The day of the shoot.
Park Woo-jun had been up since dawn, diligently packing their lunch. Despite his big, bear-like hands, he moved with surprising finesse, crafting each dish with care and precision.
Meanwhile, Lee Han-seo—who’d barely slept from obsessively researching online which rides to hit first—just sat across the kitchen island yawning and opening his mouth like a baby bird.
Every time he did, Woo-jun chuckled and happily fed him a slice of gimbap or a plump, de-stemmed strawberry, bustling around with a spring in his step.
“Is it good?”
With his cheeks stuffed full of tuna gimbap, Han-seo nodded enthusiastically. Watching him chew like a chipmunk, Woo-jun couldn’t help but bounce in place like an excited kid. In his excitement, though, he ended up bursting the side of the roll he was making. All the fillings spilled out—and that ruined one became his.
“You’re really good at this.”
“Phew, that’s a relief. I was nervous.”
“Then how come you’ve never made it for me before?”
“Mm, sorry. I’ll start making it for you every day!”
“Let’s not go that far.”
Even before joining the Center, Han-seo had lived like a pampered heir. And after joining, he’d only ever used the credit card his mom gave him to buy every meal. Cooking? That was an alien concept.
Woo-jun, on the other hand, had been living alone and cooking for himself since high school. His hands might’ve looked rough, but they always managed to produce something delicious.
For Woo-jun, there was nothing more satisfying than watching Han-seo’s eyes light up—even over something simple like stir-fried anchovies—and hearing him gush, “Wow, this is amazing!” or “It’s so good!”
The amusement park, nestled in the heart of Seoul, wasn’t far by car. Maybe because rush hour had just passed, the roads were surprisingly empty.
Han-seo took the wheel, buzzing with excitement, while Woo-jun cradled the lunchbox like a precious treasure in the passenger seat. The car? A luxury sports model, worth as much as a house—a birthday gift from his maternal grandfather when he turned twenty.
“Let’s see… The pre-shoot meeting’s at one-thirty… So we’ve got, like, three hours to play, even after we eat.”
It wasn’t a long time to be at an amusement park, but it was a hundred times better than nothing.
As soon as they arrived, Han-seo grabbed Woo-jun’s hand and took off running. He’d memorized the map thanks to all his pre-trip research and knew exactly where the most popular rides were.
Woo-jun didn’t care much for the rides themselves. He was just happy to be out with Han-seo under the guise of a date, so he let himself be pulled along, following obediently.
Each time they got on a ride—roller coasters, pirate ships, whatever—Han-seo screamed with excitement, laughing and squirming like a kid high on sugar. Woo-jun, seated beside him, would awkwardly raise both hands to match the mood, all while mentally noting, So this is the kind of stuff he likes…
They finally unpacked their sacred lunchbox after checking off about half the attractions on Han-seo’s list.
They found a sunny bench, settled down, and opened the lid. Inside were rolls of gimbap made that morning, inari sushi, fresh fruit, and small sandwiches. Classic picnic fare—simple but perfect.
“Oh, hey. Aren’t those two…?”
“Yeah, it’s them. Should we go say hi?”
“What are they doing out here? I heard they hardly ever leave the Center.”
They hadn’t noticed it while running from ride to ride, but now that they were seated, the whispers from passersby were getting harder to ignore.
Maybe we should’ve worn masks…
Then again, we’re not celebrities. That’d be overkill.
Still, Han-seo instinctively glanced at Woo-jun, checking his face for any reaction.
“Hey, Woo-jun. You okay? Want to just eat in the car instead?”
“Hm? Why? Is the sun too bright?”
“You…”
There was no way he hadn’t heard the murmurs. Even Han-seo had caught them loud and clear. Yet Woo-jun, with his round, gentle eyes wide open, still looked as carefree as ever.
To this day, Han-seo didn’t know exactly what had happened to Woo-jun before they met. He’d assumed he was just a regular college student, but clearly, there had been wounds—ones he still didn’t fully understand.
Woo-jun wasn’t the type to bring up his past, and Han-seo wasn’t the type to pry. He didn’t need to know everything. As long as he could love him enough to make up for whatever hurt he carried, that was enough.
Back when they first became a pair, Woo-jun had been extremely sensitive to people’s eyes on him.
Every time it happened, Han-seo would panic like an overprotective parent, pulling the trembling Esper behind him and staying close until he calmed down.
“Ahem. Well… As long as you’re fine, then I’m good.”
“……??”
Han-seo, amused by the way he blinked with his chopsticks still clamped between his lips, popped a cherry tomato into Woo-jun’s mouth.
If he said he was okay, then that was enough.
