There was no warning. No gradual buildup. One second we were leaving the orientation hall, and the next—bam. A whole squad of enthusiastic upperclassmen descended like friendly cult recruiters.
"Time for hoesik!" one of them announced cheerfully, handing out green bottles like candy.
I had no clue what "hoesik" really meant, but I had a feeling it involved fermented regret.
They herded us to a samgyeopsal place just off campus, where metal tables, sizzling pork belly, and crates of soju awaited us like a final boss. I was seated between Han Seo Yoon and a guy whose name I'd already forgotten twice, both way too comfortable with pouring drinks and dishing gossip.
This was Orientation, Part 2: Drunk and Confused.
"Unnie, you've never had soju before?" Seo Yoon asked, eyes wide as she poured me a shot with her usual angelic flair.
I shook my head. "I usually drink…" I paused. Should I say Dom Pérignon? Would that blow my cover?
"…juice," I said instead.
She giggled. "You're so cute, unnie."
I forced a laugh and stared at the clear liquid in the tiny glass. It looked like water. It also smelled like cleaning fluid.
"Do I sip it?"
"Down it!" someone across the table yelled. "It's your first time! One shot!"
Seo Yoon raised her glass. "Wihayeo!" (Cheers!)
"Wihayeo," I mumbled, then knocked it back.
Mistake.
It was like my throat had been karate-chopped by fire. I blinked. Coughed once. Then tried to act casual like it didn't taste like betrayal.
"Ah Ra-ya, are you okay?" Seo Yoon whispered.
"Perfectly hydrated," I rasped, giving her a thumbs-up.
Meanwhile, the energy in the room had cranked up to chaos level. Our classmates were getting cozy with the upperclassmen. Laughter bounced off the walls. One guy was teaching someone how to make a proper lettuce wrap like it was a sacred art. Another was grilling meat like he was auditioning for MasterChef: Campus Edition.
And of course, at the center of the storm sat Seo Ji Hoon — casually aloof, earbuds in, hoodie black as his aura, sipping cola like he was at a book club meeting instead of a college drinking party.
A third-year girl leaned over to the guy across from her. "Is that really Seo Ji Hoon from Daehan High? The top student?"
"Yeah," the guy whispered. "I heard he's the scholarship student. Rejected like twenty confessions in one semester."
"He's so tall in person…"
"He's way too cool for this table."
"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," someone muttered, eyes practically sparkling as they stared at him.
Ji Hoon, completely unbothered, stabbed a piece of grilled pork and popped it into his mouth without a word.
Across from him, the conversation shifted.
"I swear, our class has the best visuals this year," one of the boys — I think his name was Jun Mo? — declared. "We're blessed."
"Oh? Who's your pick?" a senior nudged him.
He looked between Seo Yoon and me — or rather, "Ah Ra" — then pointed a finger dramatically. "The Goddess Duo: Ah Ra and Seo Yoon."
My soju shot nearly flew out of my nose.
Seo Yoon covered her mouth and blushed modestly. "Don't be silly."
But Jun Mo was on a roll. "We need to settle this. Who's prettier?"
Oh no. Oh no no no.
"Ah Ra's got that classic elegant vibe," he continued, eyes flicking to me. "That princess-next-door look. Always perfectly dressed. Seriously, she could be in a drama."
"I second that," someone else chimed in. "She even eats lettuce wraps like a chaebol heiress."
I choked on my wrap. Literally.
"And Seo Yoon's like… the ultimate pure type," another guy said dreamily. "Innocent, pastel, soft girl aesthetic. Like a spring breeze."
Seo Yoon laughed softly. "Unnie is prettier. I just try my best to look decent."
I smiled, about to thank her, but then she added—"I mean, unnie probably spends more time and money on skincare than me, so it makes sense."
Wait. What?
A few of the boys laughed like she'd made a harmless joke. But I caught the subtle glint in her eyes.
A white lotus bloom, right in front of me.
"Actually," I said, sitting up straighter with my cheeks slightly flushed, "my skin routine is only three steps. Soap, air, and destiny."
That got a laugh from the table.
Seo Yoon giggled too, but this time I saw her grip her glass a little tighter. Am I imagining things now? She looks… nevermind. I'm just drunk.
Someone poured me another shot. I drank it without thinking.
Bad idea.
The room tilted slightly, and my head felt like it had been wrapped in cotton candy.
"I think I need air," I murmured.
Seo Yoon reached to help, but I waved her off, wobbling up from the table. "I'm okay! Totally okay. Just going to… say hello to the sidewalk."
I stumbled out of the restaurant, took one breath of fresh air—and immediately bumped into a tall figure outside.
"Watch it," said a familiar low voice.
I looked up.
Seo Ji Hoon.
Great. Just the person I needed to see while my blood was 50% soju and 50% shame.
"You," I declared, pointing at him.
He blinked. "You again."
I took a dramatic step forward. "Why are you lurking near doorways? Are you a human exit sign?"
"No. Are you always this loud after two shots?"
I held up three fingers. "Three. And I am not loud. I'm passionate."
He crossed his arms, expression unreadable. "You're drunk."
"Debatable."
"You're slurring your words."
"That's a stylistic choice."
He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning me like I was some sort of math equation he didn't want to solve.
"You're always so serious," I said, pouting. "You don't smile. Ever. Do your facial muscles even work?"
His brow twitched. "This again?"
"You should smile more! It's good for your health. Scientifically proven."
"Is that so?"
"Yep. Smiling lowers stress, boosts immunity, and makes people less scared of you."
"I like being scary."
"You're succeeding. But imagine if you smiled." I framed his face with my fingers dramatically. "Instant oppa. Instant fanclub. You'd dominate social media."
He just stared.
I wobbled slightly, and he instinctively caught my elbow.
"You should sit down," he said, guiding me to a bench near the wall.
"You're nicer than you pretend to be," I muttered, sinking down.
He didn't respond, but he didn't let go until I was steady.
"I still think you'd be prettier if you smiled," I said, poking his sleeve.
"And I think you should stick to juice," he replied, dry as ever.
I grinned. "Then pour me some."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then — miracle of miracles — the corner of his mouth lifted.
Just a little.
Barely there.
But I saw it.
"You smiled!" I gasped. "You can smile!"
He turned away. "No, I didn't."
"You did! I witnessed history."
"Must've been the lighting."
"I knew it! Behind the hoodie and the earbuds… lies a soft boy."
He scoffed. "Don't spread lies."
I rested my chin on my hand and gave him a slow, satisfied smile.
"You're fun when you're cornered."
He met my gaze — and this time, he didn't look away.