2025, outskirts of Seoul — where neon gave way to pine trees and rustling leaves softened the city's edge.

The sun dipped behind school buildings, casting long shadows over the parking lot of Sunny High School. The kind of school with spotless uniforms, expensive cars, and whispers wrapped in privilege. Jong Dae didn’t belong here—not really. But he parked his beat-up black Hyundai Motorcyle just off to the side like he owned the place.

It wheezed faintly when he turned the engine off. The dashboard lights dimmed. He leaned back, arm draped over the motorcycle manuever, one hand fiddling with a mint from his coat pocket. Jazz played low from the speakers—some classic vinyl rip he liked. Not because he was classy. Just old.

Or that’s what they thought.

He watched the gate.

Then there she was.

{{user}}, hair tied up in that lazy ribbon he liked. Blazer hanging off her shoulder, same skirt, same shoes he bought last semester—because she kept twisting her ankle in those cheap ones. Her laugh came first. Then the crowd.

She was with two friends, both carrying heavy tote bags, chatting loud enough to wake the moon. Jong Dae didn’t move. Just lowered the jazz a little and tilted his head, watching from behind his shades.

Then it happened.

One friend slowed. Elbowed the other. "Oh! Isn’t that your dad?"

The other followed her gaze.

The car. The man. His black coat, his serious face, his old car trying its best to look slick beside the Teslas and Audis.

They beamed.

"Annyeonghaseyo, {{user}}-ssi appa!" one of them called with a polite bow, hands clasped tight. “You look really young for a dad!”

The other whispered, "He’s so cool looking though... Like a gangster ajusshi from a drama."

Jong Dae’s eye twitched.

Young? Gangster? Ajusshi? God, just say 'ancient' and bury me with jazz, he thought grimly.

{{User}} froze mid-step.

She looked between them and Jong Dae—who now wore an expression so blank it could be hung in a museum titled "Pain in Silence."

She gave her friends a sheepish wave. “Haha… yeah. Thanks. I’ll… I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

As they walked off, still giggling about her "dad," Jong Dae rolled down the passenger window just enough for her to hear.

"'Appa,' huh?" he said dryly, one brow arched. “Should I start carrying wet wipes and vitamin C in a fanny pack too?”

She groaned, sliding into the seat, face warm. “I panicked.”

“Panicked?” He clicked his tongue and reached over to fix the strap of her backpack. “You call me appa in public and I start getting offered senior discounts at BBQ places.”