Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 6

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I know Ji Yeonseo.

If we’re being precise, it’s more accurate to say I have knowledge or information about her—one of the many meanings tucked into the verb “know.”

And most of that knowledge came to me uninvited, without any effort on my part.

The first time I saw Ji Yeonseo was in December, after my transfer was confirmed and I was house-hunting with my brother.

It was that time of year when the holidays like Christmas or New Year’s didn’t even register—our minds were elsewhere. My brother had cried all night, eyes swollen shut, and then smiled like nothing happened the next morning.

“Let’s go with the clean, new-build one,” he’d said.

We were just two guys living together—what did it matter if the place was a little messy or even a bit unsafe? But he insisted and stretched the budget to make it work.

I was eighteen, with nothing solid in my hand—not a single card I could really play. The bitterness of being so useless clung to my mouth.

It was on the way out of the real estate office, lips still sour, that I saw her.

“I like mixing cocoa powder into plain milk the best.”

A tiny kid in glasses, dressed up like a Christmas tree, was holding hands with an older girl—the “new noona”—while she held a bottle of strawberry milk.

“That’s because your taste buds aren’t fully developed yet. Natural stuff always tastes best. And strawberry milk is made from real strawberries, so it might taste weaker than the artificial chocolate flavor.”

That’s… not true. Strawberry milk is processed and full of additives.

The little one nodded, totally convinced, slurping down his chocolate milk. Meanwhile, the girl looked ridiculously proud of herself for giving out false facts and sipped her strawberry milk through a straw with the kind of enjoyment that made my bitter mouth feel sweet for a moment, like I could taste it too.

The second time I saw Ji Yeonseo was in late February, just before the new semester began. I was walking home with my brand-new uniform in hand.

Back at home, my brother had passed out after drowning himself in soju all night. I walked a little faster… and there she was again.

She looked like she’d just stepped out of a warm bath—fresh-faced and dewy.

Arm in arm with her mom, carrying a bath caddy in one hand and, of course, strawberry milk in the other.

Ji Yeonseo likes strawberry milk.

That was the first bit of information I picked up about her, completely by accident.

On my first day at the new school, my overall impression was, loud.

Girls peeking into the classroom, whispering in pairs or threes—nothing I hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t unfamiliar or anything special.

What annoyed me was knowing I’d have to deal with all the fuss again—something I’d already managed to tone down during omy first year at my old school.

Making friends was never hard. If someone approached me, I’d just give a polite answer, and that was that. I was used to people being friendly. After everything that had happened, it was practically muscle memory—something those constant acts of kindness had taught me.

Be polite to others. Especially women—be respectful. You’ve been given a lot, so act accordingly, Seokyung. That was the kind of “education” I’d been raised on.

Even as I went through the motions—making friends, attending class, eating lunch, walking around—my thoughts were always somewhere else.

I kept thinking about betrayal.

How the few overpower the many. How decades can be overturned in a matter of months. Whether betrayal shapes people, or if we commit betrayal first and then slap the label on afterward.

What betrayal does to people—those who commit it, and those on the receiving end. How it ruins everything around them.

“How could you?”

That was the thing my brother said most often back then.

“Hey, watch out for her.”

It was during a quick break, catching my breath in the shade by the basketball court. One of the guys in my class pointed someone out.

At the end of his finger was that girl.

“Who?”

I didn’t know her name, but I knew her face.

We went to the same school. I passed her nearly every morning at the front gate—she wore our school uniform, after all.

But without a name, I couldn’t say I really knew her.

“Ji Yeonseo. Kim Eunho’s girlfriend.”

“Didn’t they break up before winter break?”

“Pfft, didn’t you see Kim Eunho literally get on his knees begging to get back together?”

“And you didn’t see Yeonseo flipping out on him?”

“Come on, be real. You think a girl would say no if Kim Eunho asked her out? He said it was just a fight. Says she’s hella picky, always snapping when he doesn’t act the way she wants. But honestly, what does Eunho even see in her…?”

A guy I remembered glaring at me on my first day popped into my mind—was he Kim Eunho? I didn’t know. I hadn’t bothered to learn anyone’s names yet.

“Honestly, I thought Eunho was just another pretty boy poser, but after seeing him cry over her, I kinda changed my mind. I mean, there’s something noble about it, right? Like, loyalty or whatever. Crying in front of the girl he likes—that takes guts. I don’t think I could ever do that.”

“Why not? I’d get it if it was Ji Yeonseo. She’s like the school’s—”

They all stopped. Like they were about to say something taboo but pulled back just in time.

Everyone exchanged glances, lips zipped.

“Anyway, Seokyung, just steer clear of her. Everyone knows how obsessed Kim Eunho is with her. Get involved and it’ll be a headache.”

“Yeah, but let’s be real. Eunho’s no match for Seokyung.”

They snickered, some trying to laugh along.

“Still, Ji Yeonseo’s not the kind of girl you’d like.”

I looked up and saw her walking up the stairs by the field, earbuds in, lost in thought. Her long lashes flickered. Pale skin glowing in the spring sun, like she might disappear any second.

“I’m not interested. In girls like her.”

