The Warmth of a Steady Hand

Professor's office.

"Here's the letter of recommendation you asked for."

"Thank you, Professor."

Seol-hee accepted it with a deep bow of her head.

"There's nothing to thank me for. You earned it—I simply wrote what was true."

It sounded like he meant that no one else could have earned it.

"Have a seat."

The two of them sat facing each other across the long table at the center of the office.

"To be honest, I didn't expect you to write it so willingly."

Professor Kim Seok-joon laughed out loud.

"Wondering why the old grouch is being so generous all of a sudden?"

"No, that's not it…."

When he saw her flush with embarrassment, Professor Kim waved a dismissive hand.

"It's fine. It's not as if they're wrong."

He seemed entirely unbothered by the reputation he had among the students surrounding him.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you. Always watching what everyone thinks of you."

"I'm sorry?"

As Seol-hee blinked at him in surprise, he gestured with his chin at the drink she'd carried in.

"That's for me, isn't it?"

"Oh—yes, that's right. I remembered you always liked sweet potato lattes, Professor."

Seol-hee hurriedly pulled out the drink.

Wait? The bottom's wet.

A stain of spilled drink spread across the bottom of the plastic bag. She hastily pulled out a few tissues, wiped the cup, and offered it to him.

Sure enough, her own had fared even worse.

That's from when I fell earlier….

Then a sudden worry struck her—had any of the drink splashed onto that man? But the thought was quickly swept aside by what he said next.

"Your sense of detail is as sharp as ever."

Sense of detail?

She had spent years being told she was oblivious—by In-ok, day after day. And Dong-chan never missed a chance to nag her about how hopelessly tactless she was.

"Me?"

"That's exactly what it means—remembering little things like this. Come to think of it, you helped with my papers too, didn't you? The way you organized the reference papers back then was so thorough, it saved me half the work."

Come to think of it, even while working two part-time jobs, she'd read the papers he gave her with genuine interest, in whatever scraps of downtime she could find.

"So… I did, didn't I."

Those were the days when studying itself was a joy. When the passion to build deeper expertise in what she loved kept her glowing with life, however exhausting things got.

Until marriage snuffed out that light burning in her chest.

"You even went to the library and brought me reference books without anyone asking. I never told you to."

She had always believed no one noticed how hard she was trying.

But someone had already seen it—and the realization, unexpected as it was, filled her with gratitude.

"Seeing so many familiar faces today has put me in a fine mood, I must say."

Apparently he'd had another visitor earlier.

"If you ever need help down the road, don't hesitate to reach out. And later, if you want to keep studying—say the word. With your ability, there's nothing you couldn't do."

"Thank you."

All her worry that the visit might be an unwelcome imposition proved for nothing. Only after leaving Professor Kim's office did Seol-hee finally let out a long breath.

She hugged the letter of recommendation to her chest before tucking it carefully into her bag. Something warm bloomed inside her.

She left the office and descended the central staircase.

The Shinwol Foundation.

It felt as though she'd drawn one step closer, and her heart quickened. She could see hope now.

There was still a long road ahead, but simply receiving the recommendation felt like clearing a crucial hurdle.

She had just stepped over the threshold at the center of the lobby when, unbidden, a flicker of something from a few minutes ago crossed her mind—she shook it off at once.

With a light heart, Seol-hee stepped out of the department building.

"Maybe I'll look around a bit first?"

Her steps were buoyant.

Between relentless part-time work and the exams that rolled around like clockwork, her college years had been a blur. Ten years ago, she hadn't even dreamed of having time to enjoy a campus festival.

Having come back, she realized these were things you could only do at this moment in life. The chance to experience them now, at last, made her happy.

Giddy with excitement, Seol-hee drifted from booth to booth, poking through the displays of various departments and clubs until she was utterly lost in the spectacle.

"Here alone? Perfect—our robotics club has a VR experience program. Want to visit France? Or maybe Japan?"

"Right here! Tarot readings. We can even check your compatibility with your crush. Scary accurate, I promise."

"Manga club! We'll take photos with your favorite 2D boyfriend. If the character exists, we've got him."

Booths on either side clawed for her attention so fiercely she could barely take a single step forward.

With the intermittent showers and sudden gusts of wind threatening to ruin their events, the booths burned with even greater zeal to draw in crowds.

After wandering for a while, she found herself swept along to the large outdoor stage.

According to the event flyer, performances by O.I.O, Boyfriend, and A-Star were scheduled.

"So they were popular even back then."

Knowing what the members of O.I.O would become ten years from now, Seol-hee smiled to herself, warmly amused.

All around her, the sky had steadily darkened.

Crowds were slowly streaming toward the stage.

She decided it would be best to leave before she got swallowed by the crush of people and trapped with nowhere to move.

"Time to head back."

Behind the stage, something seemed to be in an uproar. A short shriek brushed past her ear. She was fairly sure she'd heard it, but she couldn't be certain.

A needless unease prickled at her, but Seol-hee checked her wristwatch and started walking in the opposite direction.

