"So, it's him?" Sehun suddenly said, his eyes narrowed in assessment.

They were peeking through the library window's curtain, which overlooked the dimly lit backyard patio of their grandparents' house. Standing by the edge of the patio, holding a beer in their respective hands, were Zhang Yixing and her brother, Minseok, seemingly immersed in a world of casual, intense discussion. They watched the two men for a moment in comfortable silence. Minseok gestured widely as he spoke, while Yixing listened intently.

Jisoo nodded slowly, confused by the abrupt shift in topic. "Yes. What about him?"

"Well, he's not bad," Sehun commented casually, gesturing toward Yixing.

"Not bad?" Jisoo rolled her eyes and turned annoyedly toward the giant hovering next to her. "Why are we suddenly talking about his aesthetics?"

The phrase 'not bad' felt totally ridiculous. Given the killer impression the guy had already made, using such mild, casual praise was basically an insult. Well, attractiveness is subjective and all that, but she honestly believed a person like Zhang Yixing deserved way better recognition than that.

"Well, I'm just saying, he's definitely much better looking than that Yeongwoo guy."

"Duh, that's obvious," Jisoo scoffed, without missing a beat. "Compared to Yeongwoo, even the mailman looks good."

Jisoo hadn't expected to be in this position at all. Every year for Chuseok, her family gathered at her grandparents' house in the Pyeongchang of northern Seoul. This year, Minseok had flown home from London, which was surprising enough to be a major event, given how rarely he returned. But the biggest shock came with the dinner guests.

Minseok had just casually mentioned that an old friend from his years at Harvard would join them for dinner, but he had totally clammed up about who it was. Jisoo was totally clueless when the doorbell rang. Since she was the closest to the door, she went to open it herself.

The moment she pulled open the heavy front door, she instantly froze. Standing on the porch was Zhang Yixing. Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and her mind blanked, a dizzying mix of disbelief and sheer exhilaration washing over her.

Yixing, meanwhile, looked entirely relaxed, totally unbothered by the chaos he was causing. He offered a simple, knowing smile, his eyes sparkling slightly. He was impeccably dressed and held several paper bags stuffed with gifts and a bottle of wine, but what truly caught her eye was the ridiculously elegant bouquet of flowers cradled in his arm.

Without a word, Yixing immediately presented the bouquet to Jisoo, his gaze holding hers, before his attention was drawn by the commotion inside. The other items—the wine and the paper bags—remained in his arms, clearly intended for the family.

Wait. The Zhang Yixing—the guy she’d been low-key obsessed with since reading that magazine feature—was actually Minseok’s Harvard friend. It created a sudden, weird, unexpected thread in her life that felt totally surreal. He looked directly at her, seeming completely unsurprised that she was the one opening the door.

This was the last place she expected to see him again.

Jisoo circled back to the library window, rejoining Sehun, who was still lounging on the couch.

"I never knew Oppa had a Harvard friend staying in Korea," Jisoo commented, her eyes returning to Yixing and Minseok, who were still talking on the patio. "He never mentioned him."

"I'm more surprised to find out he actually has friends at all," he joked, making Jisoo chuckle despite the tension.

But then again, when she really thought about it, the whole 'birds of a feather flock together' thing actually made sense. Considering her initial impression of Yixing—that super frank, critically-minded way he gave his speech—she could totally get why he and Minseok would hit it off. They shared that core trait: they were both intensely straightforward, almost painfully critical, in how they sized up literally anything.

Sehun leaned in, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Isn't it weird, though? Minseok suddenly invited his friend to dinner at his family's house. Don't you think he brought that Zhang Yixing guy here to set you two up?"

Jisoo playfully shoved his shoulder, a look of genuine disbelief crossing her face. "Dude, that's funny," she mocked. "If there’s one person on this earth who is absolutely against me dating, it's the Kim Minseok."

She sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Remember his golden rule? 'Study, Jisoo. Boys are nothing but dead weight. Don't even think about dating until you've got a legit degree in your hand.'" She added, a wry smile touching her lips, "And now I've got the Ph.D. and the professorship, and the rule totally still applies. Setting me up? He'd rather lock me in some soundproof basement until I hit sixty."

Sehun paused, nodding slowly as he conceded the point. "Okay, fair. Kim Minseok is definitely more protective than a border wall."

