The 5 AM alarm was a brutal, unwelcome sound. Dragging themselves from their beds in the pre-dawn darkness, the students shuffled outside, shivering in the chilly morning air. The sky was just beginning to lighten to a pale grey.
Mr. Kang stood waiting for them on the beach, looking infuriatingly awake and energetic. He was wearing sweatpants and a tracksuit jacket.
"Good morning, sunshine!" he boomed, his voice entirely too cheerful for the hour. "The ocean is beautiful this time of day. So peaceful."
He gestured to the sea, which looked dark, cold, and utterly uninviting.
"Your 'pedagogical necessity' for today is a brisk swim! A hundred meters out and back! Let's go! Everyone in!"
A chorus of groans and protests erupted.
"In this cold?" a girl wailed.
"My muscles will seize up!" an art student cried.
Mr. Kang's cheerful expression vanished. "NOW! Or we make it two hundred meters!"
That got them moving. With reluctant, trembling steps, they waded into the freezing water. Gasps and shrieks filled the air as the icy water hit their skin.
Haneul, teeth already chattering, clung to Ji-won's arm. "It's s-so c-cold!"
Ji-won, his face a mask of pure suffering, merely gave a tight nod, his jaw clenched against the cold.
They pushed forward, the water numbing their legs, then their waists. When it was deep enough, they began to swim, their strokes clumsy and frantic in the freezing water. The promised "brisk swim" felt like an eternity of icy torture.
When they finally, miserably, dragged themselves back onto the shore, their bodies were shaking uncontrollably, their lips tinged with blue.
Mr. Kang stood there, a large thermos in his hand. "See? Nothing like a little dip to wake you up and inspire gratitude for a warm bed!" he said, a hint of a smirk returning. "Now, go get changed. Breakfast is in thirty minutes. Don't be late."
As they stumbled back toward the guesthouse, a united, shivering, miserable mass, they all shared one single, unified thought: no street food, no matter how delicious, was ever worth this.
The moment their bedroom door closed, the last of Haneul's strength gave out. He stood shivering violently, his teeth chattering so hard they sounded like castanets. Sand and salt water dripped from him onto the floor, forming a puddle around his feet.
"C-c-c-cold," he managed to stammer, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.
Ji-won, who was also pale and trembling, moved with a purpose that overrode his own discomfort. He grabbed the thickest, softest towel from the rack and walked over to Haneul.
"Stand still," he instructed, his voice low.
He began to rub the towel vigorously over Haneul's hair, drying the icy strands. Then he moved to his shoulders and back, the rough fabric creating a welcome friction that began to chase away the deep chill.
Haneul stood pliant, his chattering slowly subsiding into occasional shivers. He leaned into Ji-won's ministrations, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Y-your hands are w-warm."
Ji-won didn't reply. He finished drying Haneul's back and then gently took one of his icy hands, enveloping it in the towel and rubbing it carefully between his own.
Once Haneul was mostly dry and had stopped shaking, Ji-won guided him to the edge of the bed. "Sit."
He knelt and pulled off Haneul's wet socks, replacing them with a thick, warm pair from his own meticulously packed suitcase. Then, he took the dry sweatshirt Haneul had thrown on the floor last night and helped him pull it over his head, his fingers gently smoothing down the fabric over Haneul's shoulders.
Haneul looked down at him, his heart feeling so full it ached more than his cold-numbed limbs. "You take such good care of me," he whispered.
Ji-won finally looked up, meeting his gaze. His own hair was still damp, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the effort. "You are… inefficient at taking care of yourself," he stated, but the usual clinical tone was absent. It was replaced by something unbearably soft.
He stood up, but Haneul caught his hand, pulling him down to sit beside him on the bed. Haneul immediately curled into his side, seeking his warmth, tucking his head under Ji-won's chin.
"This is better than any punishment," Haneul murmured, his voice muffled against Ji-won's neck. "Getting to have you like this."
Ji-won's arms came around him, holding him close. The memory of the freezing swim was already fading, replaced by the profound warmth of the boy in his arms. For the first time, he thought that maybe, just maybe, a little chaos was worth it.
The breakfast hall was buzzing, but not with its usual morning chatter. It was filled with the sound of hushed, scandalized gasps and the frantic shuffling of phones under the table.
The source of the commotion was the teachers' table. Mr. Kang, the terrifying gym teacher, and Kang Hyuk, the gentle art teacher, were sitting side-by-side. This in itself wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the way they were leaning towards each other, their heads close, talking in low, private tones. Even more unusual was the faint, fond smile on the gym teacher's normally stern face as he listened to the art teacher talk.
