The week moved along at a steady, deliberate pace. It felt like a quiet dance with no soundtrack. Each step came with intention. Glances stayed watchful. Movements echoed one another, but nothing hurried.
No sudden changes. No grand declarations.
Just a shift in presence—quiet, deliberate, steady.
They never surrounded Minjae all at once anymore. Instead, they sought their own moments—small, private spaces where they could reach him without making noise.
And people noticed.
Near the elevator, a junior analyst leaned in to whisper.
"Is it just me, or has Ha Seori been hanging around the Strategy floor a lot these days?"
From Finance, someone muttered back, careful not to be overheard by a manager.
"Yuri too. She brings him coffee. Sets it right on his desk. Doesn't look casual to me."
There were chuckles, quick glances exchanged.
By midweek, Yura's name had slipped into the whispers too. Her reputation made the rumors sharper, like a secret too delicate to say too loudly.
A few teased guesses, a couple of quiet bets.
But no one knew anything real.
Because none of the three ever spoke his name.
---
Wednesday afternoon. Minjae made his way up those stairs to the rooftop. He just needed that quiet up there, away from all the racket down below. And the fresh air outside those walls that always felt like they were closing in way too much.
But there she was already. Seori.
She was leaning easy against the railing. Holding this warm paper cup between her hands like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her hair moved a bit in the wind. Strands picking up those little bits of drizzle coming down.
She wasn't exactly waiting for him or anything. But then she turned around. Her eyes got that warm look in them.
You came up too.
I needed air. He said it low, his voice barely carrying.
They ended up standing there next to each other. Both looking out. Their gazes pulling toward that horizon where the whole city just kind of smeared together under all that gray drizzle.
For a while, neither spoke. Silence rested comfortably between them.
Then Seori's voice slipped in, soft but steady.
"They asked me about you."
Minjae didn't need to ask who. He stayed quiet, waiting.
"What did you say?"
She met his eyes, her expression calm. "I told them I'm not sure what I want from you."
His brows knit slightly. That wasn't the answer he expected.
"But I also said," she continued, "that I trust you'll figure it out before I do."
His jaw tightened. He turned toward the skyline, the weight of her words pressing deeper than he wanted to admit.
"That might not be fair to you."
"Maybe not." Her eyes softened, gaze distant. "But I'm willing to wait."
Her tone wasn't dramatic. No plea. Just steady, patient certainty.
And that made it heavier.
---
Two days went by. Then Yuri spotted him in that archive room.
He was fumbling up there, you know, stretching for this folder way up on the shelf. His fingers just grazed the cardboard. Didn't quite grab it.
She came up behind him. "You could've asked," she said.
He jumped a bit. Turned around fast. There she was, standing with this tiny smile on her face.
"I didn't think-"
"You never do," she said, teasing him softly. "I mean, not when it involves you anyway."
She moved right past him then. Reached up easy. Grabbed the folder. Handed it over to him. Their fingers touched for a second. It felt kind of sharp, that little brush, in the quiet of the room.
"Thanks," he muttered. Sounded more awkward than he meant it to.
"Let us help," she said back. Her voice got a little lower. "Even if it's not about feelings or anything."
She looked right into his eyes. Held it there for a moment. Then she turned toward the door.
But she stopped at the threshold. Paused there.
"You don't owe us anything, Minjae. But don't go acting like we're just temporary or something."
And then she was gone. The room felt full of her words. Echoing around.
---
By Friday, rain poured steady and heavy, the streets outside shining silver beneath streetlamps. The sound filled the office, a muted rhythm against glass.
Minjae worked late again, shoulders hunched over spreadsheets, his concentration fraying at the edges.
When he finally logged off, Yura appeared at his desk.
"Dinner?" she asked.
He blinked, surprised. "With you?"
Her smirk was quick. "With all of us. No confessions, no pressure."
He hesitated, uncertain.
"Don't be weird," she added, rolling her eyes lightly. "We're friends. That's all."
And somehow, that was enough to make him agree.
---
The restaurant sat hidden right by the subway stop. Quiet spot. Warm inside. Like it was cut off from all the city noise rushing around.
They all squeezed into this corner table, the four of them. Seori on his left side. Yuri sitting right across. Yura to the right. Close, but not too much.
Talk started easy at first. Work stuff. Office rumors. Those dumb rules the bosses keep coming up with. Minjae jumped in more than he figured he would. Careful words, but real ones. Got some laughs out of them. The kind that weren't forced.
He didn't see that coming.
Second round of drinks hit, and things loosened up a bit. Seori's smile showed up quicker. Yuri's laugh filled the space, nice and warm. Yura's eyes got that playful glint. It pulled at his mouth, almost made him grin for real.
Plates cleared out. Quiet settled back in. Then Seori put her glass down.
"We like you," she said, direct and calm.
Yura leaned back, crossing her arms. "We know it's complicated."
Yuri's voice followed, steady and sure. "But we're not giving up."
Minjae froze, his gaze moving from one to the other. Their honesty weighed heavier than the quiet around them.
He took a slow breath, voice low. "I can't give you an answer right now. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I've never… been on this side of things."
The words felt raw, awkward, but true.
Seori reached for her glass again, her tone gentle. "Then just stay. That's all we want."
For the first time, he let himself believe that staying might be enough.
---
They walked him home that night. Not all together, but one by one, their steps falling into different rhythms. Seori's pace unhurried. Yuri's steady and quiet. Yura's marked by her easy confidence.
When they neared his gate, each peeled away in turn, but not before pausing, waiting.
Minjae stood beneath the streetlight, the night air cool against his skin, the rain softening into mist.
He looked back.
They were still there, three figures standing apart yet bound by the same unspoken thread.
He gave them a small nod.
They nodded back, one after another, before turning away.
Leaving him alone.
But not really.
Not anymore.