Episode 2
Ha‑yoon had always been bright, cheerful, and full of positive energy.
Her friends loved her, adults adored her.
So in all her fifteen years, she had never been rejected so harshly that she couldn’t even finish her sentence.
Thinking she could warm up to him if they just talked a little more, she tried again a few days later when Tae‑jun came by the house.
“My brother was just messing with me the other day… please don’t take it the wrong—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He cut her off coldly.
The look in his eyes said it all—stop bothering me.
Without thinking, Ha‑yoon blurted out the truth.
“Actually… it wasn’t totally a joke. And I’m not some weirdo, either.”
“…Haaah.”
That was the first time she’d ever seen someone look at her with outright annoyance.
The meaning of that long sigh was crystal clear: please, stop being a pain.
Silence hung in the air before Tae‑jun adjusted the strap of his bag and spoke again.
“I told you already. I don’t like kids. And whether you like me or not… that’s not my problem. How am I supposed to know if you’re weird or not?”
There wasn’t a single lie in what he said.
Ha‑yoon had no comeback. Her lips sealed shut like they’d been glued.
Even when Kyung‑hoon snickered on the side, teasing her for crying over getting dumped, she just went straight to her room without a word.
Normally, she would’ve yelled, grabbed his hair, threatened to kill him.
But not today.
All she could see in her mind was Tae‑jun’s indifferent face as he stared at her.
“Hhhk… hhhhk…”
Her pillow grew wet in seconds.
“He could’ve just said no… did he have to be that harsh?”
She hadn’t meant to say those words earlier—her feelings just slipped out.
But to be rejected twice in a row without even a proper conversation?
It was a shock, especially for someone who had never really been hurt by anyone before.
The sting was worse than she’d imagined.
Frustrated and heartbroken, she buried herself in her blankets and cried until her eyes swelled.
Then, with those red, swollen eyes, she made up her mind.
His words lit a fire in her.
For the first time in her life, she had a goal:
Become Yoon Tae‑jun’s girlfriend.
And someday, his wife.
They say even the hardest tree falls if you chop at it enough times.
Fifteen‑year‑old Ha‑yoon believed it: if she confessed ten times, or even more, he’d have to give in eventually.
From that day on, she followed him everywhere.
Even if his choices weren’t her style, she copied them.
When she overheard that he was going to work for KJ Media, she set that as her dream too.
And she kept confessing.
“Oppa, I like you.”
“You never get tired of this? How long are you planning to keep this up?”
“Until you accept my feelings!”
“So… forever, huh.”
“If you don’t wanna hear it anymore, then just accept me already.”
His eyes finally flicked up from his tablet to meet hers for less than ten seconds,
but those dark eyes made her heart drop like a stone into the depths.
“I told you already—I don’t mess around with kids.”
“I’m not a kid anymore! I’ll be an adult in a few days!”
“…Haaah. Forget it. What’s the point of talking.”
Most of her late teens were nothing but memories of confessing to Yoon Tae‑jun.
Her twenties weren’t much different.
If anything, she became bolder about it.
The day she turned twenty, she’d proudly declared that she wasn’t a minor anymore and that he’d better brace himself.
She confessed on sunny days, confessed on rainy days—any excuse to tell him how she felt.
“God, you never shut up. When are you gonna give up? If you’ve got this much time on your hands, go study.”
The answer was always the same: rejection.
Spring, age 22.
Ha‑yoon’s head throbbed, her brows scrunched in pain.
“Nnngh… I feel sick… my stomach…”
“Of course you feel sick. You drank that much—what did you expect?”
The familiar voice made her eyes slowly open.
“Where… where am I…?”
“Where do you think? On the way home. Seriously, do you ever think?”
She’d been at a bar crying to her friend about Tae‑jun—about how he’d rejected her again for no reason other than you’re a kid—and she drank and drank until she blacked out.
When she came to, all she could see was a broad back.
She felt the faint scent of fabric softener, the strong arm under her legs holding her steady, and heard that low, steady voice.
Ha‑yoon pressed her face into his back, lips trembling.
“Don’t think you’re getting away with this. I’m telling Kyung‑hoon everything. What are you, still a kid? Wandering around drunk without a clue how dangerous it is?”
Tae‑jun’s scolding made tears slip down her cheeks.
Was it because she felt safe?
Or was it because, even when he was being harsh, she still loved him?
She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and cried silently for a long time.
He must’ve noticed, because he stopped talking and just kept walking through the night.
“Drink.”
When they reached home, Tae‑jun laid her on the bed and handed her a glass of cold water.
She took it, pressing her lips tight.
“Drink. Don’t start whining later about how bad you feel.”
“…You say you don’t like me…”
“What?”
“You said you don’t like me. Then why… why are you so nice to me? If I called drunk, you could’ve just ignored me, said you’re sick of me… but why…”
“Because, of course, I should take care of you.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he took the cup from her hands and, telling her to open her mouth, tilted it gently so the water flowed in.
The cold water soothed her burning stomach.
When she’d drunk about half, Tae‑jun took the cup back, grabbed some tissues, and dabbed at her lips.
“Sleep.”
“…What do you mean by that?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does. That’s the first time you’ve ever said something like that…”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
He poked her forehead lightly, pressing her back onto the bed.
“Oppa.”
“There’s only one reason I’d do this.”
“…What reason?”
“Kyung‑hoon’s little sister.”
…Ugh.
Right after kid, the second thing she hated hearing the most.
Ha‑yoon bit her lip hard and turned her head away.
Tae‑jun watched her finally go quiet, then turned to leave the room.
Just as he stepped out, her small voice followed him.
“I’m not giving up on you.”
“….”
“I never will.”
Tae‑jun didn’t answer.
He stepped into the living room.
She hadn’t followed, which meant she’d probably fallen asleep—whether from the alcohol or just sheer exhaustion.
“…You really don’t have a clue, do you.”
Right then, the front door opened.
Kyung‑hoon came in, looking dead tired.
His eyes met Tae‑jun’s, standing outside Ha‑yoon’s room.
He raised a brow but didn’t say anything, just dragged his suitcase inside and asked casually,
“She been drinking?”
“Yeah. Must’ve been at school or something.”
“Sorry. I should’ve been the one looking after her.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’ve had enough on your plate. I’m heading out.”
Tae‑jun started for the door, but before he could take more than a few steps, a voice stopped him.
“Yoon Tae‑jun.”
“…What.”
“You didn’t… catch feelings for Ha‑yoon, did you?”
Tae‑jun froze and turned back.
Their eyes locked in the air.
“…No.”
“Good. That’s a relief.”
“…Why?”
“No reason.”
Kyung‑hoon smirked, cracking open his suitcase.
“’Cause, y’know… if my sister and my buddy were sneaking around behind my back, that’d be disgusting.”
He said it jokingly.
But Tae‑jun couldn’t answer.
He just stared at Kyung‑hoon’s back as he unpacked.
“Glad to hear it, then. Have a beer before you go. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Kyung‑hoon grabbed some clothes and disappeared into his room.
Tae‑jun stood there, staring at the closed door.
Then he clenched his fists tight.
Kyung‑hoon’s voice, “it’d be disgusting,” wouldn’t stop ringing in his ears.
