stared without realizing—at her lips, soft-looking and gently parted. He lifted his hand slowly, paused just before her mouth, and resisted the urge to touch. Instead, he gently removed the strand of hair caught between her lips.

Still propped on his elbow, he lowered himself beside her in the same posture. On his MP3, Sanulrim’s <Your Meaning> began to play—Im Sol’s taste. The music she had listened to. Every time Seon-jae heard the tracks on the MP3, he imagined the hours ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Sol had spent with them.

Inside a classroom drenched in sunset, on twilight roads, in a darkened room—those songs had shared time and feelings with her. The thought unsettled him. Whatever comfort or sorrow she’d felt through them seemed to wash over him now.

He watched her sleeping face, while Kim Chang-wan’s voice filled his ears. The darkened room seemed to hold its breath as Seon-jae whispered the song’s title aloud.

“Your Meaning.”

He silently mouthed the words again—“Kim Chun-baek”—like chewing on syllables, all while looking at Sol’s sleeping face. It was as if someone had tossed a stone into his still waters—ripples kept forming.

□ ■ □

She had come to Jagam High School to return a book to Seon-jae’s desk, but misjudged the timing and got caught by the bell. Remembering the music room Baek In-hyeok had mentioned, she went there instead.

She’d meant to just wait in a chair until the final bell rang—but when had she fallen asleep? Her cheek was flattened, even dented, from the desk. Strands of hair had left marks across her skin.

Rubbing her sore neck, she looked at the blackout curtain. Had she drawn it herself? Was it this dark when she came in? As she tried to recall, the bell rang again. The noise of the hallway grew louder—it must’ve been break time. She grabbed her book and slipped out of the music room.

Heading down the stairs, she crept toward the second floor where Seon-jae’s classroom was. Just as she approached, someone at the far end of the hall banged a flute against the wall.

“Alright! Everybody to the field, now!”

It was the infamous man with the danso flute. The Jagam High School disciplinary teacher. There was no way he’d recognize her, but she still shrank back, hiding her face behind the book. For some reason, the hallway was more packed than usual today.

She was just about to reach Seon-jae’s classroom when—thunk—someone grabbed her shoulder. Eyes wide, she glanced around. The man with the flute was still at the other end, so who...?

“Why don’t you just transfer here?”

“Wha—Seon-jae?”

She lowered the book and sheepishly hid it behind her back. At that moment—TANG!—the flute smacked the wall again.

“Move faster, people!”

Why were students charging down the hall like stampeding animals? Why was the flute man so obsessed with urgency? And why was Seon-jae still holding onto her shoulder without saying a word? Just as her confusion started to mount, he began walking—with his hand still on her shoulder.

“Huh?”

She followed, dragged along in silence.

“W-What’s going on?”

They descended the stairs and were swept into the crowd heading toward the field.

“Wait, where are we going?”

The Jagam High School field was packed with students. Why was she there? She looked at Seon-jae in panic, only for him to grab the back of her neck and pull her forward.

Before she knew it, she was standing in a neat formation on the school field. She turned to Seon-jae, eyes round with shock. He jerked his chin toward the front of the field.

A huge banner read:

[Jagam Healthy Gymnastics for Eradicating School Violence]

“You’re not getting out through the front gate like this.”

The voice behind her made her sigh. Seon-jae met her eyes expressionlessly, then turned her head forward.

“You showed up, after all.”

That was true. No one had called her, and yet she’d come. She’d even left school early. Looking down, she saw the Jagam High School emblem stitched onto the gym pants—tucked neatly into her red socks. And the jacket she’d bought from Baek In-hyeok. Anyone would think she was a Jagam student.

With a shallow sigh, she straightened up and spread her arms to match spacing. Music blared from the speakers. Five students in Jagam gym uniforms ran up to the platform and began stretching. “Hut-two! Hut-two!”

She turned to glance behind her. Seon-jae, wouldn’t it be better if you stood in front of me instead? How can I do stretches in front of you? She looked at him meaningfully, but he just turned her head back forward with a deadpan expression.

“You’re not doing it right!”

The flute man yelled as he prowled the field.

Did I dig my own grave?

Following the leaders on the platform, she pumped her arms, jumped to the beat, even stretched her palms out like she was throwing invisible energy blasts. She did all the moves a little too enthusiastically.

