Episode 17
6 March 2025, Thursday. Late morning. SNU's chemistry faculty, Building 501, study lounge on the 3rd floor.
After they left, Han-bin pressed her lips together, angry and silent.
She already felt it—this was the kind of accident that only ever happens to someone like shy and modest Mi-yeon.
She glanced suspiciously at So-mi but said nothing.
A little farther away, near the lecture hall entrance, Baek So-mi leaned against the wall, sipping her coffee in slow, measured sips.
When Mi-yeon returned, she looked unexpectedly… fine.
Even striking—in Den's shirt worn over her dress, she looked daring in a quiet way, effortlessly fashionable: a plain white skirt paired with an improvised blouse.
So-mi stepped forward, perfectly polite.
"Mi-yeon, did you burn yourself?"
Mi-yeon shook her head quickly.
"N-no… I'm… I'm fine."
An automatic answer. Safer that way.
So-mi nodded, seemingly satisfied.
"I'm sorry. I feel awkward now. I just wanted to treat everyone to coffee. I hope the dress washes out."
Mi-yeon murmured softly, "It's nothing… It's my fault."
So-mi turned and walked into the lecture hall. A faint hint of guilt hid beneath the neutrality of her expression.
Mi-yeon stood there for another second.
Den's shirt rested against her chest. The stain hid underneath.
Fear, shame, panic—all of it had already drained away, replaced by a cold, sticky sadness over the ruined dress.
Why did I even wear it…?
What hurt most was that this dress had been her "today I tried" moment.
Her quiet attempt to be worthy.
Unobtrusively pretty.
And once again, it ended in embarrassment and regret.
She walked into the classroom.
Behind her stood Den.
He had been there for a while already—feeling ridiculous and uncomfortable in the university-branded basketball jacket.
He waited.
Didn't approach. Didn't leave her alone.
Only after she entered did he follow her inside.
6 March 2025, Thursday. Noon. SNU's chemical faculty, student council office.
The student council office was calm in the way only administrative spaces could be.
Ko Su-Ho sat at his computer, focused, posture straight, fingers moving steadily across the keyboard—the kind of senior who treated responsibility as a burden, not decoration.
At the neighboring desk, Yu-ra typed into a shared document, eyes on the screen, expression neutral.
In the far corner, Choi Mi-rae battled the copy machine, muttering quietly as it jammed for the third time.
And then—
The door burst open.
Ha Jun-gi stormed in like a summer squall—loud, damp with anger, barely holding himself together. His face was flushed, jaw tight, eyes burning with wounded pride.
He stopped in front of Su-Ho's desk and exploded:
"That Russian outsider has completely lost it! On Monday he threw me into the pool! And today—do you know what he did today?! I'll tell you! He ripped down a university festival poster in broad daylight!"
Jun-gi slammed his palm against the desk.
"He should be expelled immediately! He's disgracing our faculty!"
For a moment, only the hum of the computer remained.
Su-Ho slowly lifted his eyes from the screen.
His gaze was calm. Too calm.
"Jun-gi," he said evenly, "there are already legends about how you hover around first-year girls and how you behave."
Jun-gi opened his mouth—
Su-Ho cut him off without raising his voice.
"Denis threw you into the pool?"
He paused.
"Good. Saved me a trip."
Jun-gi stiffened.
Su-Ho leaned back slightly, folding his hands.
"And if I hear one more thing about you behaving inappropriately around female students, I'll personally throw you out. Not just into the water. Out of any chance at a future career."
His voice sharpened just a fraction.
"Do you understand me?"
Jun-gi swallowed.
Su-Ho's eyes never left him.
"Don't watch others. Watch yourself. Because I am watching you, Jun-gi."
A beat.
"As for the torn poster—we'll handle it without you. Now leave. Don't waste my time."
The words landed flat and final.
Silence stretched.
Jun-gi clenched his jaw, turned sharply, and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.
Ko Su-Ho rubbed his temple.
"Those foreigners… honestly."
He glanced toward Mi-rae, then toward Yu-ra. Both immediately lowered their gazes, pretending to focus on their screens.
