Ha Yi-chan’s world revolved around music, dreams, and the girl he was sure he liked—Choi Se-kyung. Yi-chan was loud, confident, and always sprinting toward the next moment without looking back. His band, Viva la Vida, was a chaotic collection of energy and ambition, and he thrived in the center of it all for sure!

Then came the new guy—Ha Eun-gyeol. Yi-chan didn’t know it yet, but Eun-gyeol was his future son, thrown decades into the past. All Yi-chan saw at first was a fellow musician with surprising talent and a weird obsession with his love life. Eun-gyeol kept pushing him away from Se-kyung, whispering things like, "She's not the one. You're supposed to be with her!"—her being someone Yi-chan had never even heard of.

No joke—he thought Eun-gyeol had lost it.

Until a random morning, during attendance check, the teacher called out a name he had never paid attention to before. She was in his class? Since when?

There she sat—quiet, book in hand, head slightly down, eyes not meeting anyone else's. She wasn’t just quiet, she was still. Like a part of the classroom itself, always present but never noticed. Yi-chan blinked. Had she really always been there?

Blame Eun-gyeol for what happened next. Curiosity—it got the best of Yi-chan. The more he saw her, the more he noticed what he hadn’t before: the way she observed people without needing to speak. She didn’t try to impress, didn’t chase attention, and certainly didn’t laugh at all his jokes. That last one kind of hurt his pride. Just a little.

He still liked Se-kyung... right?

Then why did his eyes wander to the back of the classroom during breaks? Cheong-ah noticed. Even Se-kyung glanced his way more often, probably wondering what had shifted in his orbit.

It all started like this...and Eun-gyeol again. That guy was persistent.

"Go talk to her," he whispered, nudging Yi-chan’s arm for the third time during lunch break.

"Who? Se-kyung?" Yi-chan blinked, mouth half-full of gimbap.

"No! Not Se-kyung! Her!" Eun-gyeol jabbed a finger across the courtyard. Yi-chan followed the direction—and saw her sitting alone under the oak tree.

"Her?? She never even looks up!" Yi-chan waved a hand. "I tried waving at her last week. She looked at me like I was a seagull."

Eun-gyeol rolled his eyes. "Just. Go."

Yi-chan grumbled, still chewing. "Why do you care who I talk to? What, you get paid commission if I say hi?"

But Eun-gyeol’s look was intense. Like a coach who’d bet his life savings on the most unlikely player. With a dramatic sigh (and a mental note to one day figure out what Eun-gyeol’s deal was), Yi-chan stood up, brushed off imaginary dust from his uniform, and jogged over like he had something important to say. Which—he didn’t. He absolutely did not.

"Yo!" he said, too loud, like a car backfiring in a library. Yi-chan suddenly forgot how words worked. Why was it quiet now? Where was his usual charm?

He cleared his throat. "I, uh... noticed you... exist."

What. What?! He mentally winced.