Chapter 01
“Fine, let’s start as friends.”
“Ha. No, I mean let’s only stay friends.”
“Yeah, I said, let’s start as friends.”
“Hey, are you being serious right now….”
Not wanting to talk any further, Yeoreum turned away coldly.
Grab.
Hyunho quickly caught her wrist.
Yeoreum looked down at his faintly trembling fingertips, let out a short sigh, and said:
“I don’t want anything more than friendship with you.”
“Even if I try hard to win you over?”
“…Yeah.”
“Five seconds.”
“…What?”
“That much hesitation is enough for me.”
Yeoreum slowly pulled her wrist free, her face showing nothing but confusion.
“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”
“Once is enough.”
“Once what?”
“You. Missing out on you once was more than enough.”
“……”
“I don’t ever want to go through losing you again because of me.”
“……”
“I’ll do all the work to come closer. You just stay still. Don’t move away. I’ll handle everything.”
Pushing him away as he kept coming closer was becoming impossibly hard.
Ah. What should I do.
His face, desperate to the point of tears, was such an unfair sight.
She had promised herself over and over again never to be swayed by him again.
“Don’t you really remember me?”
Yeoreum could already picture herself, helplessly swept away again just like when she was seventeen.
Spring, 2004.
Yeoreum was about to start high school. Together with her childhood friend Boram, she went to Seomyeon. They were there to sign up for after-school classes, since most of their friends had already been attending cram schools to keep up with the high school curriculum.
Of course, that wasn’t their only purpose. The cram school area was also Busan’s busiest downtown. Not just today, but even once they started classes, they planned to sneak in plenty of fun along the way.
That day, the two huddled together to decide which subjects to register for, hoping to finish quickly so they could go play.
“Hey, Han Boram.”
“What, Han Yeoreum.”
“Do we really need to take Korean?”
Yeoreum couldn’t think of any reason why they had to. The two of them were never top students, nor were they hopeless; they usually hovered in the middle. But Korean had always been a strong subject—they consistently scored over 90.
Spending money and time on it just felt like a waste.
‘English would be better, wouldn’t it?’
They were weak in grammar. Their English scores weren’t bad, similar to Korean, but between the two, English seemed the wiser choice.
“Then what, skip math? Hey, no way. We’re terrible at math. Even in liberal arts track you still need math.”
“I said Korean. Let’s drop that one. We’re good enough at it.”
“Come on. We need an easy subject too, something that’ll keep us going to class. You don’t get it—confidence matters. And we’re not that strong in classical literature anyway.”
“Still….”
“If we only take math, you’ll show up two, maybe three times, then ditch. Even if you come, you’ll just hang out and go home. That’s called self-awareness, girl. Self-awareness.”
“Self-awareness my ass. English is better, isn’t it?”
“English? Hmm. Okay, fine. Let’s take English then.”
Aside from math, they hadn’t thought too deeply about other subjects. After a short debate, they swapped Korean for English.
As soon as they finished registering, they hurried out of the narrow cram school alley and crossed to the main street. Then they headed straight to MiniMini Mall, the big shopping center across the road.
Every time they came to Seomyeon, they never skipped this place.
Especially the sticker-photo booth in the small “half-floor” space between the 1st and 2nd floors—that was their ritual stop.
That day too, after buying some stationery and a couple of t-shirts, they decided to take photos.
There were newer booths with fancier props elsewhere, but they’d been using this one since elementary school. The nostalgia kept them coming back.
“It’s been forever.”
“Yeah. Hey, Han Boram, what do you want? I’m taking these red star sunglasses.”
“I’ll take… this one! The rainbow afro wig!”
They tried on sunglasses, wigs, headbands in front of the mirror before settling on their props and stepping into the booth. They posed with pouty lips, cheeks in palms, giant hand-drawn hearts—everything was second nature by now. On the printed photos, they scribbled glittery words like Our Friendship Forever.
When Boram stayed behind to take solo shots, Yeoreum pulled aside the booth’s heavy curtain to step out—
“Ah!”
