YPT 03

YPT

Posted by cinderella, Released on October 13, 2025

Chapter 3

It was eleven o’clock when Yeon-ha finished her café shift and walked briskly toward the business building, clutching a steaming cup of Americano.

Finding Choi Ji-an on campus was never difficult.
He was something of a local celebrity—so well-known for his looks that one only needed to ask in the department group chat to discover his exact whereabouts.

Of course, Yeon-ha already had his KakaoTalk ID and could, technically, message him directly.
But Ji-an never replied to anyone, least of all her.
So she never dared to tag him in the chat either.

The first time she’d asked about his location, the younger students had frozen in awkward silence—none of them wanting to be the one to dare answer on Ji-an’s behalf.

But then there was Jang-hoon, Ji-an’s mischievous friend. He always supplied the answer, grinning,
and Ji-an had never once told him to stop.

So it became a pattern.
And before long, Yeon-ha’s “love for Ji-an” was department folklore—a running joke, a small legend.

Now, everyone in Business knew: if you spotted Choi Ji-an, tell Park Yeon-ha.

When the latest “report” placed him in a fourth-floor humanities lecture hall, Yeon-ha all but flew there.

She burst through the door, marched straight to his desk, and set down the paper cup with triumphant precision.

“Good morning, seniors!”

Laughter rippled through the room.

“If you’re greeting all of us, Yeon-ha, why’s there only one cup?”
Jang-hoon leaned back in his chair, smirking.

Yeon-ha grinned, bright as always.

“Because love isn’t something you share, senior. I only have one heart to give.”

“Tragic,” Jang-hoon clucked his tongue, “absolutely tragic.”

Ignoring him, Yeon-ha turned to Ji-an.

“You didn’t stop by the café today, so I made a special delivery. Don’t forget this favor, okay?”

Ji-an raised an eyebrow.

“A favor? For something I didn’t even ask for?”

He sounded half-amused, half-incredulous.

Yeon-ha only laughed, checking the time.
Then, suddenly—

“Ah! I’m late. I’ll get going now!”

She darted off, clutching a convenience-store triangle kimbap in one hand as she waved her free arm.

Jang-hoon shook his head.

“That kid’s living off expired kimbap again, huh?”

“One day she’s gonna regret that,” another murmured.

Ji-an watched her small figure disappear through the door, then reached for the coffee she’d left behind.

It was still warm.
And—unfortunately—exactly what he’d been craving.

He hadn’t managed to stop by his usual café that morning; his classes had started early, one after another.

Now here it was, delivered right to his desk.
A coincidence, or… fate’s irritating sense of humor.

He stared at the cup, thumb brushing the lid absently.

“Maybe I should buy her a meal. Just once.”

Sometime soon.

He took another sip, pulled out his phone, and with a few taps—
sent a message.

Early the next morning, after finishing her convenience-store shift, Yeon-ha was hurrying across campus, nibbling on the leftover kimbap her brother had brought home.

Her phone buzzed.

She assumed it was a class reminder.
She glanced down—then froze mid-step.

The kimbap slipped from her fingers and hit the pavement.

[I’ll buy you a meal.]

Four simple words.

Below, an attached image: his weekly class schedule.
A silent instruction—pick any time I’m free.

“Kyaa!”

The scream burst out before she could stop it.
Clapping a hand over her mouth, Yeon-ha reread the message twice, thrice—then stared again at the sender’s name.

Choi Ji-an.

Her heartbeat drowned out everything else.

“No way. Did Jang-hoon-senior hack his phone? Is this a prank?”

But even as she thought it, she knew better.
Ji-an would never allow anyone to touch his phone, not even his closest friend.

Still trembling, she tossed the fallen kimbap into the nearest trash can and bolted toward her lecture hall—
half running, half floating.

Two days later, they sat across from each other at a small, noisy tteokbokki joint near campus.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” Ji-an asked, frowning at the bubbling red sauce.

“Yes! It’s perfect!”

The place was a student favorite—cheap, crowded, loud.
It was also, unfortunately, one of Yeon-ha’s most beloved restaurants.

She moved with practiced ease, sliding in the order slip, stirring the pot as it started to boil.
Ji-an, arms folded, watched like someone observing an unfamiliar ritual.

It was his first time here.

He was used to quiet bistros and polished cafés—
not peeling wallpaper, plastic stools, and sauce-splattered aprons.

But when he’d told her to pick whatever she wanted, she’d shouted “tteokbokki!” without hesitation.

Now, watching her tie a bright red apron around his neck, he grimaced.

“What’s this for?”

“So you don’t get sauce on your fancy clothes.”

He glanced down at the garish fabric, fighting the urge to rip it off.
Yeon-ha, unbothered, tied her own apron and beamed.

She looked—content.
Her eyes sparkled as she stirred the bubbling pot, and for some reason, Ji-an found that annoying.

“It’s the apron,” he told himself. “And this smell, and this noise. Not… her.”

When she finally scooped the food onto plates, she pushed one toward him.

“Enjoy your meal!”

He gave a curt nod, tasted a rice cake—and immediately set his chopsticks down.
Too sweet. Too spicy. Too messy.

Instead, he found himself just watching her eat.
She blew gently on each bite, cheeks puffing, eyes closing in satisfaction.

“You could’ve picked something fancier,” he muttered.

“I have a tutoring job right after this,” she said between bites.
“This place is right on my way. And it’s my favorite.”

So this was it.
Her “perfect meal.”

Ji-an sighed inwardly. He’d thought she’d at least want to impress him, to prolong their time together.
But no—she was eating like she had a train to catch.

“Doesn’t she want to make a good impression? Isn’t that what people do when they like someone?”

Her behavior made no sense.

“Yeon-ha,” he said suddenly. “What exactly do you want from me? Do you want to date me? Or do you just enjoy… the idea of liking me?”

She froze, eyes wide with surprise.

But after a moment’s pause, she smiled faintly.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“I don’t want anything from you, senior.”

Ji-an blinked, confused.

Nothing?

He exhaled sharply. It made no sense.

If she didn’t want him, why the daily messages?
Why the smiles, the coffee deliveries, the endless effort to be near him?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

She stirred the pot absentmindedly before answering.

“I know you wouldn’t accept a confession right now. And even if you did, I don’t have time for a relationship.”

“Then what do you call all this?”

Her smile deepened, bittersweet.

“I just didn’t want to hide how I feel. I already have too many things in my life that I have to keep bottled up.
So I wanted to at least be honest about this one thing.”

Her voice trembled—not with nerves, but with exhaustion.
There was something in it, a quiet sadness he couldn’t name.

Ji-an said nothing.
He picked up his chopsticks again, staring at the soggy ramen noodles floating in the red broth.

Then Yeon-ha spoke again, softly:

“I just want to be… the girl who gets under your skin.”

“Gets under my skin?”

He looked up, incredulous.

She nodded, smiling as though she were explaining something perfectly simple.

“Someone who’s always around. Someone you can’t quite ignore.
The kind of junior who’s always in your sight, who brings you coffee, who eats with you once in a while—
the one who’s slightly annoying but still kind of lingers in your mind.”

Her voice grew quieter.