So I got inspired by @prettyseonghwa and @yeosangkang when we were talking about Yeosang library!AU. I know Ellie wrote one and I honestly can’t compete with her and am not trying to her’s is so good but I chose to write my own rendition of it with how I interpret the picture and how I was inspired by it. I originally didn’t plan to but I really did want to give it a try. So no more rambling, here it is:
The day outside was gray and dreary, the sky blanketed by thick clouds, casting a soft gloom over everything. Rain fell steadily, pattering against the windows, as people hurried by, clutching umbrellas or simply trying to shield themselves with coats and bags. The air was damp and cold, a perfect excuse to retreat into the quiet sanctuary of the library.
Yeosang had worked at the small library in town for just over a year and a half, and it had become more of a second home to him than a workplace. He had always been drawn to libraries, the smell of books, the feeling of the worn spines under his fingers. The soft rustle of pages turning, the scent of tea and coffee from the corner café—these simple comforts filled him with a sense of peace.
There was something magical about the quiet, something that made time slow down, and it was this atmosphere that made the library feel like a haven, a place where Yeosang could lose himself in books and the stories of others.
Even though Yeosang had always found solace in this world of literature, there was a small, unspoken void. A part of him yearned for something more, something that, he believed, would eventually walk through the library doors. And today, it seemed that time had finally arrived.
She entered, as she always did, with a soft chime from the door’s bell. The usual polite smile she gave him didn’t reach her eyes this time, though. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and dark circles edged her tired eyes. She was dressed in a large college hoodie, dark skinny jeans, and worn black Converse, a far cry from her usual bright, carefree presence.
Yeosang watched as she made her way to her usual spot by the window, a small table beside an oversized berry-colored chair. It was her favorite corner of the library, the one with a view of the small garden, where Crimson Pirate Daylilies bloomed in their vibrant reds and yellows. She settled down, placing her bag beside her chair, then pulled out her laptop with a quiet sigh. She looked up at the clock, and for the first time, Yeosang noticed she seemed far more focused than usual. Her attention was fixed on a stack of textbooks, the kind that signified deadlines and stress.
Yeosang, from behind the desk, continued his duties. He would occasionally glance up at her, watching how she seemed lost in her work. Despite the occasional frustrated sigh or groan when things didn’t go her way, there was a quiet determination in her posture. The library was now empty, save for the two of them, and the sound of soft rain tapping against the windows filled the silence between them.
At some point, she leaned back, her gaze drifting out the window. The raindrops racing down the glass caught her attention, and she rested her head on her arms, using them as a pillow. Yeosang smiled softly, noticing how peaceful she looked, the weight of her tiredness giving way to calmness. He couldn’t help but admire the small details—her hair falling slightly over her face, the delicate curve of her lips, and how even in sleep, there was a vulnerability to her that he found endearing.
Realizing she had been asleep for nearly half an hour, Yeosang figured she would wake soon. As if on cue, he rose from his desk and made his way to the café corner, ordering two hot caramel lattes. He returned to his desk, scribbling a quick note on a pink post-it: A little pick-me-up for your late-night study session. Be sure to eat and get plenty of rest. I’m cheering for you! – Your local librarian.
Once the note was attached, he walked quietly over to her, careful not to disturb her as he placed the warm cup of coffee on the table beside her. He returned to his desk, watching her from the corner of his eye, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
A few minutes later, she stirred, blinking groggily as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She stretched slowly, her gaze catching the coffee mug first. She looked confused for a moment before noticing the note and the steaming cup. She picked up the mug, the warmth of it a welcome sensation, and inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting caramel scent. A smile curved her lips as she read the note, her eyes scanning the words carefully. Yeosang had erased and rewritten them several times before settling on the final message, and he couldn’t help but feel a flutter in his chest as she read it.
As she finished the drink, she tucked the note into her pocket, a small, quiet smile still lingering on her lips. She packed up her laptop and books, moving to leave, but paused with her hand on the door. Turning back to Yeosang, she nodded in thanks for the latte before heading out into the cool night air.
Yeosang watched her disappear around the corner, his heart warming at the simple exchange. There was something about her that captivated him, something that drew him in even from afar. As he continued with his work, he couldn’t help but hope this was just the beginning of something more—a story that was still unfolding, with him as a quiet part of her world.
And as the door closed softly behind her, Yeosang couldn’t help but think, Perhaps this is how it starts—just like the beginning of a book.
Summary: Two unlikely companions join together to ride the rollercoaster known as: Life. With a yin and yang balance, they soon discover that there’s not only beauty in the beast, but beast in the beauty.
Saetbyeol sat outside the restaurant, tears streaming down her face. The quiet sound of her sniffles filled the air as she wiped at her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. Her face was flushed, her eyes red from the tears, and she tilted her head back, trying to hold herself together.
Why was she reacting like this? Why did seeing the two of them talking affect her so much? It wasn’t as if she and San were a couple. They were just friends—friends who could talk and share things in a way that made sense. Mirae, with her open and outgoing personality, was exactly the type of person San would connect with. It made sense, didn’t it? Besides, Saetbyeol hadn’t made any effort to talk to him either. She had kept her distance, building walls higher and higher around herself, pushing him away in ways she couldn’t even explain.
She didn’t hate either of them. No, the person she hated was herself. She hated that she had stood by, silent, letting things happen without saying a word. She hated that she’d let her own fear and stubbornness keep her from reaching out.
With her hood pulled up to hide her face, Saetbyeol lowered her head, letting her hair fall in front of her like a curtain. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. But the tears kept coming, uncontrollable and messy, as she sat there, lost in the storm of emotions that had finally overwhelmed her.
-
Five hours earlier…
“San, why don’t we focus on how the corpses were disposed of?” Saetbyeol suggested, her voice sharp with a hint of impatience.
San looked up from his notepad, his eyes briefly meeting hers through the mess of his bangs. He made a mental note to get that haircut soon but quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand.
“Well, we could,” he said slowly, “but I think people would get bored with that. It’s not what they care about. They want to know who did this and why. The details of how the bodies were stacked just don’t have that same hook.”
Saetbyeol’s cheeks puffed slightly as her irritation simmered beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure when it started, but lately, his constant disagreements were wearing on her. It felt like he was challenging every idea she brought up, no matter how small, and it was beginning to feel personal.
She clenched her jaw, trying to keep her frustration in check. “I never said it had to be the main focus. But fine, we’ll put it somewhere in the middle,” she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. She shrugged it off and turned her back to him, hoping he wouldn’t push further.
San cleared his throat, sensing her irritation. Straightening his posture, he softened his tone. “Okay, we can mention it briefly. But I really think we should stick with the main points. Focus on the bigger picture.”
Saetbyeol didn’t respond. Instead, she scribbled down notes by each paragraph, marking potential spots for their changes. The room fell into a quiet rhythm—the sound of her typing and the faint hum of music from her laptop speakers filling the silence between them.
San glanced over at her, noticing the tension in her posture. It was hard to ignore. The energy in the room had shifted, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had sensed a change in her mood ever since he visited her house. The way she acted toward him had been different since then, more guarded, and he wasn’t sure why.
He bit his lip, trying to find the right words to ease the distance growing between them. He didn’t want to make her angry. He just wanted things to go back to how they used to be. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wasn’t sure how to fix this.
Had he said something wrong? Did he do something to make her feel this way? San couldn’t stop questioning himself. Saetbyeol was known for being distant, but this—this felt different. There was something in the air, a shift in her demeanor that felt colder, more withdrawn.
He glanced at her again, noticing the way her brows furrowed as her fingers pressed against the bridge of her nose. She was clearly frustrated, more so than usual, and with every second that ticked by, San could feel her anger building. He wanted to reach out, to do something to make her feel better, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t comfort her when he had no idea what was wrong.
Could it have been what he said earlier? When she pitched her idea for the article, had he dismissed it too quickly? He never meant to hurt her. He just wanted to focus on what would interest the readers, but maybe he’d come across as dismissive. He had always tried to understand what people wanted, what would make them engaged—he thought he knew, but maybe this time, he’d gotten it wrong.
As Saetbyeol abruptly stood and walked past him without a word, heading toward the bathroom, San’s chest tightened. She wouldn’t even look at him. His eyes flicked to her desk, and he saw the changes she had made to the article, her portion now aligned with his approach, as if she had given in to his suggestion.
It’s because of what I said, he realized, his stomach dropping.
He cursed himself quietly, slumping back in his chair. He groaned in frustration, burying his face in his hands. He never intended to make her feel this way. He needed to fix this. He had to make things right, but how? He didn’t know where to start.
San sat quietly, his mind still trying to figure out how to shift the focus of the article without completely undermining Saetbyeol’s idea. He glanced up when she returned, noticing the way she sank back into her chair with a quiet sigh. Her hair was damp at the tips, and her eyes looked slightly red and puffy. His stomach twisted, realizing that if he had caused her to cry, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize or explain himself, but before he could get the words out, a familiar voice called their names.
“Saet! San!”
Mirae’s cheerful squeal cut through the tension in the air as she pranced into the room, her usual energy a sharp contrast to the quiet atmosphere between Saetbyeol and San. She hopped onto the desk with ease, leaning over to get closer to San, her bright smile contagious.
“Who’s hungry? I found this amazing restaurant! You both should totally come with me!” she said, practically bouncing with excitement.
Saetbyeol’s shoulders drooped as she glanced up at Mirae, clearly uninterested in the interruption. “Mirae, we’re still working. Can we—”
“No!” Mirae cut her off, her voice full of playful defiance. “You’re always working! I get that you want to solve this mystery, but you need a break.”
Saetbyeol was well aware of Mirae’s stubbornness. It was no use arguing. Once Mirae made up her mind, nothing would change it.
With a long sigh, Saetbyeol reluctantly turned off her computer and stood up. “Okay, okay, you win. Let’s go.”
San watched them, a small sense of relief settling in. As much as they needed to finish the article, maybe a break would help them reset—clear their minds and come back to the work with fresh eyes. It was probably just what they needed.