"Are you seeing this?" Min-seo whispered, her eyes wide as saucers. "Is that... a smile?"
"I think I'm still hallucinating from hypothermia," one of the basketball players muttered.
Haneul nudged Ji-won. "Look! They look... nice."
Ji-won observed them with his usual analytical gaze. "Their body language suggests a significant decrease in professional formality. The proximity is approximately fifteen centimeters closer than their observed average."
"Jiwon-ssi, that's called being cute," Haneul corrected him with a giggle.
Just then, the art teacher stood up and clapped his hands for attention. "Alright, everyone. Now that you're all... awake," he began, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I thought we could take the bus to Seongsan Ilchulbong. The sunrise crater. It's a magnificent spot to spend the day drawing the unique landscape."
A collective groan went through the room.
"Seonsaengnim, please!" a girl begged. "After that polar bear swim, our fingers are too numb to hold a pencil!"
"Yeah! Can't we just have a fun day?" another student pleaded. "Our spirits are crushed! We need recovery!"
"Let us explore on our own!" Doyun added, surprisingly backing up the art students. "We promise we'll stay together and be safe!"
The art teacher looked at the gym teacher, a silent conversation passing between them. Mr. Kang gave a single, short nod.
"Fine," the art teacher said, relenting. "A free day. But you stick together in your groups. No more 'lunar studies' or 'covert training missions'. Understood?"
A wave of relief and excitement swept through the room. They had survived the punishment and were being granted a day of freedom. As they chattered about their plans, the students couldn't help but sneak more glances at the teachers, who had resumed their quiet, close conversation, the mystery of their sudden camaraderie adding a new layer of intrigue to the trip.
The group spilled out onto the sun-drenched beach, the morning's icy punishment forgotten in the warmth of their newfound freedom. The students immediately broke into a loud, chaotic debate about what to do first.
Ji-won stood slightly apart, his gaze fixed on Haneul, who was bouncing with excitement in the middle of the crowd. When a boisterous basketball player accidentally bumped into Haneul, making him stumble, Ji-won was at his side in an instant, a hand steadying his elbow.
"I'm okay!" Haneul laughed, but he leaned into the touch.
Seeing Ji-won's quick, protective reaction gave Haneul a mischievous idea. A playful, daring spark lit in his eyes.
"Okay!" Min-seo shouted, clapping her hands. "Before we do anything else, let's have a sandcastle competition! We'll split into teams!"
As everyone started forming groups, Haneul deliberately skipped away from Ji-won and over to Doyun's side, linking his arm with the surprised basketball captain.
"Doyun-ah! Let's be on a team! You're so strong, you can dig the best moat!" Haneul said, his voice bright and a little too loud, glancing sideways to see Ji-won's reaction.
Ji-won, who had automatically assumed Haneul would be with him, went completely still. His expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He watched as Haneul smiled up at Doyun, who was now puffing out his chest with a triumphant grin.
Min-seo, sensing the drama, quickly assigned the teams. "Alright! Team One: Haneul, Doyun, Seo-jun, and... Ji-won!" She shoved a spade into Ji-won's hand and pushed him toward the group. "Get building!"
The setup was perfect. Haneul and Doyun were on their knees, digging and chattering closely, while Ji-won stood over them, holding his spade like a weapon, his icy gaze fixed on the small space between Haneul and Doyun's shoulders. The sandcastle competition had just become a very different kind of game.
The sandcastle competition was in full swing, but for Ji-won, the world had narrowed to a single, infuriating point: the space between Lee Haneul and Park Doyun.
He stood frozen, the unused spade feeling heavy and foreign in his hand. He watched, a cold, unfamiliar heat coiling in his stomach, as Haneul laughed at something Doyun said, their heads bent close together over the foundation of their castle.
"Wow, Doyun-ah, your moat is so deep!" Haneul praised, his voice dripping with a sweetness usually reserved for Ji-won.
"Nothing but the best for our castle," Doyun replied, puffing out his chest and shooting a smug look in Ji-won's direction.
Ji-won's knuckles were white where he gripped the spade. He didn't understand this feeling. It was illogical. It was inefficient. It was… consuming.
Haneul, sensing the storm brewing, decided to pour gasoline on the fire. He leaned even closer to Doyun, his shoulder brushing against Doyun's arm as he pointed at a lump of sand. "Maybe we should put the tower here? What do you think?"
