The alarm on my phone blared at 6:30 AM, yanking me out of a dead sleep like a bucket of ice water. I groaned, slapping at the screen until it shut up, then rolled over, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me. Another day in this pressure cooker of a house. Yesterday's move-in chaos felt like a distant memory, but the rivalry with Ji-eun? That was as fresh as ever. I could already hear her banging around in the bathroom down the hall—probably hogging the mirror for her "artistic" morning routine.
I dragged myself out of bed, throwing on a t-shirt and shorts, and shuffled to the kitchen. Mom was already up, humming some old trot song as she prepared breakfast. The smell of fresh rice and fried eggs filled the air, a small comfort in the midst of the humidity that hadn't let up overnight.
"Morning, Min-jun-ah," she said, smiling warmly as she set a bowl of kimchi jjigae on the table. "Big day today. Ji-eun's first day back at college. You should wish her luck."
I snorted, pouring myself a cup of barley tea from the fridge. "Luck? She'll need more than that if she's still turning in those doodles she calls art. Besides, why would I wish her anything? She'd just throw it back in my face."
Mom sighed, shaking her head. "You two... always at each other's throats. Try to be nice for once. It's her sophomore year; she could use the support."
Before I could retort, Ji-eun burst into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging like a weapon. She was dressed in a simple white blouse and jeans, her backpack slung over one shoulder, tablet peeking out from the top. "Eomma, have you seen my stylus? I swear I left it on the counter last night."
Mom pointed to the windowsill. "Right there, dear. Eat something before you go. The bus comes in half an hour."
Ji-eun grabbed the stylus, then eyed the food with a grimace. "No time. I'll grab a coffee on campus." She shot me a sidelong glance, her lips curling into that familiar smirk. "What, no snarky comment, oppa? Cat got your tongue this morning?"
I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms. "Oh, plenty. Like, good luck not failing your classes because you spent all night sketching cartoons instead of studying. Real groundbreaking stuff."
She rolled her eyes, snatching a banana from the fruit bowl. "At least I'm creating something. You're just staring at a screen all day, typing gibberish. Have fun with your 'remote job'—hope the Wi-Fi doesn't crap out on you again."
"Better than wasting time on 'graphic design' that's basically fancy stickers," I fired back, but she was already heading for the door.
"Whatever. See you later, losers." The door slammed behind her, leaving Mom and me in silence.
Mom gave me a disapproving look. "Min-jun..."
"What? She started it."
I spent the morning settling into my work routine, laptop open on the dining table, coding away on bug fixes for the startup app. The house was quiet without the parents—Mom off to the market, Appa at the office—and for once, no Ji-eun to interrupt with her complaints. But by noon, boredom crept in. My remote gig was flexible, so I decided to take a break and head out. Maybe grab lunch in town, clear my head.
Little did I know, my path would cross with Ji-eun's world sooner than expected.
Ji-eun's college was a modest junior institution on the outskirts of Seoul, nothing fancy like the big universities in the city center, but it had a decent design program. The campus was a sprawl of low-rise buildings surrounded by patches of green, students milling about with backpacks and coffee cups. I wasn't planning to go there—hell, why would I?—but my favorite kimbap spot was right across the street, and hunger won out.
As I parked my beat-up Hyundai in the lot nearby, I spotted her immediately. Ji-eun was walking with a group of girls, laughing at something one of them said. She looked... different out here. Less prickly, more animated. Not that I cared.
I ducked into the kimbap shop, ordering a tuna roll and some tteokbokki to go. But as I waited, the door chimed, and in walked Ji-eun with two of her friends. Great. Just what I needed.
"Yah, Min-jun? What the hell are you doing here?" Ji-eun's voice cut through the chatter, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
I turned, feigning surprise. "Eating. What does it look like? This place has the best kimbap in town. Not everything revolves around you, you know."
One of her friends, a short girl with dyed pink hair and a nose piercing, giggled. "Oppa? Is this your brother, Ji-eun?"
