The Scent of Citron and Smoke

After the Love Coach left, the house settled back into stillness.

That's right—I'll charge headfirst. Whatever comes of it.

Minju gazed quietly at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, then let out a slow breath. She was roughly towel-drying her hair and changing into fresh clothes when a cautious knock sounded at the door.

Seokjun again? Her heart plunged—only for the voice that followed to belong to someone else entirely.

"Minju, it's Sangho."

When she opened the door, he stood there with worry written all over his face. In his hands he held a paper cup still steaming and a small plastic bag.

"Sangho."

"I hope I'm not interrupting your rest."

"No, not at all. It's fine."

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better."

Sangho fidgeted restlessly, his eyes combing over her face as if searching for any lingering trace of illness.

"Your color looked awful when you came out of the water earlier... so I stopped by the convenience store and picked up some cold medicine and warm citron tea."

Half-dazed, Minju accepted the bag and glass bottle he held out. The mellow warmth traveling into her palms soothed her spent body in the gentlest way.

"Thank you, Sangho. I was just thinking I wanted something warm, actually."

She took a careful sip, and a sweet, faintly bitter fragrance bloomed across her tongue. With that warmth, it felt as though the chill pressing down somewhere deep in her chest melted away all at once.

"It's delicious."

"You picked a good one."

A quiet smile formed where their eyes met. At Minju's bright reaction, Sangho at last seemed to breathe easy, and he smiled back at her.

But before long, earnest concern crept back into his eyes. Still unable to shake his worry, he asked carefully,

"Are you sure you don't need to see a doctor?"

"I'm sure. After a warm shower, I felt much calmer. I'm going to rest properly today, and I've agreed to rejoin filming starting tomorrow."

When Minju smiled as if to reassure him, Sangho's taut shoulders finally came down, and he let out a short breath.

"That's a relief. Really..."

"..."

"To be honest, I was afraid you might leave the show just like this. We still haven't had the chance to really talk, you know."

His voice was low and serious. The sincerity in it—a plain wish to keep her there—reached her rough-edged but honest. How long had it been since anyone had worried over her so completely?

At his warm concern, Minju felt a corner of her heart turn soft.

"...I'd like to talk more with you too, Sangho."

At her answer, his eyes seemed to widen a fraction—then a boyish, sunlit grin spread clear across his face.

"Then I'll see you at tomorrow's shoot. Until then, nothing but rest, okay?"

He waved as he went, glancing back over his shoulder again and again. In the space he left behind lingered the warmth of citron tea and the soft afterglow of kindhearted worry.

For a long moment, Minju stood at the door, quietly absorbing the heat of the paper cup against her palms. It felt as though a warm salve were being smoothed over the raw place Seokjun's claws had raked open.

Just as she moved to go back inside, a familiar presence stirred at the far end of the corridor.

As if spellbound, Minju tilted her head toward the hallway. At its far end, where only stillness pooled, a thread of hazy smoke was curling thin beneath the emergency exit light.

A faint scent of cigarettes grazed her nose—the distinctive bitter tang of the brand Seokjun used to favor. Her breath caught. The dark had swallowed him until even his silhouette wavered, yet she knew instinctively, with absolute certainty, that Kwon Seokjun stood where the smoke dispersed.

Hadn't he gone back earlier? What on earth had he been doing, standing out there in the dark?

Don't tell me he'd heard every word of her conversation with Sangho.

With what eyes had he watched her—blushing at Sangho's tender concern, dissolving helplessly into laughter at his shy confession?

Did he think her a hypocrite? Or was he sneering at a woman so easily swayed by another man?

The heart that Sangho's kindness had warmed, however briefly, went cold in a single instant.

...Enough of this, Seo Minju.

Biting down on her lip, Minju chided herself. At this point it made no difference what he thought, or how he chose to look at her.

Before he could turn his head, she shut the door quickly and threw the lock.

Click.

In the silence, the metallic sound rang out with unnatural sharpness.

Doing her best to ignore the presence she could feel just on the other side of the door, Minju sank onto the bed. She had decided she would no longer care about his jealousy, his regret—any of it.

And yet, for some reason, the citron tea lingering on her tongue tasted a little more bitter than before.