And I meant it.

That lack of interest wasn’t just about Ji Yeonseo—it applied to every other girl too.

Even when someone suddenly stopped me in the hall to confess or introduce themselves like we were in some rom-com, I barely remembered their faces.

I couldn’t tell you if they had their hair up or down, long or short. I didn’t even remember the names they confidently told me. Honestly, one of them could’ve shaved their head, and I wouldn’t have thought twice.

I’d never been especially interested in dating to begin with, and frankly, I had zero time for it. That wasn’t why I transferred here. I wasn’t about to play along with some childish love confession game.

Back then, I was emotionally empty.

Inside, only dull feelings floated—resentment, confusion, and a kind of vague hollowness. They’d churn and stir, eventually just turning into heavy sighs.

Even breathing didn’t feel real. No matter how deeply I inhaled, my lungs never felt full.

No goal. No desire. No motivation. Nothing stirred inside me, like a sea frozen over.

When I was awake, I moved out of habit. The rest of the time, I just slept. Despite how long I slept, my body always felt drained, like someone who never really rested.

So when Ji Yeonseo came into view, I wouldn’t say it was a coincidence.

It felt inevitable.

Not because she was her. It’s just… people like that always stand out.

People who are hated. People who are left out.

It’s like I had radar for that kind of thing.

“Why’s she always alone?”

The words slipped out before I realized. And I was surprised. How well did I even know her?

Just a few chance encounters on the way to school, a few glimpses at school, and maybe five times catching her buying strawberry milk at the snack shop during lunch.

But every single time, she was alone. Not once was there someone by her side.

“Why? ‘Cause she’s annoying, that’s why.”

One of the guys, thankfully amused by the topic, jumped in casually.

“You know JSB Entertainment? That idol agency, August’s label? Her dad’s the CEO.”

Seriously? Hated for being rich? That’s just childish.

This wasn’t some low-tier public school. My brother and mom practically begged me to transfer to Myungwon High, which was run by a private foundation and cost three to four times more than public schools.

Sure, I wasn’t exactly rolling in money, but most kids here probably weren’t struggling either. So what was the point of resenting someone for being wealthy?

“She had friends in the first year, I think? But she pissed off the girls somehow.”

“Why? ‘Cause she’s pretty?”

The question left my mouth before I could even stop it—and before I could be surprised by myself, one of the guys blurted out.

“Yeonseo was a trainee at her dad’s agency in middle school. Tried to debut. But something happened, and she quit. Probably just girl drama like jealousy and all that.”

“She’s got attitude too. Total brat. Always picking fights. Has this snobby act going on, then apparently flirts like crazy behind everyone’s back. That’s how she bagged Kim Eunho, they say. All cool and aloof on the surface—what a joke.”

“What, you mad she didn’t flirt with you? Maybe get a better face first.”

“Shut up. Like you’re any better.”

The reasons they hated her were so basic. Not even interesting enough to feel sorry about.

But I wasn’t thinking that because I felt bad for her.

It’s just… I could tell.

She was like me.

People like us, even if we never ask to be noticed, are noticed. Even if we never try to stand out. And even if we never say a word, someone always ends up hating us.

That kind of person always draws attention. Whether it’s curiosity, envy, or just the wrong kind of interest… it all sticks.

So even when I didn’t care someone always made it their business to care too much.

People who’ve never been left out, who’ve never had to keep their head down just to get through the day, never get it. They assume everyone else must be just like them.

And people like her… they never explain themselves.

They won’t say, Actually, that’s not true.

They don’t go around justifying their actions or clarifying misunderstandings.

They stay quiet.

And their silence just fuels the fire.

People pile their own stories and assumptions on top of that silence until it’s so heavy, the person underneath gets buried.

That’s the kind of person Ji Yeonseo was.

No—

That’s the kind of person I thought she was.

A few weeks later, I found her crying alone in the music room.

It was way past school hours, but the lights in the building were still on, so I figured someone was there. I’d gone back to grab the hoodie I’d left in my locker.

And there she was. Sitting on the floor like she’d melted into it, knees pulled to her chest. Not sobbing—just crying. Quiet, but wrecked.

I should’ve left. Should’ve turned around and walked out.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t make a sound. Just stood there, looking at her back. Her shoulders were trembling slightly, and even though it was spring, it felt like winter had never really ended.

I thought, I know this kind of cry.

The kind where you don’t want anyone to hear, but at the same time, maybe hoping someone will.

It’s not a cry for help. It’s more like… you just want to know you’re not invisible.

So I stayed for a while. Didn’t say anything. Just let her finish.

And eventually, she looked up—eyes red and puffy, mascara smudged, nose running.

She didn’t even flinch when she saw me. Just stared, like she was too tired to care.

“You’re Cha Seokyung, right?”

“Yeah.”

“…You’re taller than I thought.”

That was the first real thing she ever said to me.

That moment—those stupid, random words—were enough to change everything.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t dramatic.

Just… a strange kind of connection. The kind you don’t notice until you look back and realize everything started there.

I didn’t know her. Not really.

And she didn’t know me either.

But for some reason, that day, it felt like we both saw each other.