PERFECT TEN

Volume 1

Students moved quickly across the campus paths, their voices mixing with the soft sounds of leaves in the breeze. It was the first day of the new semester, and the air felt full of restless energy. 

In the parking lot nearby, everything was quiet except for a black sports car parked by itself, shining under the morning sun. The stillness outside only made the inside of the car feel more suffocating.

Kwon Ji-a sat with her hands tight in her lap, staring at her boyfriend, Han Yeonjun, who sat slouched with his hands resting on the steering wheel. He kept his eyes away from hers, and the quiet felt so fragile it could break with one word.

Finally, Ji-a spoke. She was trying hard not to lose control.

“I’m sick of you flirting with other people right in front of me.”

She flipped her hair back, showing how angry she was.

Yeonjun stayed quiet, watching the students outside the car, his chest moving slowly as he tried to calm himself.

“I wasn’t flirting. I was just trying to be polite.”

Ji-a turned her whole body away, unable to look at him. Anger burned in her chest, her words coming out harder than she wanted.

“You don’t have to smile at some random cashier girl.”

Yeonjun took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping under his white shirt.

“We’ve been dating for a year, and we keep having this same fight. Why does it keep happening?”

“Maybe because you keep doing the same thing over and over,” Ji-a said right away and didn’t wait for him to answer. She pulled the door open and stepped out, closing it with a loud bang.

Yeonjun got out a moment later, still not meeting her eyes. He was the type who usually drew stares with his height, blond hair, and almost too-perfect face, but now he looked wrecked, and Ji-a didn’t even notice. As they kept walking, still caught in their fight, the campus around them buzzed with students rushing to class.

“Ji-a, please… don’t do this. It’s the first day. Don’t drain me,” Yeonjun said, almost begging.

Ji-a stopped and turned to him, tears already starting to run down her face.

“You’re telling me not to drain you? When do you ever say sorry? What is wrong with you, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun took a long breath before turning to leave, his thoughts heavy and tired.

She’s crying again. Just because I smiled at someone. How did we end up right back here?

Ji-a rushed after him, unsure but unable to stop herself.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Yeonjun said with a calm voice. “You’re crying again… like you always do.” He breathed out slowly. “I’m just so tired.”

When Ji-a yelled, “Oh, really?” students nearby were already looking over.

“You keep saying the same things every time, but you never admit your part. And now you want me to feel like it’s all my fault? I’m the one who’s tired, not you!”

Yeonjun stopped but kept his eyes on the ground, his face showing he had given up.

“If we’re both this tired, and if you cry every time something happens, maybe this relationship doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

Ji-a looked at him, shocked by what he said. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm, her nails pressing into his skin.

“What did you just say?”

Yeonjun pulled his arm free, slow but firm.

“All we ever do is fight. Maybe we’d both be better off apart.”

Ji-a’s heart beat so hard it hurt in her chest.

Does he really think he can just leave like it means nothing?

“So you do want to break up with me?” she shouted, her voice rising over the noise around them.

“Ji-a, stop yelling. Everyone is watching. Let’s talk later.”

Ji-a looked around. He was right.

Students had stopped to watch, whispering to each other. Some had their phones out. A few were laughing under their breath. Others just stared. A group of girls by the benches covered their mouths, giggling. Someone muttered,

“Damn, she’s really losing it.”

Ji-a had never cared what people thought. But this time, something hit differently.

Without warning, she slapped Yeonjun across the face. The sound cracked through the quiet crowd.

Gasps spread through the students. A girl squealed. Laughter came from the back. More phones were raised, cameras pointed at them.

Yeonjun lowered his head, staying silent.

Ji-a stopped in place, but not because she regretted it. She looked around at the students holding up their phones, almost daring them to keep filming. She wasn’t embarrassed. She wanted him embarrassed.

“Who do you think you are?” she finally said, her voice shaking with anger.

Yeonjun didn’t move. He looked like he was just waiting for everything to end so he could leave.

—

Not far from the scene, under a blooming Maehwa¹ tree, two boys lay on the grass, passing time by rating people who walked by as if it were their own private game.