"Stepsibling," Ji-eun corrected quickly, her tone dripping with disdain. "Unfortunately. Min-jun, meet Soo-ah and Hye-jin. Girls, this is the annoying guy I was telling you about—the one who thinks he's a coding genius but can't even boil water without instructions."
Soo-ah, the pink-haired one, extended a hand with a bright smile. "Nice to meet you! Ji-eun talks about you all the time. Mostly complaints, but hey."
I shook her hand, chuckling despite myself. "All lies, I assure you. She's the one who turns the kitchen into a war zone."
Hye-jin, taller with glasses and a stack of notebooks under her arm, nodded politely. "We're in the same design class. Ji-eun's really talented, you know. Her digital illustrations are killer."
Ji-eun preened a bit at that, but shot me a warning glare. "Don't start, Min-jun. We're just grabbing lunch before our afternoon lecture."
I shrugged, paying for my order. "Wasn't planning to. Enjoy your 'creative' day. Try not to doodle on the desks."
As I left, I heard Soo-ah whispering, "He's kinda cute, though. In a nerdy way."
Ji-eun's response was immediate: "Ew, gross. Don't even go there."
Back home, I ate my lunch while debugging code, but my mind wandered. Those friends of hers seemed decent—chatty, but not annoying. Not that it mattered. Ji-eun and I were oil and water; no amount of side characters would change that.
The afternoon dragged on. I had a quick video meeting with my team lead, discussing feature updates, then dove back into work. Around 4 PM, the door banged open—Ji-eun home from school.
She stormed into the living room, dropping her backpack with a thud. "Ugh, what a day. Professor Kim is such a hardass—assigned a whole project on the first day."
I didn't look up from my screen. "Boo-hoo. Welcome to real life. At least you get to play with colors all day."
She flopped onto the couch, kicking off her shoes—right into my line of sight. "And what, your job is so tough? Sitting on your ass typing? Please."
"Typing that pays the bills, unlike your 'art' that's probably destined for the recycling bin."
She grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV to some variety show. "Whatever. At least I have friends to vent to. Soo-ah and Hye-jin think you're a total dork, by the way."
I smirked. "They seemed nice. Too nice for you. How do you not drive them away with your attitude?"
"They get me. Unlike some people." She cranked up the volume, drowning out my typing.
I slammed my laptop shut. "Yah, turn that down! I'm working here."
"Work in your room, then. This is common space."
We argued for a good ten minutes until Mom got home, groceries in hand. "What's all the yelling?"
"Nothing," we both muttered.
Dinner prep became another battleground. Mom asked us to help chop vegetables for bibimbap. Ji-eun took the carrots, slicing them with exaggerated precision. "See? Even chopping, I'm better."
I grabbed the zucchini. "Yeah, right. Yours look like they got run over by a truck."
"Shut up and focus, or you'll cut your finger off."
"Like you'd care."
Appa arrived just in time, diffusing the tension with his work stories. Over dinner, he asked about Ji-eun's day. "How was school, Ji-eun-ah? Make any new friends?"
She brightened a bit. "Actually, yeah. Soo-ah and Hye-jin from last semester—we're teaming up for a group project. And there's this new guy, Park Tae-woo. He's in our class, super talented with animation. We chatted during break; he invited us to a study group tomorrow."
I raised an eyebrow, shoveling rice into my mouth. "Tae-woo? Sounds like a try-hard. Bet he's just hitting on you."
Ji-eun's eyes flashed. "Jealous much? At least people want to hang out with me. Your social life is your computer screen."
"Quality over quantity. And no, not jealous. Just calling it like I see it."
Mom intervened. "Enough, you two. Ji-eun, that's great. Min-jun, maybe you should get out more too. Reconnect with old friends."
I shrugged. "I'm fine. Got a call from my buddy Jae-ho earlier—wants to grab beers this weekend."
Appa nodded approvingly. "Good. Balance is key."
After dinner, cleanup was mercifully quick, though Ji-eun "accidentally" elbowed me while reaching for the detergent. "Oops."
