KMH – Chapter 12

Seju didn’t panic.

Men weren’t supposed to get flustered over little things in the first place.

So he laughed first. He laughed easily, his chest bouncing, then asked,

“What?”

“Let’s sleep together. Just once.”

“…….”

Seju slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again. He tilted his head, brows pinched like someone with water in their ears, then smacked the side of his head with his broad palm.

Smack. Smack.

Despite the meaty impact, Jugyeong didn’t even flinch. She only looked up at him, pale and perfectly calm, and that alone made Seju feel like he was about to lose his mind.

“Sorry. I’m still jet-lagged.”

He apologized without thinking, suddenly jittery, then scowled hard. His heart thrashed like it was being torn out, his ears ringing.

“Ah, fuck… why is this happening again?”

While Seju kept slapping himself like he was trying to knock sense back in, Jugyeong—who’d been staring past his broad shoulders—let out a small sigh through her nose.

“Stop it, Seju.”

Seju froze.

Still like that, he rolled his eyes down to the small hand gripping his wrist, then smiled with just his mouth.

“But… what did you just say?”

Jugyeong let go of his wrist and crossed her arms without answering. Her face, bathed in soft spring sunlight, said it all.

‘You heard me right.’

Seju leaned his head way back. His gaze slid down from her perfectly round skull—practically made to be bitten—then shot back up around her knees.

“…….”

“…….”

He was a twenty-nine-year-old adult man. He wasn’t naïve enough to ask, ‘Jugyeong, do you mean sleeping side by side peacefully?’ And more than that—

Seju was confident.

He’d been born with a lot. Physical development included. Especially his lower half—impressive regardless of race or nationality. Even now, it hung proudly between his legs, offering him more stability and composure than strictly necessary.

But this was Jugyeong.

‘Ha Jugyeong.’

The girl who, even in high school, wore white ankle socks with loafers.

Back then, Jugyeong always carried a bag barely bigger than Seju’s fist—usually a nylon backpack with a simple logo play, or a quilted drawstring design.

Her long, straight hair falling past her shoulder blades was always perfectly fixed in place, with enamel or patent leather clips, monogrammed or velvet headbands.

Not because she was some rich princess.

Just because… that was who she was.

When Jugyeong walked down the school hallway in a regular-fit cardigan during the in-between seasons, or a duffle coat that covered her knees in winter, the pack of idiot boys would part like the Red Sea.

Once she disappeared into the study hall or library, they’d all huddle together, whispering. Even outside of school mornings, Jugyeong’s name flew around dozens of times a day.

And seventeen-, eighteen-year-old Seju would—

He’d loiter near the library and study hall, check the graduated cylinder in the science lab, finish a basketball game, and shove his face under the gushing outdoor faucet—and still end up sprinting at those little shits, out of breath.

“What’re you gonna do with Ha Jugyeong’s number, huh?”

“You think Ha Jugyeong would ever date the student council president from the boys’ school? Like hell. The fuck’s wrong with your eyes—got dicks stuck in ’em or something?”

“Ha Jugyeong doesn’t tan. That’s why pale pink cashmere cardigans suit her better. If you’re just gonna flap your mouths about crap like that, it’s not even fun.”

There was no grand reason.

It was just that Seju, who’d grown up firmly believing he possessed the makings of a gentleman, found that kind of trial absolutely intolerable.

Everywhere you go, there are always rats who don’t know their place and love running their mouths.

Seju took pride in the fact that Jugyeong’s one and only school years hadn’t been stained by cheap romantic drama—and he fully credited himself for it.

Jugyeong didn’t need to know about Seju’s tear-soaked efforts. That’s what being a good friend meant. Besides, he’d never wanted recognition in the first place.

But that didn’t mean she could suddenly smash him over the head with a hammer like this.

After a long silence, Seju planted one hand on his hip and scratched his forehead with the other.

“…Are you drunk?”

“I don’t like drinking.”

“And I’m your type, then?”

“…….”

‘Shit, this is when you’re supposed to shut your mouth….’

Jugyeong’s silence didn’t disappoint him.

…Not really.

But heat was rushing to his scalp, so he hurriedly braced the back of his neck.

