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The lecture hall buzzed with anticipation as students settled into their seats. It was a debate day, and that meant one thing: Sunjae and Sol would be going head-to-head again. Everyone in the university’s debate club knew that when these two clashed, sparks flew.
Sunjae, with his effortless charm and sharp tongue, was the reigning champion of the club. Sol, on the other hand, was known for her meticulous research and logical precision, never missing a beat in her arguments. Their rivalry had been the talk of the club since their freshman year.
Sunjae leaned back in his chair, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he watched Sol prepare her notes across the room. He had to admit, she was good—no, she was excellent. But he wasn’t about to let her know that. It was too much fun getting under her skin.
Sol caught his gaze and narrowed her eyes. She knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone who knew they were good and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it. Well, she wasn’t going to let him get to her today. This debate was hers to win.
“Alright everyone, settle down,” the club president called out, bringing the room to order. “Let’s get today’s debate started. Sunjae, Sol, you’re up.”
Sunjae and Sol took their places at the front of the room, facing off with the intensity of their rivalry etched into their expressions.
As the debate kicked off, their arguments flew back and forth like rapid-fire, each rebuttal sharper than the last. Sunjae’s charisma was on full display, effortlessly swaying the audience with his persuasive points. Sol, however, countered each of his points with cold, hard facts, her logic impeccable.
As the debate wore on, the tension in the room grew. The students watched in awe as Sunjae and Sol went toe-to-toe, neither allowing the other to get the upper-hand.
But when the debate ended, and the president announced Sol as the winner, Sunjae’s smirk faded just a little. She shot him a triumphant look, which only fueled his determination to beat her next time.
After the debate, the club members gathered around, congratulating Sol on her victory. Sunjae hung back, his expression unreadable. He could admit when someone deserved to win, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
As the room cleared out, the club president approached Sunjae and Sol.
“Hey, great job today, both of you. I’ve got some exciting news. Our university has been invited to participate in the inter-university debate championship next month.”
Sunjae raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And…” the president continued, “I’ve decided that you two will represent our university as a team.”
The room fell silent. Sunjae and Sol stared at the president in disbelief.
“A team?” Sol echoed, her voice laced with scepticism. “You want us to work together?”
“Exactly,” the president said, smiling as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “You’re our best debaters. If anyone can bring home the trophy, it’s you two.”
Sunjae and Sol exchanged wary glances. This was going to be interesting.
Im Sol had always been the best at everything she did. Her sharp mind and relentless drive made her the top student in her department and an unstoppable force in the university’s debate club.
But being the best came at a cost.
It meant fewer friends, more enemies, and a reputation that often preceded her—cold, arrogant, unapproachable. And then there was Ryu Sunjae, her equal in every way but also her fiercest rival.
From the moment they both joined the debate club, it was as if the universe had decided they were destined to clash. Sunjae was charismatic and brilliant, his arguments razor-sharp and delivered with a confidence that made even the most steadfast opponents waver. It drove Sol crazy—how he could be so good and yet so infuriatingly smug about it.
So when they were paired together for the upcoming inter-university debate championship, Sol wasn’t thrilled. She knew they were the best chance their university had to win, but the idea of spending late nights preparing with him was less than appealing. And it seemed Sunjae felt the same way.
Their first practice session was a disaster.
Sunjae and Sol sat across from each other in the empty debate room, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension.
Sol had spread out her notes, carefully organised by topic, while Sunjae leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too relaxed for Sol’s liking.
“We need to establish a strategy,” Sol began, trying to maintain a professional tone. “We should divide the arguments based on our strengths.”
Sunjae shrugged. “I don’t need a strategy. I just go with the flow.”
Sol resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “That might work for you, but we’re a team now. We need to be on the same page.”
“Sure,” Sunjae said, leaning forward with a grin. “As long as the page isn’t your entire research paper, I’m good.”
Sol shot him a glare. “This isn’t a joke, Sunjae. We’re up against the best debaters in the country.”
“And I’m one of the best,” he shot back. “So maybe you should relax a little and trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“Trust you?” Sol couldn’t help but scoff. “You never take anything seriously.”
“I take winning seriously,” Sunjae retorted. “And that’s what we’re going to do.”
