The chartered buses made their quiet return journey back to Seoul as the winter sun began its slow descent over the highway.
I took my seat in the three-seat row beside Ha-neul, again. But this time, Park Jun-seo didn't join us. The Student Council President chose a single seat three rows ahead on the opposite side of the aisle, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his digital tablet for the entire three-hour drive.
'Ha... there is definitely something major going on between those two.'
My internal detective ran through every possible scenario in rapid succession. Did Jun-seo confess his feelings down by the frozen lake and get utterly rejected? Did Ha-neul panic and freeze, leaving him hanging without a proper answer? Or... is Jun-seo just an unexpectedly terrible kisser?
The absurdity of that third thought made a quiet, stifled snort escape my nose.
I leaned closer to Ha-neul, dropping my voice to a cautious whisper.
"So... did something happen between you and Jun-seo last night?"
Ha-neul flinched as if I had poked her with a hot needle.
Her cheeks instantly flushed a dark, violent pink.
"W-What?!" she stuttered, her voice cracking slightly before she frantically pulled herself together. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing happened!"
She narrowed her eyes behind her glasses, sliding right back into her familiar, sharp defensive shell.
"Why don't you focus on your own abysmal mock exam scores instead of inventing wild romance novels, Mountain?"
'Romance? I said nothing about romance! Ha-ha, she's so funny!'
I looked around the bus, letting out a quiet sigh.
There wasn't even anyone I could properly dissect this fresh gossip with. Kang Min-ah was sitting way back in the rear section, completely buried under her heavy camera bags and sleeping off her sheer exhaustion from two days of non-stop filming.
'Besides,' I pondered, looking out the window at the passing snow-covered fields, 'should I even mention the moonlit lake incident to anyone? Or keep pressing Ha-neul about it?'
I decided against it.
'Nah. For now, I'll just sit back, keep my mouth shut, and enjoy the front-row seat as a spectator.'
The fleet of buses finally pulled up to Kirin's main administrative gates in the late afternoon.
A warm wave of farewells, laughter, and exhausted chatter filled the gravel parking lot as sixty students unloaded their luggage. In a surprising twist of elegance, a courier arrived right at the gate to deliver a lavish, anonymous bouquet of fresh winter lilies directly to Ms. Choi. Our strict homeroom teacher held the flowers with a rare, genuinely touched smile, though she quickly cleared her throat and tried to maintain her stern administrative composure.
Waiting right beside the main gate, leaning casually against the sedan, was Ji-hoon. He was wearing an exceptionally posh, tailored black wool coat, looking like he had stepped straight out of a magazine spread.
"Over here, kids!" Ji-hoon called out, waving a gloved hand.
We threw our suitcases into the trunk and slid into the warm leather interior. As Ji-hoon navigated the heavy Seoul traffic, he glanced into the rearview mirror.
"So? How was the famous winter retreat?"
Ha-neul and I took turns filling him in on the details—the chaotic hide-and-seek match, the mysterious village shaman, our acoustic H-Wnot campfire performance, and the volunteer work at the orphanage.
As we neared our neighborhood, I leaned back against the headrest, a broad, mischievous grin spreading across my face.
"Honestly, the ride back was way easier for me. I didn't have to haul that ridiculously heavy leather bag of Ha-neul's that you prepared for her."
Ha-neul gasped loudly, her head snapping toward me in pure betrayal.
"I don't know what you're talking about! That was... prepared by a friend! Not oppa!"
Ji-hoon's eyes instantly locked onto mine through the rearview mirror.
A heavy, suffocating, and thoroughly awkward silence stretched through the car for three long seconds.
Ji-hoon let out a pathetic, nervous cough, his cool, stylish older-brother persona completely shattering in a single instant.
"San-ah..." he asked pitifully, his voice dropping into an urgent, desperate whisper. "You... you didn't mention anything about that bag to Mom, right? Please tell me you didn't."
I burst into loud laughter at how thoroughly terrified the university student was of his own mother.
"Relax, hyung. Your contraband secret is completely safe with me. Besides, I had fun too!"
Ji-hoon let out a massive, dramatic sigh of relief, slumping slightly against the steering wheel.
"Thank god. I'd be disowned before Seollal."
We pulled into the familiar driveway, gathered our luggage, and stepped through the front door.
The moment the door opened, a warm, nostalgic scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet cinnamon enveloped us.
The house had been completely transformed while we were away.
Festive evergreen garlands were draped along the wooden staircase banister, delicate fairy lights flickered softly in the hallway, and a massive, beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood proudly in the middle of the living room, its glass ornaments sparkling under the soft golden light.
"Did Mr. Lee finally order something except of antique giraffe?"
Mrs. Lee stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a linen apron, a glowing, motherly smile brightening her face the second she saw us.
"Welcome back, my babies!" she beamed, coming over to give both Ha-neul and me warm hugs. "You must be completely exhausted! Come, sit down, I specifically prepared a feast for your return!"
Mr. Lee was missing from the hall, so my giraffe teasing was left unanswered,—likely still trapped in late-year corporate board meetings at the hospital—but the dining table was already laden with steaming bowls of home-cooked stew, braised short ribs, and fresh side dishes.
I pulled out my wooden dining chair, sat down in the warm, brightly lit room, and took a deep, contented breath.
After all the chaos, the freezing forest hunts, the secret kisses, and the late-night music, I was finally home.