The Locker That Never Closes

"You know the locker at the very end of the fifth-floor corridor? The one that never closes—that's sunbae's."

"The one that's always open?"

"Yep. He gets so many gifts it won't shut. Go look right now and I bet it'll still be open."

Jaein had seen that uncloseable locker when she passed by the lecture hall. The gifts overflowed the cabinet and lined the floor in neat, gleaming rows. What kind of person was he, that this avalanche of presents just kept coming?

"He's sooooo handsome. Idols don't even compare. You're so lucky, Jaein—you're class rep now, so you'll see him all the time. Oh my gosh, wait, that means you'll get his number too, right? I'm so jealous!"

"Wow, way to go. You're pretty, Jaein, so who knows—you might actually have a shot."

"I'm not interested in guys. Handsome ones are a turnoff, honestly……."

When Jaein added that a face like his would probably be too full of himself, her classmates just snorted. Give it a minute, they said. One look at that sunbae's face and she'd change her tune.

A week into the semester and she still hadn't laid eyes on him. She was curious. How gorgeous could he possibly be, that people talked about him until their mouths ran dry?

Her question wasn't left unanswered for long. The moment she came face to face with the sunbae himself.

At the end of a corridor where sunlight slanted through the windows and fell in a warm wash, a man stood before the locker, pulling something out—Woo Taeha. His black hair caught the light with a soft gleam, the bangs that fell naturally across his forehead stirring in a passing breeze. The sun bounced off his profile and stung her eyes, because—to put it plainly—he was beautiful in a way that didn't seem to belong to this world. Even the tips of his fingers as he idly retrieved a book, the sharp line of a vein surfacing along his wrist—every insignificant movement looked like a frame lifted straight from a film.

She stood there losing herself in the sight for what felt like ages, until the sound of the cabinet clicking shut jolted her back to her senses. Their eyes met. One second, two. Time crawled.

"Oh—you're the freshman class rep?"

He'd recognized her, apparently, because Taeha spoke first.

"……Yes. I'm Seo Jaein."

She shuffled over and bowed in greeting, and the man who turned to look at her was still shining.

"Right. Looking forward to it."

He was walking past her when he abruptly stopped.

"Oh, right. Do you have my number?"

"No."

As Jaein shook her head, a large hand appeared before her eyes. She stared up at it, blinking, having no idea what it meant. Assuming it was a handshake, she grabbed it and pumped it firmly—and Taeha burst out laughing.

"Who told you to grab my hand, you nut?"

"……W-was I wrong? I thought it was a handshake."

"Not your hand. Your phone. I was going to put my number in."

Jaein's face went up in flames. When their fingers brushed as he took the phone from her, a prickle of electricity skittered through her. A tremor that shook her heart loose in her chest.

010-XXXX-XXXX

For a long moment, Jaein stood rooted to the spot, staring down at the eleven digits on her screen.

And so Woo Taeha, the third-year who'd just been elected student council president, took up residence in her heart.

The crush she'd been nurturing since she was twenty fed on him like sunlight and water, growing lush and unstoppable. It was a first love that should have been folded away the day she graduated from college—she wished he'd never found out that the sunbae was the grandson of Chairman Woo Byungho of Daeha Group.

She only learned the truth after landing an internship at the broadcasting station. The burning object of her devotion was the heir to the very company that owned the network.

"Wow. I had no idea sunbae was from a family like that. How did he hide it so completely?"

"The guy I knew is a third-generation chaebol heir? Insane. I've got goosebumps. Did you know, Jaein?"

"Hey, hey—she didn't know either. Look at her face. She's a million miles away."

In truth, Jaein had known before her classmates did. By pure accident—truly pure accident—she'd visited the station president's office and stumbled onto the secret.

An impossible love. The heart, unfortunately, doesn't close up shop just because you decide it should, so she simply enshrined the feeling in a corner of it. She'd built her whole life around avoiding him, turning down every gathering where he might show up.

Until she heard the rumor.

"Did you hear? Taeha sunbae's engagement got called off."

"Called off? Wasn't she his girlfriend of ages?"

"Unbelievable. How is that even real? He'd already booked the venue. That woman is kicking her own fortune out the door. Does she not know what family he's from?"

"Who knows the fine details. Though I'll admit she's an idiot. If it were me, I'd be groveling on the floor begging him back."

At the word broken engagement, Jaein's heart had skipped. So it was over—the woman he'd been engaged to all the way back since their university days. And, foolishly, her heart skipped again.

She shouldn't have gone to the alumni gathering. But the word engagement had snagged her like a hook, and she went anyway. Maybe she'd wanted to see his face. Or maybe she'd wanted to confirm with her own two eyes that it was really over.

At that alumni gathering, she ran into him again. Three years since the last time at the station.

Taeha was still dazzling. More mature than the man she remembered from the broadcast station, and in a suit he was handsome enough to burn himself into memory. Even the restaurant staff kept glancing back at him as they passed by. No—truthfully, it was all of them. Every alumnus at the table. Because Jaein herself, feigning a leisurely drink, was busy sneaking looks at the man seated at the diagonally opposite table.

When she returned from the restroom, Taeha's seat was empty. Someone said he'd left early, and she swallowed her disappointment on the sly.

That's fine. I got to see his face after all this time. That's enough.

She was still telling herself this, heading out to a convenience store to sober up, when it happened.

She'd gone out for a hangover remedy, but a voice snagged her feet mid-step.

"Long time no see, Seo Jaein?"

It was Taeha, materializing at the mouth of an alley where the night had already settled deep. The ember at his fingertips dropped to the asphalt, and the sharp scent of menthol on thin smoke scattered under his crushed shoe.

Since when did sunbae smoke? He never did back in school. Had it come with working life? The thought ran on habit for only a moment before his voice scattered it.

"Haven't seen you around lately."

With heavy footfalls, Taeha stepped out of the alley and stopped in front of her.

"Back when you used to trail around behind me like a duckling—what happened? Why don't you come to the student council reunions anymore?"

He meant the gatherings of the student council they'd served on together during his presidency. Even after he'd graduated, the group had kept meeting now and then. Jaein had joined it the moment she fell for him at first sight, and thrown herself into every activity. She'd only run for class rep in the first place because she needed the scholarship—but she'd carved hours out of her sleep for the council anyway. Because she liked him with a hopeless, gnawing devotion.

"So you don't like me anymore?"

"Right. I don't."

"Why not?"

Why not?

The question came so matter-of-factly that her lips trembled. They say love and sneezes are the hardest things to hide. She'd never once said the words I like you out loud, but it had been a crush everyone knew about—so of course he'd known too. The man who kept showing up to student council reunions even after graduating must have assumed her feelings were still alive.

"……It's been ages. Ancient history."

"Is that so?"

After a beat of silence, he dipped his head down sharply, catching her eyes.

"You really don't like me anymore?"

"I don't."

He was too close. Jaein slid her gaze away—and Taeha huffed a soft laugh.

"Good timing, then."

"……"

"You know I got out of my engagement, right? Broke it off with that woman back then."

The low voice slid into her ear along with that lingering laugh, and her head snapped up. At the words that woman back then, a single scene rose unbidden in her memory.

The semester she'd slipped off the academic excellence scholarship because of one lousy C. Rent for her tiny studio, tuition on top of it—desperate for money, she'd taken a classmate's advice and picked up a shift at a hotel restaurant. And there she had come face to face with the two of them: Taeha and his fiancée.

"Keep it a secret. That this woman is my fiancée."

And that woman had been a celebrity whose face every man, woman, and child in Korea would recognize.