My alarm went off at 5:30 AM, which was objectively a crime against humanity, but I'd committed to this life two years ago when Min-Ji and I drunkenly decided to start a running club. "It'll be great for stress relief!" we'd said. "We'll be so healthy!" we'd said. We were idiots.
I slapped my phone until it shut up and rolled out of bed, nearly tripping over the stack of law textbooks I'd abandoned on the floor last night. Constitutional Law II stared up at me judgmentally. Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual.
The apartment was already showing signs of life. I could hear Min-Ji singing something off-key in the kitchen—probably that girl group song she'd been obsessed with for three weeks—and smell coffee that was definitely too expensive for my budget but exactly expensive enough for Yoo-Na's.
I shuffled into the kitchen in my ancient SNU hoodie and running tights, my hair a disaster that I'd deal with later. Or never.
"You look like death," Min-Ji announced cheerfully, not even turning around from where she was murdering eggs at the stove. Her own hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing scrubs with cartoon dogs on them. Vet student chic.
"You look like you're about to perform surgery on a Pomeranian at six in the morning," I shot back, reaching for the coffee pot.
"That's at eight, actually. Different Pomeranian than yesterday, though. This one has an attitude problem."
"So it's your soulmate."
"Rude."
Yoo-Na glided into the kitchen like she was filming a commercial for... I don't know, existence? She was already fully dressed in one of those outfits that screamed "I'm not trying" but probably cost more than my tuition. Cream cashmere sweater, tailored pants, hair in a perfect low ponytail. At 5:45 AM. It was offensive.
"Are you really wearing cashmere to campus?" I asked, accepting the coffee she handed me. She always poured it before I could—claimed I didn't know the proper coffee-to-water ratio. She wasn't wrong.
"I have a meeting with my brand management professor at nine," she said, settling gracefully onto one of our mismatched kitchen chairs. "First impressions for the semester."
"It's week two."
"Exactly. Late enough to seem effortless, early enough to seem keen."
Min-Ji pointed her spatula at Yoo-Na. "This is why you're going to run a luxury empire someday and we're going to be your employees."
"You're going to be a vet," Yoo-Na said patiently. "You're going to save lives."
"And you?" Min-Ji turned the spatula on me.
"I'm going to work myself into an early grave juggling three jobs and undergrad, apparently." I drained half the coffee in one go. It was too hot. I didn't care.
Yoo-Na's perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. "Did you apply for the internship?"
"Which one? I'm applying to twelve."
"The one at Jiseung. My father mentioned they're very selective this year."
Of course her father mentioned it. Yoo-Na's father probably personally knew every managing partner in Seoul. Meanwhile, my father knew every variety of soju and how to avoid loan sharks. Different skill sets.
"I applied," I said. "Along with everyone else in my year who has a pulse and wants to get into a decent law school."
"You'll get it," Min-Ji said with absolute confidence, sliding eggs onto three plates. "You're scary smart and you have that thing."
"What thing?"
"That 'I will destroy you in a courtroom' energy. Law schools love that."
"That's literally what they're looking for, Min-Ji."
"See? You're already nailing it."
I checked my phone. 5:52 AM. "We need to leave in three minutes or I'm running late to my own running club, which is a special kind of pathetic."
"You're always late," Yoo-Na observed, but she was already standing, rinsing her coffee cup with the kind of graceful efficiency that made me feel like a chaos goblin by comparison.
"I'm punctually challenged. It's a disability."
"It's a choice," Min-Ji said, but she was already grabbing her own running shoes.
The March morning air hit my face like a wake-up call I didn't ask for but probably needed. Campus was already stirring—overachievers heading to the library, coffee shops opening, that particular buzz of a new semester still fresh enough that people hadn't started contemplating dropping out yet. Give it a month.
Min-Ji and I speed-walked to the meeting spot near the main gate, where a small crowd was already gathering. Our running club had grown from a drunk idea to about twenty regular members, which was either impressive or a testament to how many people made bad decisions in their freshman year and couldn't back out now.
"Unnie!" One of the freshman members waved at me enthusiastically. I couldn't remember if her name was Ji-Eun or Ji-Yeon, but she had the energy of a golden retriever, so I waved back.
"Alright, people!" Min-Ji clapped her hands like a deranged PE teacher. "New semester, new runs, new reasons to question our life choices at 6 AM! Everyone stretch!"
I did a quick headcount while everyone started their warmups. Fifteen people today—not bad for the first week back. A few familiar faces, a handful of new ones trying to look like they definitely knew what they were doing and hadn't just signed up because the club fair had free snacks.
And then I saw him.
