I overanalyzed my outfit.
This was stupid. It was running club. I wore the same thing every time—running tights, a moisture-wicking shirt, my ancient SNU hoodie. There was no reason to stand in front of my closet at 5:45 AM debating whether the black tights or the navy ones looked better.
"You're being weird," Min-Ji observed from her doorway, already dressed in her scrubs for an early clinic shift.
"I'm not being weird."
"You've changed your shirt twice."
"I'm... experimenting with moisture-wicking technology."
"Uh-huh." She grinned. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Hot Librarian Chaebol Guy, would it?"
"His name is Bok-Jin, and no, this is purely about athletic performance."
"Sure it is. That's why you're wearing lip balm."
I touched my lips self-consciously. "It's cold out. I don't want chapped lips."
"You never wear lip balm to running club."
"Well, maybe I'm evolving as a person!"
Min-Ji laughed and disappeared back into her room, and I stood there feeling ridiculous. She was right. I was being weird. This was just running club. This was just a guy. A really attractive, secretly wealthy guy who I'd promised myself I would treat normally.
Except I had no idea what "normally" looked like anymore.
I grabbed my phone, my earbuds, and headed out before I could overthink any more. Yoo-Na was already awake and perfect in the kitchen, and she gave me a knowing look as I passed.
"Good luck," she said.
"I don't need luck. I need athletic endurance."
"Sure you do."
I escaped before she could say anything else.
The morning was cold and crisp, that perfect early spring weather where your breath fogged and your fingers went numb but you knew it would warm up once you started moving. Campus was quiet except for a few other early risers—dedicated students, stressed insomniacs, people like me who'd made questionable life choices about morning exercise.
I could see the running club gathering near the main gate as I approached. Familiar faces, a few new ones. And there, standing slightly apart doing a calf stretch, was Choi Bok-Jin.
My stomach did a weird flip.
He was wearing track pants and a long-sleeve athletic shirt, his glasses already tucked away somewhere—probably couldn't run with them on—and his hair was slightly messy in a way that suggested he'd also just rolled out of bed.
He looked up as I approached, and his face did something. Not quite a smile, but a definite acknowledgment. Recognition. Maybe even pleasure at seeing me?
Or maybe I was reading way too much into a basic facial expression.
"Morning, unnie!" The golden retriever freshman waved enthusiastically.
"Morning," I called back, then to the group in general: "Ready to suffer?"
A chorus of groans and laughs. Min-Ji wasn't here today—she had that early clinic thing—so I was technically in charge of the club by myself. Which was fine. I'd done it plenty of times.
Except usually I wasn't hyperaware of one specific member's presence.
"Alright, everyone stretch out," I announced, falling into my usual role. "We're doing the standard route, same as Monday. If you're new or still getting back into shape, don't try to keep pace with the experienced runners. This isn't a competition."
I was very deliberately not looking at Bok-Jin as I said this, which meant I was absolutely thinking about Bok-Jin.
We went through the warm-up routine—dynamic stretches, a few light exercises to get blood flowing. I led from the front, demonstrating movements, calling out form corrections, trying to channel my inner PE teacher energy.
And I was doing fine until I caught Bok-Jin watching me.
Not in a creepy way. Just... watching. Paying attention. Like I was interesting.
I fumbled my leg swing and nearly lost my balance.
"You okay, unnie?" Golden retriever freshman asked.
"Yeah, fine, just—testing your attention. Good job noticing." Smooth recovery. Very convincing.
Bok-Jin's mouth quirked slightly, like he was trying not to smile.
He knew I'd messed up. And he thought it was funny.
Great.
"Okay, let's go!" I announced, probably a little too loudly. "Same formation as always—stick together for the first half, then free pace for the second. Meet back here in forty minutes. Move out!"
We started running, and I immediately positioned myself near the front of the group. Strategic placement to avoid awkward positioning near Bok-Jin. If I was leading, I didn't have to worry about where he was or whether he was watching me or—
He fell into pace beside me.
Of course he did.
