If you asked anyone at Hankuk High about Choi Geon, they would describe him in three very accurate ways:
He was dramatic.
He was loud when unnecessary.
And when it actually mattered… he completely shut down.
Which is why fate, in all its cruel comedic timing, decided to hand him his first love on a random Tuesday morning.
The classroom door slid open with a soft click.
Their teacher barely looked up. "We have a transfer student—"
But the rest of the sentence didn't matter.
Because Geon had already stopped hearing.
She stepped in quietly, like she didn't want to disturb the world, but somehow everything still paused for her anyway. Sunlight slipped through the window and followed her, catching in her hair like a scene straight out of a movie Geon definitely couldn't afford to star in.
Her name was Yoo Ara.
She introduced herself simply.
Smiled once.
And just like that—
Geon's entire operating system crashed.
Now, here's the funny part about Choi Geon.
At school, he was… normal.
Painfully normal.
Despite being the younger brother of the most famous actor in the country, almost no one knew. A few teachers, his two idiots of friends, and Seo-Yeon—that was it. No spotlight. No whispers. No "celebrity sibling" aura.
He lived like any other student.
Worried about homework.
Failed tests.
Cafeteria food.
The only reason people even looked his way sometimes?
Was because of Han Seo-Yeon.
She was the kind of girl who accidentally caused traffic in hallways. People didn't approach Geon because of him—
They approached him because standing next to Seo-Yeon gave them a chance.
Geon knew it.
He just… didn't care.
The worst part?
The empty seat beside him.
Of course.
Of course the universe would do this.
She walked over.
Sat down.
And suddenly, the air around Geon became… dangerous.
Not because anything happened.
But because something could happen.
He stared at his notebook like it contained state secrets.
Don't look up.
Don't breathe weirdly.
Don't exist too loudly.
"Hi… do you have an extra pen?"
Geon's brain: Say something normal.
Geon's mouth: "…I have oxygen."
Silence.
Ara blinked.
Geon wanted to transfer schools, countries, planets—anything.
By the time the final bell rang, Geon had reached one clear conclusion:
He was in love.
And also… he was finished.
The ice cream shop near the school had witnessed many historic events.
Breakups.
Failed exams.
Min-Jae finishing three family-size sundaes alone.
But today?
It was about to witness something far more serious.
Geon collapsed into his seat like a fallen soldier.
Across from him, his two friends didn't even look surprised.
Kim Dae-Sung adjusted his glasses, already sensing academic failure.
Park Min-Jae continued eating like the world wasn't ending.
And beside them—
Han Seo-Yeon sat casually, looking like she belonged on a magazine cover instead of this chaotic table.
"Why do you look like you just lost custody of your dignity?" she asked, licking her spoon.
Geon grabbed his ice cream.
Took one bite.
Then—
"I think I'm in love."
The table went quiet.
Not shocked.
Just… disappointed.
Dae-Sung leaned forward. "Define love."
Min-Jae raised a finger. "Does she like ice cream?"
Seo-Yeon smirked. "Or is this another 'she breathed near me so now I hear wedding bells' situation?"
Geon covered his face.
"She asked me for a pen."
"…That's it?" Seo-Yeon blinked.
"That's EVERYTHING," Geon snapped.
And just like that, the chaos began.
Dae-Sung pushed his glasses up like he was about to solve a national crisis.
"You need a display of physical excellence. Something dynamic. A sudden gymnastic move."
Geon stared at him. "I can't even do a proper push-up."
"You can learn."
"In one day?"
"Three hours should be sufficient."
Seo-Yeon didn't even hesitate. "He'll break his spine."
Min-Jae leaned in, serious for once.
"Food."
Geon blinked. "Food?"
"Consistent snack delivery. Emotional bonding through calories."
Seo-Yeon snorted. "You're trying to get him a girlfriend, not open a cafeteria."
"Love begins with food," Min-Jae said, already on his third scoop.
Dae-Sung wasn't done.
"You could establish intellectual dominance. Answer every question in class instantly."
Geon pointed at himself. "I once failed a test that had options."
"That was because you overthought it."
"There were FOUR choices!"
Seo-Yeon tapped her spoon against the table thoughtfully.
"Or… you could save her."