Her forehead bumped into someone’s shoulder. It wasn’t hard, but the sudden appearance startled her so much she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a small yelp.
Opening them again, she found a boy clutching his chest like he’d had a heart attack, breathing fast from the scare.
“You idiot, are you crazy?”
“I told you to stop running around like a maniac.”
“Aren’t you going to apologize?”
A group of boys gathered around the one Yeoreum had bumped into, throwing in their own remarks. Then, as if forcing him, they grabbed his head and made him bow. He quickly brushed their hands off and bowed on his own.
“I’m sorry.”
Still startled, Yeoreum gave a short nod to say it was fine.
“See? I told you to watch it. Listen to your hyung for once.”
Even as they scolded him, they turned to Yeoreum with cheeky smiles. “Have fun taking your photos,” they said before walking off.
The group looked about her age. They kept teasing the boy until they disappeared from sight.
Something about boys taking sticker photos together intrigued her; she couldn’t tear her eyes away until they were gone.
On the way home, when Boram asked what she’d do next, Yeoreum’s eyes sparkled. “I’m gonna change my Winamp skin.”
“And then play games. Word puzzles, spot-the-difference.”
Of course, Boram knew her too well.
Yeoreum had moved into the 4th floor of her apartment building at age six, and Boram lived on the 9th. They had been inseparable ever since. Same elementary, same middle school, even same class year after year. Now, by chance, the same high school too.
It felt like destiny. They couldn’t imagine life apart.
So of course they knew each other inside out.
Grumbling that Boram was even naggier than her mom, Yeoreum unlocked the door. But today she had no reason to worry—after all, she’d registered for cram school, so her mom wouldn’t complain. With a smile, she called out:
“I’m home!”
Her voice rang brightly through the house. From the master bedroom, her mother, Eunsook, appeared.
“Mom, I went with Boram today to sign up for cla—”
“You’re home. Come sit with me for a bit.”
“…Why?”
“Just come. I want to talk to you.”
Eunsook’s face looked serious. Her subdued tone made Yeoreum tense.
Her feet grew heavy as she walked forward. Did she do something wrong? She hadn’t played games, hadn’t left trash, hadn’t messed up her room. She thought fast but couldn’t find anything she’d done wrong.
“…Oh. Uh, today I registered for classes. Math and English.”
“Really? Good job.”
Yeoreum blurted it out like a confession, worried her mom had forgotten she was supposed to sign up. She even added it preemptively, bracing for a lecture about how she had to study harder since other kids were already preparing for college entrance exams.
But Eunsook looked like none of that mattered.
That unsettled Yeoreum even more.
If it wasn’t that, then something bigger must be going on.
Chewing on her lower lip, she nervously sat across from her mother. Slowly, Eunsook spoke.
“Do you… want to come to Canada with us?”
“Ah—I thought it was something serious. Don’t scare me like—what? What did you just say?”
“Your dad and I… want to know if you’d like to come to Canada with us.”
Relieved for a second, Yeoreum froze again. Surely she’d misheard. What nonsense was this? Canada?
Of course, she knew her parents had been preparing for immigration for the past four years. Worn down by long years at work, they’d dreamed of moving abroad to run a Korean-style café. They’d talked about it often, gradually making preparations after asking for her and her sister’s agreement.
But Yeoreum had never thought she was part of that plan. It had always seemed like only her parents were going.
She hadn’t prepared at all. No studying to transfer schools, no English lessons. And her parents had never said, “You’re coming too.” They’d never pushed her.
So Yeoreum assumed—when her parents moved to Canada, this house would be hers alone.
The idea of living independently at such a young age was thrilling. Like something out of a movie.
Yes, like those foreign teen movies, maybe she could live like the cool popular girls. She’d even dreamed about it.
But now her mom was saying she had to go with them? Like they were just moving to the next neighborhood?
And right before starting high school?
Yeoreum’s lips parted. Her eyes darted around in disbelief. Her face flushed red, and she shouted in exasperation, her voice echoing through the house:
“What the hell! Seriously!”