"All right. Mi-rae, please order a new poster."
He pushed his chair back.
"I'll go check what the heck actually happened."
He left the office.
Yu-ra, who had been pretending to work the entire time, bit her lower lip in quiet curiosity.
A poster?
Why would Den tear down a poster?
Her fingers paused above the keyboard as she wondered what had really happened.
6 March 2025, Thursday. Noon. SNU's chemistry faculty, 3rd floor corridors.
The lecture ended.
The door swung open, and first-years spilled into the hallway—voices rising, shoulders loosening, relief spreading now that the day was finally over. They talked about dinner, about plans, about anything except thermodynamics.
Ko Su-Ho stood by the wall, arms crossed, watching.
When Den and Min-jae stepped out together, Su-Ho spoke:
"Denis Sokolov. Please come here."
Both stopped.
They approached.
Su-Ho inclined his head, formal.
Then, with a brief glance at Min-jae, he said,
"I'm confident only one of you is Denis Sokolov."
Min-jae froze—then understood.
He bowed quickly, deeply.
"I'm sorry, Sunbae. My mistake. I'll wait downstairs."
He backed away, casting a worried look at Den before hurrying off.
Den watched him go, then turned back.
Su-Ho met his gaze—steady, direct. Not angry. Not hostile. Just firm.
"Is it true you tore down the festival poster? Explain why you did it. Or I'll have to deal with this strictly."
Den answered without hesitation.
"It was… a necessary measure to minimize some public embarrassment."
Su-Ho's expression didn't change.
"That's not enough."
Den lifted one shoulder slightly. A quiet, unyielding gesture: there was no other version.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
Su-Ho was about to have it—with his outrageous behavior.
Then—
A soft presence stepped between them.
Mi-yeon.
She was still wearing Den's shirt, tied at the waist over her dress. In her hands—held carefully, respectfully—was the folded poster.
She bowed deeply, offering it with both hands, as if presenting something precious.
"Please don't scold him, Sunbae."
Her voice was small but steady.
"He did it… because of me. I'm sorry."
She bowed again.
Su-Ho looked at her closely.
The borrowed shirt.
The white dress beneath it.
The faint coffee stains on the poster.
Understanding clicked into place.
He raised a hand gently, stopping her before she could bow a third time.
"I see."
He took the poster.
"Thank you for returning it to me."
Mi-yeon and Den exchanged a glance—relief flashing between them.
They bowed together.
"Thank you, Sunbae."
They left down the corridor.
Ko Su-Ho watched their backs.
The corner of his mouth lifted—not a smile meant for anyone else, but one that was unmistakably there.
6 March 2025, Thursday. Afternoon. SNU's park zone.
They stepped out of the chemistry building together.
The air outside was cooler, clearer. Campus noise spread outward instead of pressing in—footsteps, distant laughter, bicycles passing somewhere behind the trees.
Mi-yeon walked half a step behind Den.
Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers interlaced, shoulders still a little tense.
But she was walking with him.
And that alone felt different.
They reached the fork in the path—
one direction leading toward the men's dormitory, the other toward the women's.
Den slowed.
"Should I walk you back, Mi-yeon?"
She stopped too, startled by the question. Then she smiled—small, careful, almost apologetic.
"No, really… it's okay. I'll be fine."
She hesitated, then added quickly, "I'll bring your shirt back tomorrow, okay?"
Den nodded.
"Sure."
For a second, they just stood there, neither quite ready to leave.
Then Mi-yeon bowed her head slightly.
"Thank you. Again."
And before the moment could stretch any further, she turned and almost ran away—quick, light steps, as if embarrassed by her own courage.
After a few meters, she stopped.
Turned around.
Raised her hand and gave a small, shy wave.
Only then did she leave for real, disappearing down the path toward the women's dormitory.
Den lifted his hand in response—
not quite a wave, just an uncertain raise of the arm.
He stood there for a couple of minutes longer, watching the place where she had vanished.
Then he exhaled quietly and turned toward his own path.