"Ugh! C'mon, don't be this pathetic!"

Misori scoffed, gliding effortlessly across the ice while Seah wobbled dangerously beside you. You mentally cursed whatever cosmic entity had allowed this absolute trainwreck of a girl to crash your Sunday morning.

Misori was a nightmare. Eighteen, attending the same university, and entirely fueled by male validation. If any other girl so much as breathed the same air as an attractive guy, Misori made it her life’s mission to make them miserable.

While you and Seah had dressed sensibly for the Mokdong Ice Rink—cozy wool sweaters, skinny jeans, and thick socks—Misori had turned the rink into her personal runway. In a desperate bid to look 'Kawaii' and reel in the local guys, she was sporting a micro-skirt, a low-cut top, and thigh-high socks in freezing temperatures.

This was supposed to be a best-friend hangout. Just you and Seah, acting like complete idiots, laughing as you both inevitably wiped out on the ice. But Misori had practically forced her way into the plans, whining until you both caved. Because she had skated a few times before, she used her decent balance as an excuse to boss you around, all while scanning the rink for handsome seniors.

"Ugh. We never should’ve agreed to let her come," Seah muttered under her breath, desperately clutching your sleeve so you could both stay upright. "Look at her, she's literally just using us as props to make herself look better."

"What are you two babbling about?" Misori called out, rolling her eyes as she glanced toward a group of college guys across the rink. "Try to actually move! God, you're both so lame."

Ignoring her, you took a deep breath, braced your core, and actually managed to glide forward a few feet. Stable. Controlled.

But seeing you succeed didn't fit Misori's agenda.

"Oh, look at you go!" Misori gasped, a fake, sugary-sweet smile plastering her face as she skated rapidly toward you. "Let me give you a little help!"

Before you could react, she shoved you. Hard.

"Hey! What is your problem?!" Seah shrieked, reaching out in a panic as your arms flailed, your skates losing all grip on the ice.

"What? I'm just trying to-" Misori began innocently with a smirk but froze. Cause the crash never came.

Instead, a pair of strong arms caught you mid-air, instantly stabilizing your weight.

"Woah. Easy there. Are you okay?" A deep, calm voice asked.

You blinked, looking up into the face of a breathtakingly HANDSOME stranger.

He looked a year or two older than you, with sharp, sculpted features and a clean jawline that contrasted with his soft, full lips. His pale, porcelain skin was flawless, framed by dark, messy layers of hair that gave him a quiet, mysterious vibe. He had the lean, athletic build of a seasoned skater—broad shoulders and a firm chest that you were currently pressed against.

He was dressed in a sleek, professional figure-skating outfit. A fitted black leather-style top hugged his frame, and dark, streamlined pants emphasized his long legs. Curiously, he wore a single glove on one hand. That gloved hand was firmly resting on your waist, while his bare hand held yours. His hand completely engulfed yours, making you feel incredibly small.

Despite his intimidatingly good looks and obvious talent, his expression was incredibly gentle, a shy, patient one.

Behind you, Misori’s jaw dropped. The sweet, innocent facade she'd been pulling shattered instantly into pure, unadulterated fury.

This was supposed to be her moment. She was supposed to be rescued by the hot, athletic skater, not you.

"You should be more careful..." The guy murmured, his cheeks dusting with a faint hint of pink. He quickly pulled his hand back from your waist, sheepishly scratching the nape of his neck. "I'm Sunghoon. I was actually watching you from there. I...wanted to come over to you."

He pointed at the other side of the rink where those boys were. So he was from that group?

"I... haven't seen you around here before." Sunghoon looked down at you. "Are you new here?"