Doyun, emboldened, slung a casual, possessive arm around Haneul's shoulders. "Yeah, that's a great spot, Haneul-ah."
That was the final straw.
The spade clattered to the sand.
The sound made both Haneul and Doyun jump and look up. Ji-won's face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes dark and narrowed.
"Haneul," Ji-won's voice was low, sharp, and left no room for argument. "We need more water for the slurry. Come with me."
It wasn't a request. It was a command.
Haneul's playful smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of surprise and a thrill of victory. He'd done it. He'd actually broken through that icy composure.
"O-okay," Haneul stammered, quickly extracting himself from under Doyun's arm.
As Haneul stood up, Ji-won's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, his grip firm. He didn't even look at a stunned Doyun. He just turned and pulled Haneul away from the group, toward the shoreline, leaving their half-built sandcastle and a very confused basketball captain behind.
Once they were a few meters away, Ji-won stopped and finally looked at Haneul, his chest heaving with a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Why," he demanded, his voice tight, "were you doing that?"
Ji-won's grip on Haneul's wrist was firm, his chest rising and falling with uncharacteristic agitation. The sound of the waves seemed muted against the roaring in his ears.
"Why," he repeated, his voice a low, strained demand, "were you doing that?"
Haneul looked up at him, the picture of wide-eyed, feigned innocence. A playful smile danced on his lips. "Doing what, Jiwon-ssi?"
"You know what," Ji-won bit out, his patience, usually infinite, stretched to its limit. "The proximity. The… excessive praise. The physical contact."
Haneul tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was just helping with the sandcastle. Doyun is very good at digging moats. It's a fact."
"It is an irrelevant fact," Ji-won retorted, his jaw tight. "Your observational focus was disproportionate."
"My what?" Haneul giggled, enjoying this far too much. "I was just being a good teammate. You were just standing there, not helping at all." He poked Ji-won's chest lightly. "Someone had to take initiative."
Ji-won caught his poking finger, holding it captive. "Do not change the subject. Your behavior was deliberately… provocative."
Haneul's smile widened. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Provocative? Me? I was just building a sandcastle, Jiwon-ssi. You're the one who looks like you want to bury Doyun in his own moat."
He was teasing him, and he knew it. He was deliberately avoiding a straight answer, delighting in the rare, raw emotion he had managed to provoke. He watched the conflict in Ji-won's eyes—the logical mind fighting a losing battle against a heart that was, for the first time, burning with a possessive, jealous fire.
Haneul, satisfied with the reaction he'd provoked, skipped back to the sandcastle with a bucket of seawater, completely oblivious to the storm he'd left brewing inside Ji-won.
"I'm back!" he chirped, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere he'd created.
His team, however, was focused on a more immediate problem. Min-seo, who was on the opposing team, had just finished sculpting an impressively detailed turret on her group's castle.
"Ugh, theirs is way better than ours," Seo-jun grumbled, looking at their own lopsided lump of sand.
Doyun, still smarting from being dragged away, saw an opportunity for chaos. A wicked grin spread across his face. "You know what? If we can't build the best one… we break the best one!"
Haneul's eyes lit up with mischievous glee. "Yes! Attack!"
With a collective whoop, their team abandoned their own castle and charged towards Min-seo's group. The beach erupted into a full-scale sand war. Buckets of water were thrown, and handfuls of sand were launched as the defending team screamed and tried to protect their masterpiece.
Through the chaotic, laughing battle, Ji-won stood apart, a silent observer. His earlier anger had subsided into a confused, simmering ache. He watched Haneul, who was now leading the charge, his laughter ringing out as he tried to topple a turret, his face alight with pure, unadulterated joy.
Why am I so upset? The question echoed in his mind, a glitch in his normally orderly thoughts.
He was just playing. It was a logical team strategy to target the superior structure.
But the memory of Haneul's shoulder brushing Doyun's, of his bright laughter directed at someone else, sent another sharp pang through his chest.
It is inefficient to feel this way. Counter-productive.
Yet, as he watched Haneul, now being chased by a shrieking Min-seo, his heart did a strange, painful flip. The feeling wasn't logical. It was raw, and possessive, and terrifying. He wasn't just admiring Haneul's joy; he was realizing, with dawning horror, that he wanted to be the sole cause of it. He wanted every laugh, every smile, every touch to be for him, and him alone.
