Exams ended not with celebration—but with release.
The kind where everyone looked lighter without realizing it.
That afternoon, Ana stood outside the small café, arms crossed lightly, waiting.
She wasn’t nervous for herself—but for Yeon.
“This is a bad idea,” Yeon muttered beside her, fixing her apron for the third time.
“What if they act weird?
Or worse—what if they pity me?” Ana glanced at her.
“They won’t.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” Before Yeon could argue again, the café door opened.
Ed walked in first, hands in his pockets like he owned the place, casually scanning around.
Kel followed, quieter but observant as always.
Jeon came last—and paused the moment his eyes landed on Yeon behind the counter.
There was a shift.
Subtle.
But real.
“…You work here?” Jeon asked, voice lower than usual.
Yeon stiffened slightly.
“Yeah.
Surprise.” For a second, no one said anything.
Then Ed walked up to the counter and dropped into a chair like it was completely normal.
“So?” he said.
“You going to serve us or just stand there judging customers?” Yeon blinked.
“…You’re unbelievable.” Kel sat down beside him, glancing up at Yeon with a small nod.
“What do you recommend?” he asked.
Just like that— it broke.
The tension.
The fear.
Yeon let out a small breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“…Fine,” she muttered, grabbing a notepad.
“But if you complain, I’m kicking you out.” Ed smirked.
“You wish.” Ana watched quietly from the side.
And for the first time— Yeon didn’t feel exposed.
She felt… seen.
Later, when they all sat together with drinks and snacks scattered across the table, the mood had shifted completely.
Laughter came easily now.
Ed and Kel, however— had not changed.
“You copied my answer in section B,” Ed said, leaning forward.
Kel didn’t even look at him.
“If I wanted wrong answers, I’d ask you directly.” “That doesn’t even make sense.” “It does if you think about it.” “I don’t want to think like you.” Yeon groaned.
“Can you both not start already?” Ana shook her head slightly, but there was a faint smile there.
Some things didn’t need fixing.
Across the table, Jeon sat quieter than usual.
Not withdrawn.
But thoughtful.
His eyes moved briefly toward Yeon.
“…You should’ve told us,” he said suddenly.
The table stilled slightly.
Yeon looked at him.
“It’s not a big deal.” “It is,” Jeon replied.
His tone wasn’t sharp.
It was… disappointed.
Not in her.
In himself.
“I didn’t know,” he added.
Yeon hesitated.
Then shrugged lightly.
“I didn’t think it mattered.” Jeon’s gaze dropped briefly.
“It does,” he said.
Soft.
But firm.
That settled between them—not heavy, but meaningful.
Ed suddenly leaned back.
“Alright,” he said.
“Now that exams are over, we’re not wasting time like boring people.” Kel glanced at him.
“You mean like you during exams?” “I was conserving energy.” “For what?” “For this,” Ed replied.
“We go somewhere.” “Where?” Yeon asked.
Ed paused.
“…That’s your job to figure out.” “Then why did you say it?” “Because the idea matters.” Kel sighed.
“That logic is painful.” Before it could spiral again— Jeon spoke.
“Come to my place.” Everyone looked at him.
“Your place?” Ed asked.
Jeon nodded once.
“My farmhouse.
It’s outside the city.” A pause.
Then Ed leaned forward, suddenly interested.
“…You’ve been hiding a farmhouse?” “It’s not hiding.” “You never mentioned it.” “You never asked.” “That’s suspicious.” Kel shook his head.
“We’re going.” Decision made.
The drive out felt different.
Less crowded.
More open.
When they arrived, the shift was immediate.
Wide land.
Open air.
Quiet that didn’t feel empty.
It felt… expensive.
Yeon stepped out of the car slowly, eyes taking everything in.
“…You live like this?” she asked quietly.
Jeon shrugged.
“Sometimes.” That answer didn’t help.
At all.
Yeon looked away slightly, something unreadable crossing her expression.
Ana noticed.
But didn’t say anything.
Not yet.
Inside the farmhouse, everything was clean, minimal—but clearly maintained.
As they stepped in— someone else was already there.
PARK SEO-AH (Jeon sister) A woman, composed, sharp-eyed, standing near the hallway.
Jeon paused slightly.
“…You’re here.” She looked at him, unimpressed.
“I work here too, remember?” Then her gaze shifted.
And stopped.
On Ana.
Just for a second longer than normal.
Ana felt it immediately.
Recognition.
Not familiarity.
But awareness.
The woman said nothing.
Just nodded slightly and walked past them.
Later, as the evening settled and everyone spread out—some outside, some inside— Ana found herself alone in the garden.
The air was cooler here.
Quiet.
Clear.
She sat on a low bench, looking out at the open space, her thoughts finally slowing after everything.
“…I was wondering when I’d get you alone.” Ana didn’t turn immediately.
She already knew who it was.
The woman stepped closer, heels soft against the stone path.
Jeon’s sister.
Her presence was different now.
Not casual.
Focused.
Ana turned her head slightly.
“You’ve been watching since we arrived,” she said.
The woman smiled faintly.
“Observation is part of my job.” Ana studied her.
“And what job is that?” A small pause.
Then— “I work under Rena,” she said.
That confirmed it.
Everything.
Ana’s posture didn’t change—but her attention sharpened.
“I know who you are,” the woman continued.
“Or at least… enough.” Ana didn’t deny it.
“…Then you know why I’m here,” Ana replied.
The woman stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away.
“No,” she said.
“I know you approached her.” A beat.
“I don’t know your intention.” That was the real confrontation.
Not aggressive.
But precise.
Ana stood slowly now, meeting her gaze fully.
“My intention is simple,” she said.
“I chose to be there.” The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“That’s not enough in her world.” “I know.” Silence stretched between them.
Then— “You’re not trained,” the woman said.
“Not for that environment.” Ana didn’t react.
“I don’t need to be yet,” she replied.
That answer made the woman pause.
Not convinced.
But interested.
“…You’re either confident,” she said slowly, “or reckless.” Ana met her gaze.
“Maybe both.” A faint smile appeared.
“Dangerous combination.” A pause.
Then the woman stepped back slightly.
“I’ll be watching you,” she said.
Ana nodded once.
“I expect that.” The tension didn’t break.
But it shifted.
From challenge— to acknowledge.
And somewhere inside the farmhouse, laughter echoed faintly—reminding both of them that outside this conversation, something simpler still existed.
For now