Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 51

Ssshhhhh—

Bright red slices of beef hit the grill, filling it edge to edge. Was it chuck flap tail? Skirt steak? The fancy names were hard to remember. Either way, the expensive marbled beef sizzled, taking up every inch of space over the fire.

7 p.m.

As Seokyung had suggested, the club members—split into small groups for the day’s team activities—were now gathered at a restaurant. All fifteen of them. But this wasn’t the cheap $3-a-serving pork belly place in front of campus. No, this was the middle of Yeouido—one of those high-end hanwoo joints where office workers have company dinners.

“Cha, not even one shot of soju?”

“I’m driving.”

Seokyung brushed the comment off and reached for the tongs, flipping the meat himself. Haemin had offered to take over grilling, but he’d waved her off and personally laid the cooked slices onto the women’s plates. Unfortunately, the seating had ended up by team again—meaning the same four people who’d gone to see cherry blossoms were stuck together.

Yeonseo had lost that round without even trying. She just wasn’t the type to brazen it out like a lovesick fool.

One perfectly grilled slice went to Haemin. Another to Eunjoo. Then, yet another back to Haemin—before, finally, at last, a piece was dropped onto Yeonseo’s plate, almost as an afterthought.

Not subtle at all. It wasn’t even about how he treated her—it was the way his attention kept sliding toward Haemin. Sure, Yeonseo’s looks usually drew attention first, but Haemin was cute in her own right—bright-eyed, always smiling, and with enough bubbly charm to be popular among their peers.

“Cha Seokyung’s a freshman killer,” someone murmured.

She wanted to believe it was just a misunderstanding. Like back when she was a student herself, and the same kind of rumors had spun out of nothing. But maybe, in this case, the rumors weren’t completely off.

Yeonseo glanced at Hae-min. Sitting next to her had been a mistake. Every time Seokyung set another piece of meat on Haemin’s plate, she noticed—and hated that she noticed. For god’s sake, it’s just beef.

“Jeongmin sunbae, pour me a shot,” she called over to the next table.

“Oh? Is Yeonseo about to go for it?” Jeongmin grinned, happily filling her glass.

She tossed it back in one gulp. The sharp burn slid down her throat.

***

“See, that’s what I’m saying—there’s no way I can understand the school’s stance, y’know?!”

On the grill, a few neglected slices of beef were starting to burn. The table was littered with empty green soju bottles.

“What’s the point of protesting the tuition hikes? It’s not like people don’t know the school’s swimming in money! But still, they went and raised tuition anyway—right?!”

Jeongmin, the club president and a member of the tuition protest committee, was halfway drunk and ranting about the same things he always did.

The mood was winding down—some people heading out for fresh air, some going to buy ice cream, others in deep debate at their own tables.

Propping her chin in one hand, Yeonseo half-listened to Jeongmin’s rant, pleasantly tipsy. She’d only asked for that first shot on a whim, but after that, Jeongmin had latched onto her as a drinking buddy, and she’d ended up downing quite a bit.

For someone who didn’t know her limit, she was handling it surprisingly well—enough to make her suspect she might actually have a decent tolerance. That thought made her laugh to herself.

“And the parking situation! Students pay all the fees, but the staff gets more parking spots! Does that make sense?!”

Parking… right. Parking’s important. Seokyung, why are you like this?

Her gaze drifted to the diagonal table, where Seokyung sat surrounded by three or four younger women, all leaning in and laughing. A couple even touched his arm mid-laugh, the way tipsy people sometimes do.

But Seokyung didn’t seem especially engaged. If anything, he looked like his mind was elsewhere, staring at the soju glass in front of him with a faintly bored expression.

Still, to Yeonseo, the sight felt different.

What happened to you in those six years? The Seokyung I knew barely ever smiled. Letting someone close was always a challenge with you.

Then again—Yeonseo, what do you even know about him?

Right… I know nothing. Not really. Her throat tightened unexpectedly. She blamed the soju.

***

A little later, Yeonseo stepped outside. The air was cool, refreshing against the faint flush on her cheeks. She sat down on one of the small plastic chairs lined up under the restaurant’s awning.

A glance at her phone showed several unread messages from Jawoon, who had been understanding when she canceled their plans.

[At the gym.]
[Don’t drink too much.]
[If you don’t have a ride home, call me.]