The evening barbeque on the beach was a festive affair, the scent of grilling meat mingling with the salty air. But for Ji-won, the atmosphere was thick with a tension only he seemed to feel.
Haneul, still riding the high of his earlier "success," was on a mission. He laughed a little too loudly at Doyun's jokes, accepted the meat Doyun grilled for him with an exaggerated "Thank you, Doyun-ah!", and even playfully fed him a piece of kimchi. He was trying to recreate that deliciously jealous spark in Ji-won's eyes, not realizing he was playing with a live wire.
Doyun, emboldened by the attention and the soju he and his teammates had smuggled in, was more than happy to play along. His movements became looser, his voice louder. He saw Haneul's behavior not as a game, but as a genuine signal.
"Hey, Sunshine, you should try this," Doyun slurred slightly, draping a heavy, familiar arm around Haneul's shoulders and pulling him close. "Best meat on the grill, just for you."
Haneul, caught off guard by the sudden weight and the strong smell of alcohol, giggled nervously. "Doyun-ah, you're squishing me!"
From his spot by the fire, Ji-won watched. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. Every laugh Haneul let out, every time Doyun's arm tightened around him, felt like a physical blow. The cold, controlled anger from the afternoon was now a hot, simmering rage. He could see the discomfort starting to flicker in Haneul's eyes, the way his smile was becoming strained.
But he stayed silent. He remembered Haneul's radiant happiness all day. He saw the way his friends were laughing. He told himself that causing a scene would shatter that happiness. So he did nothing. He stood there, a statue of suppressed fury, forcing himself to endure the sight, all for the sake of the boy who had no idea how close he was to crossing a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
The bonfire had dwindled to embers. Most of the students, exhausted from the day, had stumbled back to the guesthouse to sleep. The only ones left were the die-hards: Doyun, a few of his drunk teammates, and Haneul, who was sipping on soda, caught in the boisterous circle.
Ji-won sat a few feet away, a dark, silent sentinel. His posture was ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on the scene with an intensity that should have set the sand on fire.
The drunk basketball players were singing a rowdy drinking song, horribly off-key. Doyun, his arm still slung heavily around Haneul's shoulders, was the loudest. Haneul was laughing, but it was a tired, polite laugh now. He was trying to gently extract himself.
"Come on, Haneul-ah, sing with us!" Doyun slurred, pulling him closer. His face was too close.
"I'm really tired, Doyun-ah," Haneul said, pushing lightly at his chest. "We should all go to bed."
"But the night is young!" Doyun argued, his breath smelling strongly of soju. He leaned in, his voice dropping to what he thought was a seductive whisper, but it was just a messy slur. "You've been so nice to me all day... I thought maybe..."
He tilted his head, his intentions clear. He was going in for a kiss.
Haneul's eyes widened in panic. "Doyun, no—!"
He didn't get to finish.
A blur of motion. Ji-won was no longer sitting. He crossed the distance in two swift strides. His hand shot out, not to pull Haneul away, but to fist itself in the front of Doyun's shirt. With a raw, guttural sound of pure rage, he yanked Doyun away from Haneul and threw him backwards onto the sand.
"Don't. Touch. Him." The words were ice and fire, each one a hammer blow.
Doyun, shocked and disoriented, scrambled to his feet, his drunken bravado surging. "What's your problem, you freak?! He wants me to!"
That was it. The last thread of Ji-won's control snapped.
He didn't say another word. His fist connected with Doyun's jaw with a sickening crack.
The singing stopped. The remaining students stared, frozen in horror.
"JIWON-SSI, STOP!" Haneul screamed, rushing forward.
But Ji-won was a storm. He shoved Doyun back down as he tried to rise, pinning him to the sand. "You think he wants this?" he snarled, his voice trembling with a fury no one had ever heard from him. "You think he wants your drunk, pathetic hands on him? You think he wants you?"
He drew his fist back again, his eyes wild, a stranger to them all.
"It was a game!" Haneul cried, throwing his arms around Ji-won from behind, trying to pull him back. "It was just a stupid game to make you jealous! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please stop!"
The words finally pierced the red haze. Ji-won froze, his fist still clenched, his body trembling with adrenaline and rage. He looked down at Doyun, bloody and terrified beneath him, then at Haneul's tear-streaked, horrified face clinging to his back.
The fight drained out of him, leaving behind a cold, sickening shame. He had lost control. Completely. And he had terrified the one person he never wanted to scare.