Mirae flashed a wide grin as she led the way out of the office, her bright energy lifting the mood slightly as the cool evening air hit them. The chill instantly made them shiver, and they pulled their coats tighter around themselves as they made their way to Mirae’s car. San followed Saetbyeol into the backseat, and as the engine roared to life, Mirae didn’t say a word. The car pulled away in silence.
The tension between Saetbyeol and San was palpable. Mirae couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with her best friend. She could tell that Saetbyeol was distant, but she wasn’t sure why. Deciding not to press her just yet, Mirae shrugged it off, instead focusing on the route to the restaurant.
Feeling the weight of the silence, San shifted in his seat, hoping to break the awkwardness. He turned to Mirae and started a conversation with her, asking about the restaurant or something lighthearted. Saetbyeol, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed outside the window. She seemed completely detached, staring at the blurred scenery with a vacant expression, her mind clearly far away from the conversation unfolding around her.
When they arrived at the restaurant, the trio stepped out of the car. San and Mirae walked ahead, their conversation flowing effortlessly, punctuated with laughter and lighthearted remarks. Saetbyeol trailed behind, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the pair. She couldn’t help but notice how easily they seemed to connect, their closeness stirring an uncomfortable feeling inside her. She let out a quiet huff, frustration bubbling as she followed at a slight distance. This was already shaping up to be a long night.
The hostess led them to their table, and Saetbyeol exhaled softly, running a hand through her hair as she prepared herself for what was sure to be an awkward evening. Mirae slid into the booth without hesitation, planting herself directly across from San. Saetbyeol hesitated briefly before sliding in beside him, ensuring there was a noticeable distance between them.
San caught the deliberate move and frowned. He wanted her closer—wanted to bridge the gap between them—but it was clear that whatever was bothering her ran deeper than their earlier disagreement about the article. For now, he let it go, though the tension between them lingered in the air.
After placing their orders, Mirae, ever the extrovert, decided it was the perfect moment to liven things up. She propped her elbows on the table and grinned at San. “Okay, San, let’s play a game of 21 Questions! I need to know everything about you.”
Saetbyeol remained quiet, her fingers toying with her water glass as she listened to Mirae’s playful interrogation. The game began with simple questions, but it quickly evolved into a lively back-and-forth filled with laughter. San seemed at ease, answering Mirae’s questions with humor and charm, drawing more giggles from her with every response.
Saetbyeol’s chest tightened as she watched the two interact, their easy chemistry making her feel more and more out of place. She wanted to join in, to laugh and talk like they did, but she didn’t know how to bridge the invisible wall she’d built around herself. Mirae was the only person she ever felt truly comfortable with, and now, seeing her best friend so effortlessly connect with San made Saetbyeol feel like an outsider.
The more they laughed, the harder it became to ignore the twinge in her chest. The twisting sensation in her stomach grew worse with every exchanged smile, every playful tease. She felt like she didn’t belong—like she was nothing more than a third wheel.
Mirae leaned in closer to San, resting her chin on her palm as she grinned. “You’re so organized, San—almost to the point of OCD. And you barely eat! Are you on some kind of special diet or something?”
Saetbyeol’s hand tightened around her glass as she stared down at the table, her reflection rippling in the water. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, but the warmth between Mirae and San felt suffocating. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she tried to steady herself, pushing down the emotions threatening to rise. Tonight was going to be harder than she thought.
San cleared his throat, slightly caught off guard by Mirae’s questions and her sharp observation of his habits. Shifting in his seat, he replied, “I just like to keep things organized—it helps me think clearly. As for my diet, it’s not really strict. I just try to stay healthy and fit, so I watch what I eat. Plus, I usually have big lunches, so by dinner, I’m not that hungry.”
“That’s so impressive,” Mirae said, her tone full of admiration. “I could never do that. I mean, I try to stay healthy, but being that disciplined? No way.” Her words were sincere, her voice carrying an effortless cheer that filled the space. Just as she finished speaking, their meals arrived, interrupting the flow of conversation.
San’s gaze flicked toward Saetbyeol, who sat beside him in silence. Her chin rested in one hand, while the other listlessly moved her chopsticks through the food on her plate. She hadn’t taken a single bite. The distant look in her eyes and the faint crease between her brows told him she wasn’t present, not really. A frown crept onto his face.
He wanted to talk to her, to break through the barrier of silence that seemed to grow thicker by the second. But Mirae’s unrelenting energy left no room for anyone else to speak. Even so, he could tell Saetbyeol didn’t want Mirae speaking for her. The tension in her posture, the subtle way she avoided their eyes—it was clear. Yet her inability to initiate a conversation held her back, keeping her locked in silence.
Reluctantly, San turned his attention away from her, his chest tightening with frustration he couldn’t quite place. Lifting his glass, he took a sip of water, trying to refocus his thoughts. But something about Mirae tugged at the edges of his mind.
His brows knitted slightly as he studied her, her animated gestures and lively voice sparking a strange familiarity. There was something about her—her expressions, her tone, even the cadence of her laugh—that felt oddly recognizable. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was as if he’d met her before. Maybe it was a passing encounter or a brief interaction in the past, but the feeling lingered, growing stronger with each passing moment.
Sitting there in her presence, it was like déjà vu. Something about Mirae stirred a memory that refused to fully surface, leaving him uneasy yet curious all the same.
Biting his lip, San exhaled quietly, trying to shake off the nagging feeling of familiarity Mirae gave him. He was determined to figure out why she felt so recognizable, but for now, he was growing tired of the conversation, which had shifted into something resembling a mild interrogation. Perhaps Mirae was just naturally curious—or maybe she was asking on Saetbyeol’s behalf—but San did his best to remain composed, answering her questions with as much patience as he could muster.
Finally, he decided to address the thought that had been bothering him all evening. “Are you sure we haven’t met before, Mirae? There’s just something about you… talking to you feels oddly familiar, like I’ve done it before.”
Mirae’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing faintly. She cleared her throat, offering a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t think so. As far as I know, meeting you through Saet was the first time we’ve ever crossed paths.” She paused, then added with a sweet smile, “And this is the first time we’ve ever really spoken.”
San studied her for a moment, his gaze intense and thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right. I could just be imagining things,” he replied, shrugging lightly before taking a sip of his water. Still, his mind refused to let go of the idea. He turned the thought over and over, trying to piece together any memory that might explain why she seemed so familiar to him.
“Maybe I just have one of those personalities,” Mirae laughed, though there was an edge of awkwardness to her tone. She avoided his eyes, focusing instead on her water glass as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
The tension at the table grew heavier, and Saetbyeol couldn’t take it anymore. Her chest felt tight, and her patience was wearing thin. Silently, she placed her napkin on the table and rose from her seat, her movements sharp and deliberate. “Excuse me,” she said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. Without waiting for a response, she stepped away from the booth and made her way toward the restroom—or so it seemed.
Once she was out of sight, Saetbyeol turned abruptly and headed straight for the restaurant’s exit. The moment she stepped outside, the crisp night air greeted her, biting at her skin and cutting through her frustration. She exhaled sharply, her breath visible in the cold as she tilted her head back, closing her eyes. The quiet and chill of the outdoors felt like a lifeline, a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere she’d left behind. Anything was better than sitting there, watching Mirae and San connect so effortlessly while she felt like an outsider in her own world.
They had been talking for what felt like an eternity, completely ignoring her presence. For the past thirty minutes, not once had they acknowledged her, let alone included her in the conversation. She sat there, seething with a mix of hurt and anger. How could her best friend treat her this way? And San—he had always made sure to include her, always made her feel seen. But tonight, it was as if she didn’t even exist. They were so engrossed in one another, so wrapped up in their own world, it made her stomach turn.
The laughter they shared cut through her, a constant reminder of her isolation. She glanced down at her phone, pretending to check a message, but her mind was far away, swirling with thoughts. How could she confront them about this? Was she overreacting? But deep down, she knew this wasn’t just some random moment. It was a pattern, one she had seen before. Her best friend had been drifting away, and now even San, someone who used to notice everything, seemed oblivious to her.
The sting of being forgotten cut deeper than she cared to admit, and the tears threatened to spill. She fought them back, refusing to let them see her vulnerability. Not tonight.
San couldn’t shake the unease building in his chest as he glanced repeatedly at the bathroom door. Saetbyeol’s sudden exit had thrown him off, but it was her cold silence toward Mirae that truly alarmed him. He was used to her pulling away from him, but from Mirae? That was something he hadn’t expected. He nervously chewed on his bottom lip, his mind racing, trying to make sense of it all.
Fifteen minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of her. San’s anxiety grew with every second. He knew something wasn’t right, and the longer she stayed away, the more his worry deepened.
“Should we go find her?” San suggested, his voice laced with concern. Mirae nodded, her worry matching his, and together they paid for their meals before setting out to search for Saetbyeol.
Mirae checked the bathroom first, but it was empty. The lack of answers left them both feeling uneasy. They exchanged a glance, and without another word, they rushed toward the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of her outside.
Relief washed over them as they spotted Saetbyeol sitting on the curb. Her head was down, hair shielding her face from view, and she wiped away the last of her tears in silence.
“Saet! What are you doing out here?” Mirae asked, rushing over to kneel in front of her, concern etched across her face.
“Oh, I just wasn’t feeling well, so I stepped out for some fresh air,” Saetbyeol replied with a faint smile, hoping her face didn’t betray the fact that she’d been crying.
“Maybe we should head home. It’s getting pretty late,” Mirae suggested, gently helping Saetbyeol to her feet and linking their arms together for support. They turned toward San, but Saetbyeol couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
The sight of him standing there, so comfortable with Mirae, made her chest tighten. She didn’t want anyone to know how much it hurt to watch them talk and laugh like they had known each other for years, sharing jokes and a bond that felt so natural. It was everything she secretly longed for with him—the kind of connection where time seemed to stand still, where they could talk endlessly and laugh at each other’s dumb jokes.
