The week after the presentation unfolded softly, like sunlight spilling across water — rippling, quiet, and full of small beginnings.
The city had washed itself clean of rain, and Seorim University gleamed under the late spring light.
The air buzzed with voices, music, and the metallic clang of booth frames being hammered into place.
The annual Cultural Fest was here — the one week of the year when grades, schedules, and seriousness loosened their grip.
And in the middle of that chaos, Sera Kim laughed.
Her laughter wasn't performative anymore — not the bright, gentle cover she used to wear.
It was free, unguarded, like something she finally allowed herself to feel.
"Hold that end, Minji!" she called, standing on her toes to tie a banner above the café stall.
Minji, covered in glitter from the art club booth, groaned. "You're glowing again. I swear, you're the only person who looks poised during chaos."
Sera chuckled. "I'm not poised. I'm surviving with style."
Haerin, clipboard in hand, shook her head. "Surviving? You volunteered for three stalls and the organizing team. That's not surviving — that's self-inflicted."
"I like the noise," Sera said simply. "It feels like everyone's alive."
Minji exchanged a look with Haerin, then smirked. "Or maybe you like the idea that a certain professor might walk by and see how alive you are."
Sera didn't deny it.
She didn't blush either.
She smiled, tying the last knot on the banner. "Maybe. He has good timing."
That single sentence made both her friends freeze.
Haerin laughed under her breath. "You really said that out loud."
"I told you," Sera said, stepping down from the stool, "it's not a secret. Everyone knows I like Professor Lee."
Minji clutched her chest. "You're unreal."
Sera just shrugged. "Maybe I'm just honest."
And she was.
The whole campus knew about her feelings — the way she greeted him in hallways, the way she asked him questions with a smile that was too genuine to be strategic.
But there was nothing desperate or childish about it.
She wasn't chasing him. She was acknowledging him — the way someone acknowledges sunrise.
---
The day grew brighter, laughter spilling across the quad.
Sera was carrying a tray of drinks for the volunteers when she saw him.
Julian Lee.
Standing near the faculty booth, talking to another professor, clipboard in hand.
Same composed posture, same rolled sleeves.
He was the one still point in all this movement — calm, controlled, utterly untouched by chaos.
Her heart didn't stumble like before.
It steadied.
She walked straight toward him.
---
"Professor Lee," she said, her tone light, polite.
He looked up immediately. "Miss Kim."
She held out one of the drinks — black coffee, no sugar. "I thought you might need this."
Julian blinked once, expression unreadable. "You knew I was supervising today?"
"You're always on the list," she said, smiling. "Order and authority don't volunteer themselves."
Something flickered in his gaze — not amusement, but acknowledgment. "And yet you seem to thrive in disorder."
"I adapt," she replied. "Equilibrium, remember?"
That made him pause. For a brief second, his composure wavered — just slightly.
"Thank you," he said finally, accepting the cup.
"You're welcome, Professor."
Her tone was calm, not playful, but confident — and when she turned to leave, she caught his faint exhale.
The kind of breath people take when they realize they've been holding it too long.
---
By noon, the campus was alive with music.
Students darted between stalls, laughter carried by the wind.
Sera worked the café counter, her sleeves rolled, hair tied loosely with a silk ribbon.
"Miss Kim, one caramel latte!"
She smiled as she handed over the cup. "Here you go!"
Every gesture — the curve of her smile, the quick tilt of her head — carried ease now.
There was no performance, no mask. Just Sera Kim being who she'd always pretended to be — warm, unafraid, alive.
Haerin watched her between orders. "You know, I used to think your sunshine thing was exhausting."
Sera laughed. "Was it?"
"Yeah. It looked like you were carrying light for everyone else."
"And now?"
Haerin smiled softly. "Now it looks like you finally get to stand in it."
Sera's eyes softened. "Maybe I just stopped waiting for someone to give me permission."
---
Across the courtyard, Julian passed by again.
He didn't stop, but his gaze lingered a second too long when he caught her laughing.
To anyone else, it would've looked like nothing.
To her, it was everything.
It wasn't interest, not yet.
But it was awareness.
And that was enough.
---
Later in the afternoon, Minji pulled her aside, grinning. "So, big question: do you think he knows?"
Sera looked at her. "That I like him?"
"Yeah."
She smiled. "Of course he knows."
Minji blinked. "You don't sound scared about that."
"Why should I be?" Sera said simply. "It's not a crime to like someone brilliant. Even if they never like me back."
Minji frowned. "But… doesn't it hurt?"
Sera's smile was quiet. "It used to. But now it just feels honest."
And it did.
Her affection wasn't a secret anymore.
It wasn't rebellion, either.
It was simply truth, spoken gently and without shame.
---
As sunset painted the sky with gold, Sera walked toward the main stage to help pack up decorations.
The air had turned cool, the crowd thinning to clusters of laughter.
Julian stood near the corner, signing off forms for the organizing committee.
When she approached, he didn't look surprised.
"You're still here," he said.
"Someone has to close the day properly," she replied. "Besides, I like the quiet after the noise."
"Strange," he said mildly. "You seem built for noise."
She tilted her head, smiling. "Maybe. But even the sun rests."
He glanced at her then — properly — and something unreadable passed through his expression.
"You're not easily discouraged, are you?"
"No," she said softly. "You don't discourage me."
That silence again — heavy, charged, not awkward.
He didn't answer, and she didn't expect him to.
She turned to go, but paused.
Without looking back, she said quietly,
> "You don't have to understand my feelings, Professor.
You just have to know they're real."
And then she left, leaving him standing under the fading light, her words echoing like a truth too gentle to argue with.
---
Later that night, when the city lights flickered outside her window, Sera sat at her desk, notebook open.
Not as Seraphina Vale — just as herself.
Her handwriting curved across the page, simple and steady.
> I used to think love had to be hidden to stay pure.
But maybe love is only real when it's seen.
I'm not waiting for him to love me back.
I just want to be someone who can love without fear.
She smiled faintly at the words before closing the notebook.
Outside, the city glowed quietly.
And for the first time, the silence around her didn't feel empty.
It felt full — of laughter, sunlight, and a kind of peace that didn't need to be earned.