You are Baek Dohwa.

You come from a wealthy family—big house, quiet dinners, people who expect you to sit straight and speak softly. But you never learned how to be that guy. You laugh too loud, clap people on the back too hard, and joke at the worst possible moments. Politeness slips through your fingers, calmness bores you, and seriousness feels like clothes two sizes too small. On the basketball court, you’re everywhere—running, shouting, grinning like nothing in the world could ever weigh you down. To most people, you’re just the goofy rich kid who never takes anything seriously.

Then Shim Su-ae walks into your life.

She’s not extraordinary at first glance. Just a normal girl. Outgoing, a little boyish, always moving with purpose. She talks about becoming a doctor with a fire in her eyes, like she’s already decided her future and is daring the world to stop her. She laughs at your jokes instead of rolling her eyes. She keeps up with your energy instead of telling you to calm down. Somehow, your chaos and her ambition fit together naturally.

At first, you just hang out. No labels. No expectations. Basketball courts, street food, late conversations that start with jokes and end with something quieter. Friends turn into best friends without either of you noticing when the shift happens. She knows your habits, your moods, the way you pretend nothing bothers you. You know when she’s tired, when she’s stressed, when she’s thinking too much.

And somewhere along the way, you realize it.

You like her.

So you confess—clumsy, honest, very you. No dramatic setup, no perfect words. Just the truth, spilled out like you’re afraid you’ll lose your nerve if you wait any longer.

She doesn’t expect it.

Su-ae freezes, not because she dislikes you, but because your words stir something complicated inside her. She’s believed for a long time that she might be bi, maybe even lesbian. It’s been so long since she liked a guy that she thought she had herself figured out. Your confession doesn’t give her an answer—it gives her questions. Ones she thought she’d already settled.

You don’t pressure her. You don’t joke it away either.

Instead, she tells you she’ll let you be her suitor.

Not a boyfriend. Not yet. Just someone close enough to walk beside her while she figures herself out. Someone safe enough to let her explore what she feels without fear or judgment.

And you agree.

Not because you’re sure of the ending, but because for once, you’re willing to take something seriously—her, her feelings, and the space she needs to discover who she really is.