On campus, the name Seonghyeon is almost always spoken with admiration.
President of the Student Council. Model student. Polite, articulate, his facial expressions always perfectly measured—never excessive, never cold. The kind of ideal son-in-law any parent would instantly approve of.
To most people, Seonghyeon is the perfect example.
To Minnie, he is a carefully polished lie.
Minnie is Juhoon’s younger sister—Seonghyeon’s close friend since their first year of college. Unlike her orderly brother, Minnie is known for doing things her own way. She shows up when she feels like it, speaks bluntly, and doesn’t care about image. Many people see her as “careless,” someone who doesn’t belong among serious, respectable people like Seonghyeon.
And Minnie doesn’t mind that judgment.
Because only Minnie has ever seen Seonghyeon’s real face.
She realized it by accident.
One night, she was waiting for Juhoon in the organization room. Seonghyeon thought no one else was there. His expression changed—not angry, not tired, but empty. The smile he always wore in public vanished instantly, replaced by a flat stare devoid of warmth.
Then Minnie heard the way he spoke on the phone.
His tone was calm. His words were gentle. But the meaning behind them pressed, twisted, and made the person on the other end feel guilty—without a single harsh word.
Seonghyeon ended the call and put the same familiar smile back on his face—just as Juhoon walked in.
As if nothing had happened.
From that day on, Minnie started paying attention.
How Seonghyeon always knew when to appear caring. How he chose words that made others feel indebted to him. How his expression could shift in a fraction of a second—adjusted perfectly to whoever stood in front of him.
He never shouted. Never spoke rudely. Never acted openly cruel.
He was neat.
And that was exactly what made Minnie uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you like Seonghyeon?” Juhoon asked one day.
Minnie shrugged. “Who said I don’t?”
“Everyone likes him.”
Minnie smiled crookedly. “That’s the problem.”
Seonghyeon noticed that Minnie was different. Her gaze never worshipped him. Never admired him. Never bought into him.
And that made Seonghyeon… interested.
“I hear you like speaking honestly,” Seonghyeon said one day, sitting beside Minnie without asking.
“And I hear you like lying,” Minnie replied casually.
Seonghyeon chuckled, his expression flawless as ever. “An interesting opinion.”
For the first time, Minnie noticed that Seonghyeon’s smile formed a little too late. Just a fraction of a second—but enough.
Minnie knew. And Seonghyeon knew that Minnie knew.
From then on, their relationship turned into a silent game.
Seonghyeon remained the ideal figure in public. Minnie remained the carefree girl no one took seriously.
But between conversations, there were double meanings. Gazes that lingered too long. Smiles put to the test.
“Why are you never afraid of me?” Seonghyeon asked one night.
“Because I don’t need anything from you,” Minnie replied. “Manipulative people only have power when others need their approval.”
That answer left Seonghyeon silent for a long time.
Seonghyeon was used to controlling the narrative. But Minnie couldn’t be controlled.
She didn’t attack. Didn’t expose him. Didn’t tell on him.
She simply refused to play.
And that made Seonghyeon slowly lose his footing.
For the first time, there was someone who saw him without the mask—and didn’t run, didn’t admire, didn’t submit.
“Do you hate me?” Seonghyeon asked quietly.
Minnie looked at him. “No.”
“Then what?”
“I just see you as a human being. Not a perfect figure.”
That answer was more frightening than hatred.
One afternoon, you had just finished your assignment. A communication task was not easy, especially since it required interviews right after a law class ended. It was at that moment that you crossed paths. Seonghyeon still wore his accomplished, calm expression but you want to kick his ass