Just then, the phone resting on the nightstand buzzed. The name lighting up the screen was her younger sister Minyoung—the very culprit who had put her in this situation.

"...Hello?"

"Unnie! How's filming? Is it fun? Is it for real-for-real?"

At Minyoung's overexcited voice, Minju pressed a hand to her throbbing temple and heaved a long sigh.

"Of course it's real. What did you think it was, fake?"

"Aw, come on. They say plenty of shows these days claim to be real and then rig the whole thing."

Truth be told, until she'd joined Love Camp herself, Minju had suspected every bit of it would be staged. But the reality she'd come face-to-face with was far more real than any script.

"What about the male cast? Are they all handsome?"

"What's the big rush? One question at a time."

"I'm just curious! Did you do your introductions?"

"Yeah. All finished."

"Is there anyone you like?"

In that instant, Sangho's face and Seokjun's surfaced in her mind at the very same time. It was true she'd started to feel something for Sangho among the male cast, but barely a day in, it felt too early to swear her heart was set on anyone.

As for the fact that Seokjun was on the show, the words simply wouldn't leave her mouth. The moment Minyoung learned he was here, she would undoubtedly fly into a frenzy and tangle everything up worse.

"I honestly can't tell yet."

"You worked up the nerve to go on, so make it count! Don't go hiding in a corner because you're shy. Oh—and put some effort into how you look! The entire nation is watching. And be careful you don't fall victim to Evil Editing. Got it?"

"I don't know. I'm tired. I'm hanging up."

Before Minyoung could tack anything else on, Minju hurriedly pressed the end-call button.

That night, in Minju's dreams, Sangho with his tender smile and Seokjun with his cold eyes cross-cut back and forth without rest, like rival reels spliced together. The feelings she'd believed she had put in order, the raw and unedited memories, churned freely through her unconscious, tangling themselves anew and tormenting her.

The next day, Minju stepped into the living room, where filming preparations were in full swing.

The sky outside was dazzlingly clear, as if yesterday's upheaval had never happened—but the moment Minju appeared, the air inside the living room trembled almost imperceptibly.

The gazes of the cast gathered there swung to her all at once. They were looks laced with equal parts curiosity and concern, aimed at the woman who had stood before the cameras again after the lake incident.

"Unnie, are you okay? You have no idea how worried everyone was yesterday."

Seol-hee, who had reached her first, grabbed Minju's arm with her signature sunny warmth.

Around them, others chimed in with a word of comfort each, but even amid all that bustling welcome, there was one gaze Minju could not escape. Kwon Seokjun, leaning against the wall, was staring her down in silence.

Ducking her eyes felt inexplicably like defeat, so instead of avoiding him, Minju took his glacial stare head-on.

As if to sever the line of sight pulled taut between the two of them, Na Seon-young abruptly planted herself in front of Seokjun and cut in.

"I was worried you might actually leave the show. How nice to see you back."

"How kind of you."

For all the concern in her words, Seon-young's eyes had settled into a cool, flat chill. Minju matched that hollow courtesy with a reply just as brief, then turned toward the sofa.

Just then, as though he had been waiting for the opening, Sangho lifted his hand in a bright wave. A gentle smile—nothing like the one from moments before—spread across Minju's lips.

Sangho cleared the spot beside him so she could sit comfortably, then asked tenderly,

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. Thanks to the medicine you brought me last night, I slept like a baby."

The words were barely out of her mouth before the eyes of the female cast members seated across from them went perfectly round.

"Goodness, Sangho, you bought her medicine?"

"What—is this already a couple?"

"It's nothing that dramatic. I just grabbed some emergency meds in case Minju came down with a cold."

Beset by the volley of questions, Sangho scratched the back of his head sheepishly, while Minju lowered her eyes with a bashful smile.

Just as the others were stoking the rosy glow between the two of them, Ha-yun, seated directly across from Sangho, pushed out her lip in open displeasure.

"Sangho, I am genuinely hurt. You went all the way to the convenience store with me, and all you bought was Minju's?"

"Oh my. The two of you went to the convenience store together?"

At Seon-young's sharp question, Sangho's brow creased as he drew a cold, unyielding line.