Just a few steps away, among the students heading to the Business Faculty, someone else heard the sound of the slap. It was Joo Min-hyeok, the guy who had dated Kwon Ji-a for two years in high school. When he saw Ji-a and her boyfriend, he looked solemn.

She never changes, he thought. But he still started walking straight toward them.

“I’ll catch up later,” he told his friends before moving with steady steps to the tense scene. He stopped right between Kwon Ji-a and Han Yeonjun, standing firm like he belonged there.

“Is everything okay, Ji-a?” he asked, his voice calm and hard to read.

When Ji-a saw him, her face first twisted in disgust, but then she turned to Yeonjun with a look that seemed to say, See? At least someone knows how to treat me right.

Yeonjun looked at him with clear irritation and said,

“Why don’t you mind your own business? This is between us.”

Min-hyeok looked calm, completely unfazed. He didn’t sympathize with Yeonjun, but inside, he thought maybe Ji-a was really set on turning everything upside down.

“If it’s really just between you two, maybe don’t turn it into a public show.”

Yeonjun looked down, then brought his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it like he had a headache. He sighed quietly, feeling everyone watching him.

I’m tired. 

“It kind of felt like you were the one putting on the show here.”

Just as the tension hit its peak among the small crowd of students gathering around, Kim Seojun was no longer just standing still. He had already started moving, getting closer than he should, his steps slow and steady, his eyes locked on Joo Min-hyeok.

Ji-hu called out from behind him, his voice tight with worry.

“Hyung, what are you doing?”

But Seojun didn’t answer. He kept walking until he stood face to face with Min-hyeok.

With his piercings shining in the light, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket hanging loosely on his shoulders, Kim Seojun looked like he came from a completely different world than Joo Min-hyeok. His black boots were scuffed but stylish, and the way he carried himself gave off an untouchable vibe.

Min-hyeok, like Han Yeonjun and Kwon Ji-a, was clearly from a rich background. His crisp blue designer shirt looked freshly pressed, and his dark jeans probably cost more than most people’s rent. A sleek luxury watch glinted on his wrist every time he moved, and his neatly styled brown hair made him look like he had stepped right out of a magazine. His confident posture showed he was used to people stepping aside for him.

Seojun was already standing in front of him, wearing that smooth, almost too-friendly smile he used when he wanted things to stay calm on his terms.

“Hi. What’s going on?”

Min-hyeok just grinned and said, “Hmph,” and Seojun’s smile only grew colder. The two of them looked like they were sharing an inside joke no one else could understand. As Min-hyeok spoke, his eyes drifted to Ji-hu for a moment.

“Who the hell are you to be asking that?”

“Just think of me as someone who can’t ignore this,” Seojun replied, his words dripping with fake sweetness.

Min-hyeok’s grin didn’t fade as he answered, his tone smooth and eyes still sliding back to Ji-hu from time to time.

“Then I guess I’m one too. A girl was being harassed, so I stepped in.” 

The crowd around them fell silent, every pair of eyes locked on the two men.

“That’s funny. From what I saw, the one who got slapped was the guy,” Seojun said, their eyes locked like they were seconds from tearing each other apart.

Min-hyeok stood his ground, clearly determined to show he wasn’t afraid.

“Either way, a girl was involved. Was I supposed to just walk away?”

That’s when Ji-hu’s voice came from behind, sudden and unexpected.

“That’s rich coming from you. So you only care if it’s a girl?”

Seojun turned to Ji-hu, looking at him for a second like he hadn’t expected him to speak. Then he nodded slowly.

“Stay out of this, Ji-hu. It’s okay.”

Min-hyeok looked back and forth between Ji-hu and Ji-a before turning his full attention to Ji-a. His smile vanished in an instant.

“Want to come with me? The vibe here is terrible.”

Ji-a looked at Yeonjun with anger in her eyes, then she turned and walked away with Min-hyeok.

Yeonjun watched them go, surprised she actually left with Min-hyeok. At the same time, he felt a strange relief inside.

As they left, Seojun looked at Ji-hu, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“What was that? Are you picking fights now?”

“No way, right?” Ji-hu said, then added, “He was talking nonsense. I couldn’t just stay quiet.”

Seojun laughed.

“I didn’t even know you knew that guy.” Then he turned to Yeonjun, his face warm and almost boyish, like he couldn’t hide how much he cared. He rubbed the back of his neck, a little restless, before asking,

“Hey… are you okay? I’m really sorry you had to deal with that.”

Yeonjun lifted his eyes for a moment before dropping them again.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, already walking away without looking back.

Once he was far enough, Seojun said softly, almost like he was hurting,

“At least you could’ve asked for my name.”

Ji-hu chuckled quietly and shook his head.

“Ya¹, Seojun. You’re serious about this?”

Seojun kept his eyes on Yeonjun as he moved further away, his voice low.

“Ya, how many points would you give that guy? Come on, tell me,” he asked, eyes still on Yeonjun.

Ji-hu watched Yeonjun walk away, his eyes following him with quiet curiosity.

“Eight… okay, nine. He’s really good-looking. But since he’s straight, he’s maybe a six at best,” he said with a laugh.

Seojun kept his eyes locked on Yeonjun as he walked away.

“Ji-hu, I’m dead serious… That guy might actually be my Perfect Ten².”

And just like that, all he wanted was to capture every part of him on canvas, because putting him there felt like it would make him his forever.

¹ A casual Korean interjection used to call out to someone, often between close friends. Depending on tone, it can express annoyance, surprise, or get someone’s attention. Not rude in informal settings, but inappropriate when used toward elders or strangers.

² In Olympic gymnastics and diving, a “Perfect Ten” is the top possible score, given for a flawless routine. The term became famous in 1976 when Romanian gymnast Nadia Comăneci earned the first-ever Perfect Ten in Olympic history. It’s also used more broadly to describe someone or something seen as perfect.