Sehun was probably one of the few people who really got her. Her paternal grandparents had two kids: her dad and Sehun's mom. Since her mother was an only child, that basically made Minseok, Sehun, and her the only three members of the younger generation. They were practically a trio, though her relationship with Sehun, being only two years apart, felt much tighter and more direct.

In contrast, Jisoo didn't feel a strong bond with Minseok, her older brother. Their childhoods were geographically separated; unlike her, who always moved and stayed with their ambassador father, Minseok lived with their grandparents in Seoul throughout his teen phase. This distance meant their relationship relied heavily on those awkward, short phone calls or video chats—maybe just a few minutes every week or month. Plus, with a five-year age gap, Jisoo often felt totally out of her depth trying to keep up with the deep, complex topics Minseok would randomly bring up.

That gap got way wider once they both started college the same year, thanks to Jisoo fast-tracking her studies. Even though they were at different universities and continents, this proximity seemed to hit Minseok’s super-competitive nerve, making him subtly distant. Jisoo didn't blame him; he was, objectively, a great older brother—loving and attentive. However, he was perpetually stressed by his intense pressure to be the perfect role model as the eldest child. His drive was insane: he was a captain, black belt, top student, debate champion, and now a young diplomat focused on following their father's path. Seriously, he was the definition of the perfect brother.

But his perfection left no room for error—or, you know, for her.

She had never actually tried to outperform anyone, especially Minseok. To avoid accidentally stealing his thunder, she even deliberately dialed back her extracurriculars to just the journalistic and archery clubs while she was studying in Germany. Jisoo never truly aimed to be the best. In her mind, just finishing university that young was already a monumental personal win. She often chalked up all her awards—including the Summa Cum Laude degrees she earned—to sheer luck: having understanding professors and a supportive school vibe. She knew her effort, despite getting her those perfect grades, couldn't even compare to the sheer, relentless grind Minseok put in just to grab the same distinctions.

It was a surprising moment of détente when Minseok finally spilled the beans about his insecurities. This happened years later, when he was chasing his Master's degree at Harvard. Just realizing the immense pressure he put on himself seemed to finally soften that competitive edge he always had against her.

Jisoo recalled the breakthrough moment as if it had happened just that morning: Eight years ago, Minseok was hitting up a conference in Paris and asked her to visit from Germany. Since they almost never saw each other—maybe only four or five times over an eight-year stretch—Minseok surprisingly stretched his four-day stay to a full two weeks when Jisoo impulsively blurted out the idea of a road trip across Europe.

For those two weeks, they finally got real about their academic stress and burdens. Minseok actually admitted the crippling insecurity he always felt—that insane pressure to prove himself to the family. Jisoo, crying for the first time, confessed the deep loneliness and how badly she wanted to just bail and go home. The only thing that kept her sane was Minseok telling her he was proud. He then made her promise to keep chasing that childhood dream of becoming a professor.

Compared to the whole complex mess with Minseok, her connection with Sehun was super straightforward and easy. Since they were practically the same age, their closeness was instant and organic. When Jisoo snagged a scholarship six years ago, it was pure luck that she landed at Yale, where Sehun was already studying pre-law. They decided to split an apartment, and for her four years there, Sehun was the substitute sibling she desperately needed. For the first time, Jisoo felt like she had a genuine, consistent friend she could actually talk to. Even better, Sehun actively dragged her out of her academic shell and forced her to socialize.

"Exactly," Jisoo confirmed, her gaze settling back on Yixing, but with a renewed sense of calm. "So, it’s probably just a super basic old friends' reunion. Like, seriously, stop being so dramatic."

Sehun rolled his eyes, crossing his long legs. "Fine. But can we just pause for a moment to appreciate the irony? You're twenty-eight, a Ph.D. professor, and yet, the biggest obstacle to your dating life is your own brother. It's a tragedy, really. We should write a thesis on it."

Jisoo chuckled, tossing a cushion at him. "Only you would turn my single life into an academic project," she teased, shaking her head. "At least my tragedy ensures I have uninterrupted time to grade my students' atrocious papers."

Before Sehun could conjure a witty retort, a gentle knock came at the library door.

"Kids, dinner is ready! Come and join us at the table," Aunt Kim called out warmly.

"Let's go," Sehun whispered, standing and offering a hand to Jisoo. "Time to face your destiny."