The rain in Seoul didn't smell like the rain back in the village.

Back in Gyeoul-ri, rain carried memory.

It smelled like wet soil turned over by old hands, pine needles crushed under bare feet, and the faint sweetness of wildflowers growing stubbornly between stones that no one bothered to remove. Rain there didn't just fall—it stayed. It clung to wooden roofs, slipped into cracks in fences, and lingered in the air like a quiet thought you couldn't forget.

Here, in Seoul, rain was different.

It fell hard, but it left nothing behind.

Cold pavement. Exhaust. Iron and glass. It washed the world clean too quickly, as if even the sky didn't want to remember what it had touched

Here, it fell like something tired. Heavy water striking cold concrete, mixing with exhaust fumes and the sharp metallic breath of buses that never stopped moving. It didn't carry memories. It didn't linger.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the lecture room's fluorescent lights blur slightly at the edges of my vision. My light brown hair fell a little into my eyes again. I brushed it back lazily, watching the faint reflection of myself in the glass window beside me.

Too perfect, I thought.

That was always the word people used.

Prince. Gentleman. Golden boy.

A smirk tugged at my lips.

"Yeah… right," I whispered to myself. "Perfect."

The girl two rows ahead had once said I looked like I stepped out of a magazine. Another had called me "unfairly pretty." Someone else had laughed and said I looked like trouble disguised as kindness.

I never corrected them.

I liked the attention. I liked the distance it created. If people thought I was untouchable, they wouldn't look too closely.

Still…

My eyes drifted to the window again.

Was I a good guy?

The question came uninvited, soft but sharp, like something I had dropped years ago and only now heard hitting the floor.

I pulled my notebook closer, though I wasn't reading it.

The date was written at the top corner of the page.

August 7th, 1999

My pen hovered slightly before I let it rest.

"Gyeoul-ri…" I murmured under my breath.

The name alone felt heavier than it should have.

I chuckled to myself. Drawing attention from the people nearby i didn't care about.

"Gyeoul-ri huh?...?"

Gyeoul-ri was not a place that appeared on postcards or travel guides. It was the kind of village where everyone knew everyone, where secrets didn't stay hidden because there were too few places to hide them.

Fields stretched beyond the edges of narrow roads, and rice paddies reflected the sky like broken mirrors. There was a small market that opened every morning, a library that smelled like dust and old paper, and a karaoke shop where drunk fishermen sang off-key until midnight.

People measured time differently there.

Not by clocks.

By harvests. By festivals. By who had left and who had returned.

Even love there was quiet, cautious—something that walked carefully between houses so as not to be seen too clearly. Holding hands felt like a confession. Smiling too long at someone felt like a rumor waiting to happen.

And yet…

It was warm.

Too warm to forget.

Gyeol-ri....was the village...i can never forget even if I wanted to

Not because it was perfect...but because it was not

I sat in the back of the lecture hall, half-listening to a professor whose voice drifted like static from a broken radio. Words came and went without meaning.

My head rested against my palm as I stared through the glass.

Outside, the campus field was soaked in rain. Green grass bent under the weight of it, shimmering faintly under grey skies.

My reflection stared back at me.

Same face. Same calm eyes.

Same lie.

"Was I jealous?" I whispered.

My breath fogged the glass.

"I don't know…"

I closed my eyes.

And Gyeoul-ri came back.

A dusty road. Shoes covered in pale earth. The sound of cicadas louder than thoughts. A boy standing in sunlight that felt too soft to be real.

Golden Boy.

Beak Byeongho.

Even the name sounded like something fragile.

"Was I angry?" I continued quietly. "Did I want to break him just to feel less… wrong?"

My fingers tightened slightly around the pen.

"I never thought Hwang Tae-Joo would become like this."

A bitter smile touched my lips.

"What is this feeling? Guilt? Regret? Or just… annoyance that I can't forget you?"

The memory didn't answer.

It never did.

But it always stayed.

Like a shadow that refused to leave when the light changed.

