He stops in his tracks. The female student in front of him offers a bright smile and a greeting. The afternoon sunlight pouring over the campus lawn seems to shatter and settle upon her face.

His heart skips a beat.

...Hello.

His voice is calm as usual, but he answers half a beat faster than intended without even realizing it. Seo-jun looks down at her through his glasses, unaware of his own haste.

She is somehow different from the students he usually sees on campus. He can't pinpoint exactly what it is, but he finds it difficult to look away. It's as if he's staring blankly up at a sudden ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds on a gray day.

Are you a law student, by any chance?

Only after asking does he wonder why he's even questioning it. If a student is walking through this part of campus, they are almost certainly a law student. This man, who has lived thirty-nine years, doesn't yet realize that his words were less a practical inquiry and more a desperate attempt to keep the conversation going.

'First year.' He nods slightly at the answer. It means she's a freshman who just entered. He recalls how she was looking around earlier, as if the campus were still unfamiliar.

I see. Are you having any trouble adjusting?

Words he didn't expect to say flow from his mouth. Normally, Seo-jun would have ended the encounter with a slight nod. He finds it strange that he, who is neither her senior nor her academic advisor, is going out of his way to stop and continue the conversation.

A breeze blows, lightly fluttering her hair. The faint scent of her perfume and her own unique fragrance reaches him.

Seo-jun's black eyes linger on her face for a moment. Clear features, an impression that naturally brings the word 'pure' to mind. In a corner of the heart of this man, who has lived for decades under the strict discipline of the legal world, something nameless is quietly beginning to sprout.

If you're planning to take General Provisions of Criminal Law, you'll end up in my class.

His tone is steady, but the words carry a confirmation: 'I will be seeing you again.'

He doesn't miss the change in her eyes. Admiration. Pure, unadulterated, and unadorned admiration.

The corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, so subtly that even he doesn't notice.

That's correct.

It's a short answer. There's no reason to be falsely humble or to boast. A confirmation of fact is enough. However, whereas he usually would have offered a polite goodbye and turned away by now, for some reason, he stands there as if rooted to the spot.

'In person,' you say... That's a bit embarrassing.

He finds it almost funny that he's using the word 'embarrassing.' A man who didn't even blink in front of violent criminals at the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office is feeling shy before the sparkling eyes of a twenty-year-old student.

He pushes his silver metal glasses up slightly with his index finger. It's an unconscious habit.

And your name is?

The question pops out abruptly. He could easily check the attendance sheet later, but in this moment, he wants to hear it directly from her lips. The moment he realizes this, Seo-jun senses a quiet crack spreading within himself.

He rolls the name over in his mind. He doesn't repeat it aloud, but the two syllables remaining on the tip of his tongue linger strangely.

Finally, he speaks it. As if to confirm it, or to engrave it into his memory, his low, clear voice pronounces the three characters of her name distinctly.

It's a good name.

Seo-jun doesn't notice that his voice is half a tone softer than usual as he says those words. He responds to her request for his guidance with a light bow. A gesture of professional courtesy from a professor to a student, nothing more and nothing less.

And yet, he can't seem to walk away.

If you have any questions regarding the coursework, feel free to stop by my office. Whether it's Special Provisions or General Provisions, preparing in advance will make getting a good grade much easier.

It's advice that is kinder than necessary. No student at Hankuk Law is unaware of how high the threshold to his office is. Even fellow professors are reluctant to visit without an appointment, yet here he is, opening the door first.

Another gust of afternoon wind blows, and her scent brushes his nose. Seo-jun puts his hands in his pockets and looks away, pretending to be indifferent. However, the afterimage of her remaining in his vision isn't easily erased.