YPT 07

Chapter 7

The lingering discomfort from that night had barely faded when jian swore to himself that he would never let Yeon-ha into his apartment again.

But that conviction didn’t even last a week.

Three days later, Yeon-ha was once again trailing right behind him.

“Hehe. Thanks again, senior.”

“At this rate, why don’t you just ask me for a keycard? Or the door lock code, maybe.”

At Jian’s clenched-teeth remark, Yeon-ha’s eyes went wide.

“Oh? You’d actually give it to me?”

“Would I?”

When she held out both hands like she really expected him to, Jian poked her forehead with a finger and opened the door with practiced ease.

Somehow, she’d missed the last bus again and shamelessly called him for help — and somehow, Jian couldn’t say no.

He’d wrestled with guilt for a long time about what had happened three nights ago, but when she said she was scared to stay in the library alone, his resolve crumbled.

It’ll be fine, he told himself. It’s not like that night will happen again. And if it gets weird, I’ll just stay in my room.

With a quiet sigh, Jian opened the door and stepped inside first.

Behind him, Yeon-ha followed in small, quick steps, unpacking her bag almost immediately. She took out his favorite drink and some snacks, setting them neatly on the kitchen table.

“That’s the lodging fee.”

Jian ignored the cheeky comment completely and went to fetch the same spare clothes she’d worn the last time. Clean and freshly washed.

When he handed them over, Yeon-ha peeked up through her lashes and murmured,

“If you’d given them to me, I could’ve washed them for you, you know.”

Jian froze.
There was no way she could ever find out what he’d done with those clothes after she’d left that morning.

Not that he would’ve let her do his laundry anyway — but especially now, that was out of the question.

Yeon-ha disappeared into the bathroom with the clothes, and soon the sound of running water filled the apartment.

Left alone, Jian sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face roughly.

Now that she was in there, all he could think of was how she would look when she came out — damp hair, his clothes hanging loose, skin still warm from the shower.

He scowled and exhaled sharply.
He felt like he’d stumbled right into a trap of his own making.

He could hear everything — the water turning off, her quiet steps, the faint creak of her door. He didn’t even realize how closely he was listening until he caught himself.

When he finally emerged from his room to wash up himself, Yeon-ha was standing by the bathroom door — bright-eyed, smiling, waiting.

He flinched.

“What now?”

“I wanted to see you fresh out of the shower, senior!”

Her words made his handsome face twist in disbelief. He almost cursed out loud, but she kept talking, all grin and innocence.

“It’s not something I get to see every day! I mean, at school I’m probably the only one who’s seen you looking this… dewy!”

She looked far too unguarded for someone standing in a man’s apartment at night.

The oversized T-shirt he’d lent her slipped off one shoulder, exposing a strap of dark fabric beneath. Under the white cotton, that same dark hue traced faintly against her skin.

Her damp hair hung loose down her back, framing her clear face and soft, flushed lips.

She had all the elements that could drive a man insane — and no idea what kind of effect she had.

I’m going to lose it, he thought.

If this keeps up, I’ll really do something stupid.

The alarm bells in his head screamed.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and gently pushed her back into her room before locking himself in his own.

Dangerous.
That was the only word that came to mind.

The desire he felt for her wasn’t something he could easily rein in anymore.

Then — a knock.

“Senior, could you open the door, please?”

Jian ran a hand through his still-damp hair in frustration.

“God, she’s insane.”

He considered pretending to be asleep.

Then came another knock.

“Senior? I can see the light under the door. Pretending to sleep won’t work!”

Grinding his teeth, Jian yanked the door open. Yeon-ha stood there with her fist raised mid-knock, caught red-handed.

“You’ve got assignments too, right?” she said cheerfully. “Let’s do them together while we eat chicken! My treat — it’ll count as tonight’s lodging fee.”

“Wasn’t the stuff on the table already your ‘lodging fee’?”

He jerked his chin toward the kitchen counter.

“Oh, that?” She looked back. “That was for last time. Tonight’s is chicken.”

“I haven’t even had dinner yet,” she added, pouting.

Her tone was more of a whine than a complaint, and Jian sighed.

“You haven’t eaten at this hour? What were you doing?”

“Couldn’t help it. One of my tutoring kids has a competition coming up and wanted an extra lesson.”

“So the parents made you stay that late and didn’t even feed you?”

He frowned, looking genuinely displeased.

“They didn’t make me,” she muttered, lips jutting out. “I just didn’t have time to eat between sessions. Okay?”

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“Order it. Whatever you want.”

Her sulky face lit up instantly.

“Then while we wait, could you help me with my assignment? I know you took this course last year — with an A+, right?”

She clasped her hands together and looked up at him sweetly. Jian groaned and pressed a large hand to the top of her head, ruffling it roughly.

She yelped dramatically and darted to the living room, laughing.

Watching her retreating back, Jian sighed again. Then, resigned, he fetched his laptop and joined her.

I must’ve fallen straight into a trap, he thought. Or maybe I took the bait myself.

As he set the laptop on the table, he asked,

“Who’s feeding you all this information about me? I deserve a name.”

Yeon-ha smirked.

“You’d be better off rounding up all your classmates and juniors. That’ll cover it.”

In truth, it was Jang-hoon — Jian’s closest friend — who fed her most of the intel. But she wasn’t about to burn that bridge.

Of course, it wasn’t wrong that nearly everyone around Jian seemed to be helping her, but Jang-hoon remained her star informant.

Jian seemed to know anyway. He muttered Jang-hoon’s name under his breath — along with a few choice curses — before sitting down.

At this rate, he’d probably declare their friendship over any day now.

The next morning, Jian woke up later than usual.

Yeon-ha was already gone.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he wandered into the kitchen — spotless. The dishes were washed, the trash gone, the table wiped clean.

He leaned against the wall, sighing softly.

How long does she even sleep?

They’d both been up late the previous night — eating chicken, helping her with her assignment, then quietly finishing his own after she’d gone to bed.

They’d parted around three in the morning. Now it was eight. Even if she’d left right after waking, she couldn’t have slept more than five hours. Less, if she’d cleaned up, too.

“You really live too hard, Park Yeon-ha.”

He muttered it into the empty kitchen, shaking his head, then headed toward the bathroom.

But just before the door, he paused.
He turned instead toward the guest room — her room.

The door was open. The bed was made, the borrowed clothes folded neatly on top.

The memory of what had happened the last time she’d slept there hit him like a punch, and Gian slumped to the floor, rubbing his face with both hands.

“God, Park Yeon-ha…”

His voice was low, strained. His face had gone slightly red.

He couldn’t stop recalling her sitting next to him the night before — the curve of her neck exposed when she tied up her hair, the way her lips pursed when she concentrated, the soft eyes that always looked up at him before asking something.

For someone who swore she didn’t like me anymore, she sure blushed a lot last night.

And her flushed cheeks — knowing they were because of him — had only made things worse.

I’m insane. That’s the only explanation.

This is just lust, he told himself. A normal reaction. Any guy my age would feel it — being alone with a girl at night.

He repeated it again and again, carving patience into his brain like a mantra.

When Yeon-ha had finally said, “I should sleep,” and closed her laptop, they’d gone to their separate rooms.

And Jian — with her so close by — had spent the rest of the night alone, wrestling with the consequence of his own desire.

She can’t come here again, he decided grimly. If she does, I might actually lose my mind.

Even as he repeated the vow, Jian walked over to the chair where her clothes were folded. He picked them up slowly — as if punishing himself.

And sighed.