The boulevard stretched long and quiet, its streetlamps casting halos of pale light over Angel’s uneven steps. Her heels clicked against the pavement, though sometimes they dragged, her balance faltering as she stared down at the glow of her phone.
A message blinked across the screen.
"Where are you, Angel?"
She giggled, thumbs slipping clumsily over the keyboard.
"Ooooo Chhanwo o!" she replied, hitting send before she could second-guess the jumble.
The reply came sharp and fast. "Are you crazy...? Your mom just called me. She told me you’re not answering her. Where are you? Are you okay??"
Angel’s lips curved in a loose smile. "I'm totally y fine!@"
"Why don't you answer the phone then?"
She squinted at the letters, trying to steady them in her vision. "immMa way homeA righgt now," she typed, staggering sideways before catching herself on the edge of a lamppost.
"Ha... Seriously... Just how much did you drink?"
Angel puffed out her cheeks. "dzl;m fine. I'll text u after I go home/."
But Chanwoo was relentless. "U sure u can walk home alone? Do u want me to take you home?"
Her eyelids felt heavy. The phone slipped from her hand before she caught it and shoved it back into her bag with an irritated huff.
“Chanwoo…” Her voice came out in a mumble, the name stretching sloppily from her lips. “Hee…”
She stopped, staring at the sidewalk that seemed to sway beneath her feet.
“But all these letters make me…” she whispered, the words trailing into nothing, dissolving into the night air as she stumbled forward again, the boulevard swallowing her unfinished thought.
Angel Cruz was drunk.
“Wanna throw up!” she groaned, clutching her stomach as she wobbled along the boulevard.
Angel Cruz: Beginner at Living Alone.
M Apartment, Block 206, Room 302.
Day One of Independence—ruined by a self-congratulatory alcohol party.
“But still—” she hiccuped, staggering a few steps forward, “from today onward, I finally LIVE ALONE! Freedom after twenty years!”
Her victory declaration echoed into the night air before she swayed again, the streetlight overhead splitting into two, then three. She blinked furiously, trying to steady the world.
“Why… is everything spinning around…?”
It wasn’t hard to figure out why. She had practically poured alcohol down her throat like it was the end of the world.
“Burp I wanna puke…” she whimpered, one hand clamped desperately over her mouth as her heels scraped against the pavement.
But just as she tried to hurry forward—
“Ou—f!!”
Her foot caught, and she pitched forward, smacking the asphalt face-first. The sting cut through her drunken haze. She hissed, lifting her palms only to see streaks of red where the skin had torn.
“Ouch… that hurts…” she mumbled. “My hands are bleeding…”
The alcohol dulled most of her senses, but not enough to erase the hot sting crawling up her skin.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the night.
“Excuse me…!”
A shadow dropped into her spinning vision.
“Are you okay?”
A man hurried over and squatted down in front of her, his voice steady, calm.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Angel blinked at him, her vision still wobbling. Ooo… he’s so big… and sooo hot…
“Can you stand up? Should I get a taxi for you?” he continued.
Her head tilted to the side. “Taxi?”
“Yes,” the stranger nodded. “You look quite drunk. What’s your address?”
“Address…?” Angel echoed, her tongue dragging over the word like it was a foreign language.
“If you tell me your address, I can get a taxi for you.”
Angel’s arm shot up dramatically, finger wobbly as she pointed down the road. “I live there—there! Block 206!”
The man’s eyes widened. “Block 206? M Apartment, Block 206?”
“Yes! I live there! Actually, from today!” she declared proudly, swaying like a flagpole in a storm.
“I live there too,” he said.
Angel narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “…Liar. You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”
Her drinking habit was showing—Angel Cruz, beginner at living alone, was also beginner at becoming ridiculously overconfident with alcohol in her system.
“What?!” he blurted.
“I am very, very fine. I’m not falling for that. I can go by myself!”
With exaggerated dignity, Angel pushed herself off the ground and staggered forward. She managed a few shaky steps—
—and promptly tripped over her own foot, collapsing again in an ungraceful heap.
“Burp Ah, why is the ground moving…?” she groaned, rolling slightly on the pavement.
The stranger exhaled, resigned, and introduced himself as though that might steady her.
“I’m Yoonho Lee,” he said, his tone patient. “I’m studying Security Studies at Daehan University.”
“Huh?” Angel squinted at him, her head tilting like a confused puppy.
The hottie pulled out a slim wallet and flipped it open, showing her a student ID card.
“I’m not a weird person,” he said firmly. “I live at M Apartment, Block 206, Room 202. I’m worried you’ll fall again. Can I just get you to the apartment gate?”
Before Angel could respond, he held out his phone to her.
“You can call my parents and check what I said,” he added, his gaze unwavering.
Angel blinked at the phone, then back at him. “…Call your parents?”
He nodded once, still steady, still serious. “If you feel uncomfortable, I can walk in front of you. Just follow me.”
