Episode 47
29 November 2025, Saturday. Late afternoon. Village Gotan-ri near Chuncheon, little hillside street off Chunhwa-ro, Mi-yeon's family home.
The low dining table was small, worn smooth by years of use, and filled almost to the edges with simple food.
Steaming rice, side dishes arranged neatly in small bowls, soup still giving off heat.
The kind of meal that didn't try to impress anyone—only to feed, to gather, to hold people together.
Mi-yeon sat between her parents, her shoulders relaxed in a way they rarely were in Seoul.
Across from her, Su-ha talked non-stop.
"…and she always tells everyone what to do," her little sister complained, cheeks puffed slightly with indignation.
"Like she's the boss of the whole class. She even tried to tell me where to sit!"
Their mother smiled absently, listening, refilling bowls.
"And then," Su-ha continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, clearly enjoying the attention, "my classmate—Jung-seok—suddenly stood up and told her to stop."
"He said, 'You're not the teacher.'"
She blushed a little, trying to look casual.
"It was… kind of cool that he did that."
Mi-yeon smiled softly, hiding her face behind her chopsticks.
Something warm stirred in her chest.
Their father chuckled.
"Sounds like a good kid. You be kind to him, daughter."
Su-ha nodded enthusiastically, then returned to eating, satisfied that her story had landed.
There was a brief lull—only the clink of chopsticks, the quiet comfort of chewing.
Then her father looked at Mi-yeon.
"So," he said gently, "how is university?"
Mi-yeon straightened slightly.
Not tense. Just attentive.
"I am… getting used to it. Slowly," she answered honestly.
"It's hard sometimes. But I'm doing okay. Just a bit terrified about the coming exams.
It's a lot of responsibility."
She spoke carefully, choosing her words the way she always did at home—light enough not to worry them, truthful enough not to lie.
"There was an event recently," she added after a moment.
"A paintball competition between faculties."
Her mother looked up, surprised.
"Paintball? Was it fun to watch?"
Mi-yeon smiled, a little embarrassed.
"I didn't just watch… I was part of the team. And… we won."
Su-ha's eyes widened.
"You won?!"
Mi-yeon nodded.
"At the end, it was one-on-one."
"The other player was very experienced, and I was left on my own."
"Everyone thought I'd lose."
Her father set his chopsticks down.
"And?"
Mi-yeon inhaled, then said it simply, without embellishment.
"I didn't."
For a heartbeat, the table was silent.
Then Su-ha practically bounced in her seat.
"Unni! That's amazing!"
Their mother reached over and squeezed Mi-yeon's hand, pride soft but unmistakable.
"You must be very brave," she said quietly.
Mi-yeon looked down at her bowl, cheeks warming.
"Maybe," she replied.
"Or maybe I was just… inspired."
Her father nodded, thoughtful.
"Proud of you."
They returned to eating, conversation drifting back to ordinary things—weather, neighbors, winter plans.
For her, this was happiness.
More than enough.
Mi-yeon stopped chewing. She set her chopsticks down carefully and spoke softly.
"By the way, Dad… I have a friend in my group…"
She immediately added, a little too quickly,
"We're just friends. But… he's a very good person. He helps me a lot."
Her father lifted his head. He didn't like how that had started. But he didn't interrupt. He grew tense. So did her mother, who instinctively placed her hand over his, as if to steady him in advance.
Mi-yeon continued.
"He loves skiing. But hotels are too expensive, so he's looking to rent a room for a month or two."
She hesitated, then went on more softly.
"And I remembered… you said before that you were planning to rent out our guest room during the ski season."
She paused, then lifted her eyes toward her father, carefully.
"Maybe I could invite him? It would help us earn some money."
Her father didn't answer right away. He didn't even move his chopsticks. When he caught her gaze, he looked away and resumed eating.
"No."
Mi-yeon's face fell.
"But why, Dad? Don't we need the money?"
"No. Because I said no."
Her mother noticed the light of hope fading in her daughter's eyes. She clicked her tongue and turned to her husband.
"Jung-guk," she said, her tone lightly teasing but edged with reproach.