The punk-looking one with several piercings on his face pushed a few dark blue strands of hair out of his face and nodded toward someone walking past.

“Look… That one’s cute. I’d give him a six.”

The other boy, black hair tied up in a bun and dressed like a K-pop idol who wore every flashy thing he could find, wrinkled his nose, his cross-shaped earring swinging as he moved.

“He looks uptight, has no sense of style, and I heard he can’t even hold a normal conversation. Five.”

The pierced one laughed.

“His shoulders alone are worth six. But you don’t even see that, Ji-hu. Whatever, it’s not like we can expect you to notice.”

“And what makes you say that, Seojun?”

They were Kim Seojun and Song Ji-hu, fine arts second-year students who had been close since their first year. Seojun was two years older and often felt more like Ji-hu’s brother than just a friend. Ever since they found out they were both into guys, they’d kept each other close. Even though they were each other’s type, neither of them had ever crossed that line. Beneath their edgy looks, they both carried good hearts, and art was the bridge that kept them tied together.

In reality their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Seojun was patient and rarely raised his voice, but when he truly lost his temper, it was explosive, and Ji-hu was always the one pulling him back down. Seojun was the calm one, slow to speak and hard to shake, while Ji-hu had restless energy, always moving, always dragging Seojun into something. Where Seojun held back, Ji-hu pushed forward, and it kept them from ever getting stuck in one place.

Seojun was smart but lazy, the kind of guy who left everything until the last minute and showed up at school more for the scene than the classes. He had no real ambition and didn’t pretend otherwise. Ji-hu was the opposite, just as smart but serious about it, the kind who actually read the syllabus, acted like Seojun’s personal homework cop, and carried an ambition Seojun never cared to have.

—

Seojun stood up and stretched, his leather jacket sliding down his arms. As he moved, the metal on his face caught the sunlight. His black shirt, held together with a few safety pins and torn in places that showed glimpses of pale skin, lifted just enough to reveal his smooth, flat stomach.

“Because if I’m around, no one else gets a ten from you,” he said with a smirk that had left more than a few hearts broken.

Ji-hu rolled his eyes dramatically and covered his face with his hand as if he were horrified.

“Please, hyung². What if I get a nosebleed or something?”

They were laughing hard when a crack split the air, the kind of sound you could only recognize as a slap. It shut them up right away, and both turned toward the fine arts building.

Ji-hu leaned forward, eyes wide with surprise.

“Whoa. Is there a fight happening over there?”

Seojun turned his head, then fell still. He was speechless.

He saw the boy standing quietly, head lowered, a heavy tension swirling around him like a storm waiting to break. There was something about the way he stood that struck Seojun hard and deep, in a place he didn’t know existed. Something about the boy pulled at him with a force that was sudden and quiet, like something inside him had clicked into place without warning. He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew he couldn’t look away. His eyes stayed locked on the boy as he asked,

“Do you know who that guy is?”

Ji-hu looked at him closely, trying to remember.

“He’s a second-year architecture student with way too much money. The girl’s always yelling at him. They fight nonstop, like a K-drama playing out live, and they don’t care who’s watching. It’s been like this since last year.”

Seojun kept looking without turning his eyes away.

“Do you know his name?”

“I can’t think of it right now.”

Ji-hu glanced sideways at Seojun and laughed.

“Seriously? That guy? He looks like he hasn’t smiled once in his entire life. Walks around like he’s carrying the world on his shoulders or something. He’s almost the same size as you, too. Are you sure that’s really your type?”

Seojun didn’t answer immediately. He turned to Ji-hu with a deadly serious look on his face.

“You wanna die? Don’t talk shit about my future husband.”

By the time the sound of the slap was gone, Seojun was already walking toward Yeonjun and Ji-a.

¹ A type of East Asian plum tree that blossoms in early spring. Its delicate white or pale pink flowers are often associated with renewal and quiet strength in Korean culture.

² Korean word meaning “older brother” or a way for a younger man to address an older male friend. It shows respect and closeness.