No Strings Attached

Wrong place, wrong time

Spring break wasn’t turning out how Ji-yeon expected. Instead of enjoying cherry blossoms or binge-watching dramas like she planned, she was lying on her bedroom floor, eating chips off her stomach and ignoring Minji’s texts.

Until:

minji: Yah. I left my wallet at the print shop. I’m gonna get banned. Come save me. I’ll buy you tteokbokki.

Reluctantly, Ji-yeon dragged herself out in an oversized hoodie and joggers. The campus was quiet with most students gone for break. The air smelled like pavement and new leaves.

When she got there, Minji was waiting outside the shop with an awkward smile—and someone else.

“Oh, you got here fast,” Minji said. “Um, I ran into Hyun-il sunbae.”

Ji-yeon nodded politely. “Sunbae.”

Hyun-il gave a small nod back. “Long time no see.”

Minji laughed. “It’s only been like three weeks.”

“I meant her,” he said casually, flicking his eyes at Ji-yeon.

Ji-yeon looked away. “Yeah, well... I’ve been busy.”

Busy doing nothing, but he didn’t need to know that.

They ended up walking to a small diner Minji liked, all three sitting at one of those sticky orange tables with laminated menus. Minji was chattering about her latest crisis—forgetting her USB in the lab printer again—while Hyun-il half-listened, stirring the ice in his soda with a straw.

Ji-yeon mostly stayed quiet, sipping her broth and keeping her eyes on her tray. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. The way he leaned back like he owned the booth, the way he never really looked at people when they talked. It wasn’t anything big, but it added up.

When Minji brought up their second-year schedules, Ji-yeon perked up. “I heard they’re adding that digital marketing class.”

Hyun-il glanced at her. “Isn’t that the one with the professor who marks attendance with random quizzes?”

Ji-yeon blinked. “I guess?”

“You’ll probably skip it by mid-semester,” he said casually.

Ji-yeon gave a polite smile. “You must be good at predicting things, sunbae.”

He shrugged. “Just a guess. Second-years burn out fast.”

She stayed quiet. Technically, she had already burned out. But she didn’t like hearing it from him.

After they ate, Minji spotted someone she knew outside the diner and went to say hi, leaving Ji-yeon and Hyun-il standing under the awning.

He pulled out a cigarette.

Ji-yeon shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“You really don’t talk much, do you?” he said.

Ji-yeon blinked. “Sorry, sunbae. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Not saying it’s rude. Just... different.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes drifted to his hand again.

She looked away quickly.

“You keep looking at my fingers,” he said, amused. “You sure you’re not into hands?”

Ji-yeon felt her ears burn. “No.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Minji came running back before Ji-yeon had to say anything else.

“Alright! He said he’ll send the files—crisis solved. Let’s go somewhere fun next!”

Hyun-il stretched. “You two go. I’ve got training in the morning.”

“Oh, right,” Minji said. “Gym rat schedule.”

He gave her a lazy salute and walked off down the street.

When he was gone, Minji leaned close. “Okay... tell me why you always look like you just smelled something bad when he’s around.”

Ji-yeon hesitated. “I don’t know. He’s just... smug.”

“Smug?”

“And condescending. And he talks like everyone else is wasting his time.”

Minji snorted. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m being serious,” Ji-yeon said. “He acts chill, but he knows people like him, and he uses it.”

Minji looked at her for a second, then said, “You’re weirdly specific about this.”

Ji-yeon shrugged. “I just don’t like him.”

And it had nothing to do with red strings.