He seemed like a good person. A bit much sometimes, but—really—when had anyone ever treated her with such unconditional kindness?

Which, of course, made her think of Seokyung again. Specifically, the Seokyung from when she was eighteen. The one who had shown her unconditional kindness.

She’d thought of him a lot during the six years she’d spent in Chungju. Once, on a winter night, she’d even dialed his number after hesitating countless times—only to hear the cold automated message telling her the number didn’t exist.

Another time, she’d suddenly wanted to go to Seoul, and if she hadn’t already heard he’d dropped out, she probably would have gotten on the intercity bus without thinking.

Eventually, she tried to train herself not to think about him for too long. Whenever a memory of him began to form, she’d erase it before it was fully sketched out. Because otherwise… it hurt too much.

Over time, it worked. She started to believe she’d neatly packed Seokyung away as just another bittersweet page in her school-days notebook.

But maybe not. Because here she was, still watching him, still feeling the mix of small hopes and bigger disappointments. She couldn’t name the color of those feelings—but she knew she still felt him. And it was… sad.

The breeze cooled her skin, but the heat in her cheeks wouldn’t fade. She stayed put, idly scrolling on her phone, not wanting to go back inside yet.

***

The restaurant’s doorbell jingled as someone came out. She didn’t look up, but she could feel someone’s presence drawing closer.

“Yes, Professor,” came a low voice—clear, deep, the kind of voice that sounded good anywhere.

“No, today we just took a quick look around and then had dinner together to talk things over.”

His tone was neat, composed, clean as ever.

He seemed completely focused on the call, unaware she was sitting right there listening.

Yeonseo leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting shut. She let the quiet rumble of his voice wash over her like a lullaby. Even his voice, she thought hazily, had deepened over the years.

Just as she was starting to nod off, her phone buzzed. She blinked down at the caller ID—“Mom,” saved under a nickname—and smiled before answering.

“Hey, babe.”

—”Babe, my ass. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, club meeting tonight.”

—”Don’t overdo it. I’m not there to keep an eye on you or make you hangover soup in the morning.”

Yeonseo—no, Minseo—half-slurred something playful back, feeling a sudden wave of homesickness.

“Then why don’t you come over and make it for me? Spend the night?”

Her voice seemed extra loud in the quiet outside.

The phone was suddenly plucked from her hand. Or rather, taken by someone else’s hand.

Seokyung snapped the flip phone shut with a sharp click, his expression hard enough to stop her mid-breath.

That same cold stare shifted from the phone to her. When he spoke, his voice was like ice.

“I’m not listening to this.”

Her tipsiness vanished in an instant.

“What the hell—what are you doing sunbae?!”

Still, “sunbae” slipped out automatically, like muscle memory. Was she dreaming? Maybe this was just some alcohol-fueled hallucination.

“Why are you… touching my phone without permission? Give it back.”

“No.”

“Give it to me. I’m going home.”

“Hangover soup for a night together? That what you said?”

“Excuse me?!”

“I can make bean sprout soup. Does that get me a night?”

“Cha Seokyung!”

The breeze between them suddenly felt sharper, colder. The streets of Yeouido on a Saturday night were almost deserted—like a city abandoned.

His voice cut through the silence.

“Guess it’s not so hard for you to date now, huh?”

“……”

“It’s not like it’s Ji Yeonseo.”

It was a clear jab. That summer, she’d been a coward, and it had frustrated him. She could almost understand his bitterness—but it still felt unfair. If you were going to ignore the past, fine—but don’t suddenly throw it in someone’s face like this. Especially when they weren’t ready.

So her reply came out sharp, even though her heart wasn’t.

“Yeah. Turns out it wasn’t that hard after all.”

His gaze locked on her, heavy, unflinching. His jaw was tense, clenched.

“Get your bag.”

“…What? Why?”

“We need to talk. Grab your stuff so I can take you home.”

The warm, charming Seokyung who’d been taking pictures for Haemin and Eunjoo was gone. This was the cold, flat, unreadable version.

“Or we can talk inside, if you’d prefer.” He half-turned toward the restaurant, as if ready to walk in.

Yeonseo could already imagine the curious stares, the awkward body language that would scream that something was going on between them.

She just wanted to stay in her small, safe puddle a little longer.

So she went back inside.