And then her eyes met Baek In-hyeok’s.

“......”

“......”

While everyone was stretching, Baek In-hyeok just stood still like a statue. Then he slowly pulled out his phone and pointed it at her.

If you take a photo, you’re dead, she thought—but no way her thoughts could reach him. She quietly turned her head.

The sharp whistle of PE teachers echoed across the field. She rotated her arms obediently.

She was doomed. Completely doomed.

□ ■ □

Back in class, she was trying to solve math problems—her weakest subject. Most of the questions involved simplifying equations given with conditions like “(a ≠ 0, b ≠ 0).” She stared at those parentheses and wanted to shut the book.

With a sigh, she dropped her forehead onto the page. Her notebook was full of numbers and symbols, but no answers. With one cheek pressed to the book, she scribbled the date into the margin: January 1. She stared at the two straight digits and sat up to fix her grip on her pencil.

After the bell rang, she had traveled to the past. She had lived about a month there and returned—only to find it was still January 1, 1 a.m. Time had moved differently.

She had woken up in bed, swollen-eyed from crying. She must have fallen asleep during that time.

In the past, she’d been running around for a month. But Seon-jae still hadn’t reached the new year. Baek In-hyeok didn’t remember her. She’d definitely traveled via the pocket watch—but how, exactly, it worked was a mystery.

“Hm... What is this?”

She stared hard at her notebook, lost in thought. A teacher passing by her desk tapped her shoulder.

“Stuck somewhere?”

“Excuse me?”

She blinked and looked up. The teacher smiled kindly, as if asking which question she didn’t understand.

Sir, by any chance... do you know the formula for time travel?

“Which part are you stuck on?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll try to solve it on my own.”

The teacher patted her back approvingly.

“That’s the spirit. Our Sol’s got the right attitude. You’ll get into a good college.”

She gave a strained smile and lowered her head.

Sir, I haven’t gotten a single answer right in this whole book...

She bit her lip and flipped to the back. It was time to redo the problems. Actually, all of them.

□ ■ □

On the way home from school, her shoulders drooped. Four years of partying in college had made sitting still and studying unbearable. Her eyes felt shadowed and sunken.

She stopped by the stationery store near the gate and bought a corn cream bun. Tearing open the wrapper, she took a big bite—only to chew dry bread. No cream.

Frowning, she split the bun in half. The cream was lumped dead center. Terrible distribution.

Grimacing—what a bad purchase—she suddenly remembered that conversation with Seon-jae and Baek In-hyeok. Back then, In-hyeok had eaten only the dry part, and Seon-jae had taken all the cream. That’s what they’d said.

She chewed the dry bread again. This is Seon-jae’s fault. She spread the cream evenly herself.

On the way to the bus stop, she passed a parked truck. A banner across its roof read:

“Hinoki Neck Pillows for a Great Night’s Sleep!”

Her eyes landed on the words “great night’s sleep.” A man in a neon vest waved at her.

“Sleep like a baby! Works wonders! One for 6,000 won, two for 10,000!”

She stopped and opened her wallet. She had 10,000 won.

Seon-jae had told her, If you’re going to give me something, give it to me yourself. But how could she possibly hand him something as absurd as an aromatherapy hinoki neck pillow?

She hesitated, then tucked her wallet away and walked off.

“One for 5,000! Two for 10,000!” the man shouted.

She glanced at the truck. He was watching her. Should she buy it? She shook her head.

Seon-jae had basically said don’t give it at all. Imagine showing up and saying, “I came to give you a present myself, like you said. Here, a hinoki neck pillow.” He’d be thrilled.

“Three for 10,000!”

“I’ll take them!”

She spun around and headed to the truck. The man grumbled that he was selling at cost now.

“How many do you want?”

“Three, please.”

She handed over the bill.

Now that she had them, though, and was staring at the awkward bundle of neck pillows in a plastic bag—she couldn’t imagine giving them to Seon-jae directly.

She bowed politely and walked away. The pillows clacked together in the bag.

She needed to figure out a way to give them to him without getting caught.

