maybe, baby?

People think that romance is about fate, serendipity, or destiny. But with me in the picture, give or take, it’s probably not. It’s definitely the familiarity and proximity brought by yours truly—

The reputation I garnered in campus is that I was the legendary “Cupid.”

The influence I have just follows the path I take, I just give the little nudge so that flap of the wings of a little butterfly becomes a love storm in the Engineering Building.

My odd nature of being a floater is that I get to know lots of people, and with that I serve as a bridge—or more specific—the “Cupid.”

The moment I work my “magic” is when I become the catalyst of a hangout between multiple friend groups, I pump up the bros, I empathize with the gals, and then—I back off. Why? Me being the common denominator becomes the foundation of their talking stages, and then, Boom! The spark catches.

By the time that I’m out of the picture, they’ve already built a natural, unbreakable connection. It’s a guaranteed, 100 percent success rate. I’m definitely the LeBron in this game.

Ahn Yu-jin, however, thinks that I have a borderline savior complex.

“You get too invested in others’ lives, Seung-ji. You’re being too busy being a bridge that’s used—again and again—aren’t you studying Civil Engineering? You know that—”

“I know, Yu-jin-ie. Just let me lay my head down for a while…”

As I lay down my head, I try to recall as to why Kazuha is avoiding me—I just confessed that I like her—why is she avoiding me all of a sudden?

It feels very ironic now that the legendary cupid falls short. Pfft.

Yu-jin is the anomaly in my perfectly calculated data. She is the only person on this entire campus who is completely immune to my system.

We actually met back in our freshman year, right here in this very PC cafe. I was at the peak of my social-butterfly phase, trying to merge the varsity athletes with the e-sports crowd. I had targeted Yu-jin because she was a regular here, quietly grinding her way through rank matches while simultaneously finishing her calculus homework. I thought she’d be the perfect match for this shy point guard I knew.

I gave her my best pitch. I used my signature charm, laid out all the common denominators, and tried to be the smooth bridge.

She didn’t even blink. She just pushed those thick, clear-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose and completely dismantled my entire strategy in three brutal, highly analytical sentences. She told me I was treating human emotion like a logistical equation and told me to get out of her lane.

I was stunned. Nobody had ever seen right through the "Cupid" act before. But instead of being offended, I was relieved. With Yu-jin, I didn't have to perform. I didn't have to manage the vibe, pump anyone up, or calculate my next move. She became my sanctuary—the one person I could just be an exhausted, chaotic mess around.

Since then, she’s been my sounding board, my reality check, and my best friend. She anchored the corner booth; I complained about the heavy lifting of my matchmaking empire. It was a perfect dynamic.

Until tonight, when the empire came crashing down around me because of Kazuha.

I let out another pathetic groan, pressing my face harder into the table.

The neon sign outside the 24-hour PC cafe was flickering again, casting erratic washes of deep blue and harsh pink across our corner booth. It was past midnight, the air humming with the sound of cooling fans and furious keyboard clicking from the gaming pods a few aisles over.

"I just don't get it," I grumbled, voice muffled against my palms. "I practically orchestrated Ji-hoon and Min-ji's entire relationship from scratch, and they're celebrating their one-year anniversary today. I spent three weeks pretending I liked indie folk music just to get them in the same room. I have a one hundred percent success rate, Yu-jin. One hundred. So why am I cursed?"

Across the cramped table, Yu-jin slowly turned a page of her textbook. She was in her usual uniform: an oversized cardigan, her hair slightly ruffled from running her hands through it, and those clear-framed glasses she always hid behind.

"Maybe you should just stick to playing Cupid," she murmured, not looking up from her notes. "You get too invested when it's your own life."

"Maybe I should," I sighed, finally lifting my head and leaning back against the cracked vinyl wall. "Honestly, I'm better at fixing other people's lives anyway. Hey, actually—what about you? I know a guy in the architecture department who is totally your type. Quiet, likes museums, tall. I could talk to him tomorrow and—"

"Don't."

The word cut through the ambient noise of the cafe, sharper than I had ever heard her speak.

I blinked, dropping my gaze back to the table. Yu-jin had pushed her textbook aside. The sudden, chaotic blue light from the window illuminated her face, catching the reflection in her clear frames. She usually kept her head down, avoiding direct eye contact, but not right now.

Before I could ask what was wrong, she leaned directly across the table, closing the distance between us in a single, fluid motion.

I froze. She was entirely in my space, so close I could see the slight unsteadiness of her breathing, though her expression was pure stone. She was staring at me with an unblinking, terrifying intensity. The timid, quiet girl I'd known for years was suddenly looking at me like she wanted to say something unhinged.

"Yu-jin?" I breathed out, my back pressing firmly against the booth. My heart had suddenly decided to start hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

She didn't retreat. If anything, her gaze intensified, dissecting my sudden panic. She chewed gently on her bottom lip—a habit of hers I'd learned meant she had made up her mind about something important.

"You're a genius when it comes to everyone else's love lives, Seung-ji," she whispered, her voice low and steady. Her eyes dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second before locking fiercely back onto mine. "But you're a complete idiot when it comes to your own."

I swallowed hard, my brain short-circuiting. The legendary Cupid was suddenly the one being backed into a corner, completely out of his depth. "What are you talking ab—"

"Stop trying to set me up," she commanded, the neon light throwing dramatic shadows across her face. "I don't want the guy from architecture. I don't want anyone from your perfectly curated lists."

"Then... who do you want?" I asked, my voice barely above a rasp.

Yu-jin didn’t hesitate. "I want the stupid matchmaker."

For a solid minute, the only sound in the entire world was the furious, mechanical clack-clack-clack of a keyboard from the next aisle.

My brain completely flatlined. I was the bridge. I was the common denominator. I was the guy on the sidelines with the master spreadsheet. I didn't get confessed to—especially not by my terrifyingly observant best friend who was currently invading my personal space and making my heart do things that definitely weren't in any of my calculations!

I stared into her dark eyes, catching the neon reflection in her lenses. All the data points I had somehow missed over the last two years suddenly slammed together to form a very obvious, glaringly bright picture.

The way she never actually took me up on my matchmaking offers. The way she always anchored this specific booth just in case I needed a place to crash. The fact that she put up with my ridiculous, chaotic energy when she didn't have the patience for literally anyone else on campus.

The legendary Cupid, completely blind to the arrow sticking out of his own chest.

The intense, cinematic gravity of the moment hung in the air between us, heavy and electric. My reputation as the smooth, confident campus maestro evaporated entirely under her stare. I was just a guy, suddenly hyper-aware of the pretty girl leaning across the table, so close I could smell her vanilla lip balm and stale PC cafe coffee.

I swallowed hard, feeling a ridiculous, breathless smile start to pull at the corners of my mouth. The algorithm didn't work on me because the answer had already been sitting across from me the entire time. I just needed her to give me the final nudge.

Yu-jin raised an eyebrow, her expression softening just a fraction, waiting for my system to reboot.

"So..." I managed to choke out, my voice cracking in a way that instantly destroyed whatever cool factor I had left. I let out a nervous laugh and leaned in just a fraction to meet her halfway. "Maybe, baby?"