Episode 2
That day, too, she had just set her bag down on the desk when she nearly fainted at the sight of Beomjin stirring upstairs. His eyes, still cloudy from sleep, gradually sharpened as he looked down at her—and instinctively, she took a step back.
‘You.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t know this was your house. I thought it was empty since the door was unlocked… I’ll leave right away.’
Even as she reached to grab her bag strap, Junyoung’s gaze remained fixed on Beomjin, who was coming down the stairs. Rumors about him surfaced in her mind one by one.
Beomjin stared at her, visibly tense, then suddenly opened his mouth wide and yawned like a lion roaring. A lazy voice followed.
‘Not my house.’
‘What?’
‘It is empty. No one’s been here for a month. Except you.’
Junyoung blinked blankly. Beomjin casually pulled a cup from the drawer under the sink, filled it with tap water, and gulped it down. Junyoung, who had instinctively curled her shoulders inward, stammered out a question.
‘W-What are you doing here, then?’
‘Sleeping.’
‘S-Sleep—what?’
‘Not that sleep. Just sleeping. Don’t get all flustered.’
‘I’m not…!’
‘You came here to study, right? I’m going back to sleep. Do whatever.’
Rubbing his eyes, Beomjin headed back up the stairs and lay down on the bed. Junyoung, trying to gather her thoughts, slowly lifted her stiff neck. She couldn’t hear any breathing, not even snoring—it was impossible to tell what he was doing up there.
Should I leave? That’s probably the smart move. Who knows what that thug might do?
…Still.
There wasn’t another place this good. And it’s not like Kwon Beomjin had any real claim to it. He had just found it a little earlier than she did.
Junyoung clenched her fists and took a deep breath before cautiously stepping up the stairs, one at a time. She just wanted to check if he was really asleep.
The stairs were steep, with high steps, and she had to be careful. Bending forward to avoid bumping her head on the ceiling, she climbed until she spotted Beomjin lying on his side with his eyes closed.
Is he really sleeping? I can’t exactly poke him.
Wait… he knew I came here to study. How?
‘What. Got something to say, then say it.’
The sudden voice startled Junyoung so badly she lost her grip on the railing and stumbled. Letting out a short scream, her body tipped backward—only to be pulled forward in an instant.
Her heart was pounding like it might burst. Eyes squeezed shut, gasping for air, Junyoung slowly opened them… and realized she’d landed on top of Beomjin. Her wrist, still in his grip, ached.
She let out a silent scream and pushed off his chest to get up—only to bang her head hard on the low ceiling with a loud thunk.
Clutching her head and curling into a ball, she tried to bear the pain. Beomjin gave a short laugh, almost mocking.
‘Never been up to the second floor? Ceiling’s low here.’
Junyoung wiped away the tears that had welled up and looked up, pretending she was fine despite the lingering pain.
‘It smells.’
…Is that something you say to the guy who just saved your life? If it weren’t for me, your head would’ve been cracked open, maybe worse.
Beomjin grumbled, half sitting up. Just that small closing of distance made Junyoung nervous again.
‘I meant the bed smells dusty.’
Beomjin tugged at his own T-shirt and sniffed it. Then, with a small “ah,” he nodded. Junyoung took the opportunity to ask a question.
‘How did you know? That I came here to study.’
‘I saw you.’
‘When?’
‘The day before yesterday.’
Beomjin answered easily, but when Junyoung’s eyes widened, he added with a sigh.
‘I woke up and saw someone sitting at the desk. Recognized the back of your head. Then I just went back to sleep.’
‘You recognized me from the back of my head?’
‘You sit in front of me at school. Well—front row, front row of the front.’
Can people really recognize someone just from the back of their head?
As she blinked in disbelief, a low, eerie voice brushed her ear.
‘If the bed was what you were after, I would’ve kicked you out.’
Junyoung had learned to read the violence in people’s voices. Her gaze automatically hardened. Beomjin just shrugged with a calm expression.
‘But your goal seemed to be the desk. So I figured we could coexist. We both need a quiet space. And since we want different things, we won’t get in each other’s way.’
Forcing her nerves to settle, Junyoung narrowed her eyes.
He definitely made her tense—but surprisingly, the conversation was normal. And honestly, he had a point. At the very least, he wasn’t some unhinged lunatic.
‘So… you come here just to sleep?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why not just sleep at home?’
Beomjin answered flatly.
‘Why don’t you study at home, then?’
