The door didn't slam this time.
But the silence still cracked under the weight of her footsteps.
Three days had passed since their first encounter.
Three days of rerunning his words, her reactions, that melody.
Jang Ah hated how much space he took in her mind.
Worse, she hated that he hadn't messaged her—not once.
Not until this morning.
You saw the email? We're stuck together. See you at 4.
—H.J.
She almost deleted it.
Almost.
Three days earlier
She'd stormed out of the practice room swearing she'd never speak to him again.
And yet—
That music.
Those trembling notes, hesitant but honest.
They followed her. In dreams. In the shower. In the damn cafeteria line.
She didn't like him.
But his music?
It understood something in her.
At the same time—
Hyojin hadn't slept well.
He didn't want to admit it, but he'd played that melody twenty times that night.
Not because he was curious.
Because he remembered.
Her presence rattled him. Not just her attitude—but the way she felt familiar. Like something unfinished.
And then came the email:
"Due to limited rehearsal rooms, the duet assignment will pair the following students…"
He stared at the names.
Hyojin Kim.
Jang Ah Lee.
Of course.
Now, today—
They faced each other again, by force, not choice.
The air between them still charged. Still sharp.
She raised a brow. "Let's just get this over with."
He nodded once.
"I'll play. You follow."
She scoffed. "Typical."
But still, she sat beside him.
Their fingers hovered.
One piano. Two storms.
The keys shivered under their touch.
Not synchronized. Not even close.
Her rhythm challenged his.
His precision frustrated her.
But beneath the tension… something clicked.
Like two pieces that didn't fit—until forced together.
Halfway through, she changed the tune.
A small rebellion.
A melody he knew.
He froze. Just a second. But she caught it.
"What?" she said, fingers still moving.
He didn't answer.
Because three years ago, he'd heard that same melody in a school hallway.
Played by a girl who never saw him.
A girl humming to herself while he stayed hidden—listening.
It couldn't be her.
Could it?
She finished with a flourish. "See? Not all of us follow instructions."
But he wasn't listening anymore.
He was staring.
Not at her face—but beyond it. Through time. Through memory.
"Where did you learn that song?" he asked, voice low.
Jang Ah tilted her head.
"What song?"
He swallowed. "The one you just played."
She frowned. "I made it up. I always play that riff when I'm bored."
He looked away, suddenly unsure.
Maybe it wasn't her.
Maybe memory was just playing tricks.
Or maybe fate had a longer memory than he did.
[End of Chapter Two]
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He tries to brush it off.
Just a coincidence. Just a melody.
But the more they play, the more the past plays him.
And when she laughs—really laughs—for the first time…
He realizes she might be dangerous in a way he never expected.