Chapter 1: When Strangers Collide
It was a rainy afternoon in Seoul. The streets glistened with wet asphalt, and the faint smell of burnt coffee mixed with the earthy scent of rain. I dragged my umbrella through the mall entrance, already muttering about overpriced drinks and assignments I had procrastinated on for far too long.
The coffee shop near the bookstore caught my eye. I pushed the door open, the bell jingling above my head. Steam rose from the counter as the barista called out orders. I scowled at the menu board.
"$6 for a latte? Seriously?" I muttered, glaring at the tiny cup illustration.
The barista, a bored-looking girl with a messy bun, shrugged. "Prices, you know… city life."
I groaned, digging through my bag for coins and bills. "$6.50? Ugh. Fine. But this better wake me up."
As I waited, I fidgeted with my scarf, eyeing the books stacked beside the counter. I had promised myself I'd study today… but the rain made me lazy, and caffeine seemed like a better companion.
Finally, my name was called. I grabbed the cup, nearly spilling it as I maneuvered through the crowded space. "Thank you," I muttered, glancing around for a seat.
That's when it happened.
I rounded a corner too quickly, distracted by the steam curling from my cup, and someone collided into me. My bag slammed to the floor with a thud, books tumbling everywhere. My latte tipped dangerously, but somehow survived.
"Yah!" I snapped, glancing up at the culprit.
He was tall, lean, and dressed in a black shirt that hugged him in all the right places. His hair was messy, dark, and looked like he'd just walked off a magazine cover. That jawline… too sharp, too perfect, and far too infuriating for a stranger.
"My bad," he said, not sounding sorry at all.
"Are you blind or just stupid?" I fired back, hands on my hips.
He chuckled. "Feisty. I like that."
I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, "Asshole."
As I bent down to gather my scattered books, he crouched beside me, glancing at the titles. "Need help, or are you too proud for that too?"
I grabbed a book from his hand. "I'm good. Thanks," I said, trying to sound polite, though my cheeks flushed in a mix of anger and embarrassment.
He raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Right. Polite and stubborn. Impressive."
I bit back a retort, muttering, "I'm definitely going to hate you."
"Or maybe," he said, leaning back on his heels, "you'll end up remembering me forever."
I frowned. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Am I?" His smirk deepened, almost mocking.
I snatched the last of my books, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Okay, genius. Move along now."
"Alright, alright," he said, standing up. "But maybe next time… watch where you're going."
I muttered something under my breath, glaring at his retreating figure. I couldn't tell if I wanted to punch him or laugh at how ridiculous this encounter was.
---
I finally found a corner to sit, sipping my latte. It was strong, bitter, exactly what I needed, and I tried to focus on my homework. But my mind kept drifting back to him—the smirk, the dark eyes, the infuriatingly calm way he had crouched beside me like nothing had happened.
I shook my head. Stop thinking about him. He's just a stranger.
Then I muttered aloud, bitterly, "$6.50… for this." I took another sip and made a mental note to argue with the barista next time.
---
The rain outside intensified. People scurried with umbrellas, and I was halfway through finishing my notes when… it happened again.
I was about to leave, balancing my coffee and bag, when he appeared—literally in front of me, around a corner I hadn't noticed.
"Whoa—watch it!" I squealed, nearly spilling my latte.
He chuckled, his voice low and teasing. "You seem to have a thing for almost tripping over me."
I glared at him. "Seriously, do you follow me or something?"
He raised a brow. "Maybe. Or maybe you just run into me everywhere."
I crossed my arms, trying not to melt under his teasing. "Right. Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
He crouched down again to help me gather the dropped books. "Still stubborn," he said, handing me the last one.
"I'm not stubborn. I'm careful," I snapped, taking it quickly.
"Careful?" he asked, smirking. "You call running into strangers careful?"
I huffed, trying to ignore the blush creeping onto my cheeks. "Not all strangers are as… infuriating as you."
He leaned slightly closer, smirk never leaving his face. "Infuriating, huh? That's my favorite compliment."
I groaned, shoving past him with my bag. "You're unbelievable."
"Hey, at least I'm memorable," he called after me, voice echoing down the hall.
I muttered under my breath, "I will forget you. I promise."
---
And then… it hit me.
I had noticed him before somewhere, hadn't I? That smirk, that way he moved, the casual arrogance—it was all familiar. My heart thumped in a strange rhythm I didn't understand, a flutter of unease and curiosity.
I shook my head again. Stop thinking about him. Stranger. Just a stranger.
---
Later, as I trudged back toward the university building, my mind still replaying the collision, I spotted him again.
Not in the coffee shop. Not in the mall.
But standing at the entrance of the lecture hall, leaning casually, arms crossed. Glasses perched on his nose this time, a collared shirt replacing the black tee, but that smirk—the one that haunted my thoughts—remained.
And suddenly… I knew.
This wasn't a coincidence.
My chest tightened. My latte-tinged morning of chaos suddenly felt like the start of something… dangerous. And thrilling.
I froze, staring at him, my heart racing and my brain screaming nonsense.
He noticed me.
And smiled.
A slow, deliberate smile that said more than it should.
I swallowed hard, whispering to myself, "What the hell is he doing here?"
And at that exact moment, everything—my carefully controlled morning, my plans, my peace of mind—collapsed into a single thought:
> This isn't over.