Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 14

I started getting ready at 11 a.m. for our 2 p.m. meet-up.

Not that I did anything fancy—I just picked out something comfortable to move around in, studied my PE textbook like it was gospel, and checked my badminton racket and shuttlecock. This was purely goal-driven prep. Nothing else.

When I said I was going to practice badminton, Minjae started whining that he wanted to come too. I slipped out the front door while my stepmom was busy trying to hold him back. I managed to leave the house five minutes before the scheduled time.

I told myself I wouldn’t be the kind of person who shows up flustered to their first “meeting.” But as soon as I stepped outside the gate, Seokyung was already waiting.

“Sorry—have you been here long?”

“Just got here.”

Seokyung was wearing a plain white short-sleeved tee with a tiny logo of a guy on a horse embroidered on the chest, and dark denim jeans. Just like my stepmom said—he really did look like a college student. It wasn’t just because he was tall and broad-shouldered, either. He carried himself in this calm, detached way that made him seem older, more mature.

He glanced at his watch, and I quickly jumped in.

“Let’s go. I practiced a bit at home. If we head up this way, there’s a little spring up the hill. There’s space to play badminton there.”

Instead of the familiar downhill path we always took—me in front or behind—we started walking side by side up the hill.

When we got to the open area in front of the neighborhood spring, we didn’t even say anything. It was like we’d agreed silently to skip the small talk and just grab our rackets.

Before we came, I’d studied the textbook illustrations and even tried a few swings with the right grip, but… my skills were, generously speaking, garbage. If I’m being honest, it was barely better than what we did on the school field.

After a few clumsy rallies, Seokyung let out a deep sigh. That stung, just a little.

Okay, I know. I can be kind of annoying sometimes. I’ve been told that—multiple times. But maybe I inherited this weird tendency to double down when I feel embarrassed. Like now, for example.

When I missed one of his serves after a couple of weak returns, he pushed his hair back and sighed again. Even while I was trying to hit the shuttle, I caught him glancing at his watch more than once. It made me feel guilty—and irritated.

“…If it’s that hard to breathe, just stop already, Seokyung.”

“What?”

The sighs, the constant checking of his watch—whenever I tied up my hair again, or nervously chewed my lip when the shuttle flew my way, he gave me this look. That I was slow. Annoying.

“You keep sighing every time I miss a shot. Isn’t it ‘cause you’re exasperated? I mean, I can tell. If you’ve got somewhere to be, I won’t waste more of your time. Honestly, I’d rather hit against a wall than play like this, all tense. But thanks, I guess, for at least bothering to show up.”

I said it like I was all cool and done, even though I knew I sounded a little pathetic. Everyone could see Seokyung was doing me a favor by being here at all.

Still, so what? With him standing there like that, how was I supposed to play properly without getting flustered? I was gripping the racket but couldn’t bring myself to say more, and then—

He let out a sharp breath that was almost a laugh.

“That’s you… being discouraged?”

“…”

He muttered something to himself like he couldn’t believe it. Then, just for a second, a faint smile flickered across his face.

Not a happy one—more like the kind of smile you make when something’s so ridiculous you don’t know how else to react. But even so, in that one moment, when his teeth peeked out through his red lips, it was almost… mesmerizing.

Seokyung sighed again and walked toward me, stepping past the unspoken five-step buffer and stopping just two steps away.

“It doesn’t matter how you serve. I can hit anything. When you’re receiving, your arm angle’s important, yeah—but so is your weight shift and wrist snap. You keep doing overhead strokes, but every time you raise your arm, your balance is all over the place. That’s why you’re missing.”

He carefully adjusted my posture, doing his best not to touch me directly.

“Like this?”

“No—here, a little more—”

Maybe he got too frustrated, because he finally grabbed my elbow. His hand was dry and cool, and it brushed against my warmed-up skin for only a moment before pulling away. The contrast in temperature made the contact feel more real than it should have.

“Since it’s a graded activity, if you want at least a B, all you have to do is keep the rally going a bit longer than the average. Let’s aim for ten more successful rallies today. Just ten.”

“Okay.”

Seokyung took off his wristwatch and placed it on the bench next to the court.

I looked at it like it was a timer ticking down my fate and refocused. Shift my weight properly when lifting my arm, keep my wrist and angle just like he showed me—I really wanted to do this right. He was trying too, not just me.

Thwack—a crisp sound as the shuttle flew in a sharp arc from my racket. Seokyung returned it with ease, graceful and light.

Watching the shuttle come back, I chanted in my head. Angle, weight, snap.

Thunk. Not perfect, but at least it didn’t fall flat. The shuttle hit the edge of my racket and sailed back toward Seokyung. And again. And again. Until—plop. It dropped.

“Whoa…”

We hit it back and forth five times. Five.

I stared at him in disbelief, but he just said like it was obvious, “Let’s go again.”

And this time, he didn’t sigh.

At the top of the hill near the spring, in the fresh May breeze, the white shuttlecock danced through the air in soft arcs. The green leaves above us swayed like they were shading us gently, like how my stepmom would fuss about me getting sunburnt.

We must’ve played for about an hour, just swinging our rackets. And honestly? I don’t think I’d ever spent time with someone other than Minjae where my mind was this quiet. For me, that moment was exactly that—peace.

“…Eight!”

Another serve flew across the court.

“Nine! …Ten!”

Finally!

