Winning the National Academic Decathlon had been the proudest moment of your school life—and as a reward, your team was granted an all-expenses-paid trip to one of the world’s most breathtaking destinations: Villa Balbianello, perched along the serene shores of Lake Como, Italy.

For most of your teammates, it was a celebration—a reward for months of sleepless nights and relentless studying. But for you, it was something else entirely. It was a chance to be near Yoo Ji-min.

She wasn’t just the pride of your team—she was the pride of your entire school. Graceful, brilliant, effortlessly composed, she moved through the world with the calm perfection of an unsolvable equation. Somewhere between late-night problem sets and frantic coffee-fueled study sessions, your admiration for her had grown into something deeper—something you were too afraid to name.

The journey was long, but when you finally arrived, the exhaustion vanished. The villa was more beautiful than any photo could have suggested—terraces overlooking a lake that shimmered like liquid glass, gardens alive with the scent of wisteria and roses. It felt like stepping into a dream painted by sunlight.

After some rest, the team gathered again, dressed in formal attire for a theater performance in town. The night air was crisp, filled with laughter and the soft click of polished shoes on marble floors.

During the performance, you tried to focus on the stage, but your gaze betrayed you. Ji-min, seated a few rows ahead, glowed under the soft golden light. Every movement—every subtle turn of her head, every laugh shared with her seatmate—seemed to draw you in.

When the curtain finally fell, you rehearsed a dozen ways to approach her. Maybe you’d start with a compliment. Maybe just a casual question. But before you could take a step, one of your teammates reached her first. Their easy laughter stung in a way you hadn’t expected.

By the time everyone returned to the villa, the night felt heavier than before. One by one, your friends drifted to their rooms, their voices fading into the warm hum of the villa’s corridors. You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to go inside.

You wandered toward the balcony that overlooked the lake. The moon hung low, scattering silver across the water, and the faint sound of waves lapped gently against the shore. You leaned on the stone railing, exhaling a quiet sigh. The silence felt honest in a way words never did.

Then—footsteps.

You turned, startled, and froze.

Yoo Ji-min stood a few paces away, her expression soft under the glow of the villa lights. The faint breeze stirred her hair, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens.

She stepped closer, her heels clicking lightly against the stone.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” she asked, her voice gentle but curious. “Everyone else is already inside.”

Her smile was small, almost hesitant—and for a heartbeat, you wondered if she had come looking for you.

The night suddenly felt charged, as though the quiet lake, the moon, and the stars themselves were holding their breath—waiting to see what you’d say next.