□ ■ □

She steadied her breathing and looked up at the lit sign above the entrance. Ryu Geun-deok Gamjatang. After racking her brain endlessly, this was the destination she’d arrived at—Seon-jae’s parents’ restaurant.

Im Sol, is this the best you could come up with? Is this your limit?

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door open.

Seon-jae’s mother, who had been refilling the utensil holder, lifted her head and saw her. Without realizing it, Sol gave a gentle smile. It probably looked like the smile of someone here to preach an untrustworthy religion, she thought. What if she doesn’t remember me? Then I’ll just ask for a bowl of hangover soup. But before she could worry any further, Seon-jae’s mother beamed with recognition.

“You’re Seon-jae’s friend—the one with the same taste buds as me, right?”

“Oh? Yes, hello.”

Sol bowed her head quickly in greeting.

“Here to eat?”

“Ah, no, I was just passing by...”

I was going to say I stopped in for a moment, that I happened to have a bunch of these good pillows, and that I came to give one—just one—while asking her to keep it a secret from Seon-jae. That had been the plan. But as she looked around, she realized the restaurant was completely empty. Seon-jae’s mother smiled at her, waiting for her to continue.

“...Yes. One gamjatang, please.”

She smiled with squinted eyes and sat down at a corner table. As she placed her spoon and chopsticks down randomly, she remembered how Seon-jae had once aligned them neatly, and she corrected their positions. The memory made her chuckle for no reason... and then quickly lower the corners of her lips. Just like last time, In-hyeok and Seon-jae could show up out of nowhere. She needed to eat and get out fast.

The gamjatang arrived at her table. “Enjoy,” said Seon-jae’s mother as she turned to leave, but Sol urgently stopped her.

“Do you need anything?”

“Ah—this.”

Sol pulled out the black plastic bag. She’d fidgeted with it nervously so much that the handles were crumpled and messy. Seon-jae’s mother didn’t take the bag right away but glanced over its bulky, lumpy shape sticking out.

“What is this?”

“It’s a pillow. They say it helps you sleep well.”

Seon-jae’s mother looked startled by the sudden gift. Is this where Seon-jae gets it from? Sol thought. Neither of them seemed to accept gifts easily. His mother simply stared at the bag without taking it.

She had to get it into her hands somehow.

“My... my uncle had a pillow factory. It went bankrupt. Now we have way too many of these at home.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes. So please don’t feel pressured.”

Sol smiled awkwardly and pushed the bag forward. With a sympathetic sigh, Seon-jae’s mother finally accepted it and thanked her.

“Please... don’t tell Seon-jae I gave it to you.”

Her expression turned oddly serious. She looked like she was still hung up on the phrase my uncle’s factory went bankrupt. After a long pause, she nodded. Sol thanked her and picked up her spoon. She’d done what she came to do. Now she just had to eat quickly and leave.

She was chewing a piece of radish kimchi when her phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket and saw a message. Chewing slowly, she opened it.

[Hi. It’s Seon-jae.]

She coughed and quickly covered her mouth. Looking around with wide eyes, she confirmed it was still just her and Seon-jae’s mom in the restaurant. No way... Is she like Baek In-hyeok too? Does she have some bamboo forest app or something? Sol peeked into the kitchen. Only the sound of knife against cutting board.

She took a gulp of cold water and tried to reply but didn’t know what to say.

She typed [Hi.], then erased it.

Typed [It’s me, Im Sol.], then erased that too.

[What’s up?]

[I want to return your MP3. Where are you?]

I... I’m at Ryu Geun-deok Gamjatang right now...

[You can return it later.]

[If you're close, I can come now. Where are you?]

Why do you keep asking where I am...?

[I’m at home. Return it later.]

She sent the reply, then gathered her things. She opened her wallet to take out money for the soup. Her phone vibrated again.

[Okay.]

“I’ll pay now.”

“Oh? You’re already done?”

“Yes. I’ll leave 7,000 won here. No need to come out.”

“No, no. Don’t pay, just go.”

As Seon-jae’s mother started to take off her apron and come out from the kitchen, Sol waved frantically. It was only right to pay after eating.

“No, it’s okay! Please don’t come out! I’ll just leave it here.”

“Take this.”

As Sol waved her hand and walked backward, Seon-jae’s mother handed her something.

“I don’t really have much to give you... but Seon-jae’s dad grows yuzu.”