The stubborn shuttlecock responded ten times in a row and fell right at Seokyung’s feet. Our eyes met, and he gave me a small nod.

Overwhelmed with joy, surprise, and something I couldn’t even name, I started jumping up and down. My ponytail came loose and my hair flew everywhere, but I didn’t even notice—I was just so happy, grinning wide enough that my lips nearly reached my ears. For the first time in a while, I remembered how happiness could feel like this—how good achievement could feel.

Honestly, I wanted to run over and grab Seokyung’s hand, maybe jump around with him too. But that felt like a bit much, and if he reacted coldly, it would ruin the mood. So instead, I ran up to him, bouncing on my feet like an excited puppy.

“That was amazing. I can’t believe we actually did it! We might just pull off a B, right?”

Seokyung casually packed the badminton racket into its case.

“Most kids manage at least twenty rallies on average,” he said flatly.

…Oh. I sniffled out of nowhere like I was about to cry.

We walked together to the spring and drank some water. The cold hit the back of my head in the most satisfying way. I hadn’t realized how sweet cold spring water could taste.

When I wiped my mouth, I saw the moisture glistening on Seokyung’s lips too. They looked extra red. At that point, I was still high on adrenaline and accomplishment, overflowing with this irrational sense of closeness to him. We’d done this together, after all. So without thinking, I just started talking.

“What do you like, Seokyung?”

“…”

“What do you do after school? Do you go to a hagwon or take private lessons? Were you always good at sports? Were you ever on a sports team?”

It was genuine curiosity, built up from watching him these past couple of months. We were walking down the hill together now, side by side.

“You’re always out on the field, but your skin still looks bright. Do you get skincare treatments or something?”

“And it’s true you don’t eat meat, right? Why is that?”

“…Who said that?”

Seokyung finally answered, frowning slightly.

“Some girls. They said you don’t eat meat, just vegetables. In the cafeteria, I mean.”

He muttered under his breath, “People say the weirdest things.”

“And you don’t drink from the hallway water fountains either. They said it’s ’cause you think it’s dirty.”

“Hah… Might as well say I don’t use school desks because they’re dirty too.”

“……”

“…I’ve never said anything like that.”

He bit his lip, as if unsure whether I was serious, then looked at me straight. We were starting down a sloped road lined with houses.

“I think it’s just because people are curious about you. They like you—that’s what curiosity is, right?”

“I never asked for anyone’s curiosity.”

It reminded me of that time Seokyung asked if I was trying to get attention. I was probably wrong about him too. He didn’t seem like someone who wanted attention at all.

I wanted to ask why he said that back then, but I held back. If I stirred things up now, I might ruin this rare, normal conversation between us. The atmosphere was fragile, but not unpleasant.

We were almost at the bottom of the hill. Houses came into view, and I could just about make out our rooftop in the distance.

That high from the successful rally was fading fast, like a balloon deflating. Just a while ago, I had questions bouncing out of me like springs. Now, they all felt a bit too awkward to ask. We walked in silence for a moment.

Unexpectedly, Seokyung was the one who broke it.

“Attention that someone doesn’t want just becomes resentment. Even if it’s thrown at you like a bunch of flowers, if you don’t want the smell, all it does is make you feel sick.”

“So you admit it’s flowers, though. At least.”

“……”

I bet whatever people threw at me wasn’t even that. Probably more like trash. Not that I ever asked for it either.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have repeated rumors like that. I hate gossip too, but I still passed it on without thinking.”

I regretted asking him to confirm what I’d heard. It was hypocritical, coming from someone who constantly gets dragged through the rumor mill.

I could feel his eyes flicker toward me for a second before looking away. He seemed like he was going to say something, but then didn’t.

We passed the alley Seokyung used every morning to ride his bike to school. Without a word, he walked right past where he should’ve turned, all the way to my front gate. No awkwardness, no “I’ll walk you home” type of comment. He just did it, like it was second nature.

Our shadows stretched long across the pavement as we stood in front of the gate.

“You did well today. Just keep doing that,” he said.

“Mm. Thanks.”

Of course, there was no next practice scheduled. Hugging the racket case tightly to my chest, I nodded and stepped up to the door to ring the bell.

“Who is it?” came my stepmom’s voice from inside.

“It’s me,” I said softly, and the door clicked open.

Seokyung was still standing there. Like he had to make sure the girl made it safely home before the sun went down. Not because it was me, but because that’s just who he was. That kind of care was built into him. Seokyung was a good person.

My hand hovered on the doorknob. I hesitated, then turned around.

“Hey, Seokyung. You wanna come in for tteokbokki?”

He looked up at me, eyes wide like I’d surprised him.

“My stepmom makes really good tteokbokki.”

I already knew what Minjae meant when he said it took courage. Whether it was persistence or just plain stubbornness, I always tried even if I knew I’d be rejected.

With Dad. With Grandma. With Lee Hojung. I’d ask them to hear me out, please don’t hate me too much, come eat tteokbokki with me.

And now, with Seokyung too.

“You wanna come in?”

In Seokyung’s eyes—which always looked like a deep, dark sea—I imagined I saw a small ripple, like a faint wave. Maybe I was just imagining it. Probably. He’ll say no. I’m used to it.

“…Sure. I’ll eat.”

Even now, after all the countless things I’ve gone through with Cha Seokyung, I still don’t know the answer to this one thing.

Why didn’t he say no that day?