But what hurt even more was the feeling that Mirae was taking that away from her, that her best friend was getting something from San that Saetbyeol could only dream of. She couldn’t even admit it to herself, let alone say it aloud, but the jealousy was suffocating.
Saetbyeol wished she could be closer to San, to share the easy camaraderie that Mirae seemed to have with him. But the words never came, and she kept the longing to herself, buried deep inside.
“I can walk you both home if you want. It’s not safe for girls to be out alone at this hour,” San offered, stepping in beside Saetbyeol, ready to support her if she needed it.
Mirae smiled gently and shook her head. “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”
“Alright then,” San said, giving them both a nod. “Stay safe, you two. Saetbyeol, I’ll see you tomorrow at work. I’m really glad we’re working together—it’s been great getting to know you a bit better.” He smiled at her, then turned to walk away, calling out a final good night before heading toward his own place to wrap up the day’s tasks.
As he left, Saetbyeol watched him go, her heart heavy. She wanted to say something, to reach out, but the words tangled in her throat. For now, all she could do was watch him walk away, wishing things were different.
Saetbyeol’s heart skipped at his words, even as she rolled her eyes. Despite the flutter of happiness they caused, she was still fuming from the events earlier that day, and her stubbornness made her mask the tiny smile that threatened to form. Mirae, ever observant, took Saetbyeol’s arm as they made their way down the street toward their apartment. The quiet evening was filled only with the distant barking of dogs and the hum of lively restaurants, where patrons came and went in a steady stream. The two walked side by side, their footsteps the only sound between them as they moved through the calm night.
As they turned the corner, a sudden unease washed over Mirae. A chill ran down her spine, and she felt every hair on her body stand on end. Her eyes quickly darted around, scanning the area. Her jaw tightened, and her brows knitted together—there was no one else around. Keeping her composure, she urged Saetbyeol to walk faster, her voice calm but her senses alert. Saetbyeol immediately picked up on the shift in her friend’s behavior, feeling a tension in the air. She complied, her own nerves kicking in as she became more conscious of their surroundings.
Trying to shake the unsettling feeling of being followed, the girls turned down a quiet, unfamiliar street. The air hung still for a moment, peaceful even, until the sharp sound of a throat clearing broke the silence. Both of them froze, their bodies locking in place as a wave of fear washed over them. In one swift motion, they spun around, eyes immediately drawn to the source of their dread: two large men, grins spread across their faces, looming over them.
Mirae instinctively positioned herself in front of Saetbyeol, her body tense and ready. She stared at the men with unwavering focus, her eyes darting between them, assessing every move they made. Her jaw was clenched tight, shoulders squared, and every muscle in her body was coiled in defense. She stood tall, unwavering, prepared to protect her friend at all costs.
“What brings two beautiful ladies out this way tonight?” the shorter, stockier man asked, his grin wide and insincere. He subtly signaled to his partner, and the two of them began to move closer, their steps deliberate and slow, closing the distance between them.
“That’s none of your business,” Mirae hissed, her tone icy. Her muscles tensed, and she instinctively stepped back, pulling Saetbyeol with her to create some distance. “I suggest you leave us alone.” Her voice was low but fierce, her eyes never leaving the men as she prepared to react.
“Oh, a tough one. I like a girl with some fire,” the taller man smirked, his gaze slowly trailing over Mirae’s body. He slid his tongue across his lower lip, and his friend began to rub his hands together, a sinister grin stretching across his face.
Mirae’s skin crawled at his words, a wave of nausea rising in her stomach, but she stood tall, refusing to let them have the satisfaction of seeing her falter. She wasn’t about to let them touch either of them. The men took another step forward, and the girls instinctively stepped back. Fury burned in Mirae’s chest, and she locked her eyes on them, her glare cold and unwavering. “Stay back,” she warned, her voice sharp with threat. “I’m not saying it again.”
It was clear these men weren’t taking her seriously, nor did they view her as a threat—but they had no idea what kind of danger they were stirring up.
Mirae gently pushed Saetbyeol back before charging forward, her fist aimed at the shorter man's cheek. But her strike was swiftly intercepted. Despite her strength, she was no match for the muscle of the men before her. With a sinister grin, the shorter man seized her fist, twisting it before tossing her aside like a ragdoll.
A sharp cry of pain escaped Mirae as she hit the ground, her body slamming against the rough pavement. Her hand landed on a broken beer bottle, its sharp shards slicing into her skin. Blood began to seep through her sleeve. Saetbyeol let out a frightened squeal, her heart sinking as she saw Mirae writhing in pain, the blood staining her sleeve.
Saetbyeol’s eyes flicked nervously to the two men, now fully focused on her. A wave of panic coursed through her, freezing her in place. She had no idea how to defend herself, especially against two towering, muscle-bound men. Step by step, she backed away, but the tears welling up in her eyes blurred her vision, making it hard to see. Her throat constricted, and though she wanted to scream, no sound came out. She had to escape, had to find help, but in that moment, her body felt like it had forgotten how to move, locked in a state of paralyzing fear.
“Run Saet!”
Snapping out of her trance, Saetbyeol stole a quick glance at Mirae before spinning around and running as fast as she could down the empty street. Her heart pounded in her chest, and though fear clouded her thoughts, she couldn’t stop. The men quickly followed in pursuit, their heavy footsteps growing louder behind her.
Meanwhile, Mirae, shaken but fueled by determination, pushed herself to her feet and charged toward the men. Taking advantage of their focus on Saetbyeol, she leapt onto the smaller man’s back, locking her arms tightly around his neck in a desperate attempt to choke him into unconsciousness.
The man’s huge hands shot up, grabbing her arms with crushing force. His grip was strong enough to leave bruises, but Mirae refused to release her hold. She had promised to protect Saetbyeol, and nothing would stop her now. With the surge of adrenaline, she tightened her grip even more, clinging to him as his resistance weakened, his hands slowly loosening around her arms. Mirae held on, driven by the need to keep her friend safe.
Saetbyeol kept running, her heart pounding as she searched desperately for any sign of help. Her eyes locked on a porch light ahead, and she pushed herself to go faster, but it wasn't enough. The man's large hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her back.
Her feet tangled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground, her already-injured ankle buckling painfully beneath her. Panic flooded her as she looked up, eyes wide with fear. She knew she was in serious trouble— alone, disoriented, and with no idea where Mirae was or if she was okay. She opened her mouth to scream, but the man lunged forward, his hand quickly covering her lips.
Smirking down at her, he held her down as she tried to struggle free. Her palms scraped painfully against the rough concrete as she fought to pull away. With a hiss, he pulled his hand back, giving Saetbyeol the chance to run. But as soon as she tried to push herself up, a sharp pain shot through her ankle, sending her crashing back down to the ground. She was trapped.
The man laughed, a low, mocking sound, as he watched Saetbyeol try to back away. With slow, deliberate steps, he followed her, cracking his neck side to side and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
When Saetbyeol’s back collided with the brick wall behind her, her heart dropped. She was trapped.
What could she do now? There was nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.
Panicked, Saetbyeol scanned her surroundings, her eyes landing on a broken bottle nearby. She reached for it, her hands shaking as she grabbed the jagged glass. It cut into her palm, but she gripped it tighter, the pain barely registering as her fear took over. She raised the bottle in front of her, the wound on her hand deepening with the force.
“Stay back,” she forced out, her voice trembling with fear.
The man merely stared at her, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. He knew she was no real threat—just a helpless target, and the bottle in her hand was nothing more than a pathetic defense.
With a sharp motion, he knocked the bottle from her hand, sending it crashing to the ground a few feet away. Defenseless now, Saetbyeol raised her arms instinctively to protect herself, but the man easily pinned her hands behind her back. His other hand reached up, trailing a finger along her cheek, before cupping her face with a slow, deliberate motion.
A wave of nausea hit her as bile rose in her throat-she felt like she might choke on the revulsion.
Leaning in closer, he pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to her cheek, his breath thick with the stench of liquor. His lips lingered near her ear as he whispered, "Such a pretty girl."
The man chuckled lowly, leaning in as he brought his lips closer to hers. Saetbyeol's heart raced, knowing what was about to happen. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the touch of his grimy, alcohol-soaked lips against hers. Her body squirmed under his hold, panic rising in her chest.
But it never came.
Instead, she felt a sudden tug, and the man was yanked away from her. His hand released her wrists as he scrambled to grab at whoever had pulled him back.
The figure who had intervened was smaller in stature than the man, but the sheer intensity of his presence sent a shiver down Saetbyeol's spine. She wiped her eyes, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. As the figure came into focus, her breath caught in her throat.
San. It was San.
He was the one saving her. But how had he found her?
In that moment, Saetbyeol had never felt more relieved to see him. Fear for him flickered in her chest-he looked so small compared to the man who had attacked her. But at that moment, size didn't matter.
With a sudden, powerful move, San threw the man to the ground like he weighed nothing. He grabbed the predator by the collar of his shirt, yanked him up, and without hesitation, pulled his arm back. His fist slammed into the man's face with a sickening crack, the sound of shattering bone filling the night air.
Saetbyeol's breath caught in her throat as she watched in disbelief, the scene unfolding like something out of a nightmare. San's face was consumed by fury, and each punch he delivered made her heart race with fear. Blood soaked his fist, splattering onto the ground with every blow. The look in his eyes was one of pure rage, and a chill ran down Saetbyeol's spine as she realized the grim truth: he wasn't just stopping him-he was going to kill him.
The man's body hung limp, but San didn't stop. He continued to strike him, each punch landing with brutal force, the sickening sound of crushed bone echoing with each blow. Saetbyeol's own scream mixed with the violence as she rushed forward, panicked and desperate.
"San, stop!" she cried, her voice barely above a whisper, fear overtaking her as she reached out to pull him away.
