New Normal - Chapter 39

Haeyoon stared quietly at Jisoo’s face. Clicking her tongue, she flicked Jisoo’s forehead with her finger.

“Who’s handling who here? You really need to drop that whole ‘handling’ thing. That guy—what’s his name, Chae Juwon?—he doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘serious relationship’ type. He asked to meet, right? So just enjoy it.”

Jisoo stared back, her friend’s blunt honesty both unsettling and oddly stirring.

“You say that like it’s nothing.”

Haeyoon just waved a hand in the air and laughed.

“Well, yeah. Life’s complicated enough without you making it worse. Just trust me, okay? Go into it light. If nothing happens, great. If something does…”

She trailed off, shrugging like it was no big deal.

“We’ll deal with it then.”

Jisoo looked out the studio window, Haeyoon’s words slowly settling in. In the deepening twilight, curiosity, excitement, and fear swirled inside her in a messy tangle.

“Honestly… I’m scared. What if I start something light like you said, and then end up getting hurt?”

For a moment, Haeyoon looked at her seriously and let out a quiet sigh.

“Everyone gets hurt, Jisoo. That’s just life. You meet people, you grow. That’s how it goes.”

When Jisoo didn’t reply, Haeyoon pressed on.

“You always say that, right? That understanding a person is just like understanding a piece of art—same process. You talk all poetic, but you sure don’t act like it. Just think of this guy as one of those experiences. Maybe he’s not what you expect. So what? Take it in anyway. I get why you’re cautious, but still…”

She wasn’t wrong. Her words echoed something Seok once said too. In the end, it all came down to having the courage to take that first step.

Looking at Jisoo’s silence, Haeyoon gave her one last nudge, voice half-playful, half-sincere.

“Handsome, decent single guys like him aren’t just lying around. Don’t let this one slip.”

Finally, Jisoo gave a small nod.

Something was itching inside her—subtle but growing. Something warm and bright was beginning to bloom in a corner of her heart.

***

Was it curiosity? Or something else?

On a Saturday evening, Jisoo boarded the train home and found a spot near the wall, leaning against it in the crowd. Plugging in her earbuds, she tapped a video she had searched for earlier.

It was the first result when she typed “Architect Chae Juwon” on YouTube—a lecture video.

“Architecture isn’t just about shapes or physical structures. It holds the memories and emotions people have experienced in those spaces.”

Jisoo couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. It wasn’t his impressive résumé that captivated her—it was his voice. His tone was softer, more thoughtful than she’d imagined.

“We remember certain places not because of how they looked, but because of how they made us feel—sorrow, joy, comfort, even loss. When those emotions naturally blend into the space, architecture takes on a new meaning. Over time, as those emotional traces build up, the space becomes living history. Architecture, to me, is a vessel that preserves people’s lives and memories.”

She listened closely, focused on Juwon’s calm, steady voice.

“My late father was an architect. Even after he passed, the buildings he designed continued to live on through the people who used them. That’s when I knew—I wanted to create spaces people would remember too.”

A genuine smile appeared on his face—a smile Jisoo hadn’t seen before. Something in it tugged at her chest.

Father.

The word echoed in her ears and settled deeply in her chest.

“There’s a library project I once worked on. When it was time to remodel it, I tried my best to preserve its original history. I believe a space only becomes truly alive when it embraces the memories of its people. That’s why I think what I do isn’t just about constructing buildings—it’s about designing memories.”

He paused for a moment, then added gently.

“I try not to forget that architecture, at its core, is for people. I want to create lasting spaces that stay in people’s hearts—not just something beautiful to look at, but something sustainable that resonates emotionally.”

Jisoo stared at the screen, biting her lip slightly. The train swayed beneath her, but her heart was more rattled by something else.

On impulse, she exited the video and opened her messenger app. The last message had been from Juwon, saying he might have to work on the weekend, to which she had only replied briefly. That was it.

Jisoo stared at the blank screen for a while, typing and deleting a message over and over, nervously chewing her lip.

There was a gap between the Juwon she saw in the video and the Juwon she’d met. On screen, he was thoughtful and sincere. In person, he’d been playful—almost dangerously charming.

Which one was the real Chae Juwon?

The difference unsettled her.

Still, when the train’s announcement chimed in for the next stop, she forced herself to shake off the anxiety.

I just want to know more. That’s all.

Just a little.

Convincing herself, she finally wrote.

[Juwon, thank you for the meal the other day. I’d like to return the favor. Are you free today?]

The second she hit send, her heart thumped hard. A mix of nervousness and excitement bubbled up at once.

A few minutes later, her phone lit up. Juwon’s name appeared.

[Today? Sure. You pick the place, Shin Jisoo.]

Relief washed over her—but so did the lingering nervousness.

Still, just exchanging messages already made her feel strangely happy. Smiling to herself, she quickly changed her destination and hopped off the train.

***

“Do you come here often?” Juwon asked, wiping his hands with the wet towel.

Jisoo had brought him to a restaurant in Samcheong-dong. It had an old tile roof, wooden floors, and a subtle sesame oil scent in the air. The menu was simple—grilled short rib patties, mung bean pancakes, and chilled kimchi noodles.

It was nothing flashy, but the quiet familiarity of the place always put her at ease. She’d chosen it precisely because the humble atmosphere might make things feel more comfortable between them.

“It’s near my work,” she said.

“Ah.” Juwon let out a short breath, glancing around. As he rolled up his linen sleeves, his tanned forearms caught the light. Jisoo couldn’t help but glance, then quickly looked away, biting her lip.

“So I’m not the only one wandering near work on weekends.”

His playful tone made her lift an eyebrow. She’d definitely been caught sneaking a glance.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. It’s a relief. At least I’m not the only weirdo.”

Jisoo laughed at his teasing, and a dimple appeared on his cheek. Her gaze lingered there before she quickly looked down and popped a piece of rice cake from the galbi into her mouth.

“You should eat before it gets cold.”

“You too.” He smiled back, lighthearted, and picked up his chopsticks neatly as she began eating.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he ate—his movements clean, precise, even elegant. Something about that made her ask, hopeful.

“Good, right?”

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“They make a great kimchi fried rice too. We can order more if you’re still hungry.”

“You’re generous. Thank you. I’ll eat well.”

By the time she ordered the kimchi fried rice, Juwon had already finished half his noodles. Jisoo took another bite of her noodles and glanced at him again.

He hadn’t changed—but something about her had.

That duality of him—half serious, half playful—was confusing, but oddly fascinating too. Maybe it was because they’d already defined their relationship openly, or maybe it was seeing him speak so sincerely in the video. But for some reason, he felt more familiar now.

She realized she’d been scared of this curiosity all along, maybe even trying to deny her attraction to him.

As if reading her thoughts, Juwon looked up with a grin and asked,

“Do you think of me when you’re hungry?”

“…What?”

“I was just wondering why you reached out first.”