Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 18

“This place really is a landmark, huh.”

Seokyung said it with a dry tone, gazing out the wide glass window.

“Feels like the Eiffel Tower in Paris or the Statue of Liberty in New York. Just… in its own way.”

The view he was talking about? A messy spread of karaoke signs, bars, power lines, and tangled shopfronts cluttering the Rodeo alley down below.

He was definitely being sarcastic, so I shot him a sideways glance.

“A landmark just means a place that represents the area, right? If you’re from Hampyeong, everyone knows this spot.”

I replied, grabbing a slice of toast, piling on a huge spoonful of whipped cream, and taking a big bite. It was the kind of thing I could make at home, but for some reason, it tasted way better here. Maybe it was the all-you-can-eat part. I dipped a spoon into the shaved ice drizzled with fruit and condensed milk, then looked over at Seokyung.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He didn’t answer. I handed him a spoon, and after a moment’s hesitation, he took a bite of the bingsoo. I guess it tasted fine, because after that, he ate steadily without needing more coaxing.

Halfway through the bowl, I pulled out a notebook from my bag and jotted down some ideas.

“These are just places that came to mind. I figured we could hit the closer ones first and save the longer trip for the last day. There’s this one place I had in mind—”

I explained a few spots off the top of my head, nibbling on whipped-cream-topped toast as I spoke. Seokyung kept spooning in bingsoo, answering with the occasional “yeah” or “okay,” until he paused, tilting his head at my notes.

“…A karaoke joint’s a landmark?”

“……”

“And what even is ‘Millennium Water Pizza City’? And why did you write ‘Beta Bookstore, Exit 3 sticker booth’ like it’s an itinerary?”

He gave me a look that was halfway between amused and curious.

It was a list of spots people usually hang out at—some trendy, some nostalgic—and a few I personally liked. Just a mash-up. I closed the notebook.

“…I just wrote whatever popped into my head, okay?”

Did he have to ask? He could’ve just gone along with it. It’s not like “landmarks” need to be fancy.

Feeling slightly pouty, I sipped my strawberry juice through a straw. But his gaze stayed locked on me. I turned my head—he was staring. Like, really staring.

What?

I stared back, just as bluntly. His eyes wandered from my eyes to my cheek, and then he tapped his cheek with a long finger—right around the same spot.

“……”

And there it was—something like toast crumbs stuck to his cheek. Probably from when I offered him food earlier and he brushed me off.

Wait. Did he want me to… wipe it off?

I stared at his cheek like I was solving a math problem. Was this part of his whole “pretend we’re long-time friends” act? One of those unspoken details?

I was the one who suggested we act casual and drop the awkwardness for three days, so I figured I should play along. He’d also insisted on paying for everything today, saying that’s what “friends” do.

If I ignored it now, I’d probably just make it more awkward.

So I reached out—hesitantly, carefully—and brushed off the toast crumb like I was petting a wild animal. His skin was smooth and soft, like a freshly washed peach.

And then, for the first time, I saw genuine panic in Seokyung’s eyes.

What was that? He was the one who pointed it out.

As soon as I was done, I pulled my hand back. Seokyung’s expression was unreadable. Honestly, he’s just a weird guy.

We finished the bingsoo in silence and got up to leave. Before heading out, I fixed my hair, dabbed on some lip balm, and patted my cheeks for a little color. As I slung my bag over my shoulder, Seokyung quietly picked up the tray.

Near the entrance was a wall full of doodles and scribbles beside the “Cook Moa” logo. Like a public guestbook. I’d heard about it before. I grabbed a marker from the pencil cup stuck to the wall.

“What should we write?”

Stuff like ‘May 5th, Minji & Hyunwoo were here’ or ‘Team A Fighting!’ covered the wall. I scanned a few before writing.

[May 17 – YS was here.]

I glanced back. Seokyung was still at the pickup station returning the tray. After a short pause, I added just beside it.

[And SK too.]

“How do you want to take the picture?” he asked, holding up a disposable camera.

“I’ll just ask one of the staff.”

