The Best of Tomorrow-Chapter 4Vol 2. .1: The Street from the Dream

After school, on the way to the office, Baek In-hyeok veered off toward a bookstore, saying he needed to buy a phone charging cable. When they opened the door, the quiet interior was steeped in the smell of books. Baek In-hyeok walked off to find the cable, and Ryu Seon-jae, who had been standing idly, wandered toward the bookshelves.

Hands in his pockets, he skimmed over the book spines tightly packed into the shelves. Past the foreign novels, then domestic literature, until he stopped at the poetry section. Turning his body to face the shelf squarely, he took in the row of book spines, each a different color. His eyes landed on one title—Affectionate Terms.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and pressed his index finger against the edge of the poetry book to slide it free. Holding it in one hand, he read the title over and over again in his mind. Affectionate Terms. Affectionate Terms.

The moment he stepped into the bookstore, he had thought of Im Sol. Because of all the bizarrely titled books she’d given him under the pretense of offering tribute. Maybe that’s why, upon seeing Affectionate Terms, he immediately thought of names like Chun-baek or Run Away with Seon-jae on Your Back. Not that she’d ever really called him those names affectionately.

He flipped through a few pages. One line on a randomly turned page struck a chord.

[What do you call the things that are there one moment, and gone the next?]

Seon-jae’s face darkened with melancholy. At first, Im Sol had just seemed ridiculous. But those absurd situations—and the Im Sol who created them—kept coming back to his mind. Maybe it was because of something Baek In-hyeok said, but she had started to seem... endearing. And gradually, his heart leaned toward her.

Eyes open or closed, her face lingered in his thoughts. When the sun was out, when the wind blew. He could list a hundred reasons why she came to mind. Glancing absentmindedly out the classroom window and suddenly thinking of Im Sol blowing on hot ramen noodles in the convenience store. Watching the schoolyard from the railings with Baek In-hyeok after lunch, and remembering how she’d dived in the opposite direction to stop a ball he had kicked.

He hadn’t been able to hide the swelling in his chest and had told her he liked her—and suddenly, she became a stranger. Told him not to appear again, and yet kept showing up, building a room inside him only to never enter it. The room she made in him remained empty, ownerless. A hollow space where displaced feelings pooled.

It wasn’t the rejection that hurt most—it was that she had seemed to cross some invisible line, going somewhere unreachable. The warmth gone from her eyes. The face that looked at him like he was a complete stranger. The subtle sadness that had settled in her aura. He was lost, and there seemed to be no way back.

“Hey, buying a book?”

Baek In-hyeok appeared between the shelves holding a charging cable. He frowned when he realized what Seon-jae had in his hand.

“Poetry? What, class time isn’t enough for you?”

Seon-jae laughed faintly at the jab and nudged In-hyeok’s side with the poetry book. Then he turned to walk off, not putting the book back.

Baek In-hyeok’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re seriously buying that?”

“Can’t I?”

Seon-jae placed the book on the checkout counter and smiled silently. He intended to give it to Im Sol.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how different she seemed now—like someone else entirely. Why had she become such a dark, joyless version of herself? That thought hadn’t left Seon-jae’s mind.

In front of the bookstore, Seon-jae stood alone, waiting for Baek In-hyeok to return from the restroom. He absentmindedly touched the book cover and pulled a pen from his bag.

His eyes drifted to the clean, colored flyleaf. He held the pen, spinning it slowly. What should he write?

He turned to the page where he’d seen that line in the store. The poem titled There Is No Wind to Guide Wings That Have Never Touched the Air. His dark pupils traced the printed lines. Biting his lower lip, he flipped back to the flyleaf. And then, his hand moved.

[What do you call the things that are there one moment, and gone the next. I liked that line, so I bought this. Even if I’m not with you now, maybe a day will come when I suddenly am. I want to understand you.]

He added a period and stared at the sentence he’d written. There was more he wanted to say, but this was the best he could do.

He returned the pen to his bag—and saw Im Sol, head bowed, walking past.

Seon-jae’s eyes quickly followed her.

“Chun-baek.”

He called out the name, just in case. But no one turned back.

Slowly, he followed behind her. Her sunken head, her slouched shoulders—they looked so heavy.

Im Sol climbed the stairs of the overpass, eyes on the ground.

A few steps behind, Seon-jae followed.

At the top, Im Sol stopped, standing by the railing and staring off into the distance.

Seon-jae stopped too, watching silently.

In the fading light, under the scattering glow of the streetlamps, she looked steeped in sorrow.

What is she seeing? What is she thinking?

He stared at her face, wondering.

She had been staring at the place where the road met the sky.

Slowly, her head turned—and her eyes met his across the overpass.

Her eyes shook, full of anxiety and fragility.

“......Uh.”

Before Seon-jae could say anything, she turned and began walking across the overpass.

He hurried down the stairs behind her, catching {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} up quickly and grabbing her wrist before he realized it.

Im Sol looked back, startled.

