A Picnic at the Lakeside

That signature dazzling smile of his had already swept her parents completely off their feet.

"Perfect timing! I packed some food hoping our girl would eat well—might as well share it all together!"

Near the campus lakeside, a foil mat was spread out on a lawn drenched in afternoon sun. Onto that glittering surface, almost too bright to look at, four people crowded together in a cozy circle.

Somi scratched at the edge of the mat with her fingernail, glancing nervously around. Thankfully this was a corner students rarely passed through—but still, this was Kwon Hwi-young. This was the man who drew eyes simply by existing, without lifting a finger. If anyone saw this scene and got the wrong idea, she wouldn't know where to put herself.

And anyway, sure, Kwon Hwi-young was famous for his good manners, but she hadn't expected him to accept her parents' high-handed invitation so readily. Without a hint of reluctance, he folded his long legs onto the cramped foil mat. His expression even looked giddy, like a kid on a field trip.

Sneaking glances at him, Somi bit her lip. She felt like she was the only one here whose stomach was churning.

"The mat's a bit small, isn't it? Oh my, you're such a big man."

Her mother peered at Hwi-young from every angle as she asked. That curious gaze was so blatant and so unrelenting that Somi's own cheeks burned on his behalf.

But Kwon Hwi-young seemed entirely unbothered. Without a trace of difficulty, he naturally rolled his shoulders slightly to match her eye level, then met her mother's gaze warmly, not avoiding it in the least.

"Not at all, Mother. It's just right."

Her mother's eyes went round as saucers. At Hwi-young, who so cheerfully called her Mother, she pinched Somi's arm, clearly beside herself.

"I do hope I'm not intruding where I'm not wanted."

"Intruding? Please. Somi's been in your care so much up here in Seoul—we should be thanking you."

Her father, too, was no different—beaming ear to ear, unable to take his eyes off Hwi-young's impeccable manners.

Watching her parents gawk at him like Joseon-era villagers getting their first look at a Westerner, Somi swallowed a sigh. Her looks-obsessed streak, it seemed, had been inherited from them in full.

Then her mother's bundle came undone. Watching her mother fetch the thermos lid to serve as Hwi-young's plate, Somi quietly pressed a hand to her forehead.

"This is made from the eggs our hens laid fresh this morning."

The container her mother held out was packed solid with egg rolls as thick as a forearm—a deep, almost orange-hued gari-mari in a different league entirely from anything sold at the supermarket.

Hwi-young stopped mid-motion, chopsticks in hand, and his eyes went wide.

"You raise them yourselves?"

Somi leaned in and added, awkwardly, "That is... our family runs a poultry farm."

His eyes grew even wider.

"A poultry farm?"

When Somi nodded sheepishly, his gaze lit up at once.

"Whoa, I love these eggs. Truly, Mother."

Then he subtly leaned in and let his shoulder brush lightly against Somi's.

"I'm really glad Somi and I got close."

The words felt somehow like a whisper meant for her alone, and Somi ran a finger over her burning ear.

"Oh, so our Kwon here loves eggs, does he!"

Somewhere along the way, his title had been settled as "Kwon, dear."

"Dad, keep your voice down."

Oblivious to Somi's protest, her father's hands were already busy. Two perilla leaves, freshly picked from the garden and heady with their scent, were layered one atop the other, then crowned with two slices of boiled pork and a clove of garlic slathered generously in homemade soybean paste. In moments, a wrap the size of her father's fist was complete.

"Here, Kwon, dear. Try this."

"Dad, that's way too big!"

Despite Somi's half-shrieked protest, Hwi-young opened his mouth without a moment's hesitation. He chewed until his cheeks bulged, somehow managing to work that enormous bite down and swallow it. Somi could only stare at him, mouth hanging open.

"It's really, really delicious, Father!"

Thumbs-up still raised, Hwi-young then rolled a wrap of his own and thrust it out toward her mother without warning.

What a shameless charmer.

Somi clicked her tongue at his insane social prowess.

"Ah, Father! That pepper just now was scorching hot!"

At the sight of Hwi-young fanning his mouth with both hands, making a grand show of it, her parents burst into delighted laughter. The only person in this place who couldn't laugh was Somi.

"We always worried about our girl living all alone up in Seoul, but having such a dependable senior by her side puts my mind at ease."

A dependable senior. Puts my mind at ease.

Dad, this senior got me pregnant.

Swallowing the words she could never bring herself to say, Somi slid her eyes sideways to study Hwi-young beside her. But he showed not a flicker of guilt—only that fresh, radiant smile. Whether it was that nothing ever ruffled him, or that he simply had no conscience, it was uncanny.

