Episode 11 – The Little Spark in the Girl

Author Note:

I've rewritten Chapters 1 to 10. If you ever feel like the story doesn't sync or flow well with this chapter, please feel free to go back and reread those earlier chapters. Otherwise, you can ignore this message and keep enjoying the ride.

Episode 11 – The Little Spark in the Girl

The sun came in through gauzy curtains into the silent living room. Textbooks and papers were scattered on a small wooden table, each page having sticky notes in bright colors as a miniature flag of despair. There was the smell of perfume, baby shampoo, and tension in the air.

Kim Do-hyun (김도현) inhaled slowly and stepped back from the table. There was the sound of a soft hum in his mind, like the memories that lingered in the air of yesterday and today.

Min-joo was sitting across the table with her head down. Her black hair fell upon her shoulders like a dark cascade. She would not look at him. She was smaller than yesterday—shy, remote, concealing more than her half-formed sentences.

Do-hyun ahemmed.

"Okay, give me your score."

He saw her fingers shake a little as she opened the test paper. She folded it out, the folds crisp.

The room was silent, as though he was an intruder entering into the dream of another.

He bent over, reading the figures.

"Six and five?" His voice was dull, passionless—as though a judge were reading a sentence.

She jerked up her head in surprise.

"Y-Yes," she whispered, so low that it was scarcely louder than a wind in grass.

He frowned and shook his head.

"I have seen worse," he said. "And that is still sort of stupid."

Min-joo bit her lip so hard she made an impression.

Do-hyun heaved a sigh and took out a pencil. He highlighted the low scores using a red pen.

"These are your trouble points," he said.

Her eyes were filled with tears—not because of what he said, but because of disappointment.

Min-joo's mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. She had a weary, worn expression on her face, as though the world had already demanded more of her than she could possibly give.

Do-hyun said, dissolving his role as a strict tutor to a gentle guide,

"No, no, don't worry. We will work this out."

The mother whispered a thanks, then slipped back upstairs, closing the door softly but firmly behind her.

Min-joo kept her head down, small shoulders shaking.

Do-hyun pulled another paper from the stack and slid it toward her.

"This one is easier," he said. "I didn't get great scores when I tested for university either. I didn't even study much. But I passed."

Her head shot up again, mouth opening in surprise.

"You… you did?" she asked, wide-eyed.

He nodded slowly, smiling.

"Yeah. I just figured things out one step at a time."

Something inside of her shifted. A spark flickered in her dark eyes.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let's start."

He handed her a pencil.

They began.

Do-hyun guided her gently through basic questions that built confidence—spelling words, math problems, vocabulary comprehension. Sometimes he waited silently, letting her think through mistakes. Other times he explained details clearly, using examples from everyday life she could relate to.

"Your cat ate your homework? Then let's make a problem about cats and food portions."

She giggled. She laughed again. He smiled.

Time passed like a peaceful river—quiet, slow, flowing.

About forty-five minutes later, Do-hyun stood up and stretched.

"Whew. I need water."

Min-joo drank from her own cup without looking up.

Do-hyun wiped his brow. He walked toward the door.

Min-joo's mother appeared again.

"How did it go?"

Do-hyun exhaled.

"It's going to be a long road," he answered softly.

He stepped outside, leaving the gentle murmur of the house behind him.

He sighed and leaned against the porch, closing his eyes for a moment.

He could feel the air against his new-muscle shoulders. He could taste the summer heat. He could hear traffic rushing faintly in the distance.

He smiled to himself.

She had actually studied a bit.

Usually, girls who ask for a tutor don't want to learn at all.

But this… this was different.

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