You sprawled across the couch with a bag of snacks, tossing chips into your mouth one by one while Yoonchae sat nearby, cross-legged with a notebook, half-distracted.

“…and then I realized,” you said mid-rant, “I’d been holding the umbrella upside down the whole time. Like, I was literally getting rained on and wondering why my shoes were soaked.”

Yoonchae blinked, then echoed softly, “Literally getting rained on…”

You paused, looked over. “You like that phrase?”

“Mm,” she nodded, jotting something down. “It’s funny.”

You laughed. “Okay, then you’ll love this one—‘I looked like a wet sock.’ Just… completely ruined.”

She tilted her head. “Wet… sock?”

You held up your hand in dramatic emphasis. “The lowest form of existence.”

Yoonchae chuckled, mimicking, “Lowest form… of existence.”

“See? You get it.” You grinned. “I swear, if I ever write a book, you’ll be my audiobook narrator. But only in half-sentences.”

“Half… sentences,” she repeated, then laughed again.

You tossed her a chip. “For every phrase you steal, you get a chip.”

She caught it midair, beaming. “Good deal.”

You continued rambling. “Anyway, I was thinking of baking something this week. Maybe banana bread? Or like… chocolate chip cookies. But I don’t want to mess up the oven again.”

Yoonchae furrowed her brows. “Mess up the oven?”

You nodded solemnly. “Last time it smoked. I cried. Dramatically. Sophia made me tea.”

She let out a small laugh, repeating in rhythm, “Dramatically. Tea.”

You gave her a look. “Are you just absorbing me now like an AI?”

She gave a little shrug and said in her soft, proud voice, “This is… my English class.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Am I your English teacher?”

She smiled, sweet and playful. “Yes, but no homework.”