The early morning sun cast a golden glow over the cobblestone streets of the old Swiss town. Choi Eun-Seo wandered through the narrow lanes, the crisp air filling her lungs, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. The sound of distant church bells mingled with the faint chatter of shopkeepers opening their boutiques.
She had woken early, wanting a quiet walk before the chaos of the group tour began. The streets were mostly empty, allowing her to savor the moment of solitude.
But solitude, as it often happened lately, had a way of being disrupted.
From around a corner, a soft, melodic tune reached her ears. Curious, she followed the sound and stopped at a small plaza. There, leaning against a stone railing, was Park Ji-Hoon, strumming a guitar with ease and humming a tune that felt both playful and soulful. The sunlight caught his hair just right, and for a moment, Eun-Seo forgot to breathe.
Ji-Hoon noticed her but didn't stop playing. Instead, he smiled faintly, continuing the song as if inviting her into the music.
She cleared her throat, trying to regain composure. "You… play?"
He looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Do I play? I'm practically a one-man orchestra," he said, strumming a dramatic chord. "But don't worry… this concert is free, especially for my favorite critic."
She frowned. "You can't just call me that."
He winked. "Why not? It fits."
Eun-Seo rolled her eyes but found herself smiling despite herself. There was something about the way he played — effortless, confident, yet not overbearing — that made her heart thrum unexpectedly.
"Stop being so dramatic," she muttered, folding her arms.
"Dramatic?" he asked, mock-offended. "Me? Never. I'm just… passionate about music. And about keeping you entertained."
Her cheeks warmed. She turned slightly, trying to focus on the street ahead. But the melody lingered in her ears, soft and inviting.
Ji-Hoon's song changed, becoming slower, more gentle. He glanced at her briefly. "This one… is for people who are stubborn, independent, and secretly amazing."
Eun-Seo blinked. "I… didn't ask for a song."
"Of course you didn't," he replied smoothly. "But sometimes, the best things in life come unasked. Like mornings like this… or finding someone special in the middle of a crowded town."
Her chest tightened. She looked away, scowling to hide the flutter in her heart.
Ji-Hoon laughed softly, lowering the guitar. "You know… I didn't just bring the music for you. I brought it for me too. Because… seeing you react… it's worth every note."
Eun-Seo's mouth went dry. She had no words. This was different from their playful arguments, their teasing banter. This was… personal. Heartfelt. Vulnerable.
He set the guitar aside and leaned back on the railing. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since we met," he said quietly. "About… how annoying you are."
Eun-Seo frowned. "Annoying me?"
"No," he said, grinning faintly. "Annoying… but amazing. And I've realized… I kind of like being around you. Even when you glare at me or scold me."
Her cheeks burned hotter. She looked down at her feet, fumbling with the strap of her bag. "You… really are impossible," she whispered.
"And yet," he said, voice soft but teasing, "you keep coming back for more of my impossibility."
Eun-Seo's breath caught. She wanted to deny it, but the truth lingered too close to her chest to ignore. She had started enjoying his presence. His unpredictability. His warmth beneath the teasing.
Ji-Hoon seemed to notice her hesitation. He leaned closer, voice quieter now. "Hey… don't fight it. I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to."
"I… don't know what you mean," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek softly. "I mean… I like you. More than I probably should. And if you don't want me to… then I'll wait. But I'm not leaving."
Her heart pounded, and for a long moment, she said nothing. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely safe. Ji-Hoon's gaze held hers — steady, warm, and sincere.
Finally, she whispered, almost to herself, "Maybe… I'm not as careful as I thought."
Ji-Hoon's lips curved into a soft, victorious smile. "That's all I needed to hear."
The moment was interrupted by the distant shouts of tourists, and Eun-Seo's pulse returned to normal. She stepped back, trying to regain her composure.
"Don't get used to me being serious," Ji-Hoon teased, picking up his guitar again. "I still have a reputation to maintain."
She scowled but couldn't suppress a laugh. "You're unbelievable."
"And yet," he said, strumming a playful chord, "you like it."
Her cheeks flushed. She shook her head. "Maybe. A little."
Ji-Hoon's grin widened, clearly pleased with her admission. "A little is enough for me."
They walked back toward the main street together, the music still echoing faintly in the plaza. Eun-Seo realized that, for the first time, she didn't mind being paired with him.
Maybe… just maybe… Ji-Hoon wasn't just a disaster or an annoyance. Maybe he was slowly becoming someone she wanted to know — someone worth trusting, someone who made her heart skip even when she tried to act indifferent.
As the sun climbed higher, lighting up the quaint buildings and cobblestones, Eun-Seo stole a glance at him. He caught her gaze and winked, strumming a final chord.
And in that simple, musical moment, she realized that sometimes, words weren't necessary. Sometimes, music — and a glance, a touch, a smile — could say everything she couldn't.