Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 61

“Oh?!”

When Eunjoo let out a startled sound, Yeonseo finally tore her eyes away from the kimchi she’d been carefully portioning into bowls.

Past the bustle of grilling meat and setting the table for dinner, a woman stood in sight, head to toe in the latest velvet tracksuit, one hand gripping the handle of a carry-on suitcase. She wasn’t exactly a stranger to Yeonseo, either.

“Wait… aren’t you Yang Jisoo?”

One of the senior girls from the Class of ’03, walking over with drinks, called out in recognition. Instantly, every head at the barbecue turned toward her.

A sudden silence settled, as if on cue, broken only by the sharp crackle of charcoal igniting in the grill. Jisoo didn’t seem bothered by the attention. She just tipped her chin lazily toward the senior who’d called her name.

“What brings you here?”

The senior’s puzzled tone didn’t faze her. Jisoo’s eyes drifted over the outdoor barbecue area, scanning for someone and no one could miss who she was looking for.

“…Don’t tell me you came all the way here for Cha Seokyung?”

The senior still had her arms full of two-liter soda bottles, but her voice carried enough incredulity to cut through the air.

“You do know this is our project retreat, right?” she pressed, her words now carrying a sharper edge.

Jisoo finally shot her a sidelong glance.

“He said I could come.”

“Who did? You’re not even part of Poly Log anymore. You quit ages ago.”

“I can just rejoin, can’t I? I’m here to do the project with you guys.”

“What? Do you seriously think you can just show up like this out of nowhere?”

Jisoo’s catlike face crumpled with irritation. It was the kind of expression that wordlessly said, This has nothing to do with you, so stop bothering me and go away.

Yeonseo had never met anyone so unfiltered, someone who wore every thought openly on her face, right in front of the person it was aimed at. Well… except maybe for one other. Minjae, years ago, had been like that too, pouting, getting angry, showing joy with zero restraint. But Minjae had been six years old. Jisoo was twenty-two. That was what amazed her.

Her irritation vanished just as quickly as it came. The tension in her brow smoothed, her eyes brightened like a sky clearing after rain. She was staring at someone, her gaze lit up as if it had caught the light.

At the end of it stood Cha Seokyung, watching the unexpected intruder with quiet composure.

“Oppa!”

Jisoo dropped her suitcase and ran, long wavy hair bouncing as she threw her arms around his waist and leaned into his chest.

“Oppa…” Her choked voice bled into the sound of the sizzling charcoal.

Under the dim barbecue lights of a late spring evening, they looked like actors center stage — a poignant reunion between long-separated lovers. Yeonseo couldn’t look away.

“Jeongmin sunbae said he invited her,” someone whispered beside her.

Ten minutes ago, Seokyung had peeled Jisoo off and, voice calm and unreadable, told them to start eating before heading toward the lodge entrance. Five minutes ago, Jeongmin, the club president, had quietly slipped away to “check on them.” Yeonseo had thought he was just meddling in a man-and-woman matter, but apparently, he’d been the one to start this mess.

“Seriously… Sunbae’s too softhearted. Why bother taking care of someone who already quit?”

Yeonseo half-agreed. Whether it was his position as president or just his personality, Jeongmin always looked after people. No one got left out — not Yeonseo, not the others, and apparently not even Jisoo.

“She probably whined her way here. God, no matter how much you like a guy, who follows him this far?”

The senior who’d first recognized her still looked annoyed. No one spoke up in Jisoo’s defense.

“She only joined Poly Log because of Cha sunbae in the first place. And did she even do anything? She claims she quit on her own, but if she’d stayed any longer she would’ve been kicked out. Total free rider. Everyone in our year hated her.”

“If she tries to join this project, I swear, I’m not letting it slide.”

Yeonseo rose quietly and slipped out of the living room full of gossiping seniors, heading into the kitchen to reheat the cooling stew. She didn’t know Jisoo well enough to join in — hadn’t worked with her, hadn’t seen her personality up close.

But the image wouldn’t leave her mind — Jisoo, fitting perfectly in Seokyung’s arms, fingers hooked naturally around his solid waist. The sight had filled in all the blanks the rumors never could.

