The three days of the Chuseok holiday flew by, mostly spent within the cozy confines of her grandparents' house. Jisoo made the most of her time with Minseok, whenever he wasn't out catching up with his former Harvard buddy, Yixing.

After nearly a year of relying on fragmented video calls, they finally made the most of their shared time, doing mundane yet precious things: morning runs, quick trips to the gym, watching movies, and playing cards while talking for hours. Minseok even shared details about his girlfriend, Sarah, a kind-hearted Korean-British doctor he’d met in London, and how he planned to propose to her very soon.

Sehun joined them whenever he wasn't busy with his own partner, a lawyer at a prestigious Seoul firm whom he had dated since high school. It was during these easy, unstructured moments that the familial awkwardness that once existed between Minseok and Jisoo fully dissolved.

Minseok only stayed in Seoul for a week. Jisoo drove him to the airport for his return flight to London, and with that farewell, she plunged back into the frenetic pace of campus life. Autumn was settling in, bringing a sharp chill to the air, and the university was gearing up for its annual round of fall festivals and academic events.

Nearly three weeks had passed since the Chuseok holiday. Today was Saturday, and Jisoo woke early, a nervous energy bubbling beneath her calm exterior. It was the day of her first autumn busking session. She had been looking forward to this since her last gig the previous spring.

Jisoo carefully selected her outfit: a new modern hanbok she had bought specially for this performance. The ensemble featured a light, long-sleeved wrap top with a V-neckline, paired with a wide dark waistband that cinched her waist. The skirt was a dark, midi-length piece with a layered design and subtle floral patterns. The overall silhouette combined a fitted waist with a gently flared skirt, offering a balance of tradition and contemporary style. She finished the look by styling her hair in a simple bun and adding a matching floral hairpin.

Jisoo arrived precisely at 6:30 PM. She was warmly greeted by the members of the Street Performer Alliance, a group she had been working with for the past year. In fact, it was this alliance that had invited Jisoo to join their musical busking sessions at the riverside amphitheater; otherwise, she might have stopped playing music altogether.

The Alliance was far from a small operation; they commanded a massive online following, boasting over five million followers on Instagram and a couple of million on YouTube. They had announced Jisoo's "comeback" performance earlier that week, and the riverside venue was already packed with eager people.

Jisoo performed under a secret alias—totally not her real name. To keep her privacy on lockdown, she always hid her face behind a silky ancient-style mask or a face curtain. The disguise was obviously crucial so no one—especially her family and the university faculty—would figure out her secret hobby. But the whole mystery thing actually cranked up the audience's curiosity about the talented, anonymous musician on stage.

Jisoo’s love for traditional instruments started super young. She was skilled in both the guzheng (that Chinese zither) and the gayageum (the Korean one). Since her dad was always moving for work, she used all her free time during their overseas gigs to learn from this cool Korean instructor who happened to live in Germany. That training often scored her gigs performing at various cultural events sponsored by the Korean embassy or other organizations.

The whole idea of busking really clicked when she was studying in the US. Back at Yale, she’d tag along with some musician friends to play on sidewalks and public plazas. So, when she moved back to Seoul, she didn't think twice when someone from the local alliance reached out asking her to fill one of their stage slots. It felt like the perfect way to keep that passion alive.

Shifting her face curtain, Jisoo raised a hand and waved to the audience. The crowd today looked far bigger than usual, which was unexpected. Perhaps it was because she was only scheduled for two sessions this entire season. Jisoo intentionally kept her performances minimal, as her tight academic schedule rarely allowed for more. This was only her second season performing by the Han riverside, following just two gigs the previous spring.

Jisoo wasn't entirely sure what was driving the massive crowd, though the last Alliance member she spoke with had mentioned her performance reviews were excellent. For each session, which lasted around thirty minutes, she typically played seven to eight pieces. Some were original compositions she had created during her student days, while others were covers of popular songs and drama OSTs.

