The day of the volunteer camp departure finally arrived.

Seorin spotted Kang Ara before she even had to look.

The school courtyard buzzed with the sound of rolling suitcases and teachers calling out names. In the middle of it all, Ara stood surrounded by a cluster of students, laughing far too freely for such a cold morning. Thin sunlight rested across the shoulders of her uniform, and that faint smile lingered on her lips as if the world had never demanded anything from her at all.

Seorin’s fingers tightened around the handle of her suitcase.

“Take care of yourself, Seorin,” Mr. Han said.

His tone sounded casual enough, but his gaze moved past Seorin’s shoulder.

Toward Ara.

Seorin gave a small nod. “I will.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know.

Ara had already seen them.

Sure enough, from across the courtyard, Kang Ara dipped into a polite bow. The smile on her face never changed.

“Good morning, Mr. Han. Mrs. Han.”

Seorin’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Good morning.”

Another voice followed from beside her.

Seorin turned quickly.

Dongchul stood there with one hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his hair slightly messy like he’d just run in through the school gates.

Her parents’ expressions changed instantly.

Warmer.

More genuine.

“Park Dongchul,” Mrs. Han said. “It’s nice to meet you. Seorin talks about you a lot.”

Seorin’s fingers nearly slipped off her suitcase handle.

“What?” she muttered under her breath.

Heat climbed steadily into her cheeks.

Dongchul smiled awkwardly before bowing quickly. “Ah... thank you.”

“Please look after Seorin while you’re there,” Mr. Han said.

Dongchul nodded at once. “Of course, sir.”

Seorin blinked. Her hand tightened around the suitcase handle again, even harder this time.

“Dongchul, let’s go.”

The words came out faster than she intended.

Dongchul glanced at her, then nodded. Together, they started walking away from her parents. Behind them, the overlapping noise of morning conversations rose again, but one gaze still lingered against her back.

Seorin didn’t turn around.

***

Suitcases were loaded into the storage compartment one by one. Names were called out in order. Teachers stood near the bus entrance checking attendance sheets while students gathered in small groups nearby.

Seorin stood at the edge of the crowd.

Her gaze kept moving.

Near the front of the bus, Dongchul and Ara were talking.

Seriously.

There was no laughter. None of the lazy teasing gestures Ara usually used around people. Dongchul said something quietly, and Ara answered with a short reply.

Then Ara glanced toward her.

Just for a second.

Seorin immediately looked away.

“Han Seorin!”

Her name was called.

She boarded the bus without waiting any longer.

Seat number five. By the window.

Seorin sat down, placed her bag on her lap, and stared at the window still cold from the morning air.

One by one, the seats filled. Footsteps along the aisle. Bags snagging against armrests. Small complaints. Laughter that was too loud. The seat beside her remained empty.

Her fingers smoothed the edge of her cardigan sleeve.

Then Dongchul boarded the bus.

Behind him, Ara.

And Kim Minji.

Seorin’s back straightened immediately.

The moment Dongchul sat beside her, some of the tension in her shoulders eased. But when Ara passed through the narrow aisle next to their seats, the faint scent of vanilla drifted by with the brush of her uniform.

Their eyes met briefly.

Seorin turned toward the window at once.

Even without looking, she knew Ara had taken the seat behind her. The scent lingered too close.

“Was Kang Ara bothering you again?” Seorin whispered.

Dongchul shook his head. “No. Ara was just passing along a message from the teacher. I’m coordinating the male students.”

Seorin studied him for a moment.

“You’re not lying?”

Dongchul raised two fingers.

She kept looking at him for another few seconds before turning back toward the window.

***

The bus started moving.

The first hour was unbearably loud.

Laughter, conversations, plastic snack wrappers crinkling, someone quietly singing in the back before everyone protested at once. The city drifted past the windows before gradually giving way to emptier roads.

After that, the noise slowly faded.

One by one, students fell asleep. Heads leaned against windows. Jackets became makeshift pillows. Whispered conversations dissolved into soft snores beneath the steady hum of the bus engine.

Seorin stayed awake.

Her hands still rested on top of her bag.

***

Three hours later, the bus stopped at a rest area.

Seorin got off with the others. The outside air was warmer than the freezing bus AC, but the wind carried the smell of gasoline, instant coffee, and convenience store food.

As she stepped out carrying a small plastic bag, her pace slowed.

Dongchul.

And Kang Ara.

They stood a few steps from the convenience store entrance, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed whenever people passed through the crowd between them.