The argument escalated from there, both of them too stubborn to back down. It wasn’t until Sol, frustrated beyond words, stormed out of the room that Sunjae realised just how badly their partnership was going. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. This was going to be harder than he thought.
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The following afternoon, Sol headed towards the debate club room to meet with Sunjae again. Their first practice session didn’t exactly go as planned.
But after thinking about it for some time, and talking with her best friend, Hyunjoo, it seemed like it wouldn’t be too bad. As long as he stopped getting on her nerves, it was going to be fine.
They’d eventually realise that they’re working towards the same goal so surely they’d be able to get over their differences, right?
As she approached the open doors of the room, she overheard Sunjae talking with a couple of his friends. She wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but something about the tone of their conversation made her pause.
“She’s so fucking annoying,” Sunjae’s voice cut through the air, sharp and frustrated.
Sol froze. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment before it resumed beating, faster and harder than before. He was talking about her. Of course, he was. Who else could he possibly be referring to?
She pressed herself against the wall, just out of sight, as the words sank in. Who was she kidding? Of course, her number one rival would hate her. But it still stung to hear the words come out of his mouth, to know that he found her so irritating that he had to vent about it to his friends. Each word jabbed sharply into her stomach, twisting the knife deeper with every syllable.
Sunjae's friends chuckled, and one of them responded, "You know, it's crazy how you two always end up in these intense debates. It’s like you thrive on being at each other’s throats."
“Yeah, but it’s exhausting,” Sunjae replied, his voice tinged with frustration. “I mean, she’s good, really good, but she’s always so condescending about it. Like she thinks she’s the only one who knows anything.”
Sol felt a pang of hurt at his words. It felt like a punch to the gut, and she tried to keep her emotions in check, even though her throat felt tight.
“Maybe you just need to find a way to work with her,” another friend suggested. “You never know, you might actually get along better than you think.”
Sunjae snorted. “I doubt it. She’s got this attitude that makes everything more complicated. I just want to get through this championship without losing my mind.”
Sol's breath caught in her throat. She took a step back, trying to distance herself from the conversation, but her foot scraped against the floor, making a noise.
“Did you hear that?” one of Sunjae’s friends asked, looking towards the door.
Sol panicked and quickly turned to leave, but before she could make it far, Sunjae's voice called out. “Sol? Is that you?”
Caught in the act, Sol had no choice but to turn around and face them. Sunjae looked surprised, and there was a moment of awkward silence before he cleared his throat.
“Uh… hi,” Sol said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just—”
“Wait, Sol, listen,” Sunjae interrupted, stepping forward. His face was a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine,” Sol said quickly, cutting him off. She didn’t want to hear any more excuses. “I get it. I’m annoying, right? You said it yourself, I’ll just go.”
As she turned to leave, Sunjae reached out, grabbing her arm gently. “Sol, wait. I—”
“Really, it’s fine,” she insisted, pulling away. “I’m used to it.”
With that, she walked away, her mind racing with hurt and confusion. The thought of working with Sunjae now seemed impossible, and she felt a deep, gnawing disappointment in her chest.
As Sol walked away, Sunjae stood frozen, feeling a deep sense of guilt wash over him. He hadn’t meant for her to overhear his frustration, and now he was faced with the reality of the hurt he had caused.
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The days that followed were painfully awkward. Sol and Sunjae had no choice but to continue practicing together, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.
At first, Sol tried to keep her distance, showing up just in time for practice and leaving the moment they were done. But as the competition loomed closer, they both knew they couldn’t afford to let their personal issues affect their performance.
Reluctantly, Sol began to stay later, working through their arguments and strategies with the same intensity she always brought to the table.
And something began to shift.
Sunjae, who had always seen Sol as a cold, unapproachable rival, started to notice things beyond her icy image. The way her brow furrowed in concentration as she scribbled notes in the margins of her debate prep. The way her voice softened when she was truly passionate about a topic. The small, almost imperceptible smiles she gave when they finally nailed a particularly tricky argument.
Sol, too, found herself noticing things about Sunjae she had overlooked. His determination, his willingness to push himself and her to be better, the rare moments of vulnerability he let slip when he thought she wasn’t looking. They were still rivals, still competitive to the core, but there was an underlying respect that hadn’t been there before.
