Chapter 11
Not knowing what to say, Yeoreul’s cheeks turned red.
She forced an awkward smile.
“Ah… um… your phone number.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how strange they sounded.
“I—I mean… I’d like to contact you if there’s anything about the storage room. I… I still don’t know your number. And asking one of the employees felt a little… awkward…”
She rambled nervously.
For some reason, her voice kept trembling. She felt as though she might faint from embarrassment.
Just as she wondered what was wrong with herself—
Without saying a word, Ahan took her phone.
He opened the keypad, entered his number, saved it under his own name, and handed the phone back without even calling himself.
“Mine’s already there.”
Yeoreul blinked in surprise.
“…You already had my number?”
Ahan blinked once.
“I did.”
His calm answer immediately eased the tension in her face.
“Oh… you already knew.”
Silence settled over the room again.
Even though the room was as spacious as a living room, Yeoreul felt as though she and Ahan were trapped together in a tiny space.
She held her breath, afraid even the sound of her sigh would seem loud, while tightly gripping her phone.
“It’s an A-phone.”
Ahan finally spoke.
“Huh?”
“Oh…”
Her phone was an overseas model.
And considering Ahan’s family…
Yeoreul hurriedly explained.
“N-No! I got this as a spare phone. I didn’t actually buy it.”
“That’s the one I prefer, too.”
Ahan idly tapped the tablet resting on his lap.
“But I’m using this because of my grandfather.”
Following his gaze, Yeoreul looked at his tablet.
His long, elegant fingers slowly traced the edge of the screen.
“I’d rather be using a Pad.”
The moment she understood what he meant, she burst into laughter.
Ahan couldn’t take his eyes off her smiling face.
“Would you come to my room tonight?”
Suddenly, she remembered what he’d said.
At the same time, she realized something.
He had been waiting for her.
So that was why he hadn’t answered when she’d commented that he’d come home early.
Thinking he must have felt rather foolish waiting, she was just about to apologize—
When she noticed that Ahan’s gaze had already settled on her face.
Her eyes trembled as they met his.
“Is there someone you like?”
The way his dark-lashed eyes looked at her made it feel as though they were gently touching her.
A shiver ran through her body.
Her fingers fidgeted nervously.
Unable to withstand his waiting gaze, she lowered her head and quietly shook it.
Without another word, Ahan gently cupped her face.
Startled, Yeoreul looked up.
Their eyes met.
A soft kiss landed on her lips.
The touch was warm and gentle.
She instinctively closed her eyes.
Tilting his head, Ahan deepened the kiss, his lips lingering before he slowly drew back.
He kissed her again, unhurriedly.
Yeoreul could feel her own heartbeat racing.
Ahan repeated the gentle kisses several times before finally pulling away.
Looking into her flushed face, he quietly asked,
“Your first kiss?”
Too embarrassed to answer, Yeoreul remained silent.
“How many people?”
She had never even held hands with a man before.
But Ahan was so effortlessly experienced that she didn’t want him to realize how inexperienced she was.
Her silence was answer enough.
Ahan smiled faintly before pressing another lingering kiss against her lips.
When a small, involuntary sound escaped her, his movements became gentler again.
By now, her pale cheeks had turned a deep rosy pink.
Her first kiss unfolded slowly—
Like taking a quiet walk down a peaceful road together.
Patiently.
Without rushing.
Yet when she felt Ahan’s warm breath so close—
Fear suddenly welled up inside her.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
Everything felt frightening.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
We’re going to be married…
Is this kind of closeness simply something that’s expected?
Her relationship with a man still felt so strange.
When had everything with him begun?
Her earliest memory of Ahan…
Went back to just before the summer of her first year of middle school.
* * *
Yeoreul had enrolled in a prestigious private academy that housed both a middle school and a high school on the same campus.
It was late spring.
Summer was just around the corner.
Students from both schools wore the same uniforms throughout all six years.
The winter uniform of the J Foundation schools was white and black, while the summer uniform combined white with navy blue.
Designed by a famous British designer, it was widely regarded as one of the most beautiful school uniforms in the country.
Unlike many students who preferred the formal winter uniform with its distinctly British style, Yeoreul loved the summer uniform, whose softer design reflected the natural elegance of East Asian school fashion.
That was why she had switched into the summer uniform before the season had officially begun.
She especially liked its large rounded collar, trimmed with navy-blue lines, and the thin ribbon tied neatly at the front.
“Yeoreul!”
A friend came running toward her from across the courtyard.
By then, Yeoreul was already over 160 centimeters tall—taller than most girls her age.
Unfortunately, when she had fled from her father years ago, she’d injured her ankle badly enough to damage her growth plate.
The doctor had told her she probably wouldn’t grow any taller.
“Yeoreul! Have you decided on your English name yet?”
After entering middle school, every student had to choose an English name before summer vacation and wear it on their name badge.
After much thought, Yeoreul had finally chosen hers.