"Good morning," he said, his breathing already controlled and even. Military training really had made him fit.
"Morning," I replied, trying to sound casual. Normal. Like I absolutely did not know that his family owned a significant portion of Korea's GDP.
"You seemed distracted during warm-ups."
"What? No. I was focused. Very focused. On warming up. As one does."
"You almost fell over during the leg swings."
"That was a... balance test. For everyone's awareness."
"Ah." He was definitely smiling now. "A test. Of course."
We ran in silence for a moment, finding our rhythm. I should say something. Something normal and friendly that didn't reveal that I'd spent the last two days obsessing over who he was and what that meant.
"So," I said, because my brain was clearly not my friend today, "how was your week?"
"Busy. Classes, assignments, some... family obligations."
Family obligations. Like being the heir to a massive corporate empire. Sure. Normal stuff.
"Right. Family obligations. Everyone has those."
"Do you?"
"What?"
"Have family obligations."
"Oh. Yeah. I mean, my family's different from—" I stopped myself before I could say something stupid like 'from yours' or 'from rich families.' "—different from what I expected. But yeah, I send money home when I can. Four younger siblings."
"That's a lot of responsibility."
"It's fine. I'm the oldest. It's what you do."
We'd reached the turn near the library, and I pushed my pace slightly, partly because I wanted the endorphin rush and partly because running hard meant less talking, which meant less chance of saying something awkward.
Bok-Jin kept pace.
Of course he did.
"You're fast," he observed.
"I'm motivated. There's a difference."
"Motivated by what?"
To outrun my problems. To prove I'm worth something. To feel like I have control over at least one aspect of my life.
"Exercise endorphins," I said instead. "They're free and legal."
He laughed, and the sound made my chest do that weird tight thing again.
Stop it, I told my traitorous heart. We are not doing this. We are being NORMAL.
We ran past the cherry blossom trees, still bare but promising, and I found myself relaxing slightly into the rhythm. This was familiar. This was safe. Just running, just movement, just the morning air and the burn in my legs.
"Can I ask you something?" Bok-Jin said, breaking the comfortable silence.
My brain immediately panicked. "Sure?"
"Tuesday night. When we talked. You seemed... I don't know. Open. Like you were just being yourself." He paused, and I could feel him looking at me even though I was staring straight ahead. "Today you seem different. Careful. Did I do something wrong?"
Shit.
He'd noticed. Of course he'd noticed. He was observant and I was apparently terrible at pretending.
I could lie. Make up some excuse about being tired or stressed about school or literally anything else.
Or I could tell him some version of the truth.
"You didn't do anything wrong," I said slowly, still running, still not looking at him. "I just... learned some things. About who you are. And it made me realize that maybe I was being too casual before."
"What things did you learn?"
Now I did look at him. He looked genuinely confused, maybe even concerned.
"That your last name isn't just Choi," I said. "That your father isn't just your father. That you're not just a business major trying to figure out civilian life after military service."
Understanding dawned on his face, followed by something that looked like resignation. "Ah."
"Yeah. Ah."
"How did you find out?"
"I googled you. After that phone call Tuesday night. The formal way you talked to your father, it made me curious, and—" I felt my face heat. "I'm sorry. That was probably invasive. But I just wanted to know who you were, and then I saw the articles, and—"
"It's fine," he interrupted. "I would have done the same thing. Actually, I did do the same thing."
I nearly tripped. "What?"
"I googled you. After running club on Monday. I wanted to know more about the sunbae who made running look like joy instead of obligation."
"What did you find?"
"Your name. Your major. The fact that you're consistently ranked in the top 1% of your class. A few academic achievement awards." He smiled slightly. "You're impressive, Han Ji-Mang."
"That's different. You found academic records. I found out you're basically corporate royalty."
"Is that what's making you uncomfortable? The money?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." I pushed my pace harder, frustration making me reckless. "It's not about the money itself. It's about what it means. The gap between us. The fact that we're from completely different worlds and I didn't realize it because you seemed so... normal."
"I am normal."