As they spent more time together, they started to open up. Sunjae confided in Sol about the pressure he felt to live up to everyone’s expectations, revealing a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. Sol, in turn, admitted her fears of not being good enough, of always feeling like she had to prove herself. These late-night conversations in the library became a regular occurrence, and with each one, they grew closer.
One night, after a particularly productive session, they decided to take a break. They walked around campus, the cool night air refreshing after hours spent indoors.
“You know,” Sunjae said, glancing at Sol, “I never really thought we’d make a good team.”
“Neither did I,” Sol admitted with a small smile. “But we do.”
“Yeah,” Sunjae agreed. “We do.”
They walked in silence for a while, the comfortable kind of silence that comes with understanding. For the first time, Sunjae found himself noticing things about Sol that he hadn’t before—like the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about, or how when she smiled, a small dimple would appear on her right cheek.
He realised that somewhere along the way, his feelings toward her had shifted. What was once rivalry had turned into something more, something he wasn’t quite sure how to handle.
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One afternoon, after a particularly gruelling practice, Sunjae lingered in the debate room, mulling over their session. Sol had already left, or so he thought. As he walked out of the room, he overheard a group of girls talking near the entrance. Normally, he would have ignored them, but then he heard Sol’s name.
“Who does Sol think she is? She’s so annoying,” one girl scoffed.
“Yeah, she’s always acting like a know-it-all,” another replied, her tone dripping with disdain. “Do you guys think she’s just doing all that to impress Sunjae?”
“Probably,” the first girl said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not fair that Sunjae has to deal with her for the debate competition.”
Something inside Sunjae snapped. Without thinking, he stepped forward, his voice low and dangerously calm. “What do you mean by that?”
The girls turned around, startled by his sudden appearance. “W-Well, you know how Sol is,” one of them stammered, her confidence wavering under Sunjae’s intense gaze. “There’s a reason she doesn’t have that many friends.”
She let out a wicked laugh, but it faltered when she saw the expression on Sunjae’s face. A rush of anger surged through him, making his hands clench into fists.
“No,” he said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. “You don’t know anything about her. Sol works incredibly hard and she’s brilliant. Just because she’s focused doesn’t mean she’s trying to impress anyone.”
The girls fell silent, their faces pale as Sunjae walked past them, his jaw tight with anger. He couldn’t believe the things they were saying about Sol—about the person he had spent the last few weeks getting to know, the person he was starting to see in a different light.
In the corner of his eye, he recognised a familiar figure—Sol, standing a few steps away, her back turned to them. She must have heard everything. The tension in her posture was unmistakable, her shoulders stiff, as if she were trying to hold herself together. Sunjae’s heart sank as he realised how much those words must have hurt her.
Without thinking, he quickened his pace, his mind racing with how to make this right.
“Sol-ah!” he called out, his voice urgent.
Sol paused but didn’t turn around. Sunjae could see her taking a deep breath, as if steeling herself.
He caught up to her and quickly moved to stand in front of her, blocking her path. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes held a mix of pain and defiance that made his chest ache.
“Don’t mind those girls, okay?” Sunjae said, trying to sound reassuring. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. I don’t care what they think. I like hanging out with you—”
Sol’s eyes flickered with something—hurt, anger, maybe even hope—but she didn’t let it show for long. Her voice was clipped when she finally spoke, cutting through the tension like a knife.
“It’s fine,” Sol cut him off, her tone emotionless. “I’m used to it. It’s not the first time someone’s called me annoying.”
She pushed his arm away when he tried to reach out to her, turning on her heel and walking off without another word.
Sunjae stood frozen, his arm still outstretched in the air where Sol had pushed it away, the sting of her rejection hanging in the silence between them. He watched her walk away, her back straight and head held high, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the stiffness in her posture that betrayed how much those cruel words had affected her.
For a moment, Sunjae felt paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. He had never seen Sol like this before—so vulnerable, so hurt. The sharp, confident exterior she always wore had cracked, and he was left staring at the raw, exposed emotions she rarely let anyone see. He wanted to chase after her, to explain, to make her understand that she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to carry the weight of those harsh judgments on her own.
But the truth was, he had contributed to that weight. He had said things he didn’t mean, let misunderstandings fester, and now the person he was starting to care for more than he ever anticipated was slipping through his fingers.
