When we finally pulled into the driveway of the Lee residence, it was well past ten p.m. The grand modern house was quiet, the family instantly retreating to their respective rooms to brace for the early morning flight to Jeju.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the ceiling, my chest still vibrating with a mix of relief and anxiety. Mrs. Lee hadn't rejected my JBC request; she had simply looked at me with that analytical, anchor-sharp gaze and said we would discuss it after the weekend trip. It wasn't a "no," which meant my contract with Min-ah was still technically breathing.
Knock. Knock.
The soft, hesitant rap on my door cut through the silence. I pulled the heavy comforter up to my chest, pretending to be halfway into a deep sleep.
The door creaked open, and Mr. Lee quietly stepped closer into the dim room. He had changed into casual loungewear, the sharp, authoritative dentist-CEO posture entirely gone. I held my breath, my heartbeat instinctively intensifying.
But Mr. Lee didn't turn on the lights. He just stood by the edge of the mattress, looking down at me in the shadows. He reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before lightly patting my blanketed shoulder.
"Naughty boy..." he murmured softly to the empty air, his voice dropping to a low, heavy vibration. He stared at my messy hair, a faint, weary expression washing over his features. He whispered a name—"Ah-Jin..." or maybe "...Ah-Deul..."—I couldn't hear the rest over the rhythmic hum of the air conditioner.
But I caught the tone. It was a hollow, almost melancholically sad voice that I had never heard from Mr. Lee before. For a split second, he looked less like a wealthy patriarch and more like a father staring at a ghost.
He adjusted my black hair, dishelving it a little.
He pulled his hand back, stood in the silence for a moment longer, and then quietly turned and stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft, metallic click.
I lay there in the dark, blinking.
'Who was he talking to just now?' I wondered, a sudden chill prickling my skin. But I didn't pay it much attention. My brain was too full of immediate, high-stakes tactical navigation.
Tonight was the night.
The second the echo of Mr. Lee's footsteps completely died out in the hallway, I threw the blanket off.
I wasn't wearing pajamas. I was fully dressed—and unusually handsomely so. I had spent twenty minutes in front of the mirror earlier, ditching the baggy tracksuits for a crisp, dark tailored jacket over a fitted sweater and dark slim jeans. Today was the night of the double date with Sora's cousin.
I checked my phone: 10:45 PM.
I waited until the absolute, heavy silence of the "Golden Triangle" settled over the household, then carefully unlocked my window and secretly escaped the territory, slipping through the side garden past the empty space where the giraffe used to sit after Mrs. Lee ordered to get rid of it.
Even Ha-neul, with her hyper-vigilant vice-president radar, didn't have a single clue.
Of course, if Mrs. Lee or Mr. Lee woke up and found my bed empty before a family trip, I would be in profound, terminal trouble. But there was no better chance. Sora's agency had miraculously cleared her schedule for a brief window, and she had enthusiastically offered to go clubbing together in Hongdae to celebrate the temporary freedom.
'Besides,' I reasoned, my sneakers kicking a stray pebble on the quiet pavement, 'Won't this legally count as meeting my girlfriend's family?'
I honestly didn't know what I was more genuinely worried about: meeting Lee Sora as a proper boyfriend, or facing the judgment of her bloodline. Sora had mentioned that her cousin's girlfriend was actually from Class 2-B, so I had spent the entire bus ride out of the neighborhood praying it would be someone manageable. Min-ah? No, she was in Daechi-dong. Eun Ga-hwa? Maybe. How thoroughly troublesome it is to navigate a relationship.
I sighed to the cold night air, mist clouding in front of my face.
The neon lights of the Hongdae transit hub pulsed through the midnight fog. I wove through the weekend crowds until I spotted her standing near the entrance of a popular underground lounge.
Lee Sora was breathtaking.
Even under the harsh glare of a streetlamp, she looked like a walking pictorial. She was wearing an elegantly cool, short dark dress, but she had a thick knit sweater layered over it, and on top of everything was a heavy denim jacket. After all, the December nights in Seoul were unforgivably cold during this time of the year, and an idol-trainee's health was a corporate asset.
She saw me, her face lighting up with that brilliant, camera-ready smile, and stepped forward to greet me. But my focus couldn't stay on my girlfriend for more than a second.
Notwithstanding the fact that I was dressed heavily in a warm wool-blend jacket, a violent, uncontrollable shiver suddenly ran straight down my spine. It had absolutely nothing to do with the freezing Seoul wind.
It was because of the two people standing directly behind her in the shadows of the club entrance.
The girl was leaning against the concrete pillar, her arms crossed tightly over a high-end designer coat, her hair pulled back into an immaculate, frosty ponytail. Her chestnut revealed a dancing hazel tone as neon light fell on it. The guy stood right beside her, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of an expensive streetwear jacket, looking thoroughly miserable but completely bound to her orbit.
Yoo Chae-rin. And Han Min-gyu.
Chae-rin's ice-cold, dark eyes locked onto my face. Her jaw visibly dropped, her expression transforming from haughty disdain into pure, unadulterated horror as she took in my unbuttoned jacket, my styled hair, and my joined hands with Sora.
Beside her, Min-gyu froze, his eyes widening so wide I thought they might actually pop out of his skull. He stared at me—the guy he had tackled in the cafeteria, the guy he had seen pinned under his girlfriend in the karaoke room—now standing here as the guest of honor.
"You?" Min-gyu whispered, his voice cracking violently over the bass thumping from the basement. "No... no way."
I stood there, wishing for Myung-dae to beat me harder, so that my face won't have the same appearance, well obviously the patch was long gone and they couldn't mistaken me(unfortunately) for someone...My brain completely blue-screening. Sora's cousin... is the freshman president. And his girlfriend... is the Queen of Kirin.
I slowly turned my head to look at the sky.
'God,' I prayed silently, 'If you're going to deport me, just do it now.'