He was standing slightly apart from the group, doing a quad stretch with the kind of precision that screamed military service. Tall—definitely taller than me, and I wasn't short. Broad shoulders, the kind of build that came from actual discipline, not just gym selfies. Dark-framed glasses that should have made him look nerdy but somehow didn't. Sharp jawline. The kind of face that was quietly handsome, like he wasn't trying to be noticed but you noticed anyway.
Well. Okay then.
I looked away before it became obvious I was staring, focusing instead on my own hamstring stretch. New guy. Probably joined because his friends dragged him or he was trying to get in shape after military service or literally any reason that wasn't my business.
"New members!" Min-Ji was doing her usual spiel. "Introduce yourselves so we know what to call you when you're dying at the halfway point!"
A few people laughed nervously. New Guy stepped forward with the rest of them, and I definitely did not pay attention to how he moved with the kind of easy confidence that came from someone comfortable in their own body.
"Choi Bok-Jin," he said. His voice was quiet, measured. "Second year, business major. Just finished military service."
Called it.
"What made you want to join?" Min-Ji asked, because she had no sense of boundaries and thought everyone loved answering personal questions at dawn.
He adjusted his glasses—a small, almost unconscious gesture that I absolutely did not find endearing. "Needed something structured. Running seemed like a good option."
Structured. Military brain. Made sense.
"Well, welcome to structured chaos," I said, and his eyes flicked to me for the first time. Dark eyes behind those frames, and for a second, there was this... spark of something. Amusement? Interest?
Then it was gone, and he nodded politely before stepping back into the group.
I shook it off. Attractive guy at running club. So what? I had exactly zero time for attractive guys, running club or otherwise. I had law school applications to stress about, two part-time jobs that barely covered my expenses, LEET prep to save money for, and a semester that was already threatening to bury me alive.
"Alright!" I called out, channeling my inner drill sergeant. "Standard route today—around campus, about five K. Stick together for the first half, then it's every person for themselves. Don't die, don't get hit by a bus, and if you do, don't tell people you're from this club. Let's go!"
A chorus of groans and laughs, and then we were moving.
The thing about running is that it's the only time my brain shuts up.
Not completely—I'm not enlightened or whatever—but enough that the constant noise of law school applications, LEET prep costs, part-time job shift at six, assignment due Thursday, need to call Mom, should probably eat something besides ramyeon, why is tutoring so expensive, maybe I should have studied business fades into something manageable.
It's just breath and pavement and the burn in my legs and the music pounding in my earbuds. I had my running playlist on shuffle—a chaotic mix of rock, punk, and whatever K-pop songs Min-Ji had bullied me into downloading. Right now it was The Rose, which was perfect for the rhythm I was finding.
The morning light was doing that thing where Seoul looks almost pretty—golden and soft, hitting the cherry blossom trees that were just starting to think about blooming. Campus looked less like a stress prison and more like one of those university promotional posters. Lies, but pretty lies.
I pushed harder, feeling my heart rate kick up, legs finding their pace. This was mine. This half hour of not being broke, not being behind, not being worried. Just moving.
I was grinning without realizing it—one of those stupid, free smiles that probably made me look unhinged, but whatever. No one was paying attention anyway.
Except I was wrong about that.
I didn't see him matching my pace until we hit the turn near the library. Choi Bok-Jin, keeping steady about two meters to my right, breath controlled, form perfect. He wasn't pushing to pass me, wasn't falling behind. Just... there.
Our eyes met for half a second.
And then I put him out of my mind and focused on the run.
By the time we circled back to the meeting point, I was pleasantly dead. The good kind of exhausted where your legs feel like jelly but your brain feels clearer. A few people were bent over, gasping dramatically. The freshman golden retriever girl looked like she was reconsidering her life choices.
"Good run, everyone!" Min-Ji announced, barely winded because she was an actual monster. "Same time Friday. Don't be late, or Ji-Mang will judge you."
"I judge everyone regardless," I said, stretching my calves against a bench.
People started dispersing—some heading to the showers, others straight to early classes, a few lingering to chat. I grabbed my water bottle and checked my phone. Three missed messages from my manager at the convenience store, two from my mom, one from a classmate asking about notes.
Normal life, rushing back in.
I glanced up briefly, catching sight of Choi Bok-Jin grabbing his bag from the grass. He was talking to one of the other guys in the club, nodding at something, still with that quiet, reserved energy.
Cute. Definitely cute.
Also definitely not my problem.
I had a shift in two hours, an assignment due tomorrow, and approximately seventeen things to worry about that ranked higher than a quiet guy with glasses and good running form.
"Ready?" Min-Ji appeared at my elbow, bouncing on her toes like she hadn't just run five kilometers.
"Ready," I said.
We headed back toward the apartment, and I didn't look back.
I had more important things to think about.