"Since when do you own land from Seoul to Busan? Are we suddenly so rich that we don't need extra income?"
She looked at him pointedly.
"Why don't you at least ask who he is first?"
Mi-yeon's father slouched slightly under her gaze but didn't give in right away.
"Fine," he said gruffly. "Who is he?"
Mi-yeon answered cautiously.
"Well… I've told you about him before. His name is Seok Do-nis. He's genuinely kind person. Not just to me—to everyone. He helped me a lot with Physics and English. And—"
Her father cut her off.
"Seok Do-nim? That Chinese boy of yours? In my house? Not a chance!"
He puffed his cheeks, visibly irritated.
"I know those Chinese boys!"
Mi-yeon panicked.
"Dad, he's not Chinese!"
"That doesn't matter. I'm against it. A single man has no business living in a house with my daughters. Let them get married first!"
Her mother threw her hands up.
"If you act like this, they'll never get married at all! What are you doing?"
She scoffed.
"She told you—they're just friends!"
"Oh, sure," her father replied dryly. "Just friends. Do you think I'm blind?"
He frowned and continued eating.
And then Su-ha, with her usual childish innocence and perfect timing, spoke up.
"That's too bad…" she said sadly.
"I wanted to see Unni's oppa. The dorms will probably be empty during the holidays… everyone will go somewhere else.
Unni and oppa will be all alone there together. That sounds really sad and lonely."
Slowly, Bo-ra's eyes shifted from Su-ha to her husband.
Jung-guk froze, vividly imagining his daughter choosing to stay in the dormitory out of protest—alone with that boy for two whole months.
He grumbled.
"What a mess… Fine. Am I really that heartless?"
He sighed.
"I am not. Maybe he's not so bad."
Jung-guk pointed his chopsticks at Mi-yeon.
"He can rent the room. But I'll be watching him…"
Then, sternly, "And you, too."
Mi-yeon smiled down at her bowl.
Bo-ra struggled not to laugh.
Dinner continued.
Su-ha was already asking if there would be dessert.
1 December 2025, Monday. Morning. SNU, Building 501, 3rd floor, chemistry department office.
At this early hour, Yu-ra was, as usual, seated behind the desk in the department's office, carrying out her duties as a junior administrative assistant.
She wasn't particularly fond of bureaucracy. Paperwork bored her. Forms irritated her.
But this part-time job allowed her to rent a small studio near campus without constant financial dependence on her parents. They still helped, of course—but it mattered to her that she was not just taking, but also standing on her own feet.
The door opened, and Professor Han entered the office.
Yu-ra immediately stood and bowed.
"Good morning, Professor-nim."
"Good morning, Yu-ra," he replied warmly. "Why do you look like you're holding back a question?"
She laughed lightly.
"Professor-nim, you're remarkably perceptive. You teach us philosophy, but I think you could easily teach psychology as well."
The elderly man smiled.
"When you grow old, you end up teaching psychology to everyone whether you want to or not. It's unavoidable."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So—how can I help you?"
Yu-ra spoke respectfully, but with quiet confidence.
"I heard the department office hires students for short-term holiday work. I was wondering whether it might be worth asking if Sokolov Denis would be interested."
She paused briefly, then continued.
"I know him fairly well. He's very methodical, consistent, and calm when solving tasks. Responsible, reliable. I think he'd be an excellent fit as a temporary assistant."
Professor Han smiled again, this time more knowingly.
"Well, Yu-ra. How could I refuse you?"
He nodded.
"Ask him if he's interested. If he is, I'll put in a word for him with the dean."
"Thank you, Professor-nim," she said, bowing once more before sitting back down at her desk.
She picked up her phone and typed a message.
Hi, Den! When you have time, stop by the department office.
I want to ask you something.
She hesitated, then added another message.
And don't bring me coffee again. Or I'll think you're flirting with me.
She returned to her computer and resumed working.
Not long after, her phone chimed softly.
She read Den's reply.
That's not fair. How am I supposed to live under such conditions? If I don't bring you coffee, I'm a bad friend. If I do, I'm a toxic manipulator.