Ignoring the sharp pain in her ankle, Saetbyeol forced herself to her feet and hurried toward them. She threw her arms around San’s torso, clinging to him in an effort to pull him out of the storm of rage that had taken over him before he did something he couldn’t take back.
For a moment, he didn’t react, but then, gradually, she felt his body relax under her touch. He let go of the lifeless man, his body dropping to the ground with a heavy thud.
Time seemed to slow as Saetbyeol’s gaze fixed on his chest. The faint rise and fall of his shirt confirmed he was still alive. Sweat dripped down San’s face, and his breaths were ragged, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of the violence.
When he finally seemed to regain control, he turned swiftly, pulling Saetbyeol into his arms. His hold on her was so tight it felt like he never wanted to let go, as though he was trying to hold onto reality itself.
“Are you okay?” His voice was strained, full of concern, as he held her close, the intensity of the moment still hanging between them.
His voice trembled, filled with the fear he couldn’t shake off, as he tried to suppress the thoughts of what might have happened if he had arrived even a minute later. He cursed himself under his breath, teeth clenched tight. He should’ve insisted on walking them home. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but the thought of something worse happening to Saetbyeol was unbearable.
When he felt her small body begin to shake against his, he held her even tighter, silently trying to offer her some sense of safety. The weight of everything that had just happened hit her all at once, leaving her too stunned to speak.
Saetbyeol buried her face in his chest, drawing in his familiar scent, hoping it would calm her nerves. But even as the tears flowed freely, a new panic surged through her — Mirae. Where was Mirae?
Pulling back slightly, still gripping his waist, Saetbyeol began scanning the area frantically.
“Where’s Mirae?” she asked, her voice quivering with worry.
San met her gaze with a soft sigh of relief. “She’s fine. I ran into her when I was dealing with the other guy. She told me to find you.”
Relief washed over Saetbyeol as she heard that Mirae was safe. Her body, drained from the night’s events, gave way to exhaustion, and she slumped against San. She felt utterly spent, her strength gone, and she leaned into him for support.
Quickly, San scooped her up, pulling her close against him as she relaxed, her head resting on his shoulder. Saetbyeol closed her eyes, too tired to do anything but breathe deeply, and managed a weak, “Thank you,” before burying her face against his neck.
“I’m just glad I made it in time,” San replied softly, his voice filled with a hint of guilt. “I heard the commotion while I was on my run and went to see what was going on. I didn’t expect to find you, but the second I saw what was happening, I didn’t even think twice. I ran straight to you.”
She nodded faintly, her body feeling like lead against him, as he continued to walk down the street. San didn’t ask, didn’t give her a choice—he was already set on taking her back to his place. He wasn’t going to leave her alone after what she’d been through.
As they rounded a corner, Saetbyeol felt the comforting weight of his embrace. His apartment was just ahead, and with every step, Saetbyeol could feel herself slipping further into the safety of his presence. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Mirae stepped out from the shadow of a nearby alley, her eyes tracking San as he carried Saetbyeol down the street toward his apartment. A deep sense of relief washed over her, knowing her best friend was safe in his capable hands. Though she longed to be there with her, Mirae recognized it was better to keep her distance for now. She needed to calm herself first, to regain composure before seeing Saetbyeol again. The anger she had felt earlier had been overwhelming, threatening to consume her, but she knew she would do anything to protect her friend. Saetbyeol was worth every ounce of that intensity.
With a soft sigh, Mirae gave one last look at the two of them, a faint smile forming on her lips. “Thank you, San,” she whispered under her breath. “Take good care of her for me.” Then, quietly and with one final glance, she turned and slipped back into the darkness, heading to the small studio she kept for moments like this.
Inside his apartment, San gently laid Saetbyeol on the bed, careful not to disturb her peaceful state. He flicked on the light with his elbow, watching her face soften as she slept, completely exhausted. Her body had finally relaxed in the safety of his arms. He carefully removed her shoes, covered her with the blanket, and ensured she was comfortable.
After retrieving the first aid kit, San returned to her side, tending to her cuts with delicate care. He cleaned away every trace of dirt and gravel, bandaging her wounds with precision, making sure she would heal without any further complications. As he finished, he tucked her arms back under the covers and sat for a moment, gazing at her. Her peaceful face calmed him in a way he hadn’t expected.
Reaching out gently, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. As his hand moved, Saetbyeol instinctively leaned into his touch, pressing her face softly against his palm. A small smile tugged at the corner of San’s lips as he whispered, his voice low and affectionate, “What am I going to do with you?”
He lingered for a moment, stroking her hair one last time before rising to leave. He grabbed a pillow and a blanket from the closet, quietly making his way out of the room. As he glanced over his shoulder at Saetbyeol one final time, he couldn’t help but smile. The sight of her safe in his bed filled him with a sense of peace.
Turning off the light, he made his way to the couch, laying out the blanket and pillow with care. Once settled, he sank into the couch, the warmth of the blanket surrounding him. As sleep began to claim him, his thoughts drifted to Saetbyeol, still resting in the next room. The thought of her being safe brought a sense of contentment.
“Goodnight, Saet,” he whispered softly before closing his eyes, allowing himself to finally drift off into sleep.
Summary: Two unlikely companions join together to ride the rollercoaster known as: Life. With a yin and yang balance, they soon discover that there’s not only beauty in the beast, but beast in the beauty.
The office was small, its walls entirely covered in red bricks that stretched from floor to ceiling. Sunlight filtered through the windows, breaking through the clouds to cast soft beams across the room. On the wooden floor, rainbows shimmered and danced, refracted by the panes of glass. Shelves carved directly into the brick walls displayed a collection of books, faded photographs, and old newspaper clippings, each piece hinting at stories from years gone by.
The rich aroma of coffee filled the air, drifting from a modest employee lounge tucked in the back corner of the office. Dim lantern-shaped lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. Desks of various shapes, sizes, and colors dotted the room, giving the environment a mismatched but inviting charm. Gray partitions divided the departments, marking the boundaries of a workplace that felt both bustling and intimate.
San and Saetbyeol had started here as interns three years ago, their careers still in their infancy. In just a year, they had completed their internships and joined the company full-time. Now, at 27 and 28, they found themselves caught between ambition and uncertainty, navigating the complexities of adulthood and career growth one day at a time.
Although it was a small company, the newspaper had earned a loyal following in the area, becoming a staple of the community.
San was one of its most creative writers, contributing to the entertainment and comic sections with humor and insight that readers loved. He had a natural charisma, the kind of easygoing personality that made people feel instantly at ease. Though his confidence and charm might have led some to assume he was full of himself, the truth was far from it—San was modest, kind, and unassuming.
His appearance, however, told a different story. With sharp, chiseled features and a strong jawline, San’s looks often left people in awe. His deep, chocolate-brown eyes seemed almost endless, pulling people in like a gravity well, as if they held secrets the world wasn’t ready to know. Women were captivated, men envied him, and everyone seemed to want to either befriend him or date him. Yet, despite the attention he received, San kept a careful distance.
For all his friendliness, there was an unmistakable wall around him. He never let anyone too close, never shared too much. This air of mystery only fueled people’s curiosity, leaving them to wonder what lay behind the polished exterior. Their curiosity wasn’t misplaced—San did have secrets, ones he guarded with every fiber of his being.
These weren’t trivial secrets, but ones that weighed heavily on his soul. They carried the kind of pain and potential for devastation that could change how others saw him—or worse, destroy him entirely. San knew this, which was why he had perfected the art of keeping his truths hidden.
He lived by one unshakable rule: no one would ever discover what he kept locked away. No matter how friendly or open he seemed, his secrets would remain his alone.
San groaned as he leaned back in his chair, his arms stretching over his head while a yawn escaped his lips. The chair creaked beneath him, a reminder of how long he had been sitting there. For five grueling hours, he had been glued to his workstation, fingers flying across the keyboard as he worked tirelessly to finish his article on the latest breaking news. The deadline loomed, but now, at last, the end was in sight.
Sitting upright, he scanned the laptop screen, the pale glow of the monitor casting sharp shadows over his features. His eyes flicked over the text, line by line, as he carefully proofread his work. A grin slowly tugged at his lips as he reached the final sentence, and with a quick, decisive click of the mouse, he submitted the article to his boss. He exhaled deeply, a familiar wave of relief washing over him. The satisfaction of a job well done never failed to lift his spirits.
Stretching his back, his eyes landed on the row of awards displayed on his desk. The shiny plaques reflected the dim light, each one a testament to his talent and dedication. A small, proud smile crept across his face as he considered the journey that had brought him here.
San was more than just a writer; he was the star of the company, the golden employee whose work always stood out. His articles consistently drew in impressive views, earning him recognition not only at work but throughout the town. At barely twenty-something, he had already achieved what many only dreamed of—a name everyone knew and respected.
San’s eyes drifted to the corner cubicle, where she sat hunched over her keyboard. Her small frame was barely visible behind the cluttered desk, but her focus was unwavering as she stared at the screen, her fingers gliding across the keys. A crease formed between her brows, her lips drawn tight before she began to gnaw on the lower one—a telltale sign of frustration. She paused, backspacing, then retyping, her expression taut as if she were wrestling the words into submission.
A strand of her jet-black hair slipped free from behind her ear, falling softly against her cheek. Without missing a beat, she tucked it back with slender fingers, her attention never wavering from the glowing screen. She reached for a mug beside her, taking a quick sip of what San guessed was cold green tea, her gaze still fixed on the document. A few more keystrokes later, she leaned back in her chair with a quiet sigh, the tension in her shoulders melting into exhaustion. She rolled her neck, wincing slightly, then pressed her hand against her left shoulder to massage away the ache.
San’s gaze lingered as she rested her chin in her palm, her expression unreadable—a blank mask she seemed to wear as naturally as breathing. The only movement was the faint shift of her lips as she resumed gnawing at them, her dark eyes scanning the text of an article on the monitor. The office around her buzzed with muted activity, but she was an island of quiet focus, oblivious to the eyes fixed on her.