Dongchul was saying something quietly. Ara listened without interrupting, her head slightly lowered like she was genuinely paying attention.

The expression looked strange on her.

Too serious.

The plastic bag in Seorin’s hand crumpled softly.

Then Ara answered in a low voice—barely audible—and Dongchul nodded like he understood something Seorin herself didn’t.

Seorin walked past them before her thoughts could wander any further.

***

When she returned to the bus, her seat had changed.

Kang Ara was sitting in Dongchul’s seat.

Dongchul stood in the aisle with one hand resting on the seatback.

“Kim Minji’s sick,” he whispered when Seorin approached. “She needs the nurse... and Ara has to stay close to her.”

Seorin said nothing.

Her eyes shifted toward the back.

Minji looked pale in her seat. A nurse bent over beside her, checking her temperature with a serious expression.

The excuse was convenient.
Too convenient to argue with.

Seorin stepped beside the seat.

“That’s my seat.”

Ara looked at her for a few seconds before answering.

“I know.”

Her voice was too calm.

As if she’d sat there on purpose.

Ara stood carefully in the narrow space, lowering her head slightly to avoid hitting the low ceiling of the bus. “Move for a second.”

Seorin shifted aside a little.

Ara stepped out of the way and gestured toward the window seat with one hand.

“After you, princess.”

Seorin let out a short breath and sat down without replying.

Ara settled beside her again. Their knees nearly touched before Seorin shifted her legs slightly toward the window.

“Ah, my head,” Ara muttered softly after almost hitting the ceiling again.

Seorin stared straight ahead.

“What happened to Kim Minji?”

The question slipped out anyway.

Ara glanced at her.

“Hm... are you asking me?”

Her tone was light. Faintly teasing.

Seorin chose not to answer.

“She has a fever,” Ara finally said.

Seorin looked back.

Ara’s hand was still holding Minji’s through the gap between the seats. Her thumb moved slowly across the back of Minji’s hand in a calm, familiar rhythm.

Seorin turned back toward the window.

“Then why did she still come?”

“Because I came.”

The answer came too quickly.

As though Ara hadn’t needed to think about it at all.

In the reflection of the window, Seorin caught the faint curve of Ara’s lips.

Her fingers tugged lightly at the hem of her cardigan.

Suddenly, the air inside the bus felt too narrow.

***

By late afternoon, the bus entered the mountain roads.

The road twisted sharply now, climbing and dipping at angles that shoved the passengers sideways with every turn. Several students groaned. Someone in the back asked for medicated oil. A plastic bag rustled open in a hurry.

Seorin closed her eyes.

The vibrations from the bus climbed from the seat into her back before settling heavily behind her head. Her shoulder bumped repeatedly against the cold window. The chill lingered briefly against her temple before the bus lurched into another turn.

She inhaled slowly.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her stomach refused to follow.

The nausea rose little by little, hollow and heavy at the same time. She cracked her eyes open slightly, trying to look outside. The trees blurred past too quickly—streaks of green and brown that only made her head feel lighter.

Beside her, Ara sat with one arm resting against the seatback, looking far too steady for roads that twisted this much.

Seorin straightened her back and swallowed hard.

“I have a bag.”

A plastic bag appeared near her hand.

Seorin frowned. “I’m not—”

The bus turned sharply again.

The rest of her words died in her throat.

She held her breath, but her body moved faster than her pride. Her hand snatched the bag.

The next few minutes blurred together with the sound of the engine, her own breathing, and the plastic crinkling between her fingers.

When she finally closed her eyes again, the bus was still moving.

Her head felt heavy.

Then something touched the side of her neck.

Fingers.

The pressure was light but certain.

Seorin opened her eyes slightly.

Ara sat closer than before. One hand rested near Seorin’s neck, fingers pressing against a point just beneath her ear before shifting slightly and pressing again.

Seorin’s hand lifted instinctively to push her away.

It stopped a few centimeters from Ara’s wrist.

Her fingers tensed in midair before slowly lowering again.

The pressure beneath her ear remained—warm, steady, as if Ara had never once doubted Seorin would let her continue.

The nausea hadn’t disappeared, but it no longer clawed at her as sharply as before.

Seorin’s fingers gripped the edge of the seat.

“Tissue.”

Something was slipped into her hand.

She accepted it without looking.

“Close your eyes.”

“I can’t sleep,” she muttered weakly.

“You don’t have to sleep. Just stay still.”

