“Ah, now that I know your class, I don’t have to follow you around anymore.”
“That’s not why I didn’t answer.”
“Then is it because you forgot the professor’s name? Or are you embarrassed because it’s about last names and society and all that?”
“I said no!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
It’s natural for freshmen to sign up for random classes out of curiosity. But if they kept playing this game of twenty questions, it would take forever to complete the list. Sa-yoon decided to go with a more efficient approach.
“Just open your schedule. Or you can check on the school website…”
As he spoke, he started accessing the school website, but a hand suddenly reached in and covered the screen.
Sa Shin-jae was not only tall but also had ridiculously large hands. His hand, completely obscuring the screen, even blocked the edges of Sa-yoon’s high-resolution, 100x zoom-capable phone.
The hand that had so casually taken over his phone pressed the side button firmly, shutting off the screen entirely.
“This is enough.”
Shin-jae spoke without even looking in his direction, eyes turned toward the window.
Wait, didn’t he just ask for the past exams a moment ago? This was like one of those fickle cats that begged for attention only to swat you away and walk off. And yet, for someone who looked like an oversized puppy.
“It’s fine, really.”
Did he already have another way to get the past exams? Thinking about it, just because he didn’t have close seniors didn’t mean he was completely out of options. It wasn’t uncommon for classmates to share past exams among themselves.
Sa-yoon wasn’t interested in dragging this out any further. Cute and exhausting were two completely different things.
“Great. Now my phone is covered in your fingerprints.”
As he tapped the back of Shin-jae’s hand—where the veins were visibly pronounced—the hand jerked away immediately. In an instant, a tissue was shoved in his direction.
***
“The weather’s gotten unpredictable.”
By the time they stepped outside, the sky had clouded over. It was as fickle as an actor’s mood swings. At least it wasn’t raining yet, but with bad luck, a few drops could start falling during the test shots. The thought made Sa-yoon pick up his pace.
“You saw the script, so you know we’re starting here.”
Finally reaching their destination, Sa-yoon turned to look beside him. The area in front of the library was still quiet, as midterm season hadn’t kicked in just yet.
“Starting from the part where I walk down the stairs, right?”
“Yeah.”
Before Sa-yoon could even ask if he had gone over the script, Shin-jae answered immediately. When Sa-yoon nodded, Shin-jae strode up the stairs.
The theme of the graduation project was simple—youth. A time dazzling yet relentless, beautiful yet exhausting. It was a stage of life everyone went through, making it an easy topic for people to relate to, but also one that risked being cliché. Some had raised concerns about it, but at this point, there was no turning back.
Sa-yoon took out his phone. Today was just for checking the movements and framing, so he had come light.
“It would’ve been better if the sun was out.”
It wouldn’t be an issue since they planned to shoot on a clear day, but the overcast sky still annoyed him.
“When I give the signal, come down.”
“Got it.”
After finishing the setup, Sa-yoon took a couple of steps back and checked the screen. Raising his hand, he gave the signal, and Shin-jae began descending. His pace was just right—neither too fast nor too slow.
All 188 centimeters of his broad-shouldered frame fit neatly into the frame. His slightly bowed head made the soft texture of his hair stand out even more.
“Haa.”
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, staring at the tip of his shoes. Then, with a deep sigh, he lifted his head. His tightly furrowed brows, stiff lips, and body language exuded exhaustion.
Shin-jae gazed up at the sky and slowly closed his eyes.
Ding-dong.
The sound of the video recording ending played. As his eyes opened again, his light-colored irises were revealed beneath his long lashes, now directed straight at Sa-yoon. The tired young man from just moments ago had completely vanished.
“Was that good? Should I do it again?”
Sa-yoon didn’t answer. He simply kept his eyes on the screen. The recording was done, but he hadn’t turned off the camera, and the rectangular frame still held Shin-jae within it. Noticing the lingering camera, Shin-jae raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
It felt like a dream. So much so that he remained frozen until Shin-jae walked up and tapped him.
“Did I mess something up?”
“Shin-jae.”
Was this even possible? His voice dropped lower in disbelief. A flicker of unease crossed Shin-jae’s face at the way his name was called.
“If you tell me what didn’t work—”
“You’re insane.”
Since he was the sole actor, there were barely any lines—most of the emotions had to be conveyed through expressions and movement.
It would be good to go through a few more takes, but what he had just done far exceeded expectations. It wasn’t just that he knew the script—he had clearly thought about how to portray the scene, how to embody it.