“Wait, why? That’s unnecessary.”

I reached for the camera. “Stand there. I’ll take one of you, then you can take one of me.”

“……”

I turned the plastic wheel and looked through the viewfinder. Seokyung stood beside the logo, his expression neat and composed—too composed.

“Can you try smiling a bit?”

“……”

“…Never mind. Sorry.”

The second I said it, his face grew even stiffer. But when I looked at him through the lens, any irritation melted away.

Damn.

He really was something.

Even under these tacky café lights, Seokyung had the same kind of glow I’d seen on actual trainees years ago—the kind people spend months polishing just to shine on stage. Maybe even more.

His eyes didn’t just look at the lens. They looked through it, like he could see whatever was beyond it too. My lips felt dry.

“…Okay, ready. One, two, three!”

Click.

When it was his turn to take mine, it was over in two seconds. “I’m taking it—click.” Done. No direction, no warning. God knows how that turned out.

But whatever. It’s not like we were submitting this to some contest.

We left the shop and headed toward the village bus stop. The street near the mall was packed with people. At one corner, an old man lay crouched beside a weathered basket, a few coins scattered in the bottom.

I dug through my pocket and found a 500-won coin. Just enough left for bus fare. When I peeked in the basket, only a few silver and brass coins were rolling around.

“Seokyung, could you lend me a thousand won?”

He had his hands in his pockets but didn’t ask questions. Just pulled out a bill and handed it over.

I dropped both the bill and my coin into the man’s basket and kept walking. Seokyung, sounding vaguely suspicious, asked.

“You borrowed that for him?”

“Yeah. I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I’ve only got my stepmom’s card on me right now, not much cash.”

He walked in silence for a few moments before asking.

“Do you really think that was a good thing to do?”

“What?”

“Giving money to someone begging like that. Do you think that actually helps?”

His tone was colder than usual.

“It’s helping someone, so yeah. It is a good thing… Just like you’re helping me.”

I added that last bit on purpose. There’s a huge difference between handing coins to someone on the street and asking a classmate to help with a school project—but still. His weird attitude rubbed me the wrong way.

But even with the comparison, Seokyung didn’t seem annoyed.

“If you’d refused my request earlier, I would’ve either convinced you somehow or figured it out on my own. But that guy? Do you think he’d even try to find a way?”

“…….”

“He’ll be in the same spot tomorrow. And the day after. No change, no effort. Just waiting for someone to come by and help. He’ll rely on pity forever instead of trying to change anything himself.”

I looked up at his profile.

It wasn’t like I gave away a million won. It was just one bill. Why did it feel like he was saying all this with so much weight?

But I couldn’t say anything back.

Because Seokyung’s expression… wasn’t just cold—it was kind of lonely. There was something quietly aching beneath that always-composed face. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt real.

Still, I had to say something.

“That’s just how people live. Leaning on others.”

I lean on my stepmom. On Mingyu. On Minjae. That’s how I survive this tough life. Everyone leans on someone.

Maybe I gave that money to feel good about myself. Or maybe I just wanted to seem nice. I don’t know. But one thing I’m sure of—

“People live on warmth. Not intentions—just warmth.”

At least, I did. One cup of ramen. A few sips of milk from a vending machine in the park. Maybe that’s all it takes to thaw someone’s day. That was the extent of what I meant—no deeper meaning.

Seokyung didn’t reply. Whether he was angry or lost in thought, I couldn’t tell.

Maybe he was thinking again. Like, ‘Look who’s talking’. You don’t even have friends. You live like a ghost at school. Maybe he wanted to scoff and move on.

We boarded the bus like strangers, silent. Without a word, he gave up the last seat for me and stood beside it.

When we got off, he walked me all the way home—past the street where he should’ve turned. No goodbye, no see-you-later. As soon as I stepped through my gate, he turned around and left.

Every time I think he’s close, he slips away. When I think he’s distant, he’s suddenly right next to me. Not warm, not cold.

Seokyung is seriously the weirdest person I’ve ever met.