Sunjae clenched his fists, anger boiling within him—not just at the girls who had spoken so carelessly, but at himself for not seeing sooner how much his words had hurt Sol. He had been so caught up in their rivalry, so blinded by his own pride, that he had missed the signs of how deeply she was affected by it all.
Determined to make things right, Sunjae started after her, his pace quickening as he closed the distance between them.
“Sol, wait!” he called out, his voice more urgent now, pleading. “Please, just stop for a second.”
But Sol didn’t stop. She kept walking, her steps growing faster as if she could outrun the pain and the memories of what she’d heard. Sunjae’s heart pounded in his chest, frustration and desperation mingling as he realised she wasn’t going to make this easy for him. He had messed up—badly—and now he had to face the consequences.
Finally, he broke into a run, closing the last few steps between them until he was right beside her. He reached out, gently grabbing her arm to stop her. Sol flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away immediately, turning her head slightly to look at him. Her eyes were cold, guarded, the warmth he had glimpsed in their late-night practice sessions now replaced by a wall of icy detachment.
“What do you want, Sunjae?” she asked, her voice cold and distant. There was no trace of the fierce determination she usually had, just exhaustion and resignation.
Sunjae’s grip on her arm loosened, but he didn’t let go. “I want to talk,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I want to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” Sol replied, finally pulling her arm free from his grasp. “It’s just the way things are. I’m used to people thinking I’m too much—too driven, too competitive, too…annoying.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, and she quickly turned her head away, as if ashamed to let him see the tears welling up in her eyes. Sunjae felt his heart break at the sight, guilt flooding him as he realised just how much she had been carrying alone.
“But that’s not true,” he protested, stepping closer to her again. “You’re not annoying, Sol. You’re passionate, you’re brilliant—you’re everything those girls aren’t, and that’s why they’re jealous of you. They don’t know you like I do.”
Sol let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And what do you know about me, Sunjae? We’ve spent weeks together, but you still think I’m just some cold, heartless rival, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” he insisted, his voice firm. Sunjae took a deep breath, his heart pounding. “I’m sorry for everything,” he said earnestly. “I was a jerk, and I didn’t mean any of the things I said…I was wrong, Sol. I was wrong about you. I didn’t see the real you until now, and I’m sorry for that.”
She looked at him then, really looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign of deception. But all she found was sincerity, the raw honesty that he rarely showed anyone else. It caught her off guard, making her falter for a moment, but then she quickly rebuilt her defences, unwilling to let him in that easily.
“Why now, Sunjae?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you care now?”
“Because…” Sunjae hesitated, the words catching in his throat. How could he explain it? How could he tell her that somewhere along the way, in the midst of their constant battles and endless debates, he had started to care for her in a way he hadn’t anticipated? How could he tell her that the thought of losing her—of pushing her away—was something he couldn’t bear?
“Because you’re important to me,” he finally said, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession. “You’re important, Sol, and I don’t want to lose you. Not as a partner, not as a friend…not as anything.”
Sol stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, the words hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that this rivalry, this constant tension between them, could be something more. But she was scared. Scared of letting him in, of getting hurt, of being vulnerable.
“Sunjae…” she began, but before she could say anything more, he closed the distance between them, his hands gently cupping her face. His touch was warm, comforting, and she felt herself leaning into it despite her better judgement.
“I mean it, Sol,” he whispered, his voice low and intense. “I care about you. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. And I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
Sol’s breath caught as she felt his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs brushing lightly against her jawline.
He leaned closer, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt before kissing her.
It wasn’t a tentative kiss—it was full of pent-up frustration, anger, and the overwhelming desire that had been building between them for weeks. His lips moved against hers with a desperation that matched her own, as if they were both trying to make up for all the time they had wasted pretending they didn’t care.
Sol’s hands instinctively grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with equal intensity. She poured everything she had into that kiss—all the hurt, the longing, the fear—and Sunjae matched her passion, his hands tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss.
Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, the world around them fading away until there was nothing but the heat of the moment and the feel of each other’s lips. It was fierce, desperate, and all-consuming—a kiss that spoke of everything they had never been able to say in words. When they finally pulled apart, their faces were flushed and breathless.