San blinked, his own eyes stinging from staring too long. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, forcing himself to look away. Most of their coworkers chatted casually, trading jokes and stories to pass the time. But not her. She always kept to herself, slipping in and out of the office like a ghost.
There was something about her that held his attention longer than it should. Maybe it was her quiet determination. Maybe it was the way she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her slender shoulders. Or maybe it was because, despite sharing the same space for months, she remained a mystery he couldn’t solve. Whatever it was, San had never worked up the courage to break the silence between them. So, like always, he kept his distance.
Saetbyeol kept to herself. Cold and distant, she avoided interactions with her coworkers, especially the men. It didn’t seem to bother her; their boss, Ms. Kim, the chief editor of Seoulstitution News, was a woman, which perhaps made things easier. Still, San had never seen Saetbyeol with anyone, except for a quiet girl who showed up each evening to walk her home. He assumed they were friends, but their silence around others made him question even that. There was no laughter, no whispered conversations—just a shared, wordless routine.
At work, Saetbyeol was relentless. She met every deadline with ease, often finishing her assignments long before anyone else. Her dedication was unmatched, but her presence in the office was met with scorn rather than respect. Gossip and cruel jokes about her filled the air, sometimes within earshot, sometimes not. Saetbyeol never reacted, but the sharp edge of the remarks made San’s chest tighten.
He wanted to say something—to defend her, to stop the whispers—but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure why. Standing up for others had always been instinctive for him, but Saetbyeol was different. Maybe it was her aloofness, or maybe it was the way she seemed to exist in a world entirely her own. Whatever it was, it held him back, and his silence weighed heavier each day.
San had tried to reach out before—it wasn’t as if he didn’t care. But Saetbyeol made it clear she didn’t want his concern. The one time he’d approached her, offering a kind word after overhearing particularly harsh gossip, she fixed him with a cold, piercing glare and told him to mind his own business. Her voice was sharp, final. San, never one to argue, simply backed off and let it be.
The starkest difference between them was how tightly Saetbyeol guarded her life. She kept everything about herself sealed away, allowing no one to get close. Aside from her exceptional work ethic, her coworkers knew nothing about her. This void of information bred rumors, each more outrageous than the last. Some said she was an orphan, others claimed she had been in a gang because of her hardened demeanor and rough tone. Another theory painted her as the family disappointment—disowned for becoming a lowly news reporter instead of the high-powered lawyer her parents supposedly dreamed of.
But Saetbyeol’s real story was far darker than any office gossip could imagine. Her past was a weight she carried alone, heavy and suffocating, just as San carried his own unseen burdens.
The sharp buzz of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. She jolted upright, snatching it off the desk. A new message flashed on the screen: a strange discovery had been made in a cave just outside town. As the head of breaking news, Saetbyeol's knew it was her responsibility to investigate. So much for the quiet lunch she had planned.
By now, she was used to it. In a city that never seemed to rest, Saetbyeol’s work was constant. One story after another, each more urgent than the last. It was a wonder she managed to sleep at all.
Sighing, she shrugged on her jacket, gathered her things, and made her way to the door. On her way out, she passed San, who was meticulously rearranging his desk for what seemed like the fifth time that morning. She glanced at him briefly but didn’t linger. Whatever kept him busy was none of her concern. Without a word, she shoved open the door, made her way to the company car, and sped off toward the caves, ready to uncover whatever mystery awaited her.
Summary: Two unlikely companions join together to ride the rollercoaster known as: Life. With a yin and yang balance, they soon discover that there’s not only beauty in the beast, but beast in the beauty.
Saetbyeol flicks on her desktop lamp and sinks into her chair, locking her purse in the drawer of her desk. She taps her finger impatiently on the smooth surface, waiting for her computer to boot up. Today was going to be a long, exhausting one. The loading screen flickers before her, and she glances at the clock, mentally bracing for the challenges ahead. As the computer finally comes to life, she opens her inbox, already feeling the weight of the tasks piling up. The flood of emails and assignments staring back at her only deepens her sense of dread, but she takes a steadying breath, ready to dive into the work ahead.
Saetbyeol was always the first to arrive at the office. Though she wasn’t exactly a morning person, she preferred getting a head start on her work to avoid staying late or being the last to leave. The soft glow of her computer monitor illuminated her tired face, highlighting the exhaustion in her eyes. She took a sip from her coffee mug, then opened her browser and document software.
The cave incident still weighed heavily on her mind, leaving her confused and restless. She found herself considering every possible explanation, no matter how outlandish it might seem. But before she could write up her article, she needed hard evidence to back up her theories. The memories of that day kept replaying in her mind—images of the strange atmosphere, the chilling air, the cryptic symbols on the walls. It all felt so surreal.
Nothing about the experience made sense. Could it have been a natural phenomenon? A geological anomaly? Or was there something more to it—something beyond her understanding? Saetbyeol scrolled through tabs on her computer, hoping to find something that could explain what she’d encountered. But every new search only deepened her sense of uncertainty.
The office slowly came to life around her, but she barely noticed. Her focus was fixed on one thing: finding the truth, no matter how impossible it seemed.
Shaking the images from her mind, Saetbyeol cracked her fingers and let out an audible sigh before typing “behaviors of hunters” into the search bar. Time crawled by as she sifted through article after article about hunters and their strange tendencies, but nothing she found matched what she’d witnessed in the cave. The carcasses, stacked perfectly on top of each other with only the livers missing—none of it made sense.
Her next step was to dig into information about murders and unusual killings. She combed through pages about bizarre patterns and strange deaths, but again, nothing seemed to match what she was looking for. She didn’t want to dismiss the possibility of a deranged hunter or a serial killer, but there were no concrete answers. Hunters never arranged carcasses in such a meticulous way. Maybe it was a warning, or worse—a message from someone lurking in the shadows, using animal carcasses to convey some kind of twisted threat.
But even that theory felt flimsy.
The chime of the office’s front door cut through her focus. Glancing up, she saw San walk in, heading straight for his desk. He shrugged off his thick black jacket and draped it carefully over the back of his chair. With methodical precision, he placed his belongings in their designated spots before pressing the power button on his computer, waiting for it to power up. The quiet hum of the machine filled the room, but his presence, steady and routine, seemed to momentarily ease the tension in the air.
Saetbyeol had never paid much attention to San’s peculiar behavior before, but after the cave incident, she became more aware of her surroundings. Still, since he was her co-worker, she didn’t focus too much on his actions. That is, until the moment he caught her watching him. Sensing eyes on him, San spun around, his gaze locking onto hers. He smiled warmly and waved at her, his curiosity piqued by her unusual attention. Flustered, Saetbyeol quickly turned her eyes back to her screen, her cheeks flushed with a faint pink hue. She hoped he didn’t notice, but the warmth in her face betrayed her.
San, however, frowned slightly. He had always found her intriguing. Why was she so distant, always silent except for the occasional words exchanged with the girl she’d been seen with the other night? His curiosity deepened, but for now, he let it go. Shrugging it off, he made his way to the coffee bar to brew some tea, the thoughts of Saetbyeol lingering in the back of his mind.
Saetbyeol pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, her progress stalling. She was moments away from abandoning her search when she noticed a comment from an anonymous user with a link to an article. Her brow furrowed in hesitation, but curiosity won out—she decided to check it out. As she clicked the link, the title jumped out at her in bold, dark red letters: Mythical Creatures: A History. The color reminded her of deep red wine, almost the shade of blood.
With a mix of skepticism and intrigue, she began reading. The article appeared dense, its history of mythical creatures spanning cultures and centuries. But as she delved deeper, something felt different. This wasn’t just about legends—it seemed tied to something more, something that might hold the key to the mystery she was unraveling. Her pulse quickened. Could this be the breakthrough she had been looking for, or was she about to lose herself in another wild goose chase?
As Saetbyeol scanned the article, she quickly sensed that it was written by an amateur. The more she read, the more skeptical she became—what even was this? Fiction, perhaps? The author claimed that mythical creatures walked among humans, which made Saetbyeol chuckle out loud. She figured the writer had probably created this to stir people up and feed into their superstitions. After all, there was no such thing as mythical creatures. And if there were, how would anyone know? Had someone actually seen one? Highly doubtful.
The more she read, the more absurd the article seemed. Apparently, these creatures took human form to blend in, which only made Saetbyeol question further. Had the author really encountered one of these creatures? Again, she concluded, highly unlikely. The article felt like a poorly crafted attempt to make people believe in something unbelievable, and Saetbyeol couldn’t help but dismiss it as pure fantasy.
Saetbyeol fought the urge to roll her eyes as she skimmed through the definitions of each creature. There’s no way people actually believed in this stuff, right? She had to give the writer credit, though—some of the information was surprisingly detailed, but it had to be made up. With a sigh, Saetbyeol moved her cursor to close the tab, but then a familiar word caught her attention: Kumiho.
Her heart skipped a beat. She hesitated, gnawing on her lower lip, before reluctantly clicking on the link to learn more. Just as the page finished loading, her boss’s voice broke through her focus, causing her to jump in her chair. She quickly whipped her head around.
“Yes, boss?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady.
“Can you come to my office for a moment?” Ms. Kim called from the bottom of the stairs, her gaze fixed on Saetbyeol as she waited.
San took a sip of his tea, attempting to focus on the stack of papers in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Saetbyeol. It was unusual for him to feel concerned about someone’s absence, especially in the midst of a busy workday. He’d always maintained a sense of professional distance, yet now he found himself wondering if something was off. Was she just taking a longer break, or was there something more to her sudden disappearance? As he glanced at her empty desk, a sense of unease settled over him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Shaking his head, he returned to his desk, setting his teacup on the coaster next to his keyboard. The office was beginning to fill with his coworkers, their voices growing louder as they greeted one another and powered up their computers. He sat down, his eyes scanning the room, moving quickly from one face to another in search of Saetbyeol, but she was nowhere to be seen.