"Yeah, right."
That evening, as our parents watched their drama, I retreated to my room, scrolling through social media. A message popped up from Jae-ho: "Dude, long time. Beers Saturday? Bring stories from home—heard your stepsis is a handful."
I typed back: "You have no idea. She's worse than ever."
Meanwhile, I could hear Ji-eun in her room, probably on the phone with Soo-ah or Hye-jin, her laughter filtering through the wall. It grated on me—why did she get to sound so carefree?
The next day followed a similar rhythm, but with school in full swing for Ji-eun, the house dynamics shifted. She left early, armed with her tablet and a smug wave goodbye. "Don't burn the house down while I'm gone."
"As if. Don't fail your classes."
Work kept me busy, but around lunch, I got a text from an unknown number: "Hey, Min-jun? This is Soo-ah, Ji-eun's friend. She left her notes in class—can you tell her to meet us at the cafe across campus?"
I frowned. How'd she get my number? Probably from Ji-eun. I replied: "Sure. But why me?"
"She's not answering. Thanks!"
I forwarded it to Ji-eun, adding: "Your friends are more organized than you. Shocker."
Her response: "Mind your own business. And delete Soo-ah's number."
"Too late. She's nicer than you anyway."
The exchange pissed me off, but it also introduced more people into our orbit. Later that afternoon, when Ji-eun got home, she had company—Tae-woo, the new guy, tagging along for their study group. He was tall, with messy hair and a backpack covered in stickers, looking every bit the artsy type.
"Min-jun, this is Tae-woo," Ji-eun said curtly, leading him to the living room. "We're working on the project. Don't bother us."
Tae-woo waved awkwardly. "Hey, man. Nice place."
"Yeah, thanks. Try not to let her boss you around too much."
Ji-eun glared. "Ignore him. He's irrelevant."
They set up on the coffee table, tablets and laptops out, discussing color palettes and storyboards. I eavesdropped from the kitchen while pretending to make coffee. Tae-woo seemed chill, laughing at Ji-eun's jokes, complimenting her ideas. "That's genius, Ji-eun. Your style is so unique."
She beamed. "Thanks. See, some people appreciate talent."
I rolled my eyes, heading back to my room. But not before muttering, "Suck-up."
As the week progressed, these side characters became fixtures. Soo-ah and Hye-jin dropped by once for a quick planning session, filling the house with chatter. Soo-ah was bubbly, always cracking jokes; Hye-jin more reserved, buried in her notes. Tae-woo showed up a couple more times, and I caught Ji-eun smiling more around him—still snarky with me, though.
On my end, I met up with Jae-ho mid-week for coffee. He was my old high school buddy, now working in marketing downtown. "Man, living with Ji-eun again? How do you survive?"
"Barely," I admitted, venting about the latest clashes. "She's got this whole crew now—friends from school. Makes the house feel like a dorm."
Jae-ho laughed. "Introduce me sometime. Maybe I can charm her into being nicer."
"Dream on. She'd eat you alive."
Back home, the rivalry simmered. One night, during a family movie, Ji-eun hogged the popcorn. "Pass it," I said.
"Get your own," she snapped.
Mom sighed. "Share, please."
We did, but with glares.
Humor slipped in during mishaps. Ji-eun tripped over Tae-woo's backpack one evening, spilling her drink. I burst out laughing. "Karma for leaving your crap everywhere."
"Shut up! It's his fault."
Tae-woo apologized profusely, but the look on her face was priceless.
Swearing dotted our private spats. "Damn it, Min-jun, you used all the hot water!"
"Shit, Ji-eun, your music is blasting through the walls!"
But the side characters added layers. Soo-ah texted me once more, asking about Ji-eun's birthday—apparently planning a surprise. I replied curtly, but it felt weirdly connecting.
By week's end, after a heated debate over dinner plans—Ji-eun wanting delivery, me insisting on cooking—we sat exhausted on the porch again.
"You're still impossible," she said.
"Ditto."