It was a glass jar full of preserved yuzu syrup.

“You didn’t have to...”

“Don’t refuse,” she said, gently placing it in Sol’s hands.

“Will it be too heavy? Should I ask Seon-jae to carry it for you?”

“No! It’s really not heavy at all.”

Sol clutched the jar tightly to her chest and widened her eyes to prove her strength. Seon-jae’s mother smiled and gave her a push on the back. “I haven’t paid—” she started to say, but the woman ushered her out.

“Come again soon.”

With a bright smile, she gently pushed Sol out the door and shut it. Sol stared at the closed door.

“I didn’t pay...” she muttered.

She looked down at the heavy glass jar of yuzu syrup. Three hinoki neck pillows for 10,000 won—haggled down, even—and in return she got this. A gift made with yuzu grown by Seon-jae’s father.

Seon-jae was an only child. A world without him had always felt unbearably sad. But now imagining a home without him—that was what truly hurt.

No matter what, Ryu Seon-jae, I’m going to leave an indelible mark on you.

Just as she turned to walk away with renewed determination, her phone vibrated. Could it be Seon-jae again? Her heart jumped before she even checked. She pulled out her phone—it was an unknown number.

She answered the call as she walked farther from the restaurant.

“Hello?”

No response. She glanced at the screen. The call was still active.

“Hello?”

She frowned, wondering if they were speaking and she just couldn’t hear them. A faint sound echoed on the other end. She leaned in.

She was about to ask again when a voice finally came through.

— The watch.

“...Excuse me?”

— You have it, don’t you?

“I’m sorry... Who is this?”

Her voice came out tense, bristling with unease.

— You took it. Six years ago.

Her foot stopped mid-step. She nearly dropped the jar. Her heart dropped with a thud, shaking her core. Without thinking, she hit the end call button.

Her mind went blank. She exhaled but couldn’t close her mouth. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. She stood there, frozen—and someone was walking toward her.

A boy in school uniform, wearing a purple hoodie under his padding jacket. Dark brown hair.

It was Seon-jae. He approached with a blank expression.

“I thought you said you were home.”

He looked distinctly unimpressed to see her standing right outside Ryu Geun-deok Gamjatang after claiming to be at home. As he walked closer, her chest tightened and her nose stung. She didn’t know why. Her mind was a mess.

Why did I open the pocket watch and try pressing it? she thought. Hadn’t I done enough for Seon-jae?

But now—after that anonymous call—it felt like all her hope had shattered.

Is this really it? Is this where the time travel ends, and I go back for good?

Seon-jae stopped in front of her and looked at the jar in her hands.

“You saw my mom?”

She bit her lower lip and scrunched her face. Tears welled up, burning her throat.

His eyes moved from the jar to her face. Their eyes met. He looked startled—his eyes widened slightly.

“Hey... you’re crying.”

Without warning, she threw one arm around him and buried her face in his chest. Just like that first time on the Jagam High School field—she didn’t sob loudly, but her tears soaked his shirt.

A soft “hic” escaped through clenched teeth. She held the yuzu jar in one hand, and clutched Seon-jae tightly with the other.

This might be the last time.

And yet... she hated herself for thinking of those Buzz lyrics Baek In-hyeok had once sung in karaoke.

“You okay?”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to gently push her away. Whether he wanted to see her face or create space, she didn’t care—she clung tighter.

“Heuh... Eu-eung... Seon-jae...”

“What’s wrong?”

Her throat burned. This really might be the end. When she’d first returned to the present, his death had felt like losing a longtime friend. That’s how parting with him felt now too.

What if I go back, and he’s still not there? What if I can never return again, and never speak to him again?

The tears wouldn’t stop.

“I think I’m leaving now. The books I gave you—read them all, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s just... something. Heuhh...”

“What do you mean? Look at me.”

She knew how awful her crying face looked. She shook her head, still clinging to his chest.

“Don’t forget anything I said, okay? Let all the bad stuff go in one ear and out the other, but remember the good parts. Not that I mean ignore everything I said. Uwaaah...”

Seon-jae stayed quiet, clearly bewildered by her incoherent sobbing. She scrunched up her face and bumped her forehead lightly against his chest.

