So… it was real. That slap from Mi‑Cha felt real at the very least. Real and painful. Convinced to be trapped in a dream or not, Si‑woo was still a teenager. He had to act.
Somehow.
While they climbed toward the top floor, Si‑woo tried to lace his fingers through Mi‑Cha's. He thought of something bolder, but he was too shy. He moved either too fast—or Mi‑Cha too slow—and his hand landed on… her butt.
Then the slap.
— Oh sorry, Mi‑Cha said, extending her hand to her swollen cheek. I reacted by instinct—are you okay? Should we head back to the infirmary?
Si‑woo shook his head. He'd have loved to ease her worries, but he was too busy laughing.
— What strength! he managed between laughs.
Mi‑Cha permitted herself a small, proud smile.
— That's thanks to training! Our coach pushes us to do just enough muscle work to define our bodies and graceful movements.
She rolled up her sleeves, revealing defined biceps. Si‑woo hesitated to touch them, but the sting at the corner of his mouth reminded him to hold back. He climbed the last few steps and stood beside her.
— How do you know I didn't do it on purpose… you know, he said, nodding at his own hand and the place it had landed. She burst out laughing and opened the door to the rooftop.
A rush of wind swept through the stairwell. Her hair, usually neat, escaped her bun and whipped against her face. She walked backward, guiding Si‑woo toward the center of the platform. The sky was clear, weather mild—and Mi‑Cha's silhouette, etched against the sparse clouds, was captivating. She moved closer, mischievous smile playing on her lips.
— That's really not your style, she teased. And if it was on purpose, well… consider yourself punished.
She jabbed her finger into his cheek. Electricity shot through him. Pain radiated from the mark, but there was something else igniting his heart.
— Are we going out together ?
He couldn't hold it back. The question had lodged itself in his throat ever since the nurse had said the word "girlfriend." It was, after all, his dream. Maybe his imagination was compensating for Il‑seong's despicable behavior.
Mi‑Cha's reaction was nothing like what he expected. Her face flushed so hot, he saw her roots turn as crimson as her cheeks. She hid her face in her hands.
— You're such an idiot, Si‑woo—an idiot!
A chill ran down his spine.
Oh no!
She must've felt sorry for him—that's all. Pity him even. And he had tumbled headfirst into obscene fantasy. Him and Mi‑Cha, the future global idol—it was impossible. Pure madness ! They'd never ever get together…
— You could've asked more gently.
Si‑woo thought he would suffocate. Mi‑Cha had stood upright, walking toward him while playing with her hair. She looked… nervous?
— And besides, the rooftop is so cliché.
Reeling, Si‑woo needed more time—much more than he'd ever admit—to grasp her meaning: she thought he'd just confessed his feelings.
— Oh. You think I… that I… I wouldn't mind, but…
— You know, Si‑woo, she cut in. I like you, too.
Si‑woo was speechless. She pressed on, unaware of his stunned state.
— I was too scared to show it, or Jeunk would've bullied you twice as harshly.
She wasn't wrong. If Jeunk had caught wind of this, Si‑woo would've been shredded.
— Actually, I've noticed you since sophomore year.
Si‑woo couldn't process it. She was confessing—right then. Right now.
No. No. NO! he screamed internally.
— Mi‑Cha, wait...
His voice was barely a whisper. Thoughts scrambling, voice thick with panic, Mi‑Cha nestled closer, her small head tilted, shy smile blooming. Si‑woo's face went as red as a tomato.
NO. NO. NO!
He couldn't tell if this was a dream, a nightmare, or reality. He was ruining this moment with his own panic.
— Listen… he tried again.
He couldn't say more. Even on tiptoes, she barely reached his shoulder. She seemed so small. So fragile. He was terrified of saying the wrong thing.
Has everyone always been shorter than me?" Si‑woo thought irritably. I really need to stand up straight!
Mi‑Cha continued, oblivious to his internal struggle, her fingers lightly brushing his sore cheek.
— I fell for you when you defended that freshman.
What are you talking about?! He was about to scream.
She must know he was the biggest coward of the school !
When Mi‑Cha's fingertip touched his skin, Si‑woo was blinded by flashes of memories—memories that weren't his. He saw himself standing up to Il‑seong in front of a terminal, the same one Il‑seong had bullied that afternoon. But in that vision, they were wearing first‑year uniforms. Si‑woo stood tall, dominated the terminal, pushing it while shouting—though the words were unintelligible, like drowning behind water. He couldn't recall when it happened. He wasn't sure it had—even existed. The memory rippled and vanished as Mi‑Cha stepped back, brows furrowed.