They stared at each other, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and realisation. The weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air, both exhilarating and overwhelming. Sol’s heart pounded in her chest, and she could see the same raw emotion reflected in Sunjae’s eyes.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was filled with the echoes of their kiss, the intensity of their connection still lingering like a tangible force. Sol’s gaze dropped to the floor, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what had just transpired.
They had crossed a line, and everything had changed.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Sunjae repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Sol swallowed hard, her hands still clutching his shirt as if afraid to let go. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she admitted, her voice shaky but sincere.
A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of Sunjae’s lips, and he leaned in to press another, softer kiss to her lips. This one was different—gentler, more tender, as if they were both savouring the moment and everything it represented.
When they finally broke apart again, Sol rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. Sunjae wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they stood there in the quiet, their breaths slowly evening out.
“I like you, Sol,” Sunjae said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he looked into her eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. “I like you, more than I ever wanted to admit. And I hate myself for how I’ve treated you.”
Sol found herself leaning more into him, her head resting against his chest, his arms wrapping around her in a comforting embrace. She could hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his body against hers, and in that moment, she knew—this was where she was meant to be.
“I like you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Even when you drive me crazy.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Sunjae’s lips as he tightened his hold on her, feeling a sense of relief and contentment wash over him. “Then let’s drive each other crazy together,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
Sol chuckled softly, her heart swelling with a mix of joy and nervousness. They both knew that things wouldn’t be easy, that their journey together would be filled with challenges and obstacles. But in that moment, as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew they were ready to face whatever the future held—together.
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The next day, the inter-university debate championship was in full swing. The tension in the air was palpable, with the audience eagerly awaiting the final round between the two top teams. Sol and Sunjae stood side by side, their hands brushing against each other’s as they prepared to take the stage.
Despite the nerves and the high stakes, there was a quiet confidence between them—a sense of unity that hadn’t been there before. They had spent the night going over their arguments, perfecting their strategies, and more importantly, they had finally confronted the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.
As they stepped onto the stage, Sol felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins. This was it—the moment they had been working towards for weeks. The spotlight was on them, the entire room watching their every move, but she felt oddly calm. With Sunjae by her side, she knew they could handle anything.
The debate was intense, with both teams delivering powerful arguments and counterarguments. Sol and Sunjae were in perfect sync, their voices blending together seamlessly as they dismantled their opponents’ points with precision and finesse. The audience was captivated, their eyes glued to the stage as the two rivals-turned-partners displayed their unmatched skills.
In the end, it was their final argument—a passionate, heartfelt plea for the power of unity and understanding—that sealed their victory. The audience erupted into applause, the judges nodding in approval as they declared Sol and Sunjae the winners of the championship.
As they stepped off the stage, Sol couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph and pride. They had done it—together. She turned to Sunjae, a smile spreading across her face as she met his gaze.
“We did it,” she said, her voice filled with emotion.
Sunjae grinned, his eyes shining with happiness as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “Yeah, we did.”
They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, Sol felt at peace—content in the knowledge that they had finally found their way to each other.
As they walked off the stage, hand in hand, Sol couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement for what the future held. They had navigated the heated battlefield of their hearts, and though the road ahead would undoubtedly be challenging, they were ready to face it together.
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A few weeks after the championship, Sol and Sunjae were still adjusting to the new dynamic between them. The transition from rivals to partners—and something more—had been surprisingly smooth, but they both knew that their relationship would continue to be tested in the months and years to come.
One afternoon, as they sat together in the campus café, Sol couldn’t help but reflect on how far they had come. She looked at Sunjae, who was engrossed in his phone, a small smile playing on his lips as he read something on the screen. The sight of him so relaxed, so at ease, made her heart swell with affection.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked, teasingly nudging his arm.
Sunjae looked up, his grin widening as he showed her his phone. “Just reading some of the comments about our debate. People are still talking about it.”
Sol rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. “Of course they are. We were pretty amazing.”
Sunjae chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “We still are.”
Sol’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh as she closed her eyes. “Yeah, we are.”
As they sat there, enjoying the quiet moments together, Sol knew that their journey was far from over. There would be more challenges, more debates, and more moments of frustration and doubt. But there would also be more laughter, more kisses, and more moments like this—moments where they could simply be together, knowing that they had each other’s backs, no matter what.
And that was all that mattered.
fin.