“Seon-jae...”

She could smell him. She didn’t need to look—just knowing he was there in front of her was something she’d never forget.

“You’re really important to me. If I could give my happiness to anyone, it’d be you. I want you to always be happy.”

“......”

“You were my biggest comfort. And my happiness.”

“What...”

“I love you, Seon-jae.”

Her lips trembled. Her tears dripped freely. Her shoulders shook. She stepped back. She wanted to see his face but couldn’t bring herself to look up.

Walking away from Ryu Geun-deok Gamjatang, she sobbed aloud. She cried, really cried. It wasn’t just sadness about leaving. She had to leave. But sometimes, tears come without reason. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and kept walking until she found an empty bench.

She sat, curled her back, buried her face in her knees, and cried. She sobbed Mom... and then Ryu Seon-jae... The names had no meaning—just sounds that came out of her.

As she wept at the end of her time travel, the bench shifted slightly—someone sat beside her.

Is it the one who called? she thought.

She lifted her head and looked to the side.

“...Huh? Why are you here?”

She sniffled and straightened her back. Seon-jae’s gaze quietly swept over her red, tear-streaked face—lingering on her swollen eyes, nose, and wet cheeks.

“...Why did you follow me?”

As she looked at him through watery eyes, Seon-jae reached out and gently wiped a tear hanging from her chin. The warmth of his touch skimmed her skin.

“Hey, Chun-baek.”

“...Huh?”

“Think about what you said earlier. How could I not follow you?”

What she’d said earlier. She had told him to read all the books she gave him, to remember every word she ever said. She told him he was precious. She told him she loved him.

She sniffled again and looked at Seon-jae. His black eyes looked especially deep tonight.

“You’re seriously... impossible to figure out.”

Their wet, searching gazes met quietly. Seon-jae was the first to look away.

“I told you not to give me anything. How are you supposed to just hand over your happiness like that?”

“...That’s...”

“I told you I don’t like one-sided gifts. I said if you give me something, I’ll give something back.”

“...”

“So why do you keep trying to give me things, huh?”

There were no streetlights on the road. Only faint moonlight illuminated Seon-jae’s profile, his tidy hair, his smooth cheek, and those solemn eyes facing forward. This night, where they sat quietly side by side, felt so still and full.

Her phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket—it was another unknown number. She bit her lip, stared at the screen, then stuffed the phone back in her pocket.

Just a little longer. Please give me just a little more time. Even if they didn’t speak, just sitting beside Seon-jae like this was enough.

□ ■ □

Wake up! Wake up!

The alarm blared loudly. She pressed down on the panda-shaped alarm clock, silencing it. Blink. Blink. She opened and closed her eyes. From bed, she looked toward the door.

Her uniform was still hanging there.

I haven’t gone back yet.

She shot up and opened the door, heading to the bathroom to check her reflection. Her eyes were so swollen from crying, they looked like chestnuts.

“...I’ve seen this look before.”

Familiar with the puffiness, she turned on the tap.

□ ■ □

During break, she lay on her desk before pulling out her phone. She opened her browser and searched “time travel pocket watch.” Scrolling through, she found a post titled: Someone please tell me how to get the pocket watch for time travel.

The content just said: “Please tell me,” with no replies.

Eyes widening, she sat up and left a comment.

[I found a pocket watch on the street, and I think it lets me time travel. Do you know anything about this? Someone called me asking for it back. Is there a tracker on this thing?]

Was that too many questions? Even so, she had filtered out the weirder ones. Her heart pounded. She turned off her screen, hoping the original poster would see it and reply.

After class, during break, she checked her phone. There was a new comment under hers.

[I played that ages ago, don’t really remember. Are people still doing that? I think you get it after level 100 or something. Don’t think there’s a tracker. But like... who’s the owner?]

What the hell is this... I told you I found it on the street.

She thought about replying but gave up. It didn’t seem worth it. Whoever had called her knew she’d traveled to the past. But no matter how much she fiddled with the watch now, nothing changed.

How had they known? Who had called?

Chin in hand, she stared at the clock on the wall.

Tick. Tick. The minute hand moved forward.

□ ◆ □

During self-study, Seon-jae and Baek In-hyeok stayed in the music room. Sunlight shattered into pieces through the window, dispelling the shadows.

