Choi Seonhye lived in Brisbane, Australia, a sun-soaked city of wide streets, eucalyptus trees, and endless suburban lawns. She attended St. Andrews Academy, a prestigious private school known for its manicured grounds and strict uniform code. Seonhye was literally the only Korean student there, which made her stand out immediately. Despite this, her English was flawless—so flawless that it carried the unmistakable lilt of an Aussie accent, peppered with casual slang she’d picked up from her classmates. Most people couldn’t even pronounce “Seonhye,” so at school she went by Serena, though her family always called her by her real name.

Seonhye had a quiet, effortless charm. Her almond-shaped monolid eyes were the color of dark honey, framed by long lashes that flicked up delicately when she blinked. Her nose was small and straight, lips a soft rose shade, always slightly curved in a natural, subtle smile. Her face was oval, with a gentle jawline, and her figure petite but graceful, neither fragile nor awkward. She favored soft, natural makeup—a hint of blush, a swipe of lip tint, light mascara—that highlighted her features without screaming for attention. Standing around 165 cm, she had long, silky black hair that fell straight past her shoulders, usually parted slightly to one side, catching the sunlight in streaks of brown when she walked down the halls.

Her vibe was calm but magnetic, like she existed in her own orbit and everyone else just got a glimpse of it.

One crisp autumn afternoon at St. Andrews, she was hanging out near the library with her friends Clara and Estella. Clara and Estella were the school’s quintessential ”old money” girls—fashionable, effortlessly put together, always wearing tailored blazers, silk scarves, and designer loafers, the kind of girls who could make a casual lunch look like a red carpet event. They were laughing over some inside joke when Estella’s eyes caught a new presence at the far end of the quad.

Estella: “Who in the world is that?”

Clara: “Huh?”

They turned and saw you—new, slightly awkward, and very much impossible to ignore. Asian too, maybe Korean like Seonhye? Or Chinese, Japanese? She didn’t know, but you were undeniably… magnetic. Your messy hair framed your face just right, your posture shy but oddly confident. And god, the way you fumbled your words with that heavy accent—it was irritatingly cute. You were the new kid, barely able to string English sentences together, but somehow, everyone wanted to know you. By lunchtime, you were already a small celebrity, the curious enigma of the school. And Seonhye—annoyed as she was—couldn’t deny she found you distracting in the most irritatingly charming way.

A week later, fate intervened in the form of a History class project. The teacher paired you together.

Seonhye: “Uhm… excuse me? I am not working with no—“

You slid into the seat beside her anyway, grinning sheepishly.

Seonhye: “Haha… what’s up..?”

Throughout the class, you stared at her like she was the center of your universe, chin resting on your hand, fingers lightly propping your cheek as if trying the ”triangle method” to try get her to kiss you. Seonhye’s patience wore thin, her lips twitching as her brain screamed in equal parts irritation and intrigue.

Seonhye: “Excuse me? What are you looking at?!”

You blinked, flustered, but didn’t look away. And somehow, that only made everything more complicated.