The empty classroom was filled with a soft banging noise that drew Cho Chang-min's attention away from the book he was reading. He glanced up and saw his friend, Han Min-jun, repeatedly banging his head against the window. Chang-min had been observing Min-jun's increasingly peculiar behavior over the past couple of days, finding it both concerning and perplexing.
Chang-min knew it started after the day Min-jun got injured and wondered whether the incident had anything to do with it.
'Did he hit his head?' Chang-min thought jokingly as he tried to remember the incident, with an amused smile on his face.
***
The banging persisted for a while but then abruptly stopped. In the silence that followed, Min-jun began muttering to himself.
"It's the blue eyes. You were just taken off guard. There's nothing else to it... But who is he... Why does nobody know anything about him... He can't go unnoticed with those eyes... But no, no one has seen a boy with blue eyes... Was he wearing lenses...."
Min-jun shifted restlessly, pressing his forehead against the cold glass and exhaling deeply as if trying to rid himself of the unsettling thoughts weighing on his mind.
'Minjun-ya, get a grip on yourself. You don't have time or the luxury to fool around. You will be graduating soon and will have to attend medical college. And you are a Han. You have to be careful of your choices.'
A sharp pang tugged at Min-jun's chest. As the heir to a prestigious family of doctors and the son of a high-ranking minister, his future had been mapped out long before he could even dream of choosing his own path. Excellence in medicine was not just encouraged — it was expected, almost demanded. His family had spent generations building their reputation, and Min-jun was being carefully groomed to one day inherit both the family's name and its legacy.
The illusion of control over his own life shattered the moment he entered high school, when his father, with quiet finality, outlined the course Min-jun was to follow. There would be no detours, no indulgences. Every action he took was to reflect the dignity of his lineage.
On top of that, the heavy weight of public scrutiny never truly left his shoulders. With his father's political career constantly in the spotlight, every detail of their lives was subject to ruthless examination. Political rivals lurked in the shadows, eager to pounce on the slightest misstep, to tarnish the family name and undermine his father's influence. Even the smallest error could spiral into a public scandal.
Despite the pressure, Min-jun had managed to survive — and even thrive — thanks to his naturally easygoing nature. His warm demeanor, quiet charisma, and ability to win over people had earned him goodwill and shielded him, at least for now, from the full brunt of the expectations that loomed over his future.
Min-jun dropped his forehead against the window with a dull thud, repeating the motion as if he could knock the confusion out of himself. His mind wavered like a ship caught in a storm, pulled by emotions he neither wanted nor understood.
If I could just see him once... just once, I could prove to myself it's nothing. Just a passing curiosity... nothing more, he told himself desperately. Yet even as the thought formed, he knew he was lying.
There was no room in his carefully laid-out life for such reckless feelings — no place for yearning in a world ruled by duty, expectation, and bloodline. And yet, against all reason, it had already taken root in him, deep and fierce. It grew quietly, insistently, like ivy winding around his heart, tightening a little more with every passing day.
The longing gnawed at him, sweet and aching, a hunger he could neither name nor deny. It was not a fleeting fancy; it was something undeniable, something that refused to be dismissed by the cold, logical arguments he kept throwing at it.
Min-jun clung to reason like a drowning man to driftwood, trying to shake the feelings loose, trying to drown them in the icy waters of rational thought. But the truth pulsed beneath every beat of his heart: he had already fallen far too deep.
Yes, it's the blue eyes, Min-jun told himself firmly. No one expects a Korean guy to have blue eyes. It's not normal. Anyone would be surprised... anyone would be thrown off. So just let it go.
But the words felt hollow, crumbling as soon as they were formed.
As he wrestled with the swirling chaos inside him, Min-jun felt as though his heart and mind were locked in a relentless battle, neither willing to concede. Logic screamed at him — it's impractical, reckless, impossible — but somewhere deep within, a fragile hope stirred, refusing to be extinguished.
No matter how many times he tried to smother his emotions with reason, no matter how carefully he stacked rational thoughts like walls around his heart, they always crumbled. The more he fought, the more exhausted he became, drained by the endless cycle of denial and yearning. And yet, through all the exhaustion and fear, his heart — stubborn, foolish, alive — continued to beat for something it was never meant to reach.
Min-jun was startled by himself, as if standing face-to-face with a stranger he hadn't known lived within him. He had never given much thought to his own sexuality before; it had simply been an unspoken certainty that he was straight, a fact as unquestioned as breathing.