Geon blinked. "From what?"
"I don't know. Something dramatic. Falling books, maybe. A near-death experience. Very cinematic."
Dae-Sung nodded. "I can drop books."
"You are not assassinating her with textbooks," Geon snapped.
Min-Jae leaned back.
"What about the mysterious type? Quiet. Cold. Distant."
Geon stared at him.
"I cried during a shampoo advertisement play with yeon"
"…Yeah," Seo-Yeon said, "let's not go with that."
"Music," Dae-Sung added suddenly. "Girls respond well to music. Learn guitar."
Geon looked personally attacked.
"I can't even clap in rhythm."
"He once clapped off-beat," Min-Jae added helpfully. "Alone."
And then—
There was a pause.
A dangerous one.
Geon leaned forward slowly.
"…what if I just tell her I'm Choi Do-Yun's little brother?"
The entire table froze.
Seo-Yeon's spoon stopped mid-air.
Dae-Sung removed his glasses like he needed a clearer view of this disaster.
Min-Jae finally stopped eating.
"…That's cheating," Seo-Yeon said flatly.
"It's not cheating, it's… factual enhancement," Geon argued weakly.
"And what happens when she likes your brother more?" Min-Jae asked.
Geon went completely still.
…
"…we're not doing that."
The ice cream had melted slightly by the time their ideas ran out.
And right then—
Dae-Sung suddenly checked his watch and stood up.
"I have tuition."
Seo-Yeon blinked. "Oh crap—me too."
She grabbed her bag, already halfway out of her seat. "We're late."
"Pay your share—" Min-Jae started.
"Next time!" she said instantly.
"Add it to Geon's emotional damage tab," Dae-Sung added, already walking away.
And just like that—
They were gone.
No payment.
No guilt.
Just chaos.
Now it was just the two of them.
Geon.
And Min-Jae.
The table suddenly felt quieter.
Min-Jae looked down at his empty cup.
Then at the menu.
Then back at Geon.
"…you want anything else?" he asked.
Geon squinted.
"You want something, don't you?"
Min-Jae hesitated.
"…yeah."
Geon leaned back, annoyed.
"Then order it, you dumbass. I was literally wondering why you only settled for three ice creams today."
Min-Jae scratched his head awkwardly.
"I don't have much money left."
There was a pause.
A small one.
But something in Geon's expression changed.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just… softer.
A little irritated.
A little real.
"Hey," he said quietly, leaning forward, "why are you thinking about money and all that?"
Min-Jae looked up.
Geon clicked his tongue.
"Just eat what you want. I'll pay."
"…you sure?"
Geon rolled his eyes.
"Order before I change my mind."
Min-Jae didn't hesitate anymore.
Two seconds later—
"ONE CHOCOLATE SUNDAE, ONE STRAWBERRY, ONE—"
"BRO, ARE YOU FEEDING A FAMILY?" Geon snapped.
A few minutes later, the table was full again.
Min-Jae was happy.
Which, in his world, meant everything was temporarily okay.
Geon paid without even checking the bill.
Like it wasn't a big deal.
Like it was normal.
Because to him—
It was.
They had been together since middle school.
Through bad grades.
Through worse decisions.
Through moments that didn't matter to anyone else but meant everything to them.
And now—
Same school.
Same table.
Same future plan.
Same college.
Different departments, sure—
But still together.
"Hey," Min-Jae said between bites, "you'll be fine."
Geon looked at him.
"With the girl."
Geon sighed.
"…I don't know."
Min-Jae shrugged.
"You got us."
That night, Geon walked home slower than usual.
His mind replayed the entire day.
The sunlight.
Her voice.
The pen.
The humiliation.
The ice cream.
The laughter.
The small, quiet moment that reminded him—
He wasn't alone.
Tomorrow—
He would see her again.
No somersaults.
No fake genius.
No celebrity flex.
Just…
Him.
"…I still might try the food thing."
Somewhere across the city, in a luxury villa, Choi Do-Yun paused mid-script and sneezed.
He frowned slightly.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know that his little brother had almost used his name as a romantic weapon.
He didn't know that a new story had quietly begun—
Small.
Messy.
And very real.
He just… sneezed.
And went back to work.