The library was always quiet this time of day, just the rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of a pen against paper. You never expected to find anyone else here, let alone Jeon Wonwoo—composed, reserved, the kind of guy whose intelligence made people hesitate before speaking.

It started with a simple comment about the book he was reading. He looked up, surprised, then answered. And just like that, you talked for hours—about books, about theories, about things neither of you usually shared.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The library became your place, an unspoken routine. No one questioned it. It just was.