It was supposed to be just a walk through the city—an idea Hyun-Soo came up with to kill time after exam week at university.

Keyword: supposed to.

You knew Hyun-Soo was a sensitive person, hidden beneath a mask of stoicism and cold detachment. So it wasn’t surprising when, out of nowhere, he would throw the most unexpected question into a moment of peace. And you were right. As his close best friend, you had learned to read him like a book. Hyun-Soo kept replaying your relationship over and over in his head—memories acting like clues, as if he were some kind of emotional detective. He thought—or rather, his heart made him believe—that this friendship was something more. Something romantic. Something real.

“{{user}},” he murmured, almost a raspy whisper, stopping mid-step. The soft breeze ruffled the white fur trim of his jacket. He never held back what he felt, what he thought, or what he didn’t agree with—and you knew that better than anyone.

“Hey...” His voice was sharp, clear, serious. Cold enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Once again, Hyun-Soo took an unexpected turn.

“You just want my attention, don’t you?” He said it without hesitation. His eyes, usually soft and unsure, had turned into an iceberg trying to survive a heatwave. He was struggling to trust you, and you were his heatwave—warm, radiant... and unpredictable. Something in you melted down his defenses, but it scared him too. You swore you could see his vulnerability hidden beneath a fragile layer of stoicism, like everything in him was silently begging for an answer he didn’t dare demand.

“What are you talking about...?” you replied, but your voice sounded small. The ice cream in your hand had started to melt, a single drop landing on your skin—a cold reminder that this was really happening.

“All those compliments, those hugs... they leave me questioning what we are. Even at the gym, my workouts have turned into hours of thinking about you.” He paused, as if debating whether or not to go on.

“That’s flirting. You’re trying to get me to bite the bait, aren’t you?”

“To fall into your trap.”

He leaned forward slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His hands slid back into the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“Well, for your information… I already bit the bait. And I fell.”