“How the hell does a person do that?”
Handsome, talented in acting, and hardworking—how was it possible for such a gem to appear right in front of him?
Without thinking, Sa-yoon pulled Shin-jae into a tight hug.
“Wh-what?! What are you doing?!”
“This is amazing! Did you practice at home?”
Truthfully, Sa-yoon had cast Shin-jae precisely because of his acting, yet he hadn’t set high expectations for today’s shoot. He had framed it as a simple test to check movements and angles, and usually, people didn’t put this much effort into a graduation project.
But Shin-jae’s slightly melancholic expression combined with the overcast sky had created a scene far better than he had imagined.
“Was it okay?”
“Of course.”
Sa-yoon grinned brightly as he praised him, but Shin-jae just frowned.
“Then why did you act like that earlier? You scared me.”
Shin-jae didn’t realize it, but Sa-yoon had envisioned this scene dozens of times. And now, seeing it unfold before him—even better than he had imagined—how could he possibly stay calm?
Instead of explaining all that, Sa-yoon simply smiled again, his eyes crinkling.
“You’re always so extreme. There’s never an in-between with you, is there?”
Finally, Shin-jae seemed to relax, letting out a deep breath and pressing his lips together.
“Oh, your lips.”
Noticing the bad habit, Sa-yoon instinctively reached out a finger. He hadn’t actually meant to touch him, but since they were already close, Shin-jae must have misunderstood because he jumped back immediately.
“Biting your lips like that isn’t good…”
“Let’s go already. You said we were in a rush for the next shoot!”
“Oh, right! I’m really looking forward to the next scene too. I mean, I always knew you were good at acting since your theater club days, but still.”
The flood of compliments must have been embarrassing because the tips of Shin-jae’s ears turned red.
“Shin-jae, your ears are red.”
His fair skin made the contrast too obvious to ignore.
“It’s just… because it’s cold!”
“Uh-huh, sure…”
Shin-jae quickly turned around and strode up the stairs.
“Wait a sec. Let’s do one more take here. This time, I’ll shoot from the side and walk down with you.”
“Okay.”
For someone who whined about everything at the café, he followed directions perfectly once the camera started rolling—truly a natural-born actor. And, unsurprisingly, the next take was just as brilliant.
“Why aren’t you seriously pursuing acting?”
Sa-yoon let out a sigh of admiration as he reviewed the new footage. With this kind of presence and talent, not being an actor seemed like a waste. Especially considering Shin-jae wasn’t even completely uninterested in acting.
Then again, if he had pursued acting, he wouldn’t be available for this graduation project.
Even though this was just a test shoot, Sa-yoon was itching to start the real filming.
“I’ve just never really thought about it.”
Well, loving acting and actually wanting to be a professional actor were two different things. That made sense. Sa-yoon nodded in understanding.
“Look at this—you came out amazing in this shot.”
Sa-yoon scrolled through his gallery and turned the screen toward Shin-jae. Most of the shoot had been recorded as videos, but he had taken a few photos in between. Even though he was the one who took them, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at how stunning some of the shots were.
“You’re pretty good at this, huh?”
The picture showed Shin-jae standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking off to the side. The expression on his face gave the photo an especially atmospheric feel. After studying it for a moment, Shin-jae nodded.
“Yeah. You actually are.”
“Right? I’ve got a knack for this. Oh, hold on, I’ll send this to you now.”
Sa-yoon immediately opened his messaging app and sent over the photo.
Their next location was a cherry blossom path—something that existed on just about every campus. However, with summer still lingering, the path was filled with lush green leaves, giving it a refreshing, vibrant feel.
“Try walking down that way. I’ll shoot from behind.”
“Okay.”
Shin-jae started walking, creating some distance between them. Then, suddenly—
Squeak.
“Huh?”
Sa-yoon, who had been focused on his screen, lifted his head. It sounded like a child squeezing a rubber toy.
He held his breath and listened, but the surroundings were completely still. The area was empty, with no one in sight. Had he imagined it? Tilting his head in confusion, he was about to follow after Shin-jae when—
Meow.
A tiny, barely audible sound. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed it entirely.
Sa-yoon’s eyes swept over his surroundings until they landed on a bush by the side of the path. Something about it drew him in.
He crouched down and carefully peered through the leaves.
And there, hidden between the branches, he met a pair of round, golden eyes.
A tiny kitten with soft, cream-colored fur.