A second message followed immediately.
I hope you like tea.
Yu-ra laughed quietly to herself and replied with an eye-rolling emoji, followed by one hugging a heart. She set her phone aside and continued working.
Den was sitting in a lecture hall when he received Yu-ra's last message. He smiled faintly.
Almost immediately, another message arrived—this one was from Mi-yeon.
Den, I have great news!
Can we talk after the lecture?
I need to speak to professor Lee first. Where can I find you afterward?
Den turned his head.
Mi-yeon was sitting several rows up, next to Han-bin, staring at her phone without blinking—clearly waiting for his reply.
Den muttered under his breath,
"Either nothing at all… or everything at once."
Min-jae glanced over.
"What?"
"Nothing," Den said quickly. "Never mind."
He typed his reply.
I'll be waiting for you in the department office.
He hit send.
1 December 2025, Monday. Late morning. SNU, Building 501, 3rd floor, chemistry department office.
Den stepped into the department's office.
Yu-ra noticed him immediately and greeted him with a warm wave of her hand. She stood up from her desk and gestured toward the chair in front of her.
The gesture was almost rhetorical. They both knew perfectly well who he had come to see and where he was meant to sit.
But by standing, Yu-ra deliberately revealed her office outfit—elegant, feminine, yet strict. Professional without being cold.
Den didn't miss it.
He sat down, his smile soft, understanding.
"That outfit really suits you, Yu-ra," he said calmly. "If confidence and femininity needed a visual form—it would look exactly like this."
He placed a paper cup of tea on her desk.
She laughed lightly, a little embarrassed.
"Why would you say that?" she asked, touching the cup. "Now I'm shy. Was it really that obvious I wanted to show off?"
He smiled kindly.
"Impossible not to notice," he replied. "But it truly fits you. So you have every right to that small weakness."
Her expression brightened—but only for a moment. She quickly composed herself, rotated the tea cup in her hands, took a sip, and said,
"So… I asked you to come because I wanted to ask you something—"
At that exact moment, Mi-yeon entered the department's office, almost like a bird fluttering in.
She saw Den and immediately smiled, barely able to contain her excitement.
"Oh—there you are! I have great news!"
Then she froze, suddenly realizing she might be interrupting something important. Her eyes widened slightly, and she bowed quickly to Yu-ra.
"Oh—sorry, Sunbae! I think I interrupted you. I'll wait outside."
Yu-ra smiled kindly.
"No, no, Mi-yeon. We weren't discussing anything important. Stay."
She tilted her head gently.
"If you'd like, I can step out and give you the office to talk."
Mi-yeon bowed again.
"Thank you, Sunbae, but that's not necessary. I just wanted to say—"
She turned to Den, her voice growing shy.
"You remember we talked about the ski resort near my village? And you said you were looking for a room to rent during the holidays?"
Den nodded.
"I spoke with my parents," Mi-yeon continued, her eyes shining. "They'd be happy if you rented a room at our house during the break. The rent would be very low. And my mom even said she could cook for you too—if you don't mind simple food."
She grew more embarrassed with every word, but her smile only became brighter.
"So… I'll wait for you in the classroom. I'll explain everything properly then. I don't want to get in the way."
She bowed once more and hurried out.
Yu-ra's shoulders slumped just slightly.
She was still smiling—but now the smile carried a faint sadness. Not obvious enough for a man to notice. It was the kind of shift women would have sensed, the way one senses the weather turning worse before the clouds fully gather.
Den turned back to her.
"I love skiing," he said lightly. "But hotels are too expensive. I was already thinking I wouldn't get to go this year."
The way his face had lit up made it clear—it wasn't just about the sport.
Yu-ra nodded.
"That's great," she said quietly. "I'm… happy for you."
Then he remembered.
"You said you wanted to ask me something?"
She blinked, as if waking from a brief daze.
"Oh—right. Yes."
Her professional smile returned, smooth and practiced.
"I wanted to ask you to help me put up the exam schedules on the notice board in the lobby. I'm running behind today."
She gestured toward the printer.
"I'll print them now. Could you take them and hang them up for me? Please?"
