Saturday morning I woke up to sunlight and a text from Bok-Jin.
Bok-Jin: Good morning. Ready for our aggressively normal date?
Me: Still don't know what that means but yes.
Bok-Jin: Picking you up at noon. Wear comfortable clothes. Bring a good attitude.
Me: My attitude is always good.
Bok-Jin: Debatable.
I rolled out of bed and found Min-Ji already in the kitchen making pancakes.
"You're cheerful," she observed.
"It's Saturday. I have no responsibilities until tomorrow's LEET test. I'm choosing optimism."
"Who are you and what have you done with anxious Ji-Mang?"
"She's taking the day off."
Yoo-Na emerged from her room looking like she'd been up for hours despite it being 9 AM.
"Why do you look so awake?" I asked.
"Couldn't sleep. My father sent me the internship details at midnight. I start the week after finals."
"That's soon."
"Very soon. And the 'joint project' with Min-Woo starts even sooner—next week, apparently. We're supposed to 'analyze market entry strategies for luxury automotive brands.'" She said it with maximum sarcasm.
"That actually sounds interesting," Min-Ji said.
"It would be if I weren't being forced into it as part of my father's business matchmaking scheme."
"You could always tell Min-Woo you're not interested," I suggested.
"I have. Multiple times. He thinks I'm playing hard to get."
"Men," Min-Ji said with feeling.
"Seriously."
At 11:45, I changed into jeans and a comfortable sweater—the kind of outfit that worked for anything from hiking to movies. Bok-Jin had said "comfortable," which could mean literally anything.
My phone buzzed at exactly noon.
Bok-Jin: I'm here. Hope you're hungry.
I headed downstairs to find him waiting by his car, wearing jeans and a hoodie and looking unfairly attractive in casual clothes.
"Okay, what's the plan?" I asked.
"You'll see. Get in."
"You're very mysterious today."
"I'm building suspense."
We drove through Seoul, and I tried to guess our destination based on direction. We were heading away from Gangnam—good sign—toward a more residential area.
"Are you taking me to a secret location to murder me?" I asked. "Because that would be very not normal."
"If I were going to murder you, I wouldn't pick a Saturday afternoon. Too many witnesses."
"That's weirdly reassuring."
He pulled into a parking lot near a traditional market—the kind with small shops and food stalls and vendors selling everything from fresh fish to handmade pottery.
"A market?" I asked.
"Not just a market. My favorite market. I used to come here with my grandmother when I was a kid. Best food in Seoul, no tourists, completely normal."
We got out and walked through the narrow pathways between stalls. The smell of frying hotteok and grilled meat filled the air, and vendors called out their specials in loud, cheerful voices.
"Okay, rule for today," Bok-Jin said. "We eat whatever looks good. No planning, no overthinking, just trying things."
"That's a dangerous rule."
"The best rules are."
We started at a tteokbokki stall, getting two cups of spicy rice cakes and sitting on plastic stools to eat them. The tteokbokki was perfect—spicy and sweet and exactly the right texture.
"This is so good," I said through a mouthful.
"Right? This ajumma has been here for twenty years. Same recipe."
Next was hotteok—crispy on the outside, filled with brown sugar and cinnamon. Then manduguk from a tiny restaurant with only four tables. Then fresh fruit from a vendor who insisted we try three different kinds of Asian pears before deciding.
"I'm going to explode," I said around 2 PM. "We've eaten at least five meals worth of food."
"That's the point. Market eating isn't about one meal. It's about experiencing everything."
"You're very philosophical about food."
"Food is important."
We wandered through the non-food sections—pottery, fabrics, kitchen supplies, random knickknacks that no one needed but everyone wanted. At one stall, I found a ridiculous ceramic frog that held toothbrushes.
"You need this," Bok-Jin said seriously.
"I absolutely do not need this."
"But do you want it?"
"That's not the point."
"That's exactly the point." He bought it before I could protest and handed it to me. "For your bathroom. So you think of me when you brush your teeth."
"That's the weirdest romantic gesture ever."
"I'm a weird romantic."
We kept walking, hand in hand, completely unhurried. At a bookstall, I found a used copy of a legal philosophy text I'd been meaning to read.
"Getting reading material on a fun date?" Bok-Jin asked. "That's very on brand for you."
"It's a fun book."
"Your definition of fun is concerning."
"Says the guy who spends Tuesday nights doing LEET logic games with me."
"Fair point."
Around 3 PM, we ended up at a small park near the market—just a patch of green with some benches and trees. We sat on a bench in the sun, full of food and slightly drowsy.
"This is nice," I said. "Just existing. No pressure."