The walk back to the guesthouse was shrouded in a heavy, sickened silence. Doyun's teammates half-carried, half-dragged him, his groans of pain the only sound. No one spoke. The unspoken agreement was clear: this would never leave their group.
Once inside their room, the door clicked shut, and the dam broke.
Haneul collapsed onto his bed, his body wracked with sobs. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Jiwon-ssi!" he cried, his voice thick with tears and guilt. "It was my fault! I was just being stupid and playful, I didn't think... I didn't know he would try to... and I didn't know you would... I'm so sorry!"
Ji-won stood frozen in the middle of the room, his knuckles raw and aching. The sight of Haneul sobbing, curled into a ball of misery, was a thousand times worse than any punch he'd thrown. The red-hot anger was gone, replaced by a cold, crushing self-loathing.
"Don't," Ji-won said, his voice hoarse. He took a step toward the bed, then stopped, unsure if he even had the right to touch him. "Do not apologize."
"But it was because of me!" Haneul wept, lifting his tear-streaked face. "You were so angry because of me! I made you like that! I scared you! I saw your face... you were a different person..."
"That is not your fault," Ji-won insisted, his own composure cracking. The words felt like shards of glass in his throat. "It is mine. I lost control. I... I terrified you." The admission was agony. "That is unforgivable."
Hearing the pain in Ji-won's voice, Haneul scrambled off the bed. He didn't care about the fight anymore. He only cared about the shattered look in Ji-won's eyes. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his chest.
"You didn't! Well, you did, but... you were protecting me," Haneul mumbled against his shirt, his sobs subsiding into hiccups. "I was just so stupid. I crossed a line. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just... I liked seeing you get a little jealous. It made me feel like you really cared."
Ji-won's arms slowly, hesitantly, came up to encircle Haneul. He held him tightly, as if he were the only anchor in a storm he himself had created.
"I do care," Ji-won whispered, the words a raw confession into Haneul's hair. "Too much. That is the problem."
They stood there in the middle of the room, holding each other in the aftermath of the chaos—one grieving the game he should never have played, the other hating the monster he discovered he could become. The night had stolen their innocence, leaving behind a painful, sobering truth.
The weight of the fight still hung heavily in the air, a specter in the quiet room. Ji-won could feel Haneul's quiet sobs against his chest, and the self-loathing was a bitter taste in his mouth. He needed to fix this. He needed to bring back the light he had just watched dim in Haneul's eyes.
Gently, he pulled back just enough to look at Haneul's tear-streaked face. "Haneul," he said, his voice softer now, deliberately steering them away from the precipice. "Show me the sketches you made on this trip."
The effect was immediate. Haneul's breath hitched, his puffy, red-rimmed eyes widening slightly. A fragile spark of his usual enthusiasm flickered to life. "My… my sketches?"
Ji-won nodded, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Yes. The ones from the beach. The market."
A small, wobbly smile touched Haneul's lips. He scrambled onto the bed, cross-legged, and pulled his precious sketchbook from his backpack. Ji-won sat beside him, their shoulders and knees touching.
"Okay," Haneul said, his voice still thick but gaining strength. He opened the book. "This one is from the first day, when we were all playing volleyball." It was a chaotic, joyful page filled with motion—Min-seo mid-swing, Doyun laughing, the blur of the ball.
Ji-won leaned in to look, his focus entirely on the pages. "You captured the kinetic energy well. The line work is loose but purposeful."
Haneul beamed, the compliment washing over him like a balm. He flipped to the next page. "And this is from the night market. I tried to draw all the lights and the steam from the food stalls."
As Haneul chattered, pointing out details, his excitement slowly eclipsing his guilt, Ji-won watched him. He saw the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, the slight tremble that still lingered in his hands.
Without a word, Ji-won leaned over and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Haneul's damp cheek.
Haneul froze mid-sentence, a fresh blush blooming where Ji-won's lips had been.
Ji-won then used his thumb to gently wipe away the remaining moisture from Haneul's other cheek, his touch infinitely tender. "This one," he said, his voice a low murmur, his gaze dropping back to the sketchbook, "the composition of the market scene is your best work. The way you layered the light is… exceptional."
Haneul's heart felt like it might burst. The fight, the fear, it all faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of Ji-won's kiss, the gentle stroke of his thumb, and the sincere praise for his art. He leaned his head against Ji-won's shoulder, the sketchbook forgotten in his lap.
"Thank you," he whispered, not just for the compliment, but for the rescue, for the anchor in the storm. The sketches had done their job; they had painted over the ugliness with something beautiful again.