Episode 2

The university library was hushed, the kind of place where voices dared not rise above a whisper. Shelves stretched like tall walls, their shadows soft against the warm light. Amara wandered slowly, clutching the list of books her professor had given her.

The titles were all in Korean. Some words she could piece together, but most of them left her lost. Her Korean classes were helping, but not fast enough..

Amara sighed. “This is impossible,” she murmured under her breath.

“Do you need help?”

The voice startled her. She turned and found him standing there—the boy from the courtyard. His features were so sharp and flawless that for a moment she forgot what she had been struggling with. Pale skin, a strong jawline, eyes that seemed thoughtful even in silence. He looked as though he had stepped straight out of a drama scene, and being this close to him felt strangely unreal.

“Oh… um, yes,” Amara said quickly, trying to recover. She held out the paper. “I can’t find this book.”

Joon-Ho studied the list. “This is in the Korean literature section. I’ll show you.”

He walked ahead, and Amara followed, her eyes catching the quiet grace of his movements. He was tall, his dark hair falling neatly into his eyes, yet he seemed completely unaware of how many students turned to glance at him as he passed.

At the shelf, he reached easily for the book she needed and handed it to her. “Here.”

Amara’s smile bloomed, soft and warm. “Thank you. I thought I’d be wandering these aisles forever.”

Joon-Ho’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “It happens. Especially if you’re new here.”

She tilted her head. “That obvious?”

He gave a small shrug. “A little.”

Amara hesitated, then decided to introduce herself. “I’m Amara. My dad’s Nigerian, my mom’s Cameroonian—but I grew up in Cameroon. My parents divorced when I was young, so I stayed with my mom there before coming to Seoul for exchange.” She chuckled lightly, hugging the book against her chest. “So, yes, I’m very new here.”

Joon-Ho absorbed her words quietly, his gaze steady, curious but not prying. “Amara,” he repeated softly, as if testing the way her name sounded on his tongue. Then he gave a short nod. “I’m Joon-Ho. Architecture major.”

There was a pause. Not awkward—just filled with the quiet weight of two strangers meeting for the first time.

“Well… thank you, Joon-Ho,” Amara said at last, smiling again. “It was nice to meet you.”

She turned toward the study tables, her braids swaying behind her as she walked. Joon-Ho stood where she left him, his sketchbook heavy in his bag, his heart strangely lighter.

It had been only a name, only a beginning.

But for Joon-Ho, beginnings mattered most.

The library was quiet, almost too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against Amara’s ears until she could hear her own thoughts echo back. She moved slowly down the aisles, clutching the paper her professor had given her. A list of required reading—all in Korean.

She traced the characters with her finger, then tried to match them to the spines of the books. After a few minutes, her shoulders sagged. Everything blended together, the titles a blur of unfamiliar letters.

“This is impossible,” she whispered to herself, her voice almost swallowed by the shelves.

“Do you need help?”

The voice came from behind her, low but clear. She turned quickly, startled.

It was him—the boy from the courtyard.

Up close, he was even more breathtaking. His face was all sharp lines and flawless symmetry, his skin pale and smooth under the soft glow of the overhead lights. His hair fell neatly across his forehead, framing brown eyes that were calm and steady. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, not standing in the middle of dusty shelves.

For a moment, Amara forgot what she had been struggling with.

“Oh… um, yes,” she said finally, holding out the paper with the list. “I can’t find this book.”

He glanced at it once, then nodded. “This way.”

His voice was measured, gentle. Not rushed, not impatient. He started walking, and Amara followed, adjusting the strap of her bag against her shoulder.

As they moved through the aisles, she couldn’t help noticing how easily people’s eyes followed him. A girl at one of the tables lifted her head to watch him pass, her friend leaning close to whisper something with a giggle. Joon-Ho didn’t react. He seemed completely unaware—or maybe uninterested.

Of course he wouldn’t notice, Amara thought, her lips pressing into a small smile. Boys who look like that never do.

He stopped in front of a shelf, scanned the spines, and without hesitation pulled out the exact book she needed. He held it out to her.

“Here.”

Amara accepted it with both hands, relief softening her face. “Thank you. Really. I thought I’d be stuck here until midnight.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and then the corners of his mouth curved slightly. “You’re not the first. This section confuses even Koreans.”

That made her laugh, light and genuine. “That’s comforting. I was starting to think maybe I wasn’t cut out for this exchange program.”

“You are,” he said simply.

His tone was quiet, but certain. It startled her a little—how someone who didn’t know her could sound so sure. She hugged the book to her chest, unsure how to reply.

To fill the silence, she offered her name. “I’m Amara. My dad is Nigerian, my mom is Cameroonian. They divorced when I was little, so I grew up with my mom in Cameroon. This is my first time living outside of Africa.” She chuckled softly. “And now here I am, getting lost in libraries in Seoul.”

He seemed to take in every word with steady attention, his gaze lingering on her as if she was more than just another student passing through. “Amara,” he repeated, his voice wrapping around the name as though testing how it felt. Then he nodded once. “I’m Joon-Ho. Architecture major.”

“Architecture?” she tilted her head. “That explains the sketchbook.”

His brows rose slightly. “You saw that?”

She smiled. “When I passed by the steps earlier. You looked so focused I thought you might be sketching the entire building.”

For the first time, something like amusement touched his expression. “Not the building,” he admitted softly.

Amara blinked, surprised, but before she could ask, he cleared his throat and added, “I sketch… a lot of things.”

She decided not to press. Instead, she asked, “Do you like it? Architecture?”

He nodded. “It’s what makes sense to me. Lines, balance, design… I like when things fit together.”

There was a weight to his words, something deeper than he intended, and for a moment Amara felt it too.

She shifted the book in her arms, breaking the silence. “Well… thank you again, Joon-Ho. Maybe next time I get lost in here, I’ll know who to find.”

This time, his smile reached his eyes, faint but unmistakable. “Maybe.”

Amara gave a small wave before turning toward the study tables, her braids swaying behind her with each step.

Joon-Ho watched her go, his hands buried in his pockets, his heart beating faster than he wanted to admit. He stood there for a long moment, the faint smile still on his lips.

It had been nothing more than small talk. Just a name. Just a moment.

But for Joon-Ho, it was enough to feel like the start of something that would change him.

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