It was a fluffy afternoon in the beginning of autumn when Huisoo found herself driving her father’s car to Pyeongchang-dong, after a long, small talk with Jongin's mother over the phone—conveying how worried she was about how Jongin managed his siblings at home. She whined about how indisciplined Sejong had become with his school in her absence, and how worried she was that Jongshin had been sleeping out more frequently.

           “Jongin is a filial son. He's responsible, but he's been so busy with work. Would you mind checking the boys up for me?”

She recalled the conversation she had earlier with his mother. Though she could not care less about the matter, she answered politely with a promise to find some time during the day to go and see them. Yes, Jongshin and Sejong were young, but they were not kids anymore. Even without adult's supervision, it was very unlikely they would set the house on fire. But indifferent as she was about her relationship with Jongin, she did not dare offend Jongin's mother with insensitive comments. Looking at a brighter side, perhaps she did that to help her grow close to Jongin and his siblings, like the way her parents set things up to make way for Jongin and her to meet.

Truthfully, Huisoo had long planned to swing by their house as a common courtesy. But other than his mother and Inhwa, she in fact, had not managed to maintain what could be called a cordial relationship with the boys of the family. She had been overthinking about the potential awkward moments in which she had always had difficulty to handle.

Call it a push today, there she was making a final turn at the last intersection before slowing down the car as a tall red-brick wall came to view at a distance. She pulled over in front of a black metal gate with a huge name plat on the right side of it engraved with very familiar Japanese characters that over the years, Huisoo had come to understand as ‘Manor of the Bright’.

As she was walking through the front yard after the gate was opened, she was greeted by a middle-aged housemaid who notified an unsolicited information which on the contrary affected her with warmth and familiarity.

            “I saw Agashi on the CCTV monitor, so I came out.” Harmless and comforting, knowing that someone in this cold house was actually welcoming her arrival.

She bowed politely before making her way inside and caught a teenage boy in his track pants and a black t-shirt, slouching on the sofa in the TV room.

           “Sejong!” She called out as if she had been close enough do that. She watched the thin boy who was graced with a pair of filmy eyes lazily rise to give her a poilte, stiff bow.

She chuckled lightly and asked him about his well-being to which the younger replied with a polite nod. Yeah, he was not relatively friendly, but she knew he was not intentionally hostile. Huisoo also adored his unique physical attribute. When Jongin first took her here a few days before their engagement, Sejong’s stunning hair color astonished her in a way that it stayed the way she remembered it. It did not grow long and the colour was exactly how she remembered it. He was probably six or seven the last time she saw him during her high school days, and she remembered that Jongin and Jongshin used to have dark hair, except this one boy, with distinct faint yellow hair; which stunned her the most. It still did though when she came here a few months back before the engagement. She did not dare ask Jongin about it at that time because she had not thought it was an "Okay" topic to bring up, considering their relationship. But the following week when she asked Inhwa, the youngest, she answered that it was an inborn. She said that he took it from their great-grandfather.

            “Did your Mom tell you about her plan to return?” She asked as she tore open the seal of the grapes box she picked up on her way there, then offered Sejong some.

There was a gap of silence as the highschooler decided to take a few grapes into his mouth and slowly devoured the fruit before responding.

            “Inhwa said she liked it there, not sure if that means they'd stay longer.” He said and then glued his eyes on the TV again. Well, not quite answering her question, but she concluded that he was suggesting he knew nothing about the length of their stay.

A few minutes of silence, and that was the last thing they were talking about. However curious she was about why he chose to spend the short autumn holiday in Seoul instead of coming along to Iwate with Inhwa and his mother, she saved that for when they finally grew comfortable with each other's presence. When exactly, she had no idea.

            “What shows did you watch earlier?” She asked to lessen the awkwardness between them. She looked at him as if giving a sign that she needed his reply.

            “Football.” Lips opened slightly.

Her eyes beamed in constant.

            “Ow, I watch football, too,” She turned her head to face the TV, “Not all of them, just the ones with Manchester City on it.” She clarified though unsought. Really, it was like a habit to brag about her interest, it just slipped out of .

Sejong let out a short chuckle.

            “Why? You're not a Manchester United fan, are you?” She chipped randomly, basically trying to keep the conversation on.

He snorted like a gentleman, “Well... I'm a loyal Gooners."

Huisoo narrowed her eyes dramatically, “Oh, right. Mesut Ozil just transferred and suddenly they become all unbeatable. I see why you like them.”

Strugling to find a suitable title to address the doctor, Sejong retorted quickly, “Nn- no, of course not... Noonim.”

She giggled, “I see that you are quite happy that they are on the top standings.”

By that, Sejong instantly turned his head to her. Never once did he believe that there was really a woman creature in his country who watched football very dilligently that they kept an eye on team standings-- explained why he seemed to have been responding Huisoo’s self-proclaims unexcitedly.

            “It's hard to believe you watch footbal.” He eyed her with an incredulous spark. This time, he was letting the fact sink in.

 Han Huisoo sighed theatrically.

            “Shoot, Kim Sejong, did someone betray you before?” She growled, evoking some chuckles from the younger.

          “Why?” He threw his back on the backrest of the sofa, watching Huisoo with complete interest-- like she was finally worthy of his attention now.

            “Because it's so hard to impress you.” She whined with a staged absurd look on the boy.

He chuckled again; longer this time that the muse was mirrored in his eyes. “So, football things are lies?”

Huisoo didn’t answer immediately, instead, she took another grapes into , then turned to look at him again. She pulled a wide smile.

            “Of course not. I've watched Manchester City since I was 16,” She rubbed her temple, ready to continue her story, “But wait. Won’t you get me something to drink?”

Sejong scoffed slightly, his heart was light. The shifts in Huisoo's characters were too fast he could not keep up. First, she talked about football. Second, she made him converse. Then a few miliseconds later