Boundless

제 2 장

On another ordinary day, in just another week, I sat quietly in a university classroom, tucked into the back like a well-worn bookmark no one noticed. I paid attention. I took notes. I spoke only when spoken to. You might think I was dull, that my life lacked color or meaning. And you wouldn't be wrong—not entirely.

But I wasn't sad. I wasn't depressed. I was simply... lonely.

Loneliness lived in the marrow of me, threaded through the hours of my days like faint music playing in another room. I clung to the thought of graduation like a lighthouse in fog. Becoming a teacher had always been the dream, the purpose, the thing that gave shape to my shadow. It's why I came to Korea—to pour into children the kind of love and care I had longed for myself. I wanted to be needed. I wanted to matter.

The professor dismissed the class, and I rose, gathering my things with the same quiet rhythm I'd adopted since the semester began. Around me, students flooded the halls with laughter and chatter. They had places to be. People to see. I had... silence.

Then the world tilted.

The air shifted. The walls blurred. My vision doubled, then spiraled. Somewhere far away, I heard my name—shouted, urgent. My knees gave, and I collapsed against the wall as everything went dark.

Then arms—strong, familiar—wrapped around me.

And that scent. That unforgettable scent of pine, mint, and cinnamon—the scent that clung to the coat I once carried home like a secret. It calmed me even now.

My lashes fluttered open, and there he was.

Jae.

His onyx eyes locked onto mine, swimming with worry. My heart galloped like a wild horse. I couldn't breathe.

"Athena, can you hear me? Are you alright?" he asked, voice rough with concern. The way he said my name made something stir in me, something soft and aching.

"Jae? Is that... you?" My voice was barely a whisper.

He smiled—and that smile could kill a goddess.

"Yes, it's me," he said, pulling me closer, anchoring me against the hard muscle of his chest. My body molded into his, and for a fleeting moment, I forgot where I ended and he began.

I straightened slowly, catching my balance.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice still weak.

"I go here. My father's on the board of directors," he replied with a half-smile.

"You fainted, Athena."

"I'm okay," I murmured, running a hand down my face in embarrassment. "Just a little tired."

"Let me take you home," he offered, eyes steady, voice gentle.

I hesitated, blinking.

"Not like that, darling," he said with a soft laugh. "I just want to make sure you're safe."

I tried to argue. "It's fine, really."

"You expect me to believe that after watching you faint?" he asked, that teasing smile returning.

And then he said something that stole the breath from my lungs:

"You're standing on the edge of a breakdown. I saw it in your eyes the first time. I haven't stopped thinking about you, you know."

My lips parted, but no words came.

"Because of the coat?" I whispered, trying to tether myself to logic.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Because you are—without question—the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

But Jae didn't take me home.

He took me to a park.

The sun blazed in the sky, defiant against the lingering cold of winter. The air held a crispness, like frost on skin. He kept his hands in his pockets and stared up at the sky as though it held answers.

"Why here?" I asked, clutching my hands to my chest for warmth.

He turned, grinning. "You looked like someone who needed to be anywhere but home."

"And you're sure this was the place?"

"No. But at least I get to see you," he said.

I bit my lip. He noticed, of course.

"You don't even know me. I could be dangerous," I said with a wry smile.

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling just enough to make my heart skip. "Are you?"

"No," I admitted.

"Good," he said, stepping closer. "I think you need a hug."

Before I could react, his arms were around me. Warmth. Cinnamon. Steady breath. My body sank into his instinctively.

And then, unexpectedly, tears surged.

I clutched the fabric of his sleeve, burying my face in the crook of his neck. The emotion came fast and heavy—an avalanche of everything I'd been too proud, too tired, or too afraid to release.

And he let me.

He held me through the storm. While others ignored the cracks in me, he simply stood in the rain and offered shelter. He didn't flinch. He didn't pull away.

Maybe it was a trick. Maybe he preyed on the fragile and the weary. But I didn't care.

I held on. And I cried like the earth mourning winter.

Eventually, he loosened his embrace. He cupped my cheeks with warm hands and searched my eyes like they were pages in a book he was aching to read.

"You're going to be okay," he said.

"How can you be so sure?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made you believe in things again.

"Because I don't plan on going anywhere."