Autumn came quietly. The trees on campus turned orange and yellow.
The wind was cooler now. It blew under jackets and flipped book pages. It reminded everyone time kept moving.
Minjae walked the same paths every day. The leaves crunched under his shoes.
But even with the autumn smell, he didn't feel anything inside.
He felt out of place.
That afternoon, Hana ran up to him outside the lecture hall.
"Hey," she said, out of breath, her hair messy.
Minjae stopped and looked back.
"Why do you always look so serious?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm just thinking."
"About what?" she pressed.
"Stuff. School, life… things I don't really get."
She smiled. "Me too. Sometimes I feel like I'm pretending to have it all figured out."
He looked at her. "You? Pretending?"
She laughed. "Definitely. Everyone does."
They stood quiet for a moment.
"Want to grab some coffee?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."
They sat by the window at the café. Steam rose from their mugs.
Outside, some students threw leaves at each other. Hana laughed.
She said, "In high school, I was in drama club. One time, I set off the fire alarm by accident during rehearsal."
Minjae smiled.
She added, "And I can't eat mint chocolate anymore after a bad cooking date."
He nodded.
She asked, "What's your favorite movie?"
He thought and said, "I don't really have one."
"Not even a guilty pleasure?"
He shrugged. "Romantic comedies confuse me."
She laughed so hard she almost spit out her drink. "Maybe you're too logical."
"Or maybe," he said, "I'm just old-fashioned."
She leaned in and whispered, "You're a mystery wrapped in an enigma."
He laughed.
"It's weird how easy this is," he said.
"Yeah," she smiled. "I like talking to you."
Over the next few weeks, their friendship found rhythm—not in big moments but small, quiet ones.
Passing each other in hallways.
Swapping study notes.
Sitting quietly with coffee after class, not needing to say much.
One day, Hana brought snacks because Minjae forgot to eat.
Another time, he helped her fix her laptop when it crashed before a paper was due.
They didn't call it anything. And Minjae liked it that way.
Maybe he liked it better when things didn't have a name.
In Business Strategy, Jiha surprised him.
She listened more than talked, but when she spoke, it counted.
She asked sharp questions. She wanted to know the why, not just the answer.
Minjae liked that.
It reminded him of meetings from his past life—times when every word mattered.
One afternoon, after talking about business ethics, they left the lecture hall together.
"You're not just about numbers, right?" she said.
"No," he said. "There's more I don't say."
She didn't ask more. Just looked at him and nodded. "Figured."
Meanwhile, the world kept changing, not noticing the boy who saw what was coming.
Minjae watched his investments carefully.
When news about international problems came, he looked deeper.
When money values changed, he moved his money.
He didn't take big risks. But he didn't miss chances either.
He studied old market crashes like others studied books.
He knew something big was coming in 2020.
He didn't know what exactly or how bad it would be, but it felt like the calm before a storm.
So, quietly, he got ready.
One evening, he was reading in the living room when his mom came in with a cup of tea and put it beside him.
"Are you happy, Minjae?" she asked.
He looked up, surprised.
"Happiness is... complicated," he said after a pause.
She smiled and tucked a hair behind her ear. "Sometimes, just moving forward is enough."
He nodded slowly as she walked away.
The tea was a little cold, but he drank it anyway.
Her words stayed with him longer than the warmth.
The days passed quietly.
Minjae started to feel different. Not better or worse. Just… different.
He laughed at Hana's jokes.
He debated ideas with Jiha.
He watched leaves fall outside the dorm window and felt something. Not quite joy, but a small kind of peace.
One evening, as they sat together on a bench after class, Hana looked at him and asked, "Do you ever think about what you want?"
Minjae thought for a moment.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm just moving through things."
She nodded.
"Me too," she said.
"But I guess that's okay," Minjae added.
"Yeah," she smiled. "Maybe it is."
One day, Minjae caught Hana staring at him during class.
"What?" he whispered.
"Nothing," she said, smiling.
"You were staring," he said.
She shrugged. "You just look serious all the time. I wondered what's behind that."
He looked down.
"Maybe it's nothing," he said.
"Maybe," she said softly.
One afternoon, Jiha came up to him after class.
"Minjae, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Do you ever feel like you don't belong?"
He looked surprised.
"All the time," he said.
She smiled sadly.
"Me too," she said.
They stood silent for a moment.
Weeks went by. Minjae's world felt a little warmer, a little less heavy.
But he still kept his distance. He didn't want to get too close.
One night, standing by the campus bridge, he looked at the water.
The moon was bright, but no magic stirred.
No voices whispered secrets.
Just water moving quietly.
Maybe that was enough.
Maybe being here, just like this, was enough.
The next day, Hana joined him outside the lecture hall again.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," he replied.
"You look better today."
Minjae smiled. "Thanks. Maybe I am."
She nudged him playfully.
"See? You're not so serious after all."
He laughed.
"Maybe not," he said.
"Good," she said.
They walked together toward class.
As the semester went on, Minjae started to understand something.
He didn't have to carry everything alone.
He didn't have to be perfect.
He could just be himself.
And maybe, that was enough.