What the hell am I doing here?

Seok-hoon’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, sharp against the marble floors. He hadn’t planned this. He never planned when it came to her.

He told himself he was just walking.

But every step had led him here.

Room 7. The music room He stopped in front of it. That familiar weight settled on his chest again—tight, breathless, like music left unfinished.

And then… he heard it.

Her.

That voice. That touch on the keys—no one played like her. Gentle, but not weak. Like she was speaking in a language only the piano could understand.

He didn’t knock. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to give her time to hide.

He opened the door.

Her head snapped up. Her eyes met his—and for a second, everything inside him collapsed.

There she was. Just like in his nightmares. Just like in his memories. Real now.

And still, he said nothing kind.

“What are you doing here?” She sounded tired. Not scared. Not like before.

Good.

“I could ask you the same.”

Why are you really here? Is it because of me?

“I have a competition to prepare for. Unlike you, I didn’t come here on a legacy scholarship.”

He almost smirked. Almost.

She learned how to fight. I taught her that.

He stepped further in, letting silence stretch, choking the air between them.

“You came back without warning.”

“I didn’t come back for you.”

He flinched.

But he didn’t let her see it.

Liar. You wouldn’t be standing here like this if you didn’t still feel something.

He took another step. Close enough to see the tight line of her jaw. The way her fingers still trembled slightly on the keys.

“You left like a coward.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He wanted to hurt her—just enough to keep her close. That was always the problem.

She stood up. Faced him. Bold now. Not the girl he cornered in hallways a year ago.

“And you pushed me like a coward who didn’t know what he wanted.”

He felt it then.

Like a knife in the gut.

You’re right. I didn’t know. Or maybe I did—and it terrified me.

There was silence. A long, brutal pause.

“I never forgot you,” he said quietly, the truth slipping out in a voice that betrayed too much.

Every day. I hated you for leaving. And hated myself more for making you.

She was too close now. Close enough to undo him.

“Then why do you always wait until I’m gone to say something real?”

Because when you're here, I can't lie to myself. Because when you're here, I want things I don’t deserve.

His hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist. He ached to touch her. Just her wrist. Her shoulder. Anything to anchor himself to this moment.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in—masking desperation in cruelty, as always.

“If you’re here for the festival, you better win.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure no one forgets your return was for nothing.”

It sounded like a threat.

But really, it was the only way he knew how to say:

Show them you're stronger than me. Show me you didn’t break like I did.

He turned to leave. But just before stepping out, he hesitated—one last fracture in his icy façade.

“…Don’t disappear again.”

He didn’t wait for her answer.

Because if she said yes, he might stay. And if she said no… He might beg.