This time her father picked up a slice of pear packed in one corner of the lunch box and slipped it straight into her mother's mouth.

"It's the Naju pear you like. Why aren't you eating?"

"Oh, honestly. Not in front of the kids."

Even as she chided him, her mother crunched contentedly on the pear her husband had fed her.

It was then that Hwi-young, who had been busily working his chopsticks, went quiet. He set them down and gazed steadily at Somi's parents.

What could he be thinking so intently about? The moment Somi looked at him, puzzled, Hwi-young abruptly turned his head. The instant their eyes met, he was all sunny cheer again, as if nothing had happened. Then, spearing a slice of pear from the lunch box with a toothpick, he held it up to Somi's lips.

"Here, Somi, say ah."

"...S-sorry, what?"

"Your father carved this especially for you. You should eat it."

While Somi stood there dumbstruck, stammering, Hwi-young slipped the pear slice neatly into her mouth. Sweet, cool juice flooded her tongue. Once he'd confirmed she was chewing and swallowing, the corners of his mouth lifted.

Her mother, who couldn't possibly have missed that charged little moment, pounced with her signature question.

"Our Somi—she doesn't have a boyfriend, does she?"

At her mother's pointed probing, Hwi-young's hand paused briefly in midair. Then his gaze turned down to her, and Somi frantically tried to signal him with her eyes.

"...Well."

Well? What's that supposed to mean?

Somi's eyes went round. Hwi-young looked at her, took his time swallowing a sip of water, then added:

"As far as I know, she doesn't have one."

As Somi's pressed-together lips trembled, the corner of his mouth twitched, just barely.

At those words, her father's broad face spread into a grin of complete satisfaction.

"Thank you for looking after our daughter. You're the only person she can trust in Seoul, Kwon, dear."

Watching her father—the man who would soon, in grand fashion, have his trust rewarded by being stabbed in the foot by the very axe he leaned on—Somi was wracked with guilt.

She decided that even if she had to raise this child alone for the rest of her life, she would take the secret of Kwon Hwi-young's paternity to her grave.

Somi jabbed aimlessly at the orange egg roll with her chopsticks, again and again. The perfectly fine yellow flesh collapsed helplessly under the assault.

When she absently lifted her head, Hwi-young was looking at her. Not with that sly smile from before, but with an unreadable gaze, as if lost in some thought she couldn't begin to guess.

"...What?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

Hwi-young blinked, a beat too late—like someone only just realizing he'd been looking at her at all.

Then he chuckled and looked away.

"Nothing. Just wondering if you've got some grudge against that egg roll."

"......"

Somi hastily froze her chopsticks. The wreckage of the mangled egg roll was even more pitiful than she'd imagined. Embarrassed, she started to withdraw them when Hwi-young reached out without ceremony, picked up the piece she'd demolished, and popped it into his own mouth.

"Mm."

He chewed slowly, swallowed, and nodded with an air of complete composure.

"Your family's eggs really are delicious."

Somi blinked at him, dazed, then ducked her head in a panic. His clear, bright laughter scattered down over the crown of her head.

The Scene Stealer six had finally assembled in full for the first time in ages. When someone suggested they at least grab something to eat while they talked, their feet naturally carried them to the campus pub.

It was a choice no one objected to, despite the fact that a full four of the six group-chat members were alcohol lightweights. The menu was more varied than most restaurants', and it was the only place in the neighborhood where they could get loud without drawing stares.

Out of courtesy, each of them had a glass of beer poured—but in truth, everyone was too busy anchoring themselves with food.

Somi ordered an orange juice. She'd almost gone with her usual cider, but decided juice had to be better than carbonation right now. Thankfully, yesterday's nausea seemed to have been temporary—she felt perfectly fine again.

Slurp. She was sucking orange juice through her straw when the phone she'd laid face-up on the table gave a little buzz.

She snatched it up and checked the screen—an unfamiliar number, unsaved. Somi slipped the phone back into her pocket without a second thought. She never answered calls from unsaved numbers.

It was a hard-and-fast rule born back when she'd registered her number on a tutoring job app trying to find work, only to be besieged by every species of sketchy spam call imaginable. If something were truly urgent, they'd leave a text. Refusing to pick up had never once caused her a problem.

"Hey, did you guys see that insane thing earlier?"

As Hui-ju led off, every head turned toward her.

"See what?"

"Kwon Hwi-young and Bae Ye-ri. I walked past the back of the production studio and they were practically glued to each other."