A Declaration Without Permission

Only if Sangho took Minju away would Seokjun's gaze finally be set free.

But Sangho, as if he had already read through every shallow calculation of Seon-young's, answered with a cool smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"I don't think you're in any position to lecture me, when you can't even hold on to Kwon Seokjun's heart."

"...What did you just say?"

Caught squarely off guard, Seon-young's face stiffened in an instant. Sangho stared straight at her flustered expression and drove each word in like the blade of a knife.

"Instead of worrying about other people, why don't you take care of your own business? The reason you're so on edge right now isn't whether I make my move — it's that you're anxious about Kwon Seokjun's eyes drifting somewhere else."

Sangho's low voice bored sharply into Seon-young's ears.

It felt as though the mask she had believed to be flawless had been shattered with a single blow. Her face twisted with shame and humiliation, but Seon-young refused to back down.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes. If there's nothing else, I'll go get some water."

Sangho spat the words out coldly and stepped down from the carriage without a trace of hesitation.

Left alone in the carriage, Seon-young watched his back as he gave a brief nod to a nearby staff member and walked away with unhurried composure, her whole body trembling as she clenched her fist.

Had her advice actually helped him at all?

It was after dinner, when the contestants had gathered in the living room for light conversation, that it happened.

Doyun, who had been anxiously glancing around, seemed to finally make up his mind. He sprang to his feet and strode straight over to Seolhee.

"Seolhee, do you have a minute?"

"Right now?"

"Yes. Right now."

When Seolhee, who had been having tea with Minju, echoed the question with a puzzled look, Doyun nodded with an unwavering, resolute expression. Taken aback by this uncharacteristically bold move, Seolhee nevertheless seemed drawn in by his unfamiliar intensity as she answered.

"Okay. Let's go."

Watching the two of them disappear into the garden, Minju felt a faint smile touch her lips.

Doyun's shoulders, which had been stiff with tension only moments before, now looked almost dependable.

Praying silently that their conversation would go well, Minju rose from her seat.

She had insisted she was fine, but her condition hadn't fully recovered yet. The bicycle ride earlier must have taken more out of her than she'd realized, because exhaustion was now washing over her in waves.

Worried that Sangho might come looking for her after his interview, she gave a heads-up to one of the other contestants, then quietly slipped out of the living room.

Having asked the production team for about an hour's leave on account of feeling unwell, Minju unclipped the microphone pack dangling awkwardly from her waist and headed for her quarters.

That was when she spotted Seokjun walking toward her from the opposite direction, side by side with Lee Hayun.

The two had been on the same team for the morning mission, and whether the date had been enjoyable, they had stayed glued together all through the evening.

Strictly speaking, it was Hayun who refused to leave Seokjun's side.

Watching the pair's affectionate display, Minju felt something heavy sink into a corner of her chest.

Even amid the taut standoff between Seon-young and Hayun, Seokjun had continued his dinner with perfect composure, as if none of it concerned him in the slightest.

Minju found that infuriating. That arrogance of his — the way he alone remained serene no matter who threw a tantrum beside him — and the memory of her past self, helplessly caught up in that serenity, her heart in her throat, made her blood boil.

Back in college, too, he had always been as calm as the eye of a storm.

No matter how much commotion the girls who liked him stirred up, he behaved like a man standing behind a pane of transparent glass.

Some were blinded by jealousy, some wept their nights away — yet Seokjun, standing at the very center of it all, never once wavered.

It was as if only he himself never understood how cruel that indifference could be, and the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Minju found it awkward to run into the two of them, but turning around now would have looked ridiculous.

Just then, Seokjun, sensing something, lifted his head. The moment he spotted Minju, his steps stopped dead.

Hayun, who had been chattering away cheerfully at his side, also caught the strange shift in the air and turned her head toward the place where his gaze had frozen.

"Minju, where are you off to?"

"Oh, I'm going to rest at my room for a bit."

"Why? Are you not feeling well?"

With Hayun's question, Seokjun's gaze as it took Minju in rippled with something dark and unreadable. Minju chalked it up to the lighting and forced the corners of her mouth upward.

"The bike ride after so long has me a little tired. Don't mind me — enjoy the rest of your date, you two."

Without giving Hayun a chance to say more, Minju hurried past them and headed for her quarters.

