“What is this?” he demanded, holding up the note. “What is this mathematical nonsense ?”
She walked home in the rain, not feeling a thing. She left a note on the Baek family’s doorstep: “Thank you for everything. I won’t be a bother anymore. - Ha-ni.”
He never said “I love you” in the traditional way. But the next morning, Ha-ni found a new textbook on her porch: “Teaching Children with Learning Differences: A Guide for the Passionate Educator.” Inside the cover, in his sharp, neat handwriting, was a single line:
“But you held her hand,” Ha-ni whispered, tears finally spilling. Playful Kiss -K-Drama-
Living next to Seung-jo was a masterclass in humiliation. He corrected her pronunciation of English words. He rearranged the refrigerator because she put the milk in the door shelf “thermodynamically wrong.” He graded her homework without being asked, using a red pen he kept specifically for her.
That was it. The equation had found its answer. And it wasn’t her.
Oh Ha-ni had a theory about her life: it was a sitcom where she was the clumsy best friend, not the star. The star was, and always would be, Baek Seung-jo. He was the flawless equation she could never solve—tall, brilliant, and cold as the first winter frost. For three years of high school, she had been the human embodiment of a graphing calculator error: persistently, hopelessly, and loudly in love with him. “What is this
He turned to look at her, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes. “You’re an equation I can’t simplify, Oh Ha-ni. It’s irritating.”
Seung-jo dropped his own pristine, annotated textbook into her lap. “Chapter 7 on stoichiometry. I’ve underlined the key parts. If you don’t understand it by midnight, I will personally fail you.”
He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging in. “Do you think I care about level? I care about function . You function in my life the way oxygen functions in a combustion reaction. Without you, I just… suffocate.” I won’t be a bother anymore
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
When she showed him the paper, he stared at it for a long time. “72,” he said flatly. “A statistical anomaly.”