After finishing their meal, the two strolled hand-in-hand, slowly meandering through the park. With their bellies full, a lazy drowsiness settled in, and neither felt like braving more rides.
But something strange started to nag at Han-seo.
Woo-jun seemed oddly familiar with the layout of the park. Whether it was the location of the restrooms or where to find a vending machine, he answered before Han-seo could even ask—like muscle memory.
Weird. Did he use to come here a lot? He never mentioned it to me…
“Looks like you’ve been here more than a few times.”
Lee Han-seo spoke up as casually as he could, trying to sound indifferent.
It definitely wasn’t because of the swarm of school-uniformed teen couples wandering around on a weekday, arms linked and all smiles. Nope. Not at all.
“Oh? Uh… yeah. The school I went to… was kinda nearby…”
Woo-jun’s reaction was practically see-through. His shoulders gave a faint jolt as he answered, eyes darting everywhere but at Han-seo.
What the hell is up with this guy?
Han-seo’s suspicion, which had been half in jest up until a second ago, suddenly dropped like a ten-ton weight.
“What’s with you? Why are you stammering all of a sudden? Huh? And why won’t you look at me?”
“When did I ever—!”
“You’re doing it right now.”
And then, as if perfectly timed by some cosmic prank—
Right there behind Park Woo-jun, on a tall pink wall. Among the dozens of scribbled hearts and glittery messages left by visitors like constellations—
One sentence, bold in black marker, stabbed into Han-seo’s vision like a flashing neon sign:
[Park Woo-jun♡Seo Ah-young — Let’s never break up, even when we go to college!]
“Hey.”
“Y-Yeah?”
“I’m only asking because I really hope I’m wrong here.”
“W-Why, baby? You’re scaring me…”
“That ‘Woo-jun, heart, Ah-young’ written on that wall back there.”
Han-seo pointed.
Park Woo-jun turned, stiffly, slowly—like a man being led to the gallows.
And then he saw it.
Yep. He saw it too.
“That you?”
A leftover scrap of some long-forgotten past shoved Lee Han-seo right off an emotional cliff.
“Why aren’t you answering, huh? PARK WOO-JUN!!”
“Ahhh! Han-seo, baby! Just wait—can you please let go of my hair first?!”
***
“Baby. You mad?”
[Park Woo-jun♡Seo Ah-young — Let’s never break up, even when we go to college!]
“Babe? Han-seo? Honey…?”
…Should I just kill him?
“Aww, our Han-seo is mad… You’re so mad, huh…”
But how do I kill him in a way that everyone in the neighborhood agrees he had it coming?
“It’s my fault, I know… I messed up…”
Han-seo was fully, completely, absolutely livid. The second he saw that ancient scribble on the amusement park wall—Park Woo-jun, heart, Seo Ah-young—his vision had gone red.
“Park Woo-jun. Heart. Seo Ah-young.”
“Han-seoooo…”
When Woo-jun called him in that whining, pitiful voice, Han-seo didn’t even glance at him. Just shot him a side-eye so vicious it could slice steel.
Woo-jun’s heart was shriveling into a raisin.
It wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t true. Yeah, it was old. Yeah, he barely remembered it. But it was still him.
“Park Woo-jun. Heart…”
How the hell was the name after that not Lee Han-seo? No matter how he tried to rationalize it, Han-seo just couldn’t.
Sure, it happened before they met. Sure, plenty of people say you should be chill about your partner’s past.
But if anyone dared to say that to him right now, he’d slap them with a lawsuit so fast their head would spin.
“‘Even when we go to college’? So she was your girlfriend in high school, huh.”
Logical thinking? Rational discussion? Screw that. He wanted to scream at the sky. His blood was boiling.
And the most infuriating part—
“Baby, should I raise both hands? No, wait—I’ll just kneel. I’m kneeling now.”
—was that even now, Woo-jun still hadn’t said the words “It’s not true.” He hadn’t denied a single thing. That traitorous bastard.
Han-seo felt wronged. Betrayed. Furious beyond belief.
If Woo-jun had just shaken his head, just said “No,” he could’ve forced himself to believe it was someone else.
Oh, must be someone with the same name. What a coincidence.
He could’ve lied to himself. (Sure, in an omniscient Lee Han-seo POV, this is wishful thinking. If Woo-jun had denied it, Han-seo absolutely would’ve screamed about how dare he lie to the man he calls the love of his life.)
“You said I was your first love.”
“You are…”
“Then who the hell is Seo Ah-young?”
“I… I honestly don’t remember…”
“You wanna die?”
“Nooo…”
Dear Lord, forgive me… but I’m about to send one man your way today.
