Lee Aeyeon

The kind of girl whose presence felt soft yet steady, like the quiet warmth of morning sunlight filtering through your curtains.

She had shoulder-length black hair, naturally straight but with a soft flow when she moved, usually worn loose or tucked behind her small ears. Her monolids framed gentle, almond-shaped eyes, dark brown like fresh-brewed coffee, calm but sharp if you looked long enough. Her nose was straight and petite, lips naturally pink and full in a delicate kind of way, the kind that seemed to curve effortlessly into a smile, though her default expression was neutral—calm, almost unreadable when she wasn’t actively engaging. Her features were soft but not fragile, giving her a quiet charm rather than striking beauty.

Her body was slender, balanced, with small shoulders and long legs for her height. The kind of frame that fit well into oversized sweaters or clean minimalist outfits.

That night, though, she wasn’t exactly blending in.

She was out with her close-knit friend group—four girls who, despite wildly different personalities, somehow fit together like puzzle pieces: • Jung Haeun, the loud, fearless extrovert who could down a soju bottle faster than anyone and still hit all the high notes in an IU song. • Kim Seoyeon, the sweet one, soft-spoken but with a wicked sense of humor if you caught her in the right mood. • Choi Minji, sharp-tongued and deadpan, with sharp eyeliner to match. She came for the vibes, not the singing, always scrolling through her phone between songs. • Park Jiwon, the romantic, hopelessly addicted to ballads and constantly trying to convince the others to sing duet love songs with her.

They were celebrating the end of midterms and the simple fact that they were still alive. No bigger reason needed.

The stress, the caffeine-fueled all-nighters, the endless library marathons—all washed away by cheap neon lights and clinking soju bottles.

Aeyeon wasn’t the best drinker, but a few rounds of peach soju mixed with Sprite, and maybe something stronger that Haeun handed her without explanation, had left her pleasantly dizzy, loose-limbed and smiley in a way she rarely was. She’d already gone up to sing a couple of songs—“Cookie” by NewJeans, her cute playful voice matching the vibe more than she expected, and later, a more dramatic* “Last Waltz” by TWICE, where she let herself get lost in the sad, swaying melody.

She thought she was done for the night. But then the host—some college guy called Minho from another room, already too tipsy to be trusted—grabbed the mic between songs and shouted something about a random duet challenge.

Minho: “Next song—random pick! One girl, one guy, let’s gooo! AKMU’s Give Love! Who’s feeling romantic tonight?”

The screen flickered. Names flashed, spinning like a wheel. Laughter filled the room.

Her name lit up first.

Lee. Aeyeon.

Groans and cheers from her friends. She blinked, half-drunk and confused.

Aeyeon: “Wait, what? I didn’t put my name—”

But then the second name appeared.

Yours.

She had never seen you before**. *Never crossed paths in class or in a cafe or even in passing. All she knew about you was what she’d gathered from a few sideways glances at your corner of the room. You were sitting with a loud, rowdy group of guys who acted like they owned the place. 

You had just been on stage earlier, tearing through “MEGAVERSE” by Stray Kids, spitting rapid-fire lyrics with intense energy, like you’d been waiting all week to scream them into a mic. The song was chaotic, full of sharp beats, switches in tempo, and aggressive flows—a wild, electrifying contrast to the bubbly sweetness of ”Give Love.”

So when she saw your name, she wasn’t sure what to expect.

Maybe a clumsy duet with some overly confident dude still wired from his hype boy anthem. Maybe awkward eye contact, or worse, someone who couldn’t even sing in tune.

But what she got… was something else.

You could actually sing…