A quiet sigh escaped him as he slouched in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. The usual buzz of the office felt less comforting today, as if amplifying the gap between him and the one person he had hoped to see. His fingers hovered over his keyboard, but his thoughts kept wandering, drawn to the empty seat beside him. He tried to focus on his work, but the silence in that space seemed to grow louder.
“What do you mean I have to work with him?!” Saetbyeol protested, her voice incredulous as she looked at her boss. Despite their long friendship from college, the reality of the workplace was clear—Ms. Kim held the power here. As much as they were friends, when it came to decisions like this, her boss had the final word.
“I understand this isn’t ideal, Saetbyeol, and I’m not doing this to make things harder for you,” Ms. Kim said, her voice gentle as she gave Saetbyeol a sympathetic smile. “But I’ve decided to pair you with San for the cave investigation. His fresh perspective could be useful, and the attention he’ll draw to the story could really help us.”
“So you’re just using him for publicity? This isn’t even his department!” Saetbyeol groaned, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.
“Yes, that’s true, but I’m doing it for your benefit too,” Ms. Kim said, her voice more reassuring. “You know I’ve always wanted you to go far in your career, so I’m using this chance to give you a little push as well.”
“Fine, whatever. But don’t expect me to be friendly with him,” Saetbyeol retorted, her gaze sharp as she glared at her boss and long-time friend.
“I’m not asking you to be friendly, but try to at least work with him,” Ms. Kim replied, giving Saetbyeol a pointed look before dismissing her.
She stormed out of the office, down the stairs, and back to her desk. Collapsing into her chair, she shot a furious glare at San’s back, as if her eyes alone could burn a hole through him. To her frustration, San tensed and turned, locking eyes with her. Her expression was one of pure disdain, her eyes cold and sharp, like a storm ready to break. Confusion flickered in his gaze—what had he done to deserve this? Had he taken her mug by accident? Said something offhand about her work? His mind raced, but before he could settle on an answer, Saetbyeol quickly turned away, her focus snapping to the computer screen in front of her.
Frustration bubbling inside her, Saetbyeol tried once more to focus on the article she’d found in the comments, but her attention was quickly diverted again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her boss walking toward San’s desk. Great, now she’s going to tell him. Trying to act uninterested, Saetbyeol fixed her gaze on the monitor, though the words in front of her were completely unreadable.
Ms. Kim stopped in front of San and placed a file beside his hand—Saetbyeol’s report on the cave, complete with all her findings so far. Saetbyeol watched as San flipped through the pages, his eyes widening when he reached the last one. He glanced straight at her, clearly reacting to the news.
Heat crept up her neck, and she quickly bent down, pretending to pick something up from the floor. Her hair fell forward, covering her face as she tried to hide her flushed cheeks. As she straightened, she caught sight of San’s shoulders tightening, his sigh barely audible. Nodding at Ms. Kim, it was clear he understood the situation. His reluctance was written all over him, but as the good employee he was, he agreed without much protest.
As Saetbyeol continued to watch, a wave of anger began to rise in her chest. She sighed deeply, straightening up and unlocking her desk drawer. Grabbing her purse, she stormed out of the building, desperate for some fresh air before she completely lost her cool. How could Ms. Kim pair her with him? Of all people, why Choi San?
She exhaled sharply, already dreading the glares she would inevitably get—like she didn’t already deal with enough of them. San was the most sought-after guy in the office, yet also the most distant. Clenching her jaw, she ran a hand through her hair, realizing just how her female coworkers would react. San was popular with the women—especially in their office. Time and again, they’d made their moves on him, only to be politely turned down. That alone was bound to stir up trouble for her, but she had to give him some credit—he was always a professional, even toward her.
Saetbyeol had always kept people at a distance—cold, closed off, and rarely making any effort to connect. When she did speak, it was often laced with sharp sarcasm. No one ever approached her, and she was perfectly fine with that. In reality, her only true friend was Mirae. Her boss, however, knew Saetbyeol’s past, so how could she do this to her? Ms. Kim said it was for Saetbyeol’s benefit, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing good would come of it.
After paying for her lunch, Saetbyeol slipped into a quiet picnic area beneath a tree. This park, just a short walk from the office, was her sanctuary whenever she needed time alone to clear her mind or cool off. She glanced down at her bandaged ankle. The bleeding had stopped, but given the placement and nature of the wound, it was all too easy for it to reopen. However, with no blood seeping through the bandage, she turned her attention back to her meal, trying her best to ignore the thought that she would soon have to work with Choi San.
San couldn’t understand why Saetbyeol was so filled with anger and hostility toward him. She knew they’d be working together, so what was with the rage? He was aware of how she kept to herself, how she rarely spoke to anyone, and how others viewed her. If people started gossiping about her around him, he would quickly change the subject, trying to steer the conversation away from the negativity. It bothered him how they spoke about her—without truly knowing her, or even bothering to try. He hadn’t made much of an effort himself, but he had attempted to approach her once before, and it had ended badly. Since then, he had quietly admired her from a distance, his interest growing with time.
Now, with the chance to work with her, he felt a mix of excitement and hesitation. He was eager to get to know her, but he also knew the consequences of their pairing. The more they interacted, the more attention they would attract, and the more people would gossip. They wouldn’t care that this was simply an assignment—they’d jump to conclusions, speculating on why he and Saetbyeol were suddenly close. People were only ever interested in drama, twisting the truth to fit their own stories.
San glanced at her empty desk, sensing the frustration still lingering in the air. He sighed, standing up with his mug in hand, and walked over to the coffee bar for another cup of tea. As he passed her desk, his attention was drawn to the article she had been reading. What did this have to do with the cave investigation they were supposed to be working on together? His eyes then caught a new, unread article in a tab beside the one she had opened, making him frown.
He leaned in for a closer look, then rolled his eyes. With a quick move, he clicked the cursor on the small ‘x’ in the top corner of the tab, closing both articles about mythical creatures.
“How ridiculous,” San muttered under his breath, irritation lacing his voice. He never imagined Saetbyeol, of all people, would buy into such wild stories. If they were going to work together, he had to make sure she didn’t get sidetracked by nonsense. Their pairing was already going to draw attention, and the last thing he needed was for her to make a fool of both the company and themselves. With a few quick clicks, he cleared the browser history for the day and moved on toward the coffee bar.
After getting his drink, San weaved through the crowd of employees discussing various projects. While it wasn’t unusual for people from different departments to be paired up, it still felt odd that someone from news was teamed with someone from entertainment. The two fields didn’t overlap in any meaningful way, at least not for this particular story.
As he glanced out the window, he noticed Saetbyeol walking back to the building. Should he talk to her? Before he could make up his mind, one of their coworkers stopped her just as she was about to enter. Saetbyeol tried to keep her distance, but the man persisted, closing in on her. San’s stomach churned as he watched the situation unfold. The look in the man’s eyes sparked a surge of anger inside him.
The man was clearly provoking her. San watched as Saetbyeol stiffened, her shoulders hunching as she lowered her head to avoid his harsh gaze. With every word he threw at her, she shrank further into herself, growing more uncomfortable by the second. She looked like she wanted to disappear entirely. Her eyes began to well up, and San could hear the cruel taunts about her being called into the boss’s office, with the man repeating how he thought she was finally getting fired.
Her small frame started to shake, and a sense of protectiveness rose within San. He wasn’t one to get involved in other people’s drama, but this was different. The fear in her eyes was too much to ignore. He knew the repercussions of stepping in, but he couldn’t let this go on. Not to her. Not to his new partner. From now on, he would stand between her and the cruelty of others. No one would make her feel this way again—not on his watch.
San stood up swiftly and made his way out the front door. He moved silently behind the man taunting Saetbyeol, his presence looming as he cleared his throat, his voice low and threatening. “Is there a reason you’re harassing my partner?”
Saetbyeol’s eyes snapped up at the sound of his voice, and she froze. The warm, easygoing San she was used to had disappeared, replaced by someone unrecognizable—a man full of quiet menace. She was taken aback by the intensity in his gaze, something dark and fierce flickering in his eyes. She had never seen him angry before, and the sight of him like this made a knot form in her stomach.
The coworker turned around to face San, standing a few inches taller, but San didn’t hesitate. He stood his ground, challenging him. Saetbyeol couldn’t make out their words, her body too stiff with fear to focus. The panic began to rise within her. She hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years, but with everything happening—the sudden shift in San’s behavior, the confrontation—it overwhelmed her.
Tears welled up and began to fall down her cheeks as she watched the coworker retreat, clearly backing down. A small crowd had gathered, all eyes on San, which gave her a brief moment of relief. She quickly wiped the tears away, struggling to calm her breath, but then a hand gently landed on her shoulder. The touch was firm but comforting, and despite knowing it was San, she flinched, instinctively pulling away from him.
“Are you okay?” San’s voice was filled with concern, but there was still a hint of anger underneath, his tone deep and steady. He could see she was trembling, her breathing uneven. A soft, barely audible whimper escaped her lips as she tried to speak.
“I-I didn’t ask for your help,” Saetbyeol managed, her voice shaking uncontrollably. She inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself before she had to go back inside. Her body felt like it was betraying her, and she knew she didn’t have the energy left to argue, though part of her still wanted to. “I would’ve been fine on my own.”
Even as the words left her mouth, she knew they were a lie. She wouldn’t have been fine. If San hadn’t stepped in, things would’ve only gotten worse. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit that, especially not now. She couldn’t let him know how much his presence had helped. So instead, she forced herself to focus on her breathing, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. Deep down, though, she was thankful. She was grateful he had come to her aid.
San flinched at her words, a brief sadness flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with his usual composure. Her words stung, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He had just stepped in to help her—why was she still pushing him away? He decided not to dwell on it and took a few steps back, giving her space to collect herself. This wasn’t his first time witnessing someone having a panic attack, so he knew what to do. But this—this was a different Saetbyeol. The person in front of him was fragile, vulnerable, not the cold, sarcastic woman he had always known.