Seorin’s brows shifted faintly, but her eyes stayed closed.

The plastic bag was taken gently from her hands. Soft footsteps moved away, then returned. The air beside her shifted as Ara sat back down.

“Drink.”

A bottle touched her hand.

This time, Seorin didn’t refuse.

Cold water slid down her throat. After that, a pill was placed into her palm.

She opened her eyes slightly.

“I don’t—”

“If you want to keep suffering like this, be my guest.”

Seorin let out a faint scoff before swallowing the medicine.

The bus kept moving.

But slowly, her body stopped fighting every turn. Her breathing steadied. The engine noise that had stabbed at her ears earlier now sounded distant, muffled behind layers of fabric.

Her head no longer struck the window.

Several seconds passed before Seorin opened her eyes.

A hand rested between her head and the glass.

Ara’s hand.

Her palm absorbed every vibration that should have hit Seorin’s temple. Ara’s fingers curved awkwardly against the cold window in what was definitely an uncomfortable position, yet her hand stayed there anyway.

Seorin fell silent.

The faint scent of vanilla mixed with the cold air from the AC and the lingering smell of medicine on her own hands.

She closed her eyes again.

Ara’s hand never moved.

A while later, Ara’s voice came quietly beside her.

“For someone who talks so much... you’re finally quiet.”

Normally, Seorin would’ve answered back.

This time, her lips only moved faintly without making a sound.

The bus continued climbing, turning, weaving through dense trees.

***

When Seorin opened her eyes again, the bus had stopped.

“We’re here.”

Ara’s voice sounded close, though no longer right beside her ear.

Seorin nodded slowly. Her vision still hadn’t fully cleared.

The aisle filled with students grabbing bags and jackets. Up front, Ara helped Minji to her feet. Ara had to keep ducking beneath the low bus ceiling, nearly hitting her head several times while adjusting the blanket around Minji’s shoulders.

Her movements stayed calm.

Careful.

Seorin tightened her grip on her backpack strap.

Outside, night had already fallen.

The moment she stepped off the bus, cold wind brushed against her face and neck. The thin cardigan she wore did nothing against the mountain air.

She folded her arms across herself.

“I told you to bring a jacket.”

Dongchul stood beside her.

Before Seorin could answer, a blanket was draped over her shoulders. The fabric was thick and slightly rough, but it blocked the wind almost immediately.

“Give me your suitcase.”

Dongchul took it from her hand without another word.

Seorin looked at him briefly. Dongchul’s pace remained steady beside her, the wheels of her suitcase rattling softly over the uneven ground.

Without realizing it, their steps fell into rhythm together.

The corner of Seorin’s lips lifted slightly.

***

They walked toward the lodging house.

The dirt path leading to the main building was lit by small lamps hanging along the porch. The air smelled of damp wood, cold earth, and faint smoke drifting from a distant kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” Dongchul asked.

“Better now.”

Seorin glanced at him briefly.

Dongchul was still carrying her suitcase, one shoulder slightly lower from the extra weight.

“I have to admit...” he said after a few steps, “Kang Ara’s doing a pretty good job as coordinator. Ara made sure everyone was okay.”

Seorin’s steps slowed slightly.

She looked back.

Ara was still supporting Minji. One hand rested against Minji’s back while the other held the blanket in place around her shoulders.

That hand still hadn’t let go.

Seorin looked forward again.

The blanket around her shoulders suddenly felt too heavy around her neck.

 ***

Seorin's footsteps sounded quiet against the wooden floor.

Her small suitcase rolled unevenly behind her. Her breathing still felt slightly short after the long trip, but she paused in front of the door anyway before opening it.

The door slid open slowly.

“Welcome, roommate.”

Ara’s voice came first.

Ara sat casually on the bed near the window, one leg folded up beneath her. Her hair was slightly messy from the trip, her uniform sleeves rolled to her elbows. On the next bed over, Kim Minji lifted a weak hand from beneath the blankets, her face still pale.

Seorin stood in the doorway a few seconds too long.

Three beds.

One room.

The yellow ceiling light stretched Ara’s shadow long across the wooden floor. The faint scent of vanilla still lingered in the cold room, mixed with the smell of clean sheets and old wood.

The suitcase handle in Seorin’s hand felt increasingly slippery.

Ara tapped the empty bed lightly with her fingertips.

“Don’t just stand there. You’re letting the cold air in.”

Seorin quietly closed the door behind her.