Behind her, Hayun seemed to whisper something to him, but the voice was too low to make out.

Seo Minju, what is there to be self-conscious about? Just ignore them and keep walking.

Minju quickened her pace, but for some reason the quarters felt impossibly far away today.

Only after stepping inside the building did she finally let out the long breath she had been holding.

All she had to do was ignore them — so what was she so afraid of, fleeing like a criminal? She despised herself for it.

How pathetic. Truly.

She was letting out a self-reproachful sigh, just about to climb the stairs to the second floor, when it came.

"Seo Minju."

At the low voice, Minju's shoulders flinched. She didn't need to turn around to know. She knew all too well, painfully well, who owned that voice — always so even, so unyielding.

As she slowly turned, Seokjun's shadow, which had closed the distance in what felt like an instant, fell over her face entirely. He must have hurried after her, because his breathing was rougher than usual.

"...Is something the matter?"

When Minju asked with a puzzled look, Seokjun ignored the question and simply threw out whatever he wanted to say.

"Did you tell the production team you're not feeling well?"

In his eyes, which were studying her complexion, lingered some complicated emotion — concern, perhaps, or something closer to an unreadable reproach.

Minju turned her head away from his relentless gaze and answered coldly.

"I'll handle my own affairs, so you can stop worrying about me."

Even at her sharp refusal, Seokjun didn't so much as stir. Instead, he took another step closer, cutting off her retreat, and murmured in a low voice.

"Then stop making me worry."

At the sudden drop into informal speech, Minju startled and quickly scanned their surroundings.

It was a blind spot the cameras couldn't reach, but the microphone pack still hanging at her waist was very much on. Her heart pounded violently at the thought that this one slip of the tongue might expose her past relationship with him.

But Kwon Seokjun remained utterly composed, as if he couldn't care less whether they were overheard.

Minju burned with the unfairness of it — she was the only one tying herself in knots, while he stood there shameless and unbothered.

"Kwon Seokjun, do you perhaps have feelings for me?"

"Yes. I do."

His voice was without a moment's hesitation, like a man who had been preparing that answer for a very long time.

For an instant, Minju's heart lurched unpleasantly. It sounded sincere — but she didn't believe it.

And even if it were sincere, she had even less intention of accepting it. Because the wound the man of the past had left behind still lay unhealed in her chest, festering.

"I'm sorry, but I feel nothing for you, Kwon Seokjun."

Minju drew the line with almost cruel clarity. But Seokjun's confident bearing didn't bend an inch.

"That doesn't matter. Because I'm here."

"Even when the other person isn't interested?"

"The human heart can waver at any time, can't it?"

Faced with his arrogance dressed up as candor, Minju had to clench her fists to keep from being swept along by his pace.

"No. There is nothing in this world that could make me waver for you, Kwon Seokjun."

"Then why are you guarding yourself so carefully, if you can't be swayed? Just go on as you always have. And I'll do exactly as I please."

"You're making me uncomfortable."

"Then endure it. I'm only acting in the spirit of Love Camp."

His voice was gentle, but the words themselves were a declaration of war that permitted no refusal.

Minju bit down hard on her lip at his arrogance — the way he always seized control of every situation on his own terms. He had been like this back then, and he was like this now. He shook a person's heart to its foundations, then lounged around at his own ease.

"Fine. Do whatever you like."

Minju flung the words out coldly, brushed past him, and ran up the stairs. There were no footsteps following her, but Seokjun's gaze pressed into her back like a powerful magnet, pulling at her so hard she couldn't stop.

Back in her room, Minju ran a rough hand through her hair the moment the door closed behind her.

Her agitation refused to settle, and ragged breaths tore out of her; in the mirror, her cheeks were flushed an uncharacteristic red.

She couldn't tell anymore whether this hot surge was anger at his arrogance, or the residue of a past she had worked so hard to bury, stirring back to life.

She had left Seokjun behind with his leisurely declaration of war, but the ripples he'd left behind had ruthlessly torn through everything inside her.

Minju lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. The air from the air conditioner left her limbs cool, but her mind blazed like a furnace, filled with the words Seokjun had left behind.

Then endure it. I'm only acting in the spirit of the show.

That voice circled her ears like a ringing in them, refusing to fade.