In-hyeok sat on the piano bench, tapping out Schubert’s Ungarische Melodie, D.817. The notes danced off the strings, crisp and beautiful.

Seon-jae, leaning on the window ledge, had earbuds in. He was listening to music through Im Sol’s MP3 player. In the chaos of everything, he’d forgotten to return it—and so it remained in his possession.

The sunlight lit Seon-jae’s face. His hair had grown a little, strands brushing the tips of his lashes. Outside the window, the school grounds stretched wide. Dry leaves clung to bare branches, hanging on through winter. The scene looked as bleak as the music in his ears.

Most of the songs on the MP3 were about breakups, unrequited love, or loneliness. Seon-jae figured Sol wasn’t drawn to lyrics as much as she was to sad, quiet melodies.

Two of the same keys chimed: ding, ding.

“Hey, Ryu Seon-jae.”

After hitting the piano keys a few more times, In-hyeok turned. Seon-jae hadn’t reacted at all—still listening, bathed in light. The sight of him, motionless with earbuds in, looked like something out of a painting.

In-hyeok twisted on the bench, propping himself up with both arms and staring at Seon-jae. He couldn’t hear what song he was listening to, didn’t know what thoughts filled his head—but once in a while, a dimple formed and made one cheek cave in.

“That bastard, getting all giddy just ‘cause he has a fan now...” In-hyeok muttered to himself.

Seon-jae turned toward him.

“What did you say?”

“Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“I heard everything, asshole.”

“If you heard me, why didn’t you turn when I called your name?”

In-hyeok stood up from the piano bench, walked over, and patted Seon-jae’s shoulder.

“What are you listening to?”

He pulled out one earbud and stuck it in his own ear. His eyebrows furrowed.

The song playing was completely at odds with the dreamy look Seon-jae had a second ago. In-hyeok had expected something bubbly and upbeat—a cheerful love song or something. But no, it was a heart-wrenching breakup ballad.

“Did she carry you on her back while giving this to you too?”

In-hyeok nodded toward the MP3.

“Yeah.”

“Seriously, how old is this thing? My cousin used to use one of these. Next thing you know, she’s gonna bring you ancient royal earrings from a tomb and say it’s tribute or something.”

Seon-jae burst into laughter.

“You make it sound like she’s some kind of grave robber.”

“She probably could pull it off.”

In-hyeok nodded seriously, then fiddled with the MP3 before placing it back in Seon-jae’s hand.

“Hey, In-hyeok.”

“Huh?”

“If someone gave you their number, and you didn’t save it... would that mean you weren’t interested?”

“Yeah, probably.”

In-hyeok leaned on the window ledge beside Seon-jae, looking up at the sky, then frowned.

“...Wait. Is this your situation?”

“No.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

“It’s not.”

“Who’d you give your number to? Wait—you gave your number to a girl?”

“I said I didn’t.”

As In-hyeok leaned into him, Seon-jae pushed his arm away and yanked the earbud from his ear. Just then, the bell rang.

Whenever he texted her, she gave short, dry replies. When he asked to meet, she lied and said no. And yet she said I love you so easily. What does that even mean? What kind of situation is this?

He wanted to ask In-hyeok. But something told him not to.

He thought of the way Sol had hugged him—how small she was in his arms. Between them had been that rounded glass jar. From his view, all he could see was the top of her head buried in his chest, as if she never wanted to let go.

He hadn’t known what to do with his hands, so he left them hanging awkwardly in the air. Her trembling shoulders, her hiccuping cries—they felt so childlike. Whatever she was saying, it sounded like she was crying because of him. But her words made no sense. He hadn’t known what to say. Except one thing had burned into his memory:

“I love you, Seon-jae.”

Just remembering it made his cheeks flush.

“You listening to me?”

In-hyeok turned his head, looking at Seon-jae walking beside him in the hallway. His face was flushed. Anyone could tell he hadn’t heard a word.

“Ryu Seon-jae. Look at you. Your face is on fire again.”

As In-hyeok slung an arm around his neck and squinted at him teasingly, Seon-jae finally stepped aside, a beat too late.

“What are you even saying.”

He grumbled and walked ahead, leaving In-hyeok to laugh behind him.