Ha-rin called me.
Let me introduce you to Baek Ha-rin—the only daughter of the CEO of Zilca-
high-end Korean clothing brand that rules Seoul Fashion Week like it's a family hobby.
Despite being born into luxury, Ha-rin's the kind of girl who'd trade a designer bag for a corndog if it made you smile. A little chaotic, a little too pretty for her own good, and completely hopelessly in love with one guy.
His name?
Yoon Ji-ho.
Tall. Quiet. Wears glasses but looks better without them.
He went straight to military service after high school—Ha-rin cried for a week and still swears he ghosted her emotionally even though he called every Sunday. Now he's back, in college, and today… is his birthday.
So, naturally, we planned a surprise.
In the evening, we headed toward Korea University, where Ji-ho was having his evening classes.
I even brought one of my most cursed kindergarten photos—me with bowl-cut hair, missing teeth, and holding a plastic mic like I owned the nation's music charts. Of course, I told him it was Ha-rin's childhood picture. Her horror was worth the lie.
Before that, we stopped by La Bonbonnière, a cozy little French-Korean fusion cake shop tucked into a quiet alley near the university. Inside, warm fairy lights hung like vines across the ceiling, and the scent of vanilla sponge and espresso danced in the air. A small pianist bear statue sat on the counter, bowing with every payment made.
We picked a cake with pastel ombré icing and a tiny fondant Ji-ho holding a bouquet.
The shop girl even gave us heart-shaped candles.
Now, we sat at a side table, the box beside us, hearts racing.
All we had to do…
was wait for Ji-ho to walk through those doors.
It was Ji-ho—the boy who used to be head over heels for Ha-rin.
Back in high school, he followed her around like a lost puppy with a crush: carrying her books, waiting outside the dance studio with a bottle of cold peach tea, pretending not to care when she laughed with other boys. Everyone thought he was just another lovesick teenager.
But I knew.
He was sincere.
And Ha-rin? She used to brush him off. Not cruelly—just with the kind of indifference that beautiful girls wear like perfume.
Until, one day… she didn't.
One day she looked at him like he was the only person who ever waited.
And she fell.
Just like in my previous life.
Just like me.
Except… not everything ends the same way every time.
With Ji-ho were his college friends.
Nice enough. But… wow. They were so average.
Like, "plays soccer on weekends and thinks that's a personality" kind of average.
I smiled politely, even waved—but my eyes were already scanning the area. Not for Ji-ho. Not for Ha-rin's sake.
But because—there he was.
Joon Seo-hyun.
Standing by the glass counter of the cake shop like he owned the damn place.
Black shirt, sleeves rolled halfway, veins visible. Slim-fit pants. That lazy silver chain on his wrist catching the light.
Hair messy like he just got out of bed.
Or someone's bed.
His blue eyes scanned the dessert menu like it owed him an apology.
Seriously?
What is this guy doing here again?!
Club.
Convenience store.
Now this?
Of all the people in Seoul—heck, in Korea—I keep bumping into the one who looks like trouble wrapped in magazine covers.
Coincidence? Fate? Or just my bad luck acting up again?
I quickly looked away, pretending to listen to Ji-ho's boring story about some group project. But my eyes… traitors… drifted back to Joon Seo-hyun.
And he was already looking at me.
He walked straight toward me, that lazy smile already playing at his lips.
"Well, well... neighbor Ji-ah," he said smoothly. "What a pleasant coincidence."
Pleasant, my foot.
I forced a smile for the sake of public civility. "Hello, neighbor. Fancy meeting you here."
Ji-ho glanced between us, eyebrows raised. "Wait, you two know each other?"
Before I could answer, someone from his group said, "Oh, you haven't met him yet? He just joined our department."
Of course. Of all places.
Joon Seo-hyun—the unnervingly handsome guy from the club and the convenience store—was now Ji-ho's classmate.
He stood there like he owned the air around him.
White linen shirt, sleeves casually rolled up
Loose charcoal trousers, high-end sneakers
Silver chain barely peeking from his collar
Hair swept back like he didn't try, but somehow still flawless
A single earring glinting in his left ear
Ugh. Of course he dressed like a K-drama lead.
Ji-ho, oblivious, continued. "He just transferred in. Foreign exchange student. Majoring in Cyber Security. Can you believe it? Dude can probably hack the Pentagon if he gets bored."
"And volleyball team," another friend added. "Girls from other departments sneak into our games just to watch him."
I blinked.
So this guy—this weirdly present, smirking, ramen-ruining neighbor—was now Ji-ho's classmate, a hacker, a volleyball player, and apparently, a magnet for drama?
Ha-rin leaned closer to whisper, "Isn't this the guy you punched?"
I gave her a look.
This wasn't just a coincidence anymore.
This was the start of a headache.