Now there were colors to the stories. The rough, calloused hands sliding over a waist and hips… the way they might have cupped a br3ast, teased a n1pple… the push of hips, the look on his face when he came.

In her mind, Seokyung’s eyes — hazy with climax — reflected her. And then, the face changed, replaced by the brown waves and feline features of Jisoo.

At some point, he must have looked at Jisoo like that. Touched her like that. Entered her. Reached his peak inside her the way Yeonseo imagined he might inside her own body.

She’d always known they were once together. But now, the knowledge had a shape, a clarity. One real person trumped all the faceless women in the rumors. And the thought left a dull ache in her chest.

So Seokyung really loved someone before. Even knowing it already, the realization stung.

“Dinner time!”

The call from outside yanked her back. She turned off the stove, steadied herself, and picked up the heavy pot of stew.

Outside, the female seniors’ disapproving gazes were fixed on one spot — Jisoo, standing primly. Jeongmin tried to keep things light.

“You all know Jisoo, right? She came to catch up with old friends. Let’s just have dinner together.”

The male seniors greeted her, the atmosphere loosening slightly. Jeongmin handed her a bag of vegetables. Yeonseo noticed Jisoo’s eyes — swollen, unmistakably from crying.

What had she said to him while crying? And how had Seokyung reacted? The fact that she was still here meant he hadn’t sent her away.

“Here, let me take that.”

Someone came up behind her without a sound, fingers closing over the pot handles she was holding. That scent made Yeonseo lift her gaze immediately.

Seokyung’s eyes met hers, calm as ever. A faint smile tugged at his lips, and his voice was low, intimate.

“You okay?”

His gaze dipped, almost imperceptibly, to her chest.

“Doesn’t seem worn out.”

Her ears burned instantly. Last weekend’s half-asleep murmur floated back to her — Stop touching… you’ll wear them out…

She remembered his hands on her in bed — relentless, greedy, then gentle — until she’d grumbled in irritation. And his soft laugh in response.

“Didn’t I tell you, sunbae?” she had said back then.

At least in school — especially in the club — he had to act like nothing was going on between them.

“I remember,” he’d murmured. “That’s why I’m the perfect cold senior in front of everyone, isn’t it?”

There was a faint trace of frustration in his expression, but Yeonseo had no intention of picking a fight over it. After all, he wasn’t wrong. In the club, Cha Seokyung really did act like an indifferent, by-the-book senior around her.

“Pretending I didn’t see, pretending I didn’t hear, acting like I couldn’t care less… all so no one would guess that Cha Seokyung and Ji Yeonseo are making out behind the scenes. Am I wrong?”

“…Keep your voice down, sunbae.”

Now, looking faintly exasperated, he added, “Don’t you think acting too dry only toward you will look suspicious?”

“At least it’s better than coming over here and making jokes about someone’s chest.”

His eyes flicked down again, playful. “Not joking. They’re not worn out. If anything, they’ve gotten even bigger—”

“Cha Seokyung!”

She hissed his name, glancing around even though no one was nearby.

“Careful, Yeonseo. You know if you keep this up, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you when we’re alone, right?”

Yeonseo shot him a sly glance upward. On his face — the kind only she could read — was a clear trace of reproach.

It was almost like he was scolding her, asking what was so complicated, saying twenty-four-year-old Ji Yeonseo had become an even more intricate person than eighteen-year-old Ji Yeonseo. She let out a sigh. Whenever she stood in front of him, all her lightheartedness seemed to unravel into a mess.

“Give me the pot, junior.”

“Leave it. I’ll put it away.”

“Oh, so I can’t even carry one little pot for you now?”

They bickered briefly over the cheap aluminum pot between them, until a high, delicate voice cut in.

“Oppa.”

Yeonseo’s eyes turned first, then a beat later, Seokyung’s followed. Yang Jisoo, holding a white bag stuffed with lettuce and perilla leaves, shot Yeonseo a sharp glare, but it lasted only a moment. Her lips jutted out as she spoke again.

“Seokyung oppa, help me wash the lettuce.”