"That was the goal. Aggressively normal." He put his arm around me, and I leaned into him. "Can I tell you something?"
"You keep asking that."
"Because I keep having things I want to tell you." He was quiet for a moment. "I'm really happy. Like, genuinely, unreservedly happy. And it's because of you."
"You've said that before."
"I know. But I mean it more every time I say it." He turned to look at me. "You make everything better. Even boring things. Especially boring things."
"That's very sweet."
"I'm a sweet guy."
"Sometimes. Other times you're deeply annoying."
"I contain multitudes."
We sat there for a while, just watching people pass by—families with kids, elderly couples walking slowly, teenagers being loud and chaotic. Normal Saturday afternoon life.
"Can I tell you something?" I asked.
"Always."
"I was so scared when we first started dating again. Scared of getting hurt, scared of it not working, scared of wanting something I couldn't have."
"And now?"
"Now I'm still scared sometimes. But mostly I'm just... happy. Which is scarier in its own way."
"Why is being happy scary?"
"Because if I'm happy, I have something to lose."
He squeezed my shoulder. "That's a terrible way to live. Being scared of losing good things before you've even lost them."
"I know. I'm working on it."
"We'll work on it together."
Around 4 PM, we started walking back toward his car, taking the long route through the market.
"Thank you," I said. "For today. For planning something perfect."
"It was just a market."
"It was exactly what I needed. No pressure, no performance, just us being normal people."
"We can do this more often. Normal things."
"I'd like that."
He drove me home, and we stopped outside my building.
"You have LEET practice tomorrow," he said. "Want me to bring you coffee before?"
"You don't have to."
"I know I don't have to. I want to. Coffee at 12:30?"
"Okay. Yeah. That would be nice."
He kissed me—long and sweet and unhurried—and I went upstairs feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
Both roommates were in the living room when I got back.
"How was the date?" Yoo-Na asked.
"Perfect. We went to a market and ate too much food and I got a ridiculous ceramic frog."
"A frog?"
I showed them. "It holds toothbrushes."
Min-Ji burst out laughing. "That's the weirdest romantic gift I've ever seen."
"That's what I said. But it's also kind of perfect?"
"You two are very strange," Yoo-Na said. "But in a cute way."
I went to my room and put the frog on my desk next to the plush cat from the arcade and the photo strip from the cherry blossom festival. A collection of ridiculous objects that marked moments of happiness.
Tomorrow I had LEET. But tonight I was letting myself just be content.
Sunday morning I woke up with nervous energy thrumming through my veins.
Practice test day. The last one before the real thing in two weeks.
I did my morning routine on autopilot—shower, coffee, reviewing flashcards while I ate breakfast. Min-Ji wished me luck before disappearing to study for her own exams. Yoo-Na was already gone, probably at the library.
At 12:30, Bok-Jin texted that he was downstairs.
I found him waiting with two americanos and an encouraging smile.
"Ready to kill this test?" he asked, handing me coffee.
"Ready to not completely fail this test."
"Aim high."
"I'm being realistic."
"You're being pessimistic. There's a difference."
He walked with me to the library, and we stopped outside.
"You've been working so hard," he said. "Today is just about seeing that work pay off. Trust yourself."
"I'm trying."
"I know. Now go show that test who's boss."
I kissed him quickly and headed inside.
Su-Jin, Tae-Min, Min-Seo, and the others were already setting up. Full practice test—three hours, real conditions, no mercy.
"Everyone ready to suffer?" Su-Jin asked.
"As ready as we'll ever be," Tae-Min said.
"Remember," Su-Jin said, "this is our last practice before the real thing. Give it everything."
At 1:00 PM exactly, she started the timer.
"Section one: Reading Comprehension. Thirty-five minutes. Begin."
I dove into the first passage—something about environmental policy and regulatory frameworks. Dense, complex, exactly my area.
I read quickly but carefully. Marked key information. Moved to questions. Trusted my instincts like Professor Jung had taught me.
Finished all thirty-five questions with a minute to spare.
Logical reasoning next. Twenty-eight questions, thirty minutes.
I'd been drilling these all week with Bok-Jin and in LEET prep. The patterns were becoming familiar—identify the conclusion, find the premises, spot the logical gap.
Finished all twenty-eight. Felt confident about most of them.
Five-minute break. I drank water, stretched, tried not to think about how much test was left.
Analytical reasoning—my weakness. Six games, thirty-five minutes.
I took a breath and started the first game. Set up the scenarios, tested possibilities, eliminated wrong answers.
Moved to the second game. Third. Fourth.
I was moving faster than usual—not rushing, just efficient. Trusting my setup, not second-guessing every deduction.
Finished the fifth game with six minutes left.