It made her more of a mystery, and that intrigued him even more. Maybe now he could finally uncover what lay beneath the surface.
The crowd around them had dispersed, leaving Saetbyeol and San alone in the cool afternoon air. Snowflakes were beginning to fall, delicate and quiet, adding a stillness to the moment. Saetbyeol, her body finally beginning to relax, felt the exhaustion weighing on her, but she fought it. She couldn’t afford to let herself fall apart, not in front of San—or anyone who might still be watching. She straightened, keeping her composure.
It was the first time San had ever heard her speak so softly, without the usual sharpness. Her voice was higher-pitched and gentle, completely different from the cutting tone he’d heard before. There was something comforting in it, something he hadn’t expected. This was the real Saetbyeol, and despite everything, it left him feeling warmer than he had anticipated.
“My name is Choi San. It’s good to finally meet you—partner,” he said with a warm smile, his tone soft and reassuring. He held out his left hand, palm open, as a simple gesture of goodwill, hoping she would accept his handshake.
Fear crept back into her chest as she looked from his face to his outstretched hand, biting her lip in uncertainty. She wasn’t used to physical contact with men, but she remembered the brief, soothing sensation of his hand on her shoulder earlier. Despite her instinct to pull away, his touch hadn’t felt threatening—different, but not scary.
This was the closest she’d ever been to him, and truthfully, the closest to anyone besides Mirae. Her walls were still high, but in his presence, they felt just a little less solid. She didn’t trust him yet, but she had no choice but to try to work with him, at least for now.
With a slow breath, she extended her hand toward his, fingers trembling slightly. As his larger hand closed around hers, enveloping it, she mimicked his motion, curling her fingers around his in return. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from their joined hands, feeling a strange warmth spread through her chest.
Her voice came out quietly, hesitant but sincere. “My name is Yoo Saetbyeol. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
Summary: Two unlikely companions unite to face life’s wild ride, their opposing natures balancing like yin and yang. As they journey together, they learn that there is beauty in the beast—and a beast lurking within the beauty.
Choi San
Full time newspaper editor
Very popular
But very kind and humble
Lonely
Yearns for a sense of belonging
Has a deep, dark secret that could cost him his life and the lives of many others
Very handsome
Piercing eyes
Graceful
When he’s up to something his smile is foxy and mischievous
Summary: Two unlikely companions join together to ride the rollercoaster known as: Life. With a yin and yang balance, they soon discover that there’s not only beauty in the beast, but beast in the beauty.
Dark clouds loomed overhead, casting an eerie shadow over the already bleak winter landscape. It wasn’t supposed to rain today, was it? As Saetbyeol pulled up to the scene, the crowd of onlookers gathered beyond the yellow crime scene tape, their eyes wide with morbid curiosity, drawn to the discovery like moths to a flame. The mouth of the cave stood open, dark and cavernous, as though it were waiting to devour anyone who ventured too close.
“Nosy people,” Saetbyeol muttered under her breath.
She’d never understood why people were so fascinated by chaos. Even more perplexing was how the crowd knew about this before she did—after all, it was her job to be the first on the scene.
With a groan, she stepped out of the car and was immediately hit by a gust of cold wind, her hair whipping into her face. She quickly tucked the unruly strands behind her ear and pulled her jacket tighter around her frame, the chill seeping through the fabric. She made her way toward the crime scene, stopping only to flash her badge at a nearby officer. He took a moment to check the small plastic card around her neck before nodding and lifting the tape to let her pass.
It always amazed her how something so small could grant so much power.
As she moved past the crowd, the whispers of the onlookers followed her, some recognizing her as part of the investigation team. She paid them no mind, her focus fixed on the scene ahead. Several officers in thick winter gear moved briskly around the area, but a quiet tension hung in the air, the kind that suggested something wasn’t quite right.
The cave loomed before her, its opening like a gaping maw. A faint trail of blood led from the entrance, staining the pristine snow beneath her boots. The scene felt wrong—too quiet, too cold.
“Detective Saetbyeol,” a voice called, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to find Detective Han standing near the cave entrance, his expression tense.
“What’s the situation?” she asked, walking toward him.
“Body’s inside,” Han said, his voice tight. “At least two others, too. It’s bad, Saetbyeol. Worse than we thought.”
She nodded grimly. “Lead the way.”
The interior of the cave was unnervingly cold, the darkness swallowing the faint light from the officers’ flashlights. Each step echoed unnervingly in the stillness. The air was thick with the scent of decay, mingled with the unmistakable metallic tang of fresh blood. As she moved deeper into the cave, the oppressive atmosphere seemed to weigh heavier, every breath harder to take.
When they reached the end of the cave, Saetbyeol’s stomach churned. The bodies were sprawled on the ground, their positions unnatural. The light from the flashlights flickered against the walls, casting long, distorted shadows that made the scene feel even more surreal.
Saetbyeol stood, her eyes scanning the scene. She jotted a few notes in her notebook, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. This wasn’t a random act. The way the bodies were arranged, the blood, the choice of location—it all pointed to someone who had planned this carefully.
The wind howled outside, the sound creeping into the cave like a warning. But Saetbyeol didn’t move. She wasn’t leaving until she had answers, until she knew exactly what had happened here.
Carefully, Saetbyeol moved through the cave, her footsteps light as she studied every corner of the darkened space. A strange warmth radiated from the walls, contrasting with the cool air she had expected. Despite the inviting heat, the cave itself felt far from welcoming. Something about it felt wrong—perhaps it was the thick darkness that seemed to smother her, or the quiet that pressed in from all sides.
What was it that unsettled her?
After what felt like an endless stretch of time, she found herself standing before a narrow path. Her breath caught as she froze, her eyes scanning the unusual sight before her. Lanterns, hanging from rusted metal chains, dotted the path, casting flickering light across the walls. Saetbyeol’s brow furrowed in confusion. This was too deliberate, too man-made.
She took a step back, a sense of unease creeping up her spine. In all her years of living in Seoul, she had never come across this cave. She was an explorer by nature—always walking the hills surrounding the city whenever she had the chance. But this place… This was unfamiliar.
A chill ran down her spine, despite the warmth in the air. The lanterns swayed gently, as if stirred by an unseen presence. Something deep inside her whispered that she was no longer just walking through a cave, but stepping into something far older, far stranger.
She took a slow, steady breath, the silence pressing in around her. The feeling of something watching, waiting, settled over her like a heavy blanket. And despite the warmth, the path ahead seemed colder now—its mystery beckoning her forward.
Saetbyeol stood still, her mind struggling to comprehend the sight before her. The scene felt too surreal, as though it belonged in a nightmare. A pile of animals, some strangely pristine and perfectly stacked, lay in the cave’s shadowy depths. Their eyes were glazed, their bodies unnaturally positioned, like some dark, twisted puzzle. But it wasn’t just their eerie arrangement that disturbed her—it was the careful precision of it. Whoever—or whatever—had placed them here had done so with deliberate intent. This wasn’t some random occurrence. It felt far too orchestrated.
She instinctively reached for her phone to document the scene, but then stopped, a nagging feeling tugging at her gut. Something about this felt wrong—unnervingly wrong. The air seemed thick, as if the very cave was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
A voice broke through her thoughts. One of the officers had quietly approached, his steps careful, as though not wanting to disturb the eerie stillness.
“You okay?” he asked, his tone subdued, almost reverent.
For a moment, Saetbyeol didn’t answer. Her gaze remained fixed on the gruesome tableau before her. “Who could do something like this?” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
“None of us know,” he replied, his voice tight. “We’re still trying to figure out what’s causing the smell.”
She wrinkled her nose again, her stomach twisting. The stench was unbearable, but it was the unnatural order of everything that unsettled her most.
Saetbyeol approached the officer, her gaze flickering over the scene before her. The air was thick with the weight of something unsettling. She pulled out her camera and notebook, ready to document whatever she could. “What happened here?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The officer shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing around before he spoke. “We’re not sure. But it’s clear this wasn’t done by any animal, and it can’t be the work of a hunter either. The bodies are stacked at least 20 high, and the hides are still intact.”
He paused, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if he were grappling with something he couldn’t quite explain. “There’s one more thing that doesn’t sit right.”
Saetbyeol tilted her head, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “What’s that?”
The officer leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Only the livers are missing.”
Saetbyeol furrowed her brow, confusion lacing her words. “Isn’t that something hunters would take?”
The officer shook his head, frustration creeping into his tone. “Not just the livers. Hunters take the meat, the hides, maybe the antlers—but only the livers? And this stacking… it doesn’t fit with what any hunter would do. They don’t treat their kills like this.”
He let out a long, tired sigh, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been on the force for twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like this. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Saetbyeol felt a chill run down her spine, a sense that whatever had happened here was far from ordinary. She looked up at the officer, her voice steady but edged with a growing unease. “Could this be something… ritualistic? A cult, maybe?”
The officer didn’t immediately respond, his eyes scanning the scene with unease. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “I don’t know… but it doesn’t feel like anything I’ve encountered before. Whoever did this… they were after something. And I’m not sure we want to find out what.”
Saetbyeol took a deep breath, scribbling a few quick notes. “I need all the details you have—no matter how small. I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”
The officer nodded reluctantly, his expression hardening. “Be careful, Saetbyeol. There’s something about this that doesn’t sit right. And I don’t think we’re ready for what comes next.”
Her eyes lingered on the gruesome sight, the missing livers making the whole scene feel even more wrong. This wasn’t just a murder. It was something else—something she couldn’t yet understand. But she would find out, no matter where it led.
The officer turned his gaze back to the pile of carcasses, shaking his head slightly, as if unable to comprehend what lay before him. Saetbyeol stood still for a moment, her mind scrambling to come up with a plausible explanation, but none came to her. With a soft sigh, she tucked her notebook back into her bag and pulled out a black case.
“Thank you for all the information,” Saetbyeol said, giving the officer a slight bow before heading toward the grotesque scene. She readied her camera, determined to capture some quick, clear shots of the bizarre spectacle.