“......W-Why?”

Her voice trembled with unease.

Seon-jae’s eyes scanned her face.

Her lips were cracked, scabbed, as if she’d bitten them over and over.

Her teary eyes trembled with fear.

Her pupils, drained of warmth, had turned dark and empty.

His heart burned.

It was her, but at the same time, not her.

How was he supposed to process this?

His mind spun in circles.

“Hey, Chun-baek.”

“......”

“I came to give you this.”

He tried to hand her the book—but she pulled her arm away.

He grabbed her retreating hand more firmly.

“Hey.”

“......I-I really don’t remember. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else...”

Seon-jae lowered his gaze and exhaled.

What the hell was this?

There was no one to explain it. Just this gnawing confusion.

“You seriously don’t know me? You’ve never seen me?”

“...I’m sorry. But I really—”

“Just take this, at least.”

Im Sol resisted, pulling her hand back.

Her face was all twisted up—and only then did he realize he was holding her wrist too tightly.

She had always run away like this, before he could say anything.

He let go and rubbed his face.

While he exhaled and tried to figure out how to explain, Im Sol suddenly took a step back.

It happened in an instant.

She misstepped and her weight tipped backward.

Seon-jae’s arm shot out and grabbed her by the arm.

Their feet left the steps—bodies tilted into air.

He wrapped his arms around her.

They tumbled down the stairs.

His heart pounded violently.

No sound reached his ears—it was like the world had gone silent.

He opened his tightly shut eyes to see Im Sol in his arms.

“You okay?”

As soon as he saw her face up close, he couldn’t say another word.

Instead of an answer, she started to cry.

Not with sound—just trembling shoulders, holding it in.

That trembling passed through his arms.

Something inside him collapsed.

Soundlessly. Quietly.

□ ◆ □

Outside a convenience store, Baek In-hyeok sat with his legs crossed on a plastic chair, staring disapprovingly at Seon-jae, who was drinking his third chocolate milk.

Seon-jae finished the last one and searched his pockets.

Baek In-hyeok slammed a fist against the table.

“Hey, Ryu Seon-jae. You’re gonna drink another one? Stop it already. Do you even know how many calories that is?”

At the scolding, Seon-jae quietly pulled his hand out, coins jingling.

They were nineteen now.

It was winter break.

School was out—and someone no longer showed up.

The one Seon-jae called Kim Chun-baek.

The one Baek In-hyeok called Run Away with Seon-jae on Your Back—Im Sol.

It was an especially cold winter.

A cruel one, for Seon-jae.

Yesterday, after practice, he had suddenly walked home with Baek In-hyeok.

Normally, they took separate buses.

When In-hyeok asked, “Where are you going?”

Seon-jae said, “Your house.”

It was weird that he suddenly wanted to sleep over, but hey—it was break, so why not.

They watched a movie in the living room, ate ramen, and lay down in the bedroom.

Seon-jae didn’t talk much.

Didn’t smile.

It was strange, but Baek In-hyeok didn’t press.

Then, in the darkness, he sensed something off.

Blinking up at the dark ceiling, he turned and looked—

Seon-jae was buried under the blanket up to his head.

That was weird.

He yanked the blanket off—and found him crying.

Ryu Seon-jae.

Thinking it couldn’t be real, he touched his cheek.

It was wet.

“Hey, Ryu Seon-jae. What’s wrong with you?”

He thought maybe something serious happened at home.

But all he said was, I don’t know.

“What do you mean, you don’t know. Is it because of Im Sol?”

At those words, Seon-jae’s face crumpled even more.

Baek In-hyeok sighed.

Nineteen-year-old Im Sol pretended not to know them—again.

If it was an act, she should’ve gone into film, not college.

The absurd denial annoyed In-hyeok.

But he figured Seon-jae, who was even colder than her, must be feeling it worse.

Though Seon-jae had seemed mostly fine on the outside, he must have bottled it all up.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

In-hyeok had comforted him quietly.

Since that night, Seon-jae no longer hid how he felt.

“What is she even thinking?”

“......”

“Hey, just let it all out. Maybe it’s your first time liking someone—this is normal, you know?”

“I feel empty.”

Seon-jae finally spoke, face heavy with sorrow.

“It’s like something’s just... gone.”

“Gone? What’s gone? Im Sol’s probably doing just fine—sitting at home eating tangerines or something.”

“It didn’t feel like she was pretending. It felt like she really didn’t know me.”

Baek In-hyeok quietly watched as Seon-jae’s eyes sank deeper into gloom.

“I want to see her, but it feels like she’s someone I’m not allowed to see anymore. Like everything we shared was just a dream.

She really didn’t seem to know me.

And because I don’t understand why... I can’t even hold on.

It’s driving me crazy.”

He was about to say, What do you mean crazy? Time heals everything. Just forget her,

—but he held his tongue.

Because Seon-jae was wiping away tears.

Was this guy always such a crybaby? he wondered.