"Beak Byeongho…" I whispered. "You really were a strange boy."

Too kind.

Too calm.

Too perfect to be real.

And I had hated him for it.

---

A soft melody hummed in my head.

Not a song I remembered learning. Not something I could name.

Just something that existed—like it had always been there, waiting for the right silence to surface.

It came every time the sky turned grey.

"And I was the brat," I muttered.

The words disappeared into the hum of the lecture hall.

Ten years.

It had been Ten years since hospital lights burned too white against my eyes. Ten years since the sound of my own voice cracked into something I didn't recognize.

Ten years since Gyeoul-ri stopped being a place I could return to easily.

Everyone said Beak Byeongho was perfect.

Kind. Gentle. Patient.The Golden Boy.

The kind of boy who helped old women carry baskets without being asked. The kind who smiled even when others didn't deserve it. The kind who made people feel small just by existing too brightly.

I had hated that brightness.

I had wanted to see it break.

I wanted to see dirt on his white shirt.

I wanted to see him cry.

But most of all…

I wanted him to notice me.

A sharp sound snapped me back.

A hand landed heavily on my shoulder.

"TAE-JOO!"

I flinched.

The lecture room came back into focus.

My bag was already half-packed beside me. Students were leaving. Chairs scraping. Conversations rising like noise returning to a body.

"Class ended five minutes ago," Jun-seo said, leaning over me with a grin.

He looked far too pleased with himself.

"Seriously," he added, "you planning to live here or something?"

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Shut up," I muttered. "I was thinking."

"Dangerous hobby for you," he said.

A girl sitting near the window spun a lollipop between her fingers, watching me with mild amusement. Ryu-na. Her short brown hair stuck slightly to her cheek from the humidity.

Jun-seo dropped into the seat beside her.

"Let him be," she said lazily. "He's doing that thing again."

"What thing?" Jun-seo asked.

"The village boy thing."

I froze slightly at that.

Jun-seo laughed. "Bro, seriously? That village guy again? You've been like this since you came back from Gyeoul-ri."

"It has nothing to do with you," I said quickly, grabbing my bag.

My voice came out sharper than intended.

Ryu-na tilted her head. "Then what are you thinking about?"

She pulled the lollipop from her mouth.

"Some story I used to know. .a song that refuses to leave my throat. A Memory that won't stay quiet," I said.

The words surprised even me.

A story.

Is that what I was calling it now?

Jun-seo stood up, stretching. "Well, whatever it is, try not to fail because of your 'story.' Midterms are next week, LIKE BRO COME ON! sometimes I think you are like oldddd like oldddd the teacher old!."

"FIRST OF ALL! I AM 17 AND SECOND OF ALL MR PARK IS 28! AND THIRD OF ALL I WON'T FAIL!", I said automatically.

Of course I wouldn't.

I never did.

Perfect boy.

Golden boy.

Whatever they wanted to call it.

But as I stepped out of the lecture hall, rain brushing against the windows again, I felt something unfamiliar settle in my chest.

Not peace.

Not sadness.

Something in between.

Like a memory trying to breathe.

---

Outside, the campus was alive with umbrellas blooming like dark flowers.

I paused under the entrance roof, watching students pass by.

And for a moment—just a moment—

I thought I saw him.

Not clearly.

Just the shape of someone standing in the rain.

Still.

Watching.

The world tilted slightly.

I blinked.

The figure was gone.

I let out a quiet breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Ten years…and it's still not enough for me to forget you...why can't I get it together...it's been 10 years and I keep seeing your figure" I whispered.

"What have you done to me... byeongho?",

The rain continued falling.

Somewhere far away, in a place I could no longer touch properly…

Fireflies must still exist.

And I wondered, absurdly—

If he ever thought of them too.

A yell echoed "ARE YOU PLANNING ON LIVING HERE!? IF YES TELL NE SO I CAN GO HOME! I WANT CHIKEN DUED!!! CHIKEEENNNNN!!!!",

"Coming...", i huffed and smiled walking behind the two