First, today I’ll go to class. After that, I’ll calm Min Siheon down.
Sure, he seems pretty pissed right now, but we’ve built up enough history that he wouldn’t say he never wants to see me again. That’s what I told myself to feel better.
It might be a little hard enduring being around him while he’s with that bastard Heemin, but since it’s come to this, I figured I’d just have to grit my teeth and bear it.
By the time Min Siheon’s feelings finally reach Go Heemin, I’d somehow have adjusted too—an admittedly dumb, brute-force kind of solution.
How far had Kang Taeyoon and Go Heemin gone? To everyone else, they looked like nothing more than close friends—almost family.
Even to me, who knew the original story, the line between them had never seemed that clear.
…If anything, I wish they hadn’t gone all the way to the end.
I felt pathetic, but love… really wasn’t something you could help.
I didn’t even know I had this kind of self-sacrificing side. A small scoff escaped me.
Once I got home, I decided I’d organize the original plot of Love Prequel.
I remembered hearing that their feelings aligned only after graduation. In that sense, you could say there was still plenty of time left.
Surely, Kang Taeyoon and Go Heemin had spent their entire university years walking that fine line—more than friends, less than lovers.
I knew that Go Heemin eventually began to question their relationship and resolved to push Kang Taeyoon away.
And somewhere in that process, he discovered the things Kang Taeyoon had done behind his back, leading to a pivotal incident that deepened their relationship.
I distinctly remembered hearing that a darkened Kang Taeyoon showed a terrifying side of himself.
And at that point, the one who got caught between them would’ve been Min Siheon.
“Ah.”
Just those three syllables—Min Siheon—sent a sharp pain piercing into my solar plexus. It felt like someone was pricking me over and over with a needle.
Frowning, I pressed my fingers there lightly as if to soothe it and resumed my hurried steps.
Where was I? …Right, Min Siheon.
As planned, after falling for Go Heemin, Min Siheon realized that Kang Taeyoon and Go Heemin were in some kind of strange relationship.
But their romantic front was hindered by Go Heemin’s obliviousness and his fear of changing the relationship he had with Kang Taeyoon, who had always been his friend.
Min Siheon had exploited that, slowly melting Go Heemin within his embrace. The fact that Kang Taeyoon had started as a longtime friend ended up working against him.
From their very first meeting, Min Siheon treated Go Heemin in a way completely different from how he treated friends.
Maybe that was why Go Heemin had never found a clear reason to reject him.
Even as the thought this shouldn’t happen crossed his mind, Go Heemin likely couldn’t escape Min Siheon’s touch.
…He’s incredibly gentle and dangerous. The kind of person you can’t help but give your heart to at just the wrong moment.
“Ugh, why did my thoughts drift there again?”
I resented how my mind always veered into defending Min Siheon.
In the original work, he’d been portrayed as darker and more insidious than in reality. In truth, he felt softer—more like something that slowly seeped in.
This isn’t good. I’ll think about it later. Walking through campus in broad daylight wasn’t exactly ideal for sorting this out.
There were too many students passing by, which made steadying my heart even harder.
Enduring the dull ache creeping in, I forced myself to walk as if nothing was wrong. Only when I reached the quieter back path behind a building did I finally pull my phone out of my bag.
The phone I’d kept turned off all morning stared back at me with a lifeless black screen.
I have to turn it on eventually. If I was going to live my daily life, I couldn’t keep it powered off forever.
The aftermath felt like it would be overwhelming. But how bad could it really be? I let out a sigh.
After several deep breaths, I braced myself and pressed the side button.
With a flashy rainbow animation, the background screen—set to my class schedule—appeared.
As the loading notification popped up, I entered my passcode pattern. Beyond the blinking light, a new screen appeared.
What is this…?
I blinked.
A number I’d never seen before was displayed on the screen.
[Missed Calls—47]
[Messages]
[Messages]
[Messages]
:
:
Forty-seven? I’d only turned my phone off this morning.
I’d checked the notifications for the calls Min Siheon had made until dawn. So those must have been purely the calls that came in after 9 a.m.
…Is he that angry? The situation was getting more serious by the second, and my legs nearly gave out.
At least this back path was deserted.
I staggered toward the building wall and leaned against it. Bowing my head, I stared weakly at the hand clutching my phone.
“Calls are one thing, but…”
Beneath the missed calls, there was an endless stream of messenger app notifications. I couldn’t see the content, but I could see the sender’s name.
