It All Started With A Creepy Mail ⚊ Yang Jungwon [#4]

✗ seventeen ✗

⚊ chapter seventeen

"Don't text and walk."

My inner voice scolds me as I find myself sprawled on the bookstore floor, clutching my throbbing forehead.

The stars in my vision aren't the glamorous ones my dad promised when he convinced me to move to Seoul, but rather the dizzying kind that signal a potential concussion.

How I ended up here is a mystery, just like why my head hurts, my knees buckled, and tears threaten to spill – yet again – since I arrived in this bustling city.

A concerned voice interrupts my thoughts. I resist the urge to look up, fearing that any movement might trigger nausea, adding insult to injury.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I don't respond immediately, but when I finally meet his gaze, I'm greeted by the kind eyes of a boy about my age, his fluffy brown hair and innocent expression reminding me of a loyal puppy.

He's the epitome of sweetness and distraction, the kind of guy who could write love songs and make you laugh until your cheeks hurt.

"I didn’t see you there," I mutter, still trying to make sense of what just happened.

He squats down beside me, concern etched on his face as he assesses the damage.

"Clearly," he chuckles softly, his voice like a soothing melody in the midst of chaos.

"What was that?" I ask in confusion, noting the large object he’s carrying on his back. He follows my gaze and then motions to it.

"That was Lars," he explains.

"Lars?" I repeat, still trying to shake off the dizziness. "Your guitar has a name?"

"Yup. Lars. Are you sure you’re okay? I'm really sorry about not seeing you on my way," he says, his concern genuine.

"Had worse things," I admit sheepishly, still a bit dazed.

He offers a hand, helping me up with surprising ease.

"I'm really sorry. Totally my fault," he continues, pocketing his phone and carefully placing Lars against a nearby stack of books.

A Drippin' sticker catches my eye, and suddenly everything clicks – he must be Minseo, the son of the bookstore owner and the talk of our group chat.

"Wait, you're Minseo, right?" I ask, trying to piece together the puzzle that is my current predicament.

His response is playful, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he meets my gaze.

"That depends on whether you’re planning to sue me," he says, his grin widening. I can see the resemblance between him and his mother, both wearing the same generous smile.

"Nope," I reply, relieved that a lawsuit isn’t in order. "I’m Jilian, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Jilian. So, what can I do for you? I clearly owe you one," he offers, genuine concern evident in his voice.

I hesitate, drawing on Shaira’s advice to be undeniable.

"Actually, I was wondering if there's any way you could give up some of your hours at the bookstore. I just moved to Seoul and really need a job," I explain, my voice tinged with both hope and desperation.

Minseo’s eyes widen slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Really? Well, you’re in luck. I was just thinking about cutting back my hours to focus more on my music. But why didn't you just ask my mom?"