Junyoung understood immediately. Just like she had her reasons, so did he. But this wasn’t the time to pry. She shifted gears and asked again.
‘So it really is an empty house?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Even if it’s empty, people like you or me could still come in. Someone else might find it.’
Beomjin’s eyes narrowed sharply. When their gazes met, he gave a crooked smile, as if he got what she meant.
‘We’ll need a lock. I’ll bring one next time.’
‘And I get a key too? Why?’
When she asked for confirmation, Beomjin mumbled through a yawn.
‘Told you. I think we can share.’
‘Wouldn’t it be more comfortable alone, though?’
Growing uneasy, Junyoung pressed. Beomjin’s expression darkened, and his voice rose slightly.
‘So do you want the key or not?’
‘…I’ll take it.’
‘Then go back to your side.’
Smacking his lips, Beomjin lay back down. Watching him warily, Junyoung slowly stepped onto the stairs. As she reached the second step, she craned her neck to ask:
‘Hey… do you even know who I am?’
‘What, you think I’m so dumb I can’t even remember names just ’cause I suck at school? You’re Yoon Junyoung. Top of the class.’
Not exactly the image she wanted to project.
Muttering under her breath, Junyoung finally descended. And just like that, their “coexistence” began.
But at school, nothing had changed between them. They still didn’t talk—because there was never a reason to.
At first, even here, they barely spoke. But now, they’d at least exchange a few words. Especially after Kwon Beomjin brought ramen one day, and they ended up cooking it together.
If there was a problem, it was that he brought ramen every day after that. But it’s not like there was anything else to eat, so honestly, she was kind of grateful.
Besides, Beomjin liked variety. Some days he added eggs, some days cheese. Other times, a pile of kimchi or chili peppers.
He was putting in effort—the least she could do was eat it all.
Junyoung was flipping through a vocabulary book from school when the smell hit her nose. She quickly cleared the desk. Their usual trivet was an old martial arts novel that had been lying around the house.
Beomjin came over and set the pot down. Steam rose in thick clouds.
“…How many eggs did you put in?”
“Five?”
“The yolks are broken.”
“Two of them aren’t.”
“I told you not to beat the eggs.”
“Hey.”
Beomjin furrowed his brows as he handed her chopsticks. The first time he made that face, she had instinctively looked away—but not anymore. As she stared back, Beomjin gave the chopsticks a little shake.
“When we’re cooking in one pot, we can’t both get exactly what we want. Just scoop it the way you like and eat.”
Junyoung pouted and scooped some ramen into her bowl. Since there was no dining table, they always ate at the desk. There was only one chair, so Beomjin usually ate standing up. She’d thought about giving up the chair once or twice—but not today.
The egg whites stuck to the noodles were a bit off-putting, but he’d added enough chili powder that it was spicy and good. Blowing on the noodles, Junyoung glanced sideways at Beomjin and asked:
“You got anything you don’t eat?”
Beomjin raised an eyebrow at the question. Then he smirked.
“Your nasty personality is way too obvious.”
“And you’re surprisingly sharp for someone who looks that dumb.”
She scoffed, and Beomjin laughed in disbelief. He suddenly leaned in close, not caring that soup splashed as he slurped up some noodles. The broth splattered all over Junyoung’s white shirt.
“Hey!”
She snapped, pointing at the stains. Beomjin’s sharp gaze flinched slightly—as if he genuinely hadn’t expected that to happen. Junyoung’s face scrunched in irritation.
“Wash it at home. Just wear another shirt.”
I was gonna wear this one again tomorrow.
Mouth slightly open, Junyoung slammed her chopsticks down. Beomjin kept slurping the noodles, clearly still hungry, even as he looked at her.
If your fists weren’t twice the size of mine, I’d kill you right now.
After inhaling his share in just two bites—noodles and broth and all—Beomjin finally wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set the bowl down.
“Fine. Take it off. I’ll wash it.”
“What? Take what off?”
“Your shirt. What else?”
“You psycho!”
Startled by his blank tone, Junyoung yanked her chair back—only to smack the back of her head against the wall. Beomjin clicked his tongue and squinted at her.
“Is bumping your head a hobby? What, your brain is so big it annoys you?”
“Shut up.”
She snapped while rubbing the sore spot. Then Beomjin suddenly pulled off his T-shirt. When his bare, solid torso appeared right in front of her, Junyoung’s jaw dropped in pure shock.
Thanks for Reading…
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