Even so, Jugyeong’s face was exactly the same as when they were kids. He couldn’t really tell what had changed.

She still looked like she survived on sterilized milk in a clean room.

Then Jugyeong lifted her gaze, which had been angled down, and said,

“…You’re in good shape. Your shoulders are really broad. Your chest is firm, too. Do you work out?”

“Born this way.”

He fired back automatically, eyes raking over her flawless features—then flinched.

‘That’s not something I should be saying right now, is it?’

Jugyeong, still looking up at him steadily, added,

“You asked if you were my type.”

Her face was calm. Far too calm for someone who’d just dropped a bolt from the sky.

Now the one with his feet on fire was Seju. Cold sweat broke out down his spine, and he genuinely felt sick.

“If you think you can just rush me because you’ve got a pretty face, I’m seriously fucked.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m asking if you’ve lost your mind.”

“Oh. That’s what you meant. No, I’m fine.”

“Someone fine wouldn’t—”

Just short of barking at her, Seju suddenly clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

So she wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t crazy. She was dead serious, in her right mind, asking to—

‘Fuck. No way.’

This was Ha Jugyeong.

Seju snapped his eyes open and strode forward, chest heaving, lowering his voice into a rapid hiss.

“You’re out of your damn mind. Broad daylight, huh? At your maternal grandfather’s house? Saying you wanna get naked and fuck without a shred of fear for the world?”

He broke off to scan their surroundings.

“I’m fucking terrified someone might hear. Get it together. Now.”

But Jugyeong had a strange power.

In a noisy cafeteria packed with uniformed students, in crowded downtown streets full of strangers—she had this uncanny ability to yank Seju’s nerves tight, like snapping a leash.

Then, in a tone that was neat, clear, and utterly flat, she cut through the air.

“I wasn’t saying it to mess with you.”

He paused, then slowly looked down at her. Whoosh—a breeze blew in from afar. Jugyeong swept aside the strands fluttering near her cheek and continued,

“When you touched me in the elevator earlier—”

“That’s a hell of a misleading thing to say. What, I’m a pervert now? I just grabbed you and started groping?”

Jugyeong blinked at being cut off, then nodded as if it didn’t matter. Her easy acceptance only threw Seju further off balance.

“Yeah. When you helped me.”

“…….”

“Strangely, I could breathe properly. Once I stopped thinking about being trapped, it wasn’t that scary anymore. My head cleared.”

Seju blinked.

“So… yeah. I wanted to touch you, too, Seju.”

The world tilted.

‘Fuck.’

There were really all kinds of ways to send a man straight to hell.

Clutching his forehead like his skull was about to split, Seju groaned.

“I’m sorry.”

He was completely stunned.

‘Ha Jugyeong… apologizing to me?’

If this were the old days—if he were still that rabid high school kid who charged through fire and water—he would’ve filmed her every time she unknowingly messed with his head.

He’d have recorded her expression when she said sorry. Where her gaze landed. How low the sun was. Which way the wind blew and where it went.

“I think I brought it up too suddenly.”

“…….”

“For the first time in my life, there’s a man I want to press my body against. And the fact that it’s you…”

“…….”

“For me, that’s something to be grateful for.”

Seju rubbed his chest slowly, as if steam might leak out.

…Come to think of it, they’d run into each other three times today. Pure coincidence, every time.

They say when a coincidence repeats three times, it becomes fate.

At that point… it wasn’t strange that Jugyeong might want to touch his dick at least once.

The Jugyeong who’d worn his neatly ironed school shirts—barely the size of Seju’s palm—for three whole years might very well have snapped under sexual impulse and lobbed a grenade straight at his face.

Jugyeong was one of the very few people allowed to do that.

…Honestly, she was the only one.

Either way, Seju calmed down. His heart, which had been rampaging like it would shatter his ribs, settled. The violent pulse that had threatened to sever the inside of his wrist finally went quiet.

He was ready to listen to whatever nonsense Jugyeong wanted to spout.

More than that—

If she wanted, he could drop his pants right now.

“So I didn’t expect you to be this flustered.”

It was right as Seju lifted his brows gently and met Jugyeong’s eyes—

“You’re the most promiscuous guy I know.”

A whole new tier of bullshit slammed into the back of his head.