“I have.”
She shyly showed the badge pinned over the left side of her chest.
“Wow! It’s beautiful.”
Living a new life…
Receiving a new name…
Yeoreul loved it just as much.
After lunch, she and her friend headed toward the library.
During every lunch break, Yeoreul spent her free time designing clothes and practicing figure sketches.
She loved drawing as much as fashion.
Although she had once taken lessons, financial hardship meant she could no longer attend art classes.
Her drawings were still clumsy and imperfect, but practicing was better than doing nothing.
“Hm?”
She suddenly stopped beneath the shade of a tree.
Standing along the path leading to the library was a tall student.
He looked dark and mysterious, yet refined and breathtakingly beautiful.
Bathed in sunlight, he almost seemed to glow.
His black winter uniform was perfectly tailored.
Not a wrinkle marred his neatly worn jacket or tie.
His polished shoes gleamed.
Unlike Yeoreul, he clearly preferred the winter uniform.
His pale skin contrasted with long black hair neatly brushed back from his face.
His elegant neck and aristocratic features made him almost impossibly handsome.
Yeoreul stared in admiration.
At that moment, the boy slowly turned toward her.
Their eyes met.
He blinked once.
Without thinking, Yeoreul blinked back.
With his hands behind his back, the boy turned and calmly walked straight toward her.
Startled, Yeoreul quickly lowered her head as though pretending she hadn’t been staring.
Feeling guilty for simply looking at him, she tried to quietly step around him.
Instead, the boy stepped directly into her path.
She looked up in surprise.
He said nothing.
Seeing him up close only made him seem even more beautiful.
His large hazel eyes were framed by long eyelashes.
There was an unmistakable nobility in his gaze.
Looking at him almost felt like admiring a work of art.
Being naturally timid, Yeoreul’s first instinct was to wonder—
Did I do something wrong?
He’s an upperclassman… Should I greet him?
“H-Hello… I mean… hello, sir.”
She bowed politely and cautiously tried to walk around him again.
The boy calmly blocked her path once more.
Does he know me?
“Who…?”
“Woo Ahan.”
He answered immediately, as though he’d been waiting for her to ask.
His face remained expressionless.
His voice was calm.
“My name.”
“You should remember it.”
The quiet words settled firmly in her ears like a gentle command.
“W-Who are you?”
“Me?”
She nodded.
“A sheltered young master who knows nothing about the world.”
His perfectly serious expression left her blinking in confusion.
…Was that supposed to be a joke?
She couldn’t tell whether he was teasing her or being completely sincere.
Does he want to be friends…?
Or is he bullying me?
What did I do wrong?
The memory of being beaten by her father despite having done nothing wrong flashed through her mind.
Fear instinctively made her shoulders shrink.
Ahan remained silent.
Seeing how frightened she looked, he stepped one pace closer.
The tips of their black shoes touched.
Then—
With his pale, slender fingers—
He took hold of her fingertips.
Intertwined their fingers.
And gently clasped her hand.
His hand was cool, firm, and surprisingly soft.
Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, Ahan slowly interlocked their fingers.
The warm spring air of May suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
Their fingernails brushed.
She couldn’t tell whether it was her fingers tingling…
Or her heart.
Her whole body wanted to twist away in confusion.
“W-What are you doing…?”
Meeting Ahan’s unreadable eyes, she looked utterly flustered.
“Finger game.”
His answer was brief.
Despite the playful words, Yeoreul remained stiff with nervousness.
A moment later, something slipped from the sketchbook she was carrying and fell to the ground.
Ahan silently looked at her.
Then he released her hand, bent down, and picked up the small wooden artist’s mannequin she used for drawing poses.
Its movable arms happened to be bent into the shape of a heart.
She wanted to thank him.
But she couldn’t decide whether to speak formally or casually.
Before she could say anything, he slipped the mannequin into the inside pocket of his school jacket.
“Uh… huh?”
He had taken it.
Right in front of her.
The simple act somehow made it feel as though he’d effortlessly established the upper hand between them.
“W-Why are you…?”
Her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked up at him.
“It seems important to you.”
Ahan answered matter-of-factly.
His confidence left her speechless.
If something is important to someone… shouldn’t you avoid taking it?
He really had an unusual way of thinking.
Ahan quietly looked her over.
His gaze slowly drifted downward until it stopped on her name badge.
Lee Yeoreul — SHEILA
“You’re just borrowing it?”
In her panic, she spoke informally without realizing it.
“You’ll give it back, right?”
A quiet smile appeared on Ahan’s lips.
“Sure, Sheila.”
The low, gentle way he pronounced her English name—
A name that meant girl—
Didn’t sound like the polite smile people wore out of courtesy.
Standing there with his hands behind his back, looking at the name on her badge…
For just a brief moment…
He almost looked happy.
Or perhaps…
She had simply imagined the smile.
After all, nothing in their short conversation should have given him any reason to smile at all.