Now, that quiet assumption crumbled under the weight of new, overwhelming emotions. Part of him recoiled, doubting every feeling that crashed so violently against the walls of his heart, questioning if any of it could be real. Yet another part — quieter, but infinitely steadier — had already accepted the truth with a strange, almost serene inevitability.
He had fallen for a boy. No denial, no excuses, no rewriting the story. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. And it was real.
Min-jun was acutely aware that he had never experienced emotions this intense for anyone before. Every time the image of those piercing blue eyes surfaced in his mind, it was as if invisible threads wrapped around his soul, tugging him closer with an unrelenting pull he couldn't resist.
It wasn't just admiration — it was a longing that seeped into every corner of his being, a yearning so fierce it left him breathless. Every fiber of him craved the chance to gaze into those entrancing blue eyes once more, to stand close to the person who carried them.
Deep down, Min-jun knew this wasn't mere infatuation. It wasn't just the rare, mesmerizing color of those eyes that left him so restless. There was something deeper — something hidden within their depths that spoke to a part of him he hadn't even known existed. And when he remembered the boy's touch, a strange sense of familiarity haunted him, as if he had known that feeling long before this moment, in some forgotten life or dream.
It unsettled him, yet at the same time, he couldn't help but be drawn toward it — helpless against the call of something he no longer had the power to deny.
They must just be contact lenses... Min-jun thought desperately. That would explain why no one seems to know a boy with blue eyes.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't that simple.
Unfortunately for Min-jun, there was nothing distinctive he could use to track the boy down. Most boys at the school were slender and small, especially those who didn't play sports. Finding him now felt like searching for a single, precious thread in an endless sea of identical cloth — like finding a needle in a haystack.
Min-jun rested his chin on his hand and gazed longingly out the window, his eyes sweeping over the school grounds bathed in afternoon light. Fate is truly cruel, he thought bitterly. They had walked the same halls, breathed the same air for three long years — yet he had only encountered him now, just as he stood at the edge of graduation.
There wasn't enough time, not even for a proper one-sided love to bloom. Not even enough time to learn his name, his class, his world. All Min-jun had were the fleeting memories of blue eyes that had quietly, irrevocably changed everything.
Why now...? Why him...? Is this the universe's way of testing me...?
Min-jun's mind churned with questions, but no answers came to soothe him. A weary sigh escaped his lips as a heaviness settled over his heart, growing heavier with each passing moment. For the first time in his life, he had stumbled upon something he desperately wanted — something that stirred his soul — yet found himself utterly powerless to reach it.
Lost in his swirling thoughts, Min-jun jumped when he suddenly felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned sharply, only to find Chang-min standing there, his face etched with quiet concern.
Min-jun's ears burned with embarrassment, realizing how deeply he'd been lost in his own world. He fumbled for composure, but Chang-min, thankfully, seemed not to notice the telltale redness creeping up Min-jun's neck. Instead, he simply gave him a questioning look, as if waiting for Min-jun to explain the storm brewing behind his eyes.
"Blue eyes? Are you mumbling about Kim Seung-joon?"
***
Do Cho-hee stood by the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching her husband with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze. Min-hyuk sat behind his grand desk, methodically flipping through the stack of files piled neatly to one side, seemingly absorbed in his work.
Without looking up, he asked in a low, clipped voice, "What is it now, Cho-hee?" as he slid one file aside and reached for another.
Cho-hee hesitated, searching for the right words, her heart heavy with concern.
"Don't you think you're being too hard on Jun-ah?" she said finally, her voice soft but firm. "He's never caused us trouble. He's old enough to understand responsibility without you constantly reminding him of the weight he has to bear. He's sensitive, Min-hyuk. If you keep treating him like a pawn in this endless plan of yours, you might break him."
Min-hyuk's hand froze mid-turn. Slowly, he placed the file down and looked up at her, his face unreadable but his eyes shadowed with something more complicated — conflict, perhaps, or weariness.
After a long moment, he said quietly, "I'm doing it for his own good."
The words sounded almost like a confession rather than a defense. Without waiting for a response, he lowered his gaze and returned to the report in front of him, retreating into the armor of duty and habit.
Cho-hee stood there a moment longer, her heart aching. She knew he believed what he said — that in his own rigid, heavy-handed way, he loved their son. But love wrapped in chains still suffocated.
A quiet sigh slipped from her lips as she turned and left the room, the click of the door closing behind her sounding far louder in the heavy silence Min-hyuk left behind.