That was when it happened.

Crack— b-b-b-boom!

With a roar of noise, a burst of blinding light engulfed the sunset sky on all sides.

Her steps frozen, Seol-hee stared up at the heavens.

Eeeee—

With the crackle of fireworks, a sharp ringing split through her eardrums. The flames reflected in a rain puddle at her feet paralyzed her mind completely.

"Ah…."

The acrid stench of fuel pouring from a fuel truck. The chain of explosions ripping through the air. The lifeless fingertips of a helmeted man sprawled across the pavement—everything seized her vision at once.

The terror she had felt on the brink of death came roaring back, vivid as the fireworks themselves.

The spectators gazing at the sky, by contrast, gasped in wonder, entranced.

But that didn't last long either.

The fireworks burst erratically, their timing and rhythm wildly uneven.

The onlookers began to murmur.

"Hey, doesn't something seem off?"

"Right? The fireworks always go off at the very end of the show."

"The show hasn't even started yet."

"Huh? Hey! Look over there—there's smoke behind the stage. Is that a fire?"

The crowd's murmur swelled louder and louder. Within moments, people began backing away one by one, and then, at last, screaming, they broke into a run in the opposite direction from the stage.

In that instant, Seol-hee was gasping for breath.

Thud, thud—

Her pulse hammered wildly. A crushing pain surged through her chest, as if someone had seized her heart in a fist.

Her legs gave out beneath her and carried her stumbling forward, straight into a puddle of rainwater. As she scrambled backward in her soaked shoes, her foot came down on something.

She had stepped on someone. The moment she flinched, shoulders hunching, and twisted to look behind her—

a warm hand caught her bent shoulder. It braced her firmly, keeping her from falling, steadying her balance. A low whisper reached her ear, drifting in like a warm breeze.

"Shh. It's all right."

The calm voice gently roused her mind from the panic that had swallowed it.

Seol-hee turned past her shoulder and met the gaze of the man holding her.

Beneath the fireworks bursting in chaos above him, he alone wore a composed face amid the stampeding crowd.

The man from before?

The one who had saved her at death's very doorstep.

"See? It's only fireworks."

The man lifted his gaze from her and looked up at the sky. Naturally, her own eyes followed his upward.

While the crowd surged frantically away from the stage, the two of them alone stood rooted in place.

"…Beautiful, isn't it?"

At the warm voice cutting through the din, the tension that had clung to her shoulders melted away.

Her ragged breathing calmed as if by magic, and her blurred vision slowly cleared.

Just as he'd said—the fireworks, erratic and uncontrolled, were all the more beautiful for it.

The two of them had the blaze entirely to themselves.

"It's water."

"Thank you."

Sitting on the bench, Seol-hee accepted the bottle the man had just handed her and drank.

Only when the water slid down her parched throat did she feel as though something lodged inside her had finally come loose.

She stole a glance at the man seated beside her on the bench. He was staring off at a single point, his face flushed red.

Only then did Seol-hee realize she hadn't even given him a proper thank-you.

"Um…."

She tried to speak, but his words, coming straight on the heels of hers, stopped her short.

"As if nothing ever happened."

Seol-hee followed his gaze.

Lights beaming up from the outdoor stage were painting the night sky in dazzling color.

A small fire had broken out and spread toward the fireworks storage, but an announcement soon followed: thankfully, it had been extinguished without any major damage. The performance had gone ahead as planned, only slightly delayed.

The cheers and singing carried all the way to where they sat.

The bass thumped through the grass beneath their feet, keeping time with the beat.

Then she noticed the man's black dress shoes.

"Huh?"

The shoes that had gleamed so flawlessly when she'd run into him at the main building were now mottled beneath the streetlight, as though smeared head to toe in mud.

A footprint was dried right into the leather, its shape perfectly preserved.

Remembering the chaos of that moment, Seol-hee shot to her feet.

"Is that… my footprint?"

She was so startled she hadn't even registered that the water bottle was already open. The jolt of standing tipped it, spilling a little water onto her hand.

"Probably."

Yi-hyuk didn't even glance at his own shoes.

He took the bottle from her hand, set it down, and pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it gently into her palm. Every motion was fluid, unhurried—practiced, as if it came naturally to him.

"I'm so sorry. What can I do…?"

The handkerchief in her hand went entirely unnoticed; her eyes remained fixed on his shoes.

Only then did Yi-hyuk lower his head and look at them.

Mud had dried in the crisp shape of a footprint, hardened into the leather.

The instant he'd seen her teetering on the edge of a fall amid that seething crowd, his body had moved before a single thought could form.

A sigh slipped out of him, unbidden.

He knew better than anyone how a moment's choice could change far more than one expected.

And yet, in a situation like the one just now, his heart wavered with a fragility that shamed him.

Even so, he found himself reaching for the flimsy excuse—just this once, only this one time.

Yi-hyuk watched her clasp her hands together and apologize over and over,

and at last, as if conceding his own helplessness, he let out a short, quiet laugh.