❥ || chapter ten

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The festival was supposed to be the turning point.

In the original show, it was always episode fifteen. The annual Seoul Lantern Festival. Glittering lights, heart fluttering confessions, the whole cast swept into one magical evening. And somewhere between the lantern release and the final act, Park Sunghoon died.

Hit by a car.

Saving Eunseo.

I remembered watching the scene for the first time, tears streaming down my face as Sunghoon shoved Eunseo out of the way and took the full force of the impact. It was brutal, tragic, and scripted so beautifully that fans flooded forums for weeks, begging the writers to bring him back.

But this time, I wasn't going to be an audience member.

I was going to change it.

"Are you sure you can't come?" I asked Sunghoon for the third time that morning.

He glanced up from his mug of steaming coffee, eyebrow raised. "Eun, I already told you. I've got that night shift at the café tonight. Mr. Oh begged me to cover."

"You could cancel," I tried, casually leaning against the break room counter. "I mean, it's just one shift. And it's a festival. It only comes once a year."

Sunghoon smiled, warm and unassuming. "You really want me to go that bad?"

No. Because if you go, you die.

"I just thought it'd be nice," I said instead, shrugging. "You know. Lanterns. Street food." Mild emotional trauma. "The usual."

He laughed. "Tempting. But I promised Mr. Oh. And besides, someone's gotta keep the old espresso machine from exploding."

I nodded, trying not to let the relief show on my face.

If Sunghoon didn't go to the festival, then the accident couldn't happen. I had rerouted the scene. Steered the script off course.

Or so I thought.

Later that afternoon, as I shoved a scarf and gloves into my purse, Sunghoon leaned into the doorway of my office. "Hey... I changed my mind."

I turned sharply. "What?"

"Mr. Oh let me off early. Said something about wanting to close up before the roads get too jammed tonight. So... I figured I'd might as well go. You know, maybe check out the lantern prep, see the lights."

My heart dropped.

"The festival's not till later this week," I said cautiously.

Sunghoon shrugged. "I know. But the booths are already setting up, and some of the earlier lanterns go up tonight. Figured it might be less crowded."

He offered a sheepish smile. "Surprise."

My brain scrambled. Even if the full festival hadn't started, the scene could still unfold. The accident didn't care about timetables.

I forced a grin. "Right. That's... great. I'll see you later, then."

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But I didn't see Sunghoon.

Because Heeseung had texted, unexpectedly, asking if we could meet. Something about discussing "timing." And I knew better than to say no. If the story needed me and Heeseung to share a scene, I couldn't risk derailing too much too fast.

So instead of heading toward the setup by the plaza, I met Heeseung near the river walk, where the city lights shimmered off the water and the air carried the sharp bite of early fall. We wandered along the path, bundled up, sipping canned coffee from a vending machine tucked behind a bookstore. The rhythm of our steps slowly matched, our conversation weaving between guarded curiosity and genuine moments.

Heeseung looked especially striking against the evening skyline, dressed in his usual muted palette, his coat buttoned neatly, hair tousled just enough to look artfully unbothered.

"So what exactly are we discussing?" I asked.

"Timing," he repeated. "Of meetings, of scenes. Of certain people showing up when they're needed."

He didn't elaborate, but I caught the pointed glance he gave me. There was something deeper under the surface, something suspicious and calculating. Was he catching on?

I gave a light laugh. "You make it sound like we're in a script."

He didn't laugh back. Just stared at me a second longer than necessary, and then kept walking.

Despite the tension, there were flickers of something softer. Heeseung wasn't smiling exactly, but his eyes weren't as cold as before. He nodded at my dumb jokes, offered his scarf when a gust of wind caught me off guard, and when our fingers accidentally brushed reaching for the same snack, he didn't pull away.

We stopped by a street corner to watch a couple string fairy lights across their storefront, and for a moment, it almost felt normal. The conversation turned casual. Talk of favourite winter drinks, the best convenience store ramen, even a shared distaste for pineapple on pizza.

Until I stepped back to take a photo, and into the street.

A flash of motion. Headlights. The blaring honk of a scooter horn.

Then arms wrapped around me, yanking me sideways. I stumbled hard into a solid chest, the breath knocked out of me. We spun slightly from the force, my head knocking lightly against someone's shoulder.

Sunghoon.

His arms were still around me, strong and steady, anchoring me like I might float away. One hand cupped the back of my head instinctively, the other still braced against my waist. His heartbeat pounded against mine, quick and alive.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low, rattled.

I nodded, dazed. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

The scooter skidded past us, the driver waving apologetically. "Sorry! Didn't see you there!"

Heeseung had turned at the noise, striding back toward us. His eyes flicked to Sunghoon's arms still around me, then to my face.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"I- I wasn't paying attention," I stammered. "I stepped back without looking."

Sunghoon let go slowly, but his hand lingered at my elbow, reluctant.

"Good thing I was walking by," he murmured, like he hadn't entirely meant to be.

I looked up at him, and for a moment the city felt hushed. Just the two of us in the halo of the streetlight, hearts racing.

His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. A subtle, intimate gesture. The kind of thing that wouldn't have registered as important, except now, every moment with him felt fragile. Precious. Borrowed.

He wasn't supposed to be there. He had said he'd go to the early festival setup. But somehow, he'd ended up here. With me. Again.

The near miss. The timing. The way our paths had aligned regardless.

This wasn't coincidence. It was the story adjusting, reshaping the scene to create the same emotional impact, even without the festival backdrop.

It was romantic, in a terrifying way. Terrifying, because it meant no matter how hard I tried to redirect things, the pull of the original narrative was strong. Strong enough to rearrange characters, scenes, even whole settings, just to meet its emotional limit.

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Later that night, after walking with Sunghoon home, again, and making him promise to message me the moment he was settled, I sat at my desk, fingers trembling.

I flipped to a new page in my notebook and wrote at the top, RULES OF THE STORY.

1. Events may shift, but emotional beats remain

2. Fate can bend, but it doesn't break easily

3. The closer to the climax, the harder the story fights back

4. Sunghoon is still in danger

5. Coincidences are rarely just that

I stared at the words, my pen hovering.

I had tried to cheat the script.

And the script had cheated back.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ♡ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

a/n: grammarly did NOT do its job, ts had sooo many typos 🤧

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