"You're the heir to Hansung Group. That's the opposite of normal."
"I'm also a person who likes running at 6 AM and gets self-conscious about having leaves in his hair."
Despite everything, I smiled. "That was pretty funny."
"See? Normal person things."
We'd circled back toward the meeting point, the pace slowing as we approached. Other runners were starting to filter back, some gasping, some looking energized, the golden retriever freshman looking like she was reconsidering every life choice that had led to this moment.
Bok-Jin and I stopped near the edge of the group, both catching our breath.
"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I didn't tell you about my family because I liked that you didn't know. You treated me like just another club member. Like I was just... me. Not my family name, not their expectations, not their money. Just me."
The honesty in his voice made my chest ache.
"That's still who you are to me," I said. "The guy who joined running club and keeps pace with me and doesn't complain about being up at ridiculous hours. The money stuff is just... information. It doesn't change who you are."
"But it changes how you see me."
"A little," I admitted. "Because now I know there are complications. Your family, your obligations, the fact that we come from very different backgrounds. But—" I made myself look at him directly. "—I still want to get to know you. If that's okay. If you want that too."
His expression shifted, something warm and relieved crossing his face. "I do want that. Very much."
"Okay then."
"Okay."
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and I was suddenly very aware that we were still at the edge of the running club gathering, that people could definitely see us, that I was having what was essentially a moment with someone I barely knew but somehow felt like I'd known for longer.
"Alright, everyone!" I called out, breaking the moment and shifting back into club president mode. "Good run today. Remember, we meet again Monday morning, same time. Don't skip just because it's the weekend and you're tired. I will judge you."
A few laughs. People started dispersing—some heading to showers, others to early classes, a few lingering to chat.
Bok-Jin grabbed his bag from where he'd left it. "I should go. I have a family breakfast thing at 8."
"On a Friday?"
"Weekly obligation. My father likes to have breakfast with the family before the weekend." He said it matter-of-factly, but I caught the slight tension in his shoulders.
"That sounds... structured."
"That's one word for it." He adjusted his glasses—he must have put them back on while I was making announcements. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Would you want to get coffee sometime? After a run, maybe, or just... whenever you have time between your work and classes."
My brain short-circuited. "Coffee. With you. Like... coffee coffee?"
"Yes, coffee coffee. The kind where we sit and talk and drink beverages and get to know each other better." He seemed amused by my reaction. "Unless you don't want to, which is completely fine—"
"No! I mean yes. I mean—coffee sounds good. Great. I'd like that."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes in a way that made him look younger, less guarded. "Good. I'll text you—oh. I don't have your number."
"Right. Phone numbers. That's how texting works." I pulled out my phone with shaking hands—why were my hands shaking?—and we exchanged numbers, going through the awkward dance of spelling names and making sure we had the right contacts.
"Got it," he said, checking his phone. "Han Ji-Mang, running club president and future lawyer."
"Choi Bok-Jin, business major and leaf magnet."
He laughed. "I'm never living that down, am I?"
"Absolutely not. It's peak comedy."
"Fair enough." He shouldered his bag. "I really do need to go. But I'll text you about coffee?"
"I'll be waiting. Not desperately or anything. Just... normally. A normal amount of waiting."
"You're being weird again."
"I'm aware. It's a personality trait at this point."
He shook his head, still smiling, and started walking away. Then he paused and looked back. "For what it's worth, I like your weird."
And then he was gone, leaving me standing there like an idiot with a stupid smile on my face.
"Unnie," golden retriever freshman appeared at my elbow, "are you okay? You look kind of dazed."
"I'm fine. Just... endorphins. So many endorphins."
"If you say so." She bounded off to join her friends, and I stood there for another moment, phone in my hand, trying to process what had just happened.
I had Choi Bok-Jin's number.
He wanted to get coffee.
He liked my weird.
This was either going to be the best decision I'd ever made or it was going to completely destroy me.
Possibly both.
I looked at my phone, at his contact info, and despite all my reservations and fears and logical concerns, I felt something unfamiliar and terrifying:
Hope.