Seventeen, and Spring (3)
As things wrapped up, Han Yeonho picked up his coat and stood. Up close, he was tall—really tall. The living room lights cast his long shadow right over my shoulders. Come to think of it, even sitting in the chair, he'd seemed about my height standing up. Now on his feet, he looked at least 180cm by eye.
"I'm really sorry about today. I'll give Seoyeong a good talking-to," Mom and Dad said, bowing repeatedly as they saw him to the door.
"Haha, it's fine." He waved it off once, then headed straight for the entrance like he was ready to go.
As I followed to see him out, I noticed the shoes he'd worn. Not a single scuff on the heels. Most people pry the back open with their fingers to slip them on—wouldn't that be uncomfortable without?
"Um, do you need a shoehorn by any chance?" Not wanting to miss if he did, I grabbed the one hanging nearby and held it out with both hands.
His face lit up—he must've needed it. "Oh, thank you. I'm the one who's only taking from you all."
He took it with another thank-you, bowing at just the right angle—perfectly polite. My mood lifted for no reason. It'd been forever since someone outside the family treated me this kindly.
"I'll see you next time."
I bowed too. Mom opened the front door, and we exchanged final bows at the threshold. As he walked toward the elevator, the hallway sensors flicked on one by one. Ding—the doors closed with a metallic whoosh. As the sound faded, Mom and Dad sighed in unison and headed back inside.
Before going in, I glanced at the elevator display: stopped at B2.
Back in the living room, Mom's expression had softened completely. "Yeonho seems like such a steady, good guy. And his speech is so refined."
Dad nodded, arms crossed. "I've seen him work a few times. He's still a bit green, but thorough and diligent. Just... too honest for his own good."
It sounded worried, but there was a hint of a smile at the end.
Guess he really is as gentle as he looks. I nodded, picturing that kind face with its easy smile. Usually, anyone much taller than me feels intimidating, but not him. First impressions? Definitely good.
"I'm heading to my room."
"Okay, go on in."
Mom and Dad answered almost together. Grabbing my jacket from the kitchen on the way, I caught Dad muttering with a sigh just as I reached my door. "What to do about Seoyeong..."
My head nodded on its own. Why not at least talk to him once? How do you not even exchange a word? Even if she hates it, putting it on blast like that? My sister's strong-willed, sure, but this was over the top. Basic manners exist—at least a text, if not a call.
That was my thought as I hung the jacket. Then it hit me.
Wait—she didn't even talk to him at all. So... she doesn't have his number?
My lips moved before my brain caught up. I snatched my phone, flung the door open, and bolted out.
"Mom! Dad! Does unnie have that guy's number?!"
Mom's eyes went wide for a second, then she let out a long sigh. "That child's not the type to ask for something like that..."
Her lament hung heavy.
Just as I thought! I swallowed the words rising in my throat and dashed to the entrance. No time to slip my heels in properly—I yanked my sneakers from the rack and jammed my heels down, crushing them.
"Seojin! Where are you—"
Mom's voice trailed behind, cut off by the slam of the door.
I jabbed the elevator button repeatedly. My eyes locked on the floor numbers rising from 1F: 3 → 4 → 5…
Come on, hurry…! My toes tapped the floor on their own. The hallway sensor light blinked off, then on. Ding!
I jumped in as the doors opened, slamming the close button. He'd gotten off at B2. I mashed B2 with my thumb—then hit it again for good measure. The elevator hesitated, then started descending.
I fidgeted by the doors, arms trembling at my sides, eyes glued to the dropping numbers. B1—and—B2. Ding!
I bolted out the instant the doors parted. The auto-door sensor lagged half a beat, letting in a lukewarm breeze that brushed my face. The parking lot air hit—rubber and engine heat mixed thick.
I sprinted through the underground lot, scanning everywhere. My sneaker soles slapped rhythmically on the concrete.
Beep! Not far off, a door unlock chimed.
I whipped my head that way—an SUV, driver's door half-open, him about to climb in.
"Ex—excuse me!!"
My voice bounced off the low ceiling like an echo. He paused halfway into the seat, glancing around left and right. Spotting me running up, his hand stiffened on the door handle.
I was gasping. "Wait… just a sec…!"
Finally reaching him, I braced my hands on my knees, head down, heaving for air. My lungs burned hot.
"Little sister…? Everything okay?" His voice came cautious, close by.
I looked up. His eyes were wide, a bit startled, staring at me. Seeing that eased my chest—a wave of relief crashed down.
"Hah… hah… whew…"
I wiped sweat from my forehead and nape with my hand, caught my breath, and forced words out. "There's… something… hah…"
I pulled out my phone, looking up at him.
"Your number… could you… hah… give me your number…?"
He tilted his head slightly. The parking lights glinted in his round eyes.
I rushed to add, "Unnie probably… didn't get it… haa… so I'm… haa… getting it for her…"
A brief silence stretched between us. The lot air felt still.
Then his lips softened, a small laugh slipping out. "Pfft… heh…"
He chuckled, shoulders shaking, and I blinked.
"Why… why are you laughing?"
He covered his mouth with his hand but couldn't stop. Totally different from the smile at our place.
"Pfft… heh… haha! You ran all the way down here just for my number? Yoon Sajang already has it… heh…"
Oh, right. Dad would have it, obviously.
Hot steam felt like it rose from my head. My face blazed—I clapped my hands to my cheeks without thinking.
You idiot…
I ducked my head in embarrassment, eyes landing on my sneaker toes right in front of his polished shoes.
He finally reined in the laughter and pulled out his phone. "Sorry, wasn't teasing on purpose. You need the number, right?"
I looked up—his soft eyes gazed down at me. I gripped my phone with both hands, steadied my breath, and unlocked the screen. "Yes… please."
I held it out; he took it, tapping in digits with his index finger. Up close, his hands were big. His finger alone dwarfed my thumb… or maybe I'm just small?
"All set."
He handed it back. I hit call right away. Seconds later, his pocket buzzed with a short ring.
"Got it, little sister."
As he reached to save it, smiling, I looked up and said, "It's Yoon Seojin."
"Pardon?"
His blinking eyes met mine. "Yoon Seojin—that's my name. Were you gonna save me as 'little sister'?"
I narrowed my eyes at him; he smiled sheepishly and looked away. "Sorry…"
"No need to apologize… hehe."
Laughter bubbled up unbidden. His lips curved up too. Laughing together like this felt weirdly nice. So comfortable.
"One more thing—how old are you?"
"Hm?" He blinked thoughtfully. "Twenty-seven."
During, as expected. Unnie's six years older than me… so four years older than her.
Number exchanged, he opened his car door. "Head back up. Take it slow."
"Okay. Drive safe."
The engine turned over; I waved. He raised a hand from the wheel. Red taillights faded between the pillars.
I dropped my hand only after the car vanished, then took the elevator up.
Home, Mom and Dad called me an idiot—but I ignored it and went to my room. Lying on the bed, fatigue melted away.
Phone on: the new number gleamed at the top of my call log.
What to save him as? 'Han Yeonho' is too bland…
Chairman's son? Yeonho-nim? Company guy? My finger hovered, deleting and retyping.
Finally: This is it.
Yeonho Ajusshi. Saved. Little phone icon neat beside the name.
Then I sent a quick text and set the phone down.