It seemed the Alliance member was right: although she wasn't the only guzheng player on the circuit, other than her magnificent music arrangement, it was her concept—always concealing part of her face and only speaking when greeting and saying goodbye at the end of the performance—that kept the audience captivated. The layer of mystery, combined with her obvious talent, added an intriguing pull that drew large, enthusiastic crowds to witness the secretive performer.

For this season's performances, she decided to debut a new concept: merging the ethereal sound of the traditional guzheng with a modern synthesizer. Among her set list were beloved tunes like "Lemon Tree," the famous "Endless Love" theme from The Myth movie, a cover of the amazing piece "The History" by Jannik, and some older arrangements of hers that highlighted traditional Korean music blended with electronic sounds.

The audience's enthusiastic response didn't just feel good—it was electric. She felt the energy of the performance surging through her, totally pumped, hitting those high notes and soft fades with new confidence. This was pure joy, a complete escape from the rigid world of academia.

After the eighth piece concluded, Jisoo took a graceful bow, signaling the end of her set. She then hung around to greet some fans, happily taking photos and having friendly little chats about the music. She really loved these interactions—it felt good connecting with her growing fanbase, even with a silk curtain hiding half her face.

The connection was exhilarating, but her time was limited.

It was only after the crowd had finally dispersed and Jisoo was in the middle of carefully packing up her delicate instrument that a familiar voice suddenly reached her ears, quickly followed by the sound of approaching footsteps.

"I never would have guessed you had such a unique hobby, Kim Jisoo."

Jisoo whirled around, instantly recognizing the deep, masculine tone. To her surprise, Zhang Yixing stood there, a playful smile gracing his features—as if he’d just caught her red-handed doing something totally unexpected.

A sudden, sharp wave of nerves hit her. She never anticipated seeing someone of Yixing's caliber frequenting a casual spot like this, let alone having him use her real name. Instinctively, she glanced around the amphitheater to check if anyone was close enough to overhear.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out, genuinely surprised.

Instead of answering, Yixing simply gestured to his attire—a neat running suit—as if to silently signal that he was just out for an evening jog.

"Wait, how did you even know it was me?" Jisoo asked, gesturing vaguely toward the silk curtain obscuring her face.

Yixing tilted his head. "Well, I didn't, at first. I stopped to watch because I was drawn to the guzheng show. But then," he paused, his finger pointed to her right foot. "I recognized the ankle bracelet you were wearing."

Jisoo’s eyes widened. That answer was completely out of left field. In all her life, no one had ever recognized her from something she wore on her ankle. It made her realize just how unbelievably detailed Yixing's observation skills were.

Yixing seemed to read her disbelief. "Just so we're clear," he added quickly, hands up on his chest, suppressing a laugh, "I happened to see you adjusting it when it snagged on your fluffy slippers during dinner the other night. That detail just stuck."

Jisoo laughed softly, finally conceding. "That's honestly impressive." She had worn that little rose gold ankle bracelet for years—one with the moon, the stars, and other celestial objects charms—a birthday gift from Minseok during her college days. It was a small, personal detail that often went unnoticed by everyone. Yet Yixing, with his keen eye for observation, had managed to pick up on it, even amidst the energy of her performance.

"I have quite a sharp eye," Yixing admitted with a shrug.

By then, Jisoo had finished packing the guzheng into its bulky case. Yixing immediately offered to help. "Where did you park? Let me carry that for you."

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Jisoo quickly refused, reaching for the heavy case.

Yixing stepped forward, easily lifting the case. "Come on. You saw how Minseok called me a 'pampered prince' the other night," he said, giving her a confident smile. "I need to prove I can do manual labor." He shifted the case onto his shoulder.

Jisoo couldn't help but laugh, accepting the help. As they started walking toward the exit, she delivered a firm, final warning.

"Don't tell anyone about what you saw today," she reminded him, her tone a blend of playfulness and seriousness. "And please, don't call me by that name—you'll blow my cover."