The morning sun spilled over the mountains like liquid gold, and the school bus rattled along a winding road that cut through endless green. Laughter, chatter, and the smell of packed lunches filled the air.
"Min-Ji, stop singing 'Love Scenario' for the fiftieth time!" Seok-Cheol groaned, covering his ears.
"But it's our trip anthem!" Min-Ji yelled, flipping her hair dramatically.
Tae-Sik, the group's self-declared strongman, leaned over the seat with a grin. "Ji-Ho, bet you five thousand won she'll lose her voice before lunch."
"Make it ten," Ji-Ho smirked, resting his chin on the window and watching sunlight blur into the glass.
The mountains ahead shimmered in morning mist — peaceful, ancient, eternal. And in that reflection, Ji-Ho caught sight of her.
Thanu sat a few seats ahead, her hair tied loosely, a soft breeze playing with the strands near the open window. She was quietly reading something on her phone, her face lit by both sunlight and the screen.
A memory tugged at him — a little girl, a stolen dalgona, and the faint sound of a dog barking.
He blinked, confused. Why did that feel so familiar?
Arrival and First Chaos
The bus doors hissed open, and everyone poured out into the crisp Seoraksan air. The mountain rose like a sleeping giant above them, streaked with autumn red and gold.
"Okay, students!" yelled their homeroom teacher, Mr. Park, clutching his megaphone like a lifeline. "We meet here at six o'clock sharp! No one gets lost, no one starts a forest fire, and no one feeds the wild animals!"
Tae-Sik immediately pointed at Min-Ji. "You heard him — that means no selfies with squirrels."
"Shut up!" Min-Ji swung her backpack at him, missing by inches.
Thanu laughed, light and genuine, and Ji-Ho found himself smiling too. She was laughing — his stolen-dalgona girl, though he didn't yet know it for sure.
They started their trek, groups forming naturally. Ji-Ho ended up beside Thanu and Seok-Cheol, while Min-Ji and Tae-Sik bickered their way up the path like a live comedy show.
The Forest Path
Birdsong filled the air. The sunlight filtered through the trees in golden ribbons, dappling their uniforms with light.
"Wow," Thanu breathed, pausing to look up. "It's like walking through a movie set."
"It's real," Ji-Ho said before he could stop himself. "Not like in the movies."
She turned to him, amused. "You sound so serious about trees."
He coughed. "I just— I mean, the air's fresh. That's all."
Seok-Cheol groaned from behind them. "You two sound like a tourist brochure."
Thanu laughed again, her eyes sparkling. Ji-Ho tried to act unfazed, but his heart thumped embarrassingly loud in his chest.
As they walked, he noticed how her hair glowed like amber when sunlight hit it. When a gust of wind blew cherry blossom petals from a nearby tree, they fluttered between them — pink, fragile, dreamlike.
For a moment, it felt like slow motion.
Thanu looked up, a few petals catching in her hair. "Pretty, huh?"
Ji-Ho nodded, dazed. "Yeah… really pretty."
She blinked, realizing he wasn't looking at the scenery — and quickly looked away.
Lunch Chaos at the Picnic Spot
By noon, they reached a clearing where students spread mats and opened their lunchboxes.
"Ji-Ho, you brought three boxes?" Min-Ji gasped.
"They're all for me," Ji-Ho said flatly.
Tae-Sik grabbed one anyway. "Not anymore."
"Give that back—!"
The group dissolved into chaos, noodles flying, kimchi falling, and Seok-Cheol trying to keep peace like a tired parent.
Across the mat, Thanu was quietly opening a tiny lunchbox — just rice balls and some rolled omelet. Ji-Ho noticed and felt oddly guilty for hoarding snacks earlier.
He leaned over, holding out one of his stolen boxes. "Trade?"
She hesitated. "You sure? You were just fighting to the death over that."
"Yeah, but… maybe I'm tired of ramen," he said, trying not to sound too obvious.
Their fingers brushed slightly as she took the box. Neither spoke for a moment. The sound of crickets and laughter filled the silence between them.
"Thanks," she said softly.
He shrugged. "It's just food."
But the stupid smile he couldn't suppress betrayed him completely.
The Climb to the Heart-Shaped Clearing
After lunch, the teacher led them further up the trail. The air thinned, cooler and quieter now.
"Rumor says there's a heart-shaped rock near the peak," Min-Ji said excitedly. "Couples who touch it together stay destined forever."
"Gross," Seok-Cheol muttered. "We're seventeen."
"Love doesn't check ID cards," Min-Ji shot back.
Ji-Ho rolled his eyes, but deep down, something about the "destined forever" line stirred uneasily in him — like a melody he'd heard before.
The group laughed and stumbled up the trail. Ji-Ho offered his hand to Thanu when she slipped on a loose rock. She took it without hesitation.
The contact was brief, but it felt electric — a jolt of something ancient and unspoken.
For a second, they just stood there, surrounded by pine and sunlight and the whisper of wind.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
He smiled. "You always fall at the most dramatic spots, you know that?"
"I don't fall," she replied, brushing dust off her knees. "The ground just moves too suddenly."
They both laughed.
Golden Hour
By the time they reached the clearing, the sun had started to set — orange bleeding into pink, pink fading into violet.
And there it was — the heart-shaped clearing. Two cliffs sloping into a natural valley below, perfectly curved like halves of a heart.
Everyone gasped, phones came out, photos were taken.
"This is insane," Min-Ji whispered, eyes wide.
"Feels like standing inside a fairy tale," Thanu murmured.
Ji-Ho just watched her as the wind caught her hair again, petals and light swirling around her like she belonged there.
He didn't understand why it hurt to look at her — like the beauty of this moment was too fragile to last.
Campfire at Dusk
As night fell, they set up tents and gathered around a campfire. Someone brought a guitar, someone else roasted marshmallows.
"Confession time!" Min-Ji yelled suddenly. "Anyone got a crush?"
The group erupted in teasing laughter. Ji-Ho groaned.
Thanu raised an eyebrow. "You're all too loud for the mountains to handle."
"Come on, Thanu! Don't tell me you've never liked anyone."
Thanu smiled faintly. "Maybe… but I'm not telling."
Her eyes flickered toward Ji-Ho for just a heartbeat. He felt it — a spark, quiet but unmistakable.
The Quiet Moment
Later, when everyone was asleep, Ji-Ho stepped out of the tent. The moon hung low over Seoraksan, silver light painting the mountains.
He found Thanu sitting by herself near the edge of the clearing, hugging her knees.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly.
She shook her head. "It's too beautiful. I didn't want to close my eyes."
He sat beside her. The night breeze rustled the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.
"Feels like the kind of night you'd want to remember forever," he said.
She smiled, small and wistful. "Maybe that's why it hurts a little."
He turned to her. "Hurts?"
She nodded. "Good things always end too fast."
For a moment, neither spoke. The moonlight wrapped them in stillness, their shadows touching on the grass.
Somewhere deep down, something inside Ji-Ho whispered — Don't let this end.
But the words never came out.
The Final Frame
The wind rose suddenly, scattering embers from the dying campfire. A shooting star streaked across the sky.
Thanu looked up, smiling. "Make a wish."
Ji-Ho did. He didn't say what it was — but in his heart, it was simple.
"Let tomorrow be just as perfect."
The screen fades to black — laughter echoing faintly in the background, the stars twinkling above.