— Are you okay, Si‑woo. You should sit.
He followed her silently to a low wall near the fence. Si‑woo sat, giving her enough space. Mi‑Cha puffed her cheeks while staring into the void.
An angry squirrel, Si‑woo thought, smiling affectionately.
He remained still, and she edged closer until his heart raced. She rested her head on his shoulder and pulled out her phone.
— My manager just posted videos of our recent practices. Want to watch?
— Mmh?
Si‑woo couldn't speak—her strawberry‑shampoo scent clouded his senses.
She must've taken his hum as a yes because she opened a video app. Both froze at the trending videos. The top three thumbnails featured Jeunk looking ridiculous in the gym, with titles like "School king gets nuts."
An awkward tension filled the air.
— You... you've heard from him? Si‑woo stuttered.
Mi‑Cha slowly nodded.
— He messaged me. His dad's thinking of committing him to a psychiatric hospital.
Si‑woo stiffened. He had wanted vengeance for everything Jeunk had done. He'd imagined firing him, toppling his father—but now, victory tasted salty. Only guilt remained.
— I'm sorry, he murmured.
— It's not your fault.
His throat tightened. It was his fault.
Everything.
He shouldn't have played around with Jeunk. He wasn't sure giving Il‑seong powers had even been a good idea. His friend had become what he despised most.
He should have ignored that damned message that night!
He wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Once the system reset, he'd guide Il‑seong back to the right path—and he'd never use it for revenge anymore. Not ever again. Not at all !
— Si‑woo? You're daydreaming? Mi‑Cha drew in close, breaking the silence.
He forced a smile.
— He was your boyfriend, after all. You must be—
A sharp elbow to the ribs silenced him. Mi‑Cha faced him, pressing her palms to each of his cheeks. He winced when she touched the hurted one.
— I NEVER dated Jeunk. Get that into your head—and tell your friend Il‑seong the same.
— What does Il‑seong have to do with this? he asked.
She sighed and flopped back against him.
— Forget it. Let's just watch the video.
He didn't argue. His image of his friend was already too warped. He didn't want another reason to hate him.
Mi‑Cha went back to her screen. She scrolled through profiles until she found her agency's. She tapped the newest video.
The opening notes of a popular K‑pop track played, and the screen lit up with Mi‑Cha and her teammates performing a complex dance. Si‑woo watched half-heartedly as she read the comments.
— Everyone's talking about her, Mi‑Cha murmured.
— Who?
— Magical Smile.
She nodded toward a stunning young blonde—probably dyed—with long legs and a captivating grin. She came to the camera, flicking it off with a wave. Si‑woo recognized her instantly: a former YouTuber who'd burst into popularity about three months ago.
— She's technically skilled, even if her moves lack elegance, Mi‑Cha observed. You can tell she trains hard.
Magical Smile spun—winking at the camera—and delivered her signature line: "Charm Charm, Smile and Joy!" Mi‑Cha winced. That line sent the internet into a fan mess :
"I love you, MS!"
"Charm Charm! Magic phrase, and I'm at your feet!"
"So beautiful and talented! She should go solo!"
— So, what do you think of her? Mi‑Cha asked "innocently," giving him a sly smile.
Si‑woo sensed the trap and avoided her gaze.
— If your manager brought her into the group, she must be solid.
Mi‑Cha rolled her eyes. It was surreal to have such a relaxed, normal conversation with her—as if she wasn't the popular girl, and he the target of bullies. Maybe this wasn't a dream after all…
He leaned against the fence, shifting slightly. Mi‑Cha settled comfortably against him, phone still in her hand.
— She works hard—that's obvious. But she's kind of… odd.
— More than me? Si‑woo teased.
Mi‑Cha nudged him again.
— I'm serious! She talks to herself!
— Really…
Si‑woo closed his eyes, lulled by Mi‑Cha's exasperated tone.
— Yeah, she's often in her own world. She doze off and twitches her fingers. I asked her why, and she said it's a tic. Can you believe that?
Si‑woo believed it. So strongly that his eyelids began to twitch.
— Are you sure?
— Absolutely!
He thought of the blonde idol's hair again. Maybe it wasn't dye—maybe it glowed with the same yellow aura that wrapped Il‑seong. The aura of players.