Den nodded immediately.
"Of course. For you—anything."
She turned back to her computer.
"Then wait just a minute. I'll print everything right now."
1 December 2025, Monday. Evening. Seoul, Sharosu-gi, sukiyaki restaurant "Honne".
By evening, Yu-ra met Mi-rae at a bar-restaurant not far from campus.
The place was warm and noisy—not loud, just student-noisy: soft music in the background, the clinking of glasses, laughter that didn't try to conquer the room.
Yu-ra sat at the bar counter beside Mi-rae. In front of each of them stood a glass of soju and a small plate of dried anchovies and peanuts—almost untouched.
Mi-rae's cheeks were already slightly flushed from the alcohol. She didn't drink well, but she laughed easily, freely, like someone who had simply come to loosen the weight of the day.
Yu-ra poured herself another shot.
Not to get drunk—just to dull the sharp edge of her thoughts.
"You look tired today," Mi-rae said, leaning closer.
Yu-ra smirked, turning the glass between her fingers.
"Everything just piled up at once," she replied vaguely.
Mi-rae looked at her more closely. Too closely to believe that answer.
"Your heart still isn't calm," she said after a pause, choosing her words carefully. "It still hurts, doesn't it?"
Yu-ra lifted her eyes.
"You mean Do-hyun?" she asked lightly.
She waved a hand dismissively.
"No. I've forgotten that jerk completely. I don't even think about him anymore. I met someone new and realized how lucky I am that we broke up."
She fell silent for a few seconds, as if weighing how much she could allow herself to say.
Mi-rae asked carefully,
"But…?"
Yu-ra looked away, then exhaled—letting the emotion spill out.
"There's no 'but.' Nothing dramatic. I'm not madly in love. I'm not suffering."
She shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't mind being in love, but he's in love with someone else—and he doesn't hide it.
And thank God I'm not a high school girl anymore, losing my head over a paper rose or a cute smile. I have everything under control."
She paused, then added quietly,
"It's just that… after meeting him, I realized what kind of man I want in my life. And now the bar is set so high I don't even know where I'm supposed to find someone like that."
She sighed, half-joking, lips slightly puffed, resting her head on her hand—but sincere.
"Maybe they'll invent decent looking androids soon and I'll just buy one."
"Then let's drink to technological progress," Mi-rae said.
They giggled and took another shot.
Yu-ra spoke again,
"Mi-rae… we're too drunk. Ask Su-ho to come get us before I completely lose control."
Then she added with a soft laugh,
"It's really nice—to be able to drink and know your boyfriend will come and just take you home."
Mi-rae nodded slowly.
"Envy?"
Yu-ra answered lightly,
"A little. Tomorrow I'll stop wasting money on soju and start saving for an android. Because it feels like I'm doing everything right… but happiness doesn't seem to come with a receipt."
1 December 2025, Monday. Late Evening. Seoul, Sharosu-gi, outside of sukiyaki restaurant "Honne".
The night air was cold and refreshing.
Su-ho stood by the car, hands in the pockets of his coat. When he saw them, he straightened.
"Ready?" he asked calmly.
"Yes," Mi-rae replied with a smile. "Thank you for coming."
Yu-ra said nothing—only gave a brief nod.
They drove in silence.
Mi-rae, tired and tipsy, soon leaned against the window. Su-ho drove carefully, unhurried.
Yu-ra watched the reflections of streetlights slide across the glass.
When the car stopped in front of her building, she stepped out and waved at them.
"Thank you," she said to Su-ho.
Then she shaped her hands into a heart and said playfully,
"Hugs, Mi-rae!"
"Yu-ra," Mi-rae leaned toward her. "And you too. If you ever want to talk—"
Yu-ra smiled—softly, genuinely.
"I know," she said. "Thank you."
She turned and walked toward the entrance without looking back. The first snow started to fall. She reached her gloved hand toward the sky and caught a snowflake.
"First snow… why can't you be here with me so we can make a wish together?"
For just a second—only a second—she closed her eyes as she unlocked the door.
Then she went inside, straightening her back, as always.