Started the sixth game. It was complex—multiple variable sets, interconnected restrictions. But I'd practiced this exact type with Bok-Jin.
I worked through it methodically, checking each deduction.
Time was called just as I finished the last question.
I'd completed everything. Every single question.
Essay section last. Thirty minutes. The prompt was about whether social media companies should be regulated like public utilities.
I outlined quickly—thesis, three supporting points, counterargument, rebuttal, conclusion. Then wrote.
My hand cramped but I kept going. Clear topic sentences, evidence, analysis. Connect back to the thesis.
When time was called, I had a complete essay with a solid argument.
We all sat back, exhausted.
"That felt better than last week," Min-Seo said.
"Or worse," Tae-Min countered. "I can never tell immediately after."
"Let's grade them," Su-Jin suggested. "Rip the band-aid off."
We swapped tests. I ended up grading Tae-Min's while someone else graded mine.
When I got my test back, my hands were shaking as I looked at the score.
Reading Comprehension: 33/35 Logical Reasoning: 27/28
Analytical Reasoning: 26/30 Total: 163/180
I stared at it.
I'd improved seven points. Seven points in one week.
"Holy shit, Ji-Mang," Su-Jin said, looking at my score sheet. "That's ninety-first percentile."
"Is it enough for SNU law school?" Tae-Min asked.
"It's close. Most admitted students are 165 or higher. But 163 is in the range." Su-Jin looked at me. "Two more points and you're basically guaranteed admission."
"Two points," I repeated.
"Two points over two weeks. That's totally doable."
We reviewed the questions I'd missed. Most were careless errors—misreading a restriction in a logic game, moving too fast on a reading comp question. Fixable mistakes.
"You're so close," Su-Jin said. "One more push and you're there."
After everyone left, I sat in the study room staring at my score sheet.
Two points away from my goal.
Two points that felt simultaneously achievable and impossibly far.
My phone buzzed.
Bok-Jin: How'd it go?
Me: 163. I improved 7 points.
Bok-Jin: THAT'S AMAZING! I'm so proud of you!
Me: I need 165. I'm 2 points away.
Bok-Jin: You have two weeks. You're going to get there. Want to celebrate the improvement?
Me: Celebrate being almost good enough?
Bok-Jin: Celebrate working hard and seeing results. Yes.
Me: Okay. Yeah. Where are you?
Bok-Jin: Library entrance. I've been waiting.
I packed up my stuff and headed downstairs. Bok-Jin was exactly where he said he'd be, and when he saw my face, he pulled me into a hug.
"Seven points," he said. "That's huge."
"It's not enough yet."
"But it's progress. Massive progress." He pulled back to look at me. "A week ago you were at 156. Now you're at 163. You're literally jumping percentiles. That's incredible."
"I need two more points."
"And you have two weeks to get them. You will get them."
"You can't know that."
"I can know that you're going to work as hard as you possibly can. And that your hard work usually pays off."
We walked to a nearby café and got celebratory coffee and cake that I wasn't sure I'd earned yet.
"Can I tell you what I think is happening?" Bok-Jin said as we sat down.
"What?"
"You've been drilling logic games all week. You've been explaining your reasoning out loud to me. You've been trusting your instincts instead of second-guessing. All of that is paying off."
"But what if I plateau again? What if 163 is my ceiling?"
"Then we figure out what else needs to change. But I don't think that's your ceiling. I think you're still improving."
I wanted to believe him. I really did.
"Two weeks," I said. "Two weeks until the real test."
"Two weeks to get two more points. You can do this."
I took a bite of cake and let the sweetness ground me. 163 was good. 163 was real improvement. 163 meant my work was actually translating to results.
I just needed a little more.
That night I sat at my desk and made a study plan for the next two weeks.
Week 1:
Daily: 5 logic games, timed (30 minutes)Monday/Wednesday/Friday: Full reading comp section (35 minutes)Tuesday/Thursday: Full logical reasoning section (30 minutes)Saturday: Half practice test (reading + reasoning only)Sunday: Rest day
Week 2:
Monday-Thursday: Light review, focus on weak areasFriday: Complete rest day before testSaturday: LEET test day
It was aggressive but doable. If I could gain two points in one week, surely I could gain two more in two weeks with focused practice.
My phone buzzed.
Bok-Jin: You still spiraling?
Me: Only a little bit.
Bok-Jin: That's progress. Proud of you. For the score and for only spiraling a little.
Me: Thank you. For everything today. The market, the coffee, being there after the test.
Bok-Jin: Always. Love you.
Me: Love you too.
I set my phone down and looked at my study plan.
Two weeks.
Two points.
I could do this.