The heavy metal door of the modest apartment clicked open, releasing the exhausted sigh Park Jun-seo had been holding in since five o'clock.
He hadn't come straight from Kirin Arts High.
Instead, he had taken a forty-minute subway ride down to a small, subterranean live venue near Hongdae, swapped his crisp Student Council blazer for a worn denim jacket, and taken the stage as "Jay"—the quiet, lead guitarist and frontman of the underground indie band "YOUTHFUL MEMOIRS". Playing raw, unpolished guitar riffs under dim venue lights was the only space where he could shed the suffocating weight of being Kirin's golden boy.
The comforting, rich aroma of braised kimchi stew and freshly cooked white rice filled the warm apartment.
Unlike the sprawling, multi-story mansions of his high-society classmates in the Golden Triangle or other luxurious neighbourhoods, Jun-seo lived with his mother in a humble, quiet residential building in a working-class neighborhood of Seoul.
"Jun-seo-ya? Is that you?" his mother called out from the small kitchen, wiping her hands on a floral apron as she stepped out.
"Yes, Omma," Jun-seo replied, slipping off his shoes at the entryway and bowing slightly.
"Why are you so late today, son? I was starting to get worried."
"Ah... I was busy with administrative duties at school," Jun-seo lied smoothly, stepping into the warm kitchen light. He casually adjusted his collar to hide the frayed denim shirt underneath his uniform blazer.
His mother nodded gently, pulling out a chair for him at the small dining table.
"How was the first day of the new semester? Did the new exchange student arrive safely? Your teacher mentioned something about him on the parent group chat."
Jun-seo sat down, taking the spoon his mother handed him.
"Ah, Oleksandr? Yes, he arrived today. He goes by 'San.' He's in my homeroom class, 2-B."
"Aigoo, poor boy," his mother murmured, her eyes softening with genuine sympathy. "Coming all the way from Ukraine all by himself... Imagine how lonely and terrified he must feel in a foreign country. Jun-seo-ya, please look after him well."
Jun-seo offered her a reassuring, bright smile. "Don't worry, Omma. I am the Student Council President and his homeroom president, so I'll definitely keep an eye on him. He actually seems... very nice. A bit chaotic, but good-natured."
A subtle, amused smirk touched Jun-seo's lips as he remembered the cafeteria disaster. He also managed to dump hot kimchi stew all over Yoo Chae-rin and call her 'filthy' within three hours of landing.
His mother sat down in the chair across from him, setting a steaming bowl of stew and freshly made side dishes in front of her son. But as the bright overhead light caught his face, her smile vanished.
Her eyes locked onto his lower lip.
Tucked right on the swollen edge of his mouth was a small, flesh-colored plaster covering a tiny, angry red split.
"Jun-seo-ya," his mother said, her voice dropping into a quiet, concerned register. "What happened to your lip?"
Jun-seo flinched slightly, his spoon hovering over his bowl.
"Ah... that? It's nothing, Omma. Just... a little scratch. We were playing a fast basketball game during PE class, and someone's elbow hit me."
His mother let out a long, quiet sigh, shaking her head with maternal sorrow.
"You're a terrible liar, Jun-seo-ya. You've never been good at it."
She reached across the table, her soft, calloused thumb gently hovering near his cheek without touching the plaster.
"You carry so much on your shoulders... If there is ever anything heavy on your heart, you know you can always share it with me, right? You don't have to pretend to be perfect at home."
Jun-seo felt a sudden, sharp tightness in his chest.
He forced a wide, cheerful smile onto his face, his mouth already full of rice and stew.
"I'm fine, Omma! Really!"
He began devouring the food at double speed to avoid answering, but choked slightly on a piece of spicy kimchi.
"Aigoo, slow down!" his mother laughed, quickly pouring him a glass of chilled apple juice. She patted his head gently, her fingers running through his thick hair. "Eat up. I'm going to the living room to catch the re-run of Yong-pal."
"Okay, Omma. Thank you for the meal."
Once he finished his late dinner, Jun-seo quietly washed the stainless steel bowls, wiped down the small kitchen counter, and retreated to his bedroom, closing the wooden door behind him.
He walked over to his study desk and switched on the small desk lamp, casting a warm, solitary circle of light across the wooden surface.
Jun-seo sat down in his chair, leaning his elbows on the desk.
His gaze slowly drifted toward the corner of the lamp's glow, settling on a framed photograph resting beside his textbook stack.
It was a photo taken two years ago during a summer trip.
Standing together on a sunlit grassy hill were five laughing boys: the two Kim brothers, Lee Myung-dae, Park Jun-seo... and Park Jin-woo.
Jun-seo's eyes lingered on Jin-woo's bright, toothy smile for a long, heavy moment.
Slowly, his gaze shifted to the right side of the photo—to Lee Myung-dae's face. Myung-dae was laughing, his arm slung around Jin-woo's neck, looking entirely whole, happy, and unburdened.
Though Jin-woo wasn't looking at him, his eyes only at Jun-seo.
A wave of bitter, dark emotion surged through Jun-seo's chest.
He reached out, his thumb sliding over the glass right above Myung-dae's laughing smile.
His jaw clenched. On pure, sudden impulse, Jun-seo grabbed the wooden photo frame, stood up, and threw it squarely into the plastic rubbish bin beside his desk.
The room went dead silent again.
Jun-seo stood above the bin, staring down at the discarded frame resting amidst crumpled notebook paper. He turned around, opened his bedroom door, and walked out into the dark hallway, pacing aimlessly toward the small balcony to breathe in the cold night air.
Ten minutes passed.
The night wind whipped through his hair, but it did nothing to cool the raging storm inside his chest.
With a low, defeated sigh, Jun-seo walked back into his bedroom.
He approached the rubbish bin, reached down, and gently pulled the photo frame back out. He wiped a speck of dust off the glass sleeve with his cuff and placed the photograph carefully back in its original spot under the warm glow of the desk lamp.
He sat down, rested his chin in his hands, and stared at the five laughing boys.