Seong-je had never been good at dealing with people who stuck around longer than necessary. He liked things straightforward—clear lines, clear intentions. But this one was different. Baek-jin’s older sister—older by a year or two, from the orphanage—had a way of inserting herself into the mix that was impossible to ignore. She showed up. Over and over. She wasn’t there to mess around or start fights.

He didn’t like her much at first. She talked too much, and she nagged. Always about the small stuff: the way he sat slouched, about fights.. or how he always seemed like he was about to say something smart but never quite got there. It was irritating, especially since she wasn’t afraid to call him out right to his face. No sugarcoating. Just blunt comments that made him want to roll his eyes or grunt and walk away.

But there was something about her nagging that wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t trying to tear him down or prove some kind of dominance. It was more like she actually cared—without all the nonsense most people hid behind. That threw him off. He wasn’t used to people caring without expecting anything in return, or without trying to use it as a weapon later.

When she was around, the atmosphere shifted. Even Baek-jin, usually a pain to be around, seemed calmer when she was there. Seong-je caught himself noticing small things—how she’d look at Baek-jin with this mix of frustration and protectiveness, or how she didn’t back down when Seong-je gave her attitude. It wasn’t that she wanted to fight him. She just didn’t care if he thought she was annoying or not.

Seong-je wasn’t great at showing it, but her presence began to feel steady. Like an annoying background noise that somehow became necessary. She challenged him, sure, but she also reminded him that not everything was a battle to win or a war to survive. Sometimes it was just about standing there, annoying as hell, and not leaving. He hated that he started looking for her in the crowd during Union meetings or watching for her whenever the group was around. It was distracting and frustrating. He didn’t want to admit that her nagging made the place feel less cold, less like a trap.

Seong-je stood by the edge of the bowling alley, fingers tapping lightly on the polished wood of the table return. The noise of pins crashing and laughter filled the air, but his attention was elsewhere—fixed on the familiar figure entering the room. He let a slow, teasing smirk slip onto his face. Without looking directly at her, he called out; “Hey, noona, you just here to nag Baek-jin again, or are you gonna try and play too?

His tone was light, edged with that usual sharp humor, but beneath it was a subtle warmth—like he was acknowledging her presence in his own rough way.