After a few minutes of snapping photos—detailed, but not too graphic—Saetbyeol took a step back and scrolled through the camera’s roll. Satisfied with the images and the information she had gathered, she turned and began making her way back down the dimly lit path.
She was almost at the cave’s entrance when she suddenly tripped, her ankle scraping painfully against a jagged rock as she fell to the ground. She winced, a sharp yelp escaping her lips as she cursed herself for being so careless. Slowly, she pushed herself back up, brushing the dirt off her jeans, her frustration bubbling up inside her. Determined to make it out without further incident, she continued on, every step now careful and deliberate, her senses fully alert to the world around her.
She squinted as the sun fought to break through the thick gray clouds above. Slipping under the caution tape, she hurried back to the car just as the first raindrops began to fall. She quickly tossed her things onto the passenger seat before dropping into the driver’s side. Leaning down, she tugged at the hem of her pant leg, trying to free it from where it had snagged on her boot.
The rain intensified, drumming steadily against the windshield. She glanced up at the sky, now darkening by the second. With a sigh, she gave up on the pant leg for the moment and focused on the road ahead. Her mind kept drifting back to what she had just left behind—something didn’t sit right. She couldn’t pinpoint what, but the feeling lingered, sharp and unsettling.
Wincing, she carefully rolled up her pant leg to inspect her ankle. Thin red gashes crisscrossed her skin, stretching from the bone on her ankle to her calf. With a sigh, she mentally reminded herself to clean the wound once she got to the office. After gently pulling the fabric back into place, she started the car, flicking on the windshield wipers as the rain began to pour down harder.
As she reversed away from the cave, she couldn’t resist one last glance at the eerie site, its dark opening still haunting her thoughts. Then, with a sigh, she turned the wheel and headed back toward the office. The rain pelted the windshield, a soft reminder of the unsettling encounter she’d just left behind.
-
Saetbyeol pulled into the parking lot, grabbed the items from the passenger seat, and hurried inside. The rain had lightened, but it still clung to her hair, damp strands sticking to her forehead. She pushed open the door to the building, and a wave of warmth greeted her, along with the familiar scent of coffee and paper. The rhythmic clatter of typing and the soft hum of lofi music drifting through the speakers above provided a sense of comfort. Despite her dislike of crowds, the quiet energy of the place gave her a rare feeling of peace.
It was a refuge, a place that felt like home even though it wasn’t.
Once back at her desk, she set her bag down beside her computer and reached for the keyboard. A quick tap on the spacebar brought the screen to life. She typed in her password, but the familiar spinning wheel appeared, freezing the system for what felt like an eternity. She drummed her fingers on the desk, waiting impatiently as the minutes crawled by.
“Guess I might as well clean up my ankle while I’m waiting for things to kick off. The last thing I need is an infection and Mirae giving me hell,” she muttered with a sigh.
She pushed herself to her feet, but as soon as she shifted her weight from her right foot to her left, a jolt of pain shot up her leg, instantly reminding her of the “accident” at the entrance of the cave.
Saetbyeol made her way toward San’s desk, knowing it was the fastest route to the bathroom. She tried to hide her injury, though she wasn’t sure anyone at the office would even care. As she neared her destination, she caught sight of San’s dark hair in her line of sight.
She didn’t know him personally, but she was well aware of who he was. San was the company’s most popular employee, and it was easy to see why—everyone seemed to adore him. Whether working on a team project or casually chatting with co-workers during breaks, he always had a bright, cheerful smile on his face.
Saetbyeol had a strong dislike for him.
His never-ending cheerfulness drove her crazy. He was always so polished, so upbeat—it was something she could never quite understand. Then again, maybe San didn’t fully get it either. More than once, she’d noticed that his smile never really reached his eyes. It was genuine, but not entirely. She didn’t know why it bothered her, but she never bothered to dwell on it or him.
In the end, she didn’t care.
As she walked past his desk, she caught sight of San rearranging his workspace once again, likely for the fifteenth time that day. This time, he was crouched down, ruler in hand, meticulously measuring the distance between his knick-knacks. She frowned in irritation, unable to mask her distaste. What was the point of all this? The obsessive need to perfect every tiny detail left her with a knot of frustration.
“How annoying,” she muttered, walking past him. His eyes flickered up briefly, then quickly returned to his task without a word.
Saetbyeol stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a handful of paper towels—some to tend to her wound, others to dry her wet hair. She approached the sink, turned on the cold water, and placed her left leg on the countertop. With delicate care, she rolled up her pant leg, making sure the fabric didn’t brush against the open wound.
Grabbing a handful of paper towels, Saetbyeol held them under the running water, soaking them thoroughly. She wrung out the excess before gently pressing the damp cloth against the wound, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she wiped away the blood and dirt. Fresh blood surfaced, and she repeated the process, wiping carefully with the towel. After discarding the soiled cloth into the nearby waste bin, she grabbed another clean towel, continuing the cycle for nearly fifteen minutes until the bleeding finally slowed. Once the worst of it had stopped, she carefully applied a couple of large bandages, sealing the cuts with a quiet sense of finality.
After cleaning up the mess in the bathroom, Saetbyeol returned to her desk. Her gaze flickered over to San’s workspace, but he was gone. His desk was a picture of order, each knick-knack aligned and perfectly spaced, every angle just so.
How did he find the time to do that and still meet his deadlines?
He was such a strange person, yet Saetbyeol pushed the thought aside with a sigh as she settled into her chair. She plugged her camera into the computer and opened her notebook, quickly scanning her findings. Before long, she was compiling everything into a single document on her desktop, her fingers moving in practiced rhythm.
Time passed, and the office grew quieter as night fell. It was usual for Saetbyeol to stay late, ensuring her article was polished to perfection before submitting it for final approval. After a quick bow to Ms. Kim, she turned back to her screen, reviewing the completed piece one last time before sending it off to her boss.
Feeling a sense of satisfaction, she leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms high above her head. Her eyes drifted toward San’s desk, now unchanged, the same work materials neatly arranged as if he’d never left. She clenched her jaw, irritation rising. She hadn’t even noticed when he’d left—then again, she never did—but today, he lingered in her thoughts in a way that unsettled her.
She sighed, pushing the feeling aside. There was no point in letting him occupy more of her mind. She had work to do, after all. Yet she couldn’t shake the question: Why did his absence feel so strangely present?
Why was she suddenly so interested in him?
Shaking her head, she ran a hand over her face, trying to shake off the weight of the day. The mix of anomalies and the lingering scent of blood and dirt seemed to have her in a strange state. She couldn’t wait to leave it all behind and head home.
With a sigh, she leaned forward and powered down her computer, gathering her things as she prepared to leave. The building was always open to its employees; each one trusted with a key to come and go as needed. After all, her boss had given them that trust, knowing they were responsible enough to use it when necessary—like Saetbyeol, who often stayed late to finish extra tasks.
As she locked the door behind her, she felt the weight of the quiet settle in. The emptiness of the office contrasted sharply with the tension still running through her. She was glad to be heading home, but something deep inside told her this strange day wasn’t quite over yet.
“Burning the midnight oil again, huh, Saet?” A familiar, welcoming voice rang out from behind her.
Saetbyeol turned, offering a slight shrug as she flashed a soft, knowing smile—the kind she reserved for only one person. “You know me. Just wait until I tell you about today.”
Saetbyeol stood quietly, her gaze fixed on Mirae, who stood before her with her hands tucked in the pockets of her parka. The knit scarf Saetbyeol had given her for Christmas last year was wrapped around her neck, a symbol of their closeness. Mirae had been by her side through everything—her constant, her rock. They had been inseparable since childhood, and Saetbyeol trusted her more than anyone.
Mirae knew Saetbyeol like no one else: every flaw, every scar, every part of her past. And yet, she had always loved her, without judgment, without hesitation. Through every joy and every hardship, Mirae had stood by her. Saetbyeol owed her more than words could express and loved her with a depth that was hard to convey.
Mirae smiled softly, her eyes warm with understanding. The bond between them was something unspoken, a promise that no matter the future, they would always have each other. Saetbyeol’s heart swelled with gratitude, but the words to match her feelings eluded her.
“Mirae,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Mirae’s smile deepened, and she stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Saetbyeol’s shoulder. “You’ll never have to,” she replied, her voice full of certainty.
Mirae and Saetbyeol shared a close friendship, living together and supporting each other through their daily routines. Every day, Mirae would pick Saetbyeol up from work, ensuring they could walk home together for both safety and the chance to chat about their day. As the manager of a nearby coffee shop, Mirae often brought coffee, pastries, or sandwiches to Saetbyeol, offering a thoughtful pick-me-up during her lunch break. Saetbyeol’s punctuality was another perk—she always sent Mirae a text when her shift ended, letting her friend know it was time to close up shop so they could meet up. Their daily routine was a perfect balance of care and consideration.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about it!” Mirae exclaimed, her voice full of excitement as she linked arms with Saetbyeol. The two of them laughed, their spirits high, as they started walking home together.
San stepped out from the office building into the soft glow of the streetlamp by the backdoor. His eyes followed Saetbyeol and her friend as they walked further down the quiet street, their voices faint against the stillness of the night. He watched them turn the corner, but his gaze lingered on Saetbyeol, her figure etched in his mind long after they disappeared from view.
He stood there for a moment, the cool air brushing against his face, a mix of curiosity and something deeper stirring inside him. He tried to shake it off—just two friends, out for a late walk—but the thought of her lingered, pulling at him in ways he couldn’t quite understand.
San’s gaze remained fixed on the empty street, a question rising in his mind. “Who exactly is that girl?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the quiet night. The way Saetbyeol carried herself, the ease with which she seemed to move through the world—it was as if she had a mystery wrapped around her, one that San couldn’t quite unravel. He shook his head, almost irritated by how much the thought of her was consuming him, but still, it clung to him like an unspoken puzzle he had to solve.
