The music room was quiet, too quiet for two people who never stopped arguing.
Jang Ah stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. She looked like she was either about to make a deal or throw a chair.
"You're going to say no," she said finally, tone neutral but challenging.
Hyojin didn't look up from his phone. "I usually do."
She stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft click.
"But hear me out," she said, pacing now. "Duet competition. One month. We enter. Together."
Now he looked up, slowly. "You hate me."
"I tolerate you."
"Wow," he said, sarcastic. "Your warmth is overwhelming."
She ignored that. "We're both good. You know it. But something about the way we play—it works."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "You mean that trainwreck we pulled off during rehearsal?"
"It wasn't a trainwreck," she snapped, then caught herself. "Okay. It started like one. But it ended like… something else."
He studied her for a moment. "And why do you care?"
She hesitated. "Because I want to win. And because playing with you—annoying as it is—makes me better."
He leaned back on the bench, thoughtful. "And what do I get?"
She smiled. "Victory. Bragging rights. Maybe I don't insult you every day."
He gave a low laugh. "That's tempting."
She took a breath and extended her hand.
Hyojin looked at it for a beat too long. Then reached out and shook it.
A spark.
Not literal—but sharp enough that both of them felt it.
The handshake lingered just a second longer than it should have. Neither pulled away first.
They didn't say anything, but something had shifted.
Maybe not trust. Not yet.
But a beginning.
After the deal...
They stepped into the hallway together, walking side by side—but not too close.
"Don't be late tomorrow," she said, glancing sideways.
"I'm never late," he replied.
"You were late to basic human decency."
He chuckled. "And yet, here I am. Still irresistible."
She stopped walking. "Resistible, actually. Extremely resistible."
As she turned to leave, a classmate came around the corner—Minseo, second-year pianist, and a little too observant for her own good.
"Oh," Minseo said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't know you two were... teaming up."
"We're not," they both said at once.
Silence.
Then Jang Ah walked off without another word, and Hyojin was left staring after her, wondering why the hallway suddenly felt colder.
Later that night…
[Jang Ah]: 9AM. Don't be late.
[Hyojin]: I'm never late.
[Jang Ah]: Your personality was. Clearly.
[Hyojin]: You're exhausting.
[Jang Ah]: And yet, here we are.
Meanwhile...
Hyojin stared at the screen, smiling despite himself. He set the phone down and opened his desk drawer.
Inside, a worn notebook.
He flipped through the pages until he found it: a sketch of a melody. Handwritten, messy, raw.
Her melody.
He ran his fingers over the notes. "So, it really was you," he whispered.
Next Chapter Preview
Their first official rehearsal as a duo is nothing short of a disaster: off-key notes, flying insults, and dangerously close proximity.
But when a storm traps them in the practice room after hours, they have no choice but to stop fighting—and start listening.
And somewhere between the thunder and the silence, the truth begins to surface.