[Message from ‘Min Siheon’]
[Message from ‘Min Siheon’]
[Message from ‘Min Siheon’]
:
:
How much could he possibly have to say? At this point, I had to acknowledge his persistence. If I didn’t have class, I would’ve steeled myself and contacted him already.
But in my current mental state, if I talked to him now, I’d probably ruin the resolve I’d just built up to attend class properly.
So I decided I’d have a sincere conversation with him after my day was over.
Looking at the endless incoming messages, I whispered silently for him to wait just a little longer.
“I’ll apologize—more than enough to make up for how angry you are.”
I just hoped he wasn’t too upset.
But as if mocking that hope, my phone vibrated again almost immediately. He must’ve noticed it was on, because the response was frighteningly fast.
Afraid someone might hear, I dragged down the top bar and switched it to silent.
Only then did I slowly read the three characters on the screen.
[Min Siheon]
There was no sign of Min Siheon hanging up. I felt foolish for thinking he’d eventually get tired if I didn’t answer.
The ringtone must have played dozens more times, yet the vibration showed no sign of stopping.
If anything, it seemed he’d grown more stubborn. Less than two seconds after an automatic disconnection, he called again.
New missed calls stacked over the existing ones.
It had started at forty-seven—how much time had even passed? The number quickly climbed past fifty.
“…Should I just answer at this point?”
My throat felt tight from sighing. Rubbing my chest in frustration, I lifted my head and looked up at the sky.
At this rate, class or anything else felt meaningless. I’d planned to handle this slowly in the evening, but it seemed like I needed to calm him down first.
My trembling finger was just about to press the screen when—
From somewhere in the distance, I heard voices.
“……!”
I don’t know why. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but instinct told me to hide.
I hurriedly moved and spotted a vending machine near a flowerbed around the corner.
That should work. Without hesitation, I hopped over the shrubs.
The moment I hid behind the large machine, the voices drew closer.
One of them belonged to someone I knew well. I recognized it instantly, even without seeing him.
…Min Siheon. It was Min Siheon.
His tone was much lower than usual, but it was the voice I’d been longing to hear.
It sounded rough, as if he hadn’t slept. Even as he spoke in anger, there was an air of restraint.
I could tell he was barely holding himself back. His breathing didn’t sound normal.
“I told you not to talk to me.”
“Then just answer me. And, aren’t you being a little too casual with the way you’re speaking? I’m your senior.”
“…There’s a limit to how much I can tolerate.”
A woman? Min Siheon rarely talked to anyone besides us or a few of our same-year classmates. The presence of someone else beside him felt foreign.
Even so, my heart pounded violently, like it was malfunctioning. …Liking a popular guy really was exhausting. For a fleeting moment, I regretted choosing such a difficult target.
After Go Heemin, the appearance of yet another potential rival didn’t sit well with me. My stomach churned as nausea crept up.
Still, I needed to know what was going on. More than anything, hearing Min Siheon’s voice made me worry he might be unwell.
He was the type who, when he got sick, got really sick. I grew anxious, wondering if he was stressed because of me.
I cautiously peeked past the vending machine.
Min Siheon was standing with his back to me, so I couldn’t see his face clearly. But the loosely thrown-on shirt and his hair—untidy compared to his usual neat appearance—stood out.
Had he not come for class? Like Kang Taeyoon that time, he didn’t seem to be carrying a bag at all.
The only thing he seemed to have was the phone clenched in his right hand.
He was gripping it so tightly that his already pale skin had turned even whiter.
I blinked at the prominent veins standing out along his firm forearm beneath his rolled-up sleeve.
Seeing the phone in his hand made me suddenly aware of the one in mine.
When I glanced down, I saw that Min Siheon’s name was still displayed on my screen—he was still trying to call.
Good thing I switched it to silent. If I’d been even a little slower, he might’ve caught me. Though, honestly, we probably would’ve run into each other sooner or later anyway.
Still, now wasn’t the time to reveal myself.
Who was she?
I finally registered the woman I’d been too preoccupied to notice because of Min Siheon.
I peeked out again past the vending machine and saw her pouting face.
Surprisingly, she was someone I knew as well. Saying I knew her well would be a stretch, but we’d crossed paths before.
Kim Yu-joo—the upperclassman from another college who’d confessed she liked Min Siheon when we ran into her at that café for the group project meeting.
I’d confirmed through Kang Taeyoon that, contrary to rumors, they weren’t actually dating.
So why were they together like this?
Maybe they weren’t dating after all. Judging by the atmosphere, it certainly didn’t look like they were on good terms.
Not just Min Siheon—Kim Yu-joo also had her brows deeply furrowed, clearly displeased about something.