She stared at him for a moment longer, then finally sighed in surrender. “…All right. Let’s go.”
From then on, every time Angel stumbled, the hot guy was there to catch her elbow or steady her by the shoulders. His patience didn’t falter, even when she giggled to herself or muttered nonsense under her breath.
By the time they reached the apartment gate, Angel threw her arms wide. “Finally! I’m here!”
The moment her foot touched the familiar threshold, an irresistible urge surged inside her—her bed. Her soft, fluffy bed was calling her soul.
She flung open the entrance gate and staggered toward the stairs, determined to conquer them alone.
Behind her, his voice rang out, sharp with alarm.
“Wait! You’ll fall again!” Yoonho shouted, chasing after her as she teetered toward the first step.
“Thank you very, very much for taking me home! Take care…!” Angel waved her arm like a child dismissing a kind stranger.
“You’ll hurt yourself!” Yoonho’s worried voice followed close behind.
But Angel ignored him. She stomped up the stairs, wobbling dangerously, then half-ran, half-stumbled down the corridor.
“Urgh… W–Wait…” she mumbled, pressing a hand to her lips. “I feel sick… Okay… I’m gonna be fine… Yes…”
She finally reached her door and jabbed the numbers on the keypad.
“Beep. Beep. Beep.”
“Huh? Why won’t it open…?” she muttered, her head tilting in confusion. She tried again, pressing harder, faster.
Yoonho caught up, slightly out of breath but still watching her like she might collapse any second. “Are you sure this is your house? Perhaps you read the number wrong?”
Angel whipped her head toward him, hair flying. “No… This is my house… I need to go in and puke… Quick…”
“What?!” Yoonho’s jaw dropped, but before he could argue, she turned back to the keypad and furiously jabbed the buttons again.
“Argh…!! Why won’t it open!?” she groaned, nearly stomping her foot like a child throwing a tantrum.
And then—
Beep-beep-beep! Ding-dong!
The lock chimed pleasantly, and the door creaked open.
Angel froze. “…Huh?”
Standing in the doorway was the last person she expected—his tall frame filling the entrance, eyes sharp, voice calm yet heavy with disbelief.
“Angel,” Joowon said.
Her vision swam. For a moment, she thought maybe she’d drunk herself into hallucinations. “What are you doing here…? This is my house…”
Joowon arched a brow, his expression hard to read. “…Why’s this your house?”
Heejae stepped further out of the apartment, clearly annoyed. “Who is it? What’s all this fuss?”
Angel blinked at him, swaying in place. “Who are you, mister…? And why are you coming out from my house…?”
Yoonho looked between them, baffled. “…Excuse me, um, are you perhaps… her family?”
Heejae scoffed. “Who are you? And why are you making a racket in front of my house?”
Yoonho froze. “…Uh. I suppose you’re not.”
Angel clutched her stomach, frowning. “That’s strange… This is my house…”
Joowon sighed, arms folded. “I told you. It’s not.”
And right at that exact moment—
“HEY! Angel!”
She turned, wobbly, to see Chanwoo sprinting down the corridor, his face pale with horror.
“Chanwoo?” she hiccupped.
“You idiot! That’s NOT your house!” he shouted, waving his arms like the building was on fire.
“…? What do you mean…? burp” Angel’s eyes glazed over.
Heejae blinked. “Huh…?”
Yoonho tried to steady her. “H-Hey—!”
But Angel pushed his hand away and stumbled forward, whining, “Oooh… Wait, Chanwoo… I’m about to puke…”
Chanwoo skidded to a stop, holding both hands out as if trying to stop time itself. “No, no, no! NO! Not now!!!”
On the very first day of living alone, Angel made a big, big accident.
At Angel’s Room
Angel groaned, clutching her throbbing head.
“Ouch… My head hurts… Argh, who is it…?”
She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, finally pressing it to her ear.
“…Hello…”
Chanwoo’s exasperated voice came through instantly.
“Hello? You awake?”
“Chanwoo…? Why did you call me… this early in the morning?” she muttered, half-buried in her blanket.
“Why? This early in the morning? Ha! Seriously… You—don’t you remember?”
Angel frowned. “…Remember what…?”
Later, to escape her pounding hangover and hear the full story, Angel sat across from Chanwoo in a tiny snack shop, nursing a bowl of hangover soup.
What she heard made her grip her spoon like it was a weapon.
“WHAT?? Me??? Are you sure!? ΜΕ??”
Chanwoo leaned back with a long sigh, arms crossed.
“Yes, you. Who else could it be?”
Chanwoo Nam:
The Guy Next Block.
J Apartment, Block 105, Room 301.
Angel’s best friend for 15 years.
A trainee at a famous label company.
The boy Angel first met at Sunshine Kindergarten’s Rainbow Class at age six still hovered around her at twenty—nagging, babysitting, and picking up after her as if nothing had changed.
Chanwoo clicked his tongue. “What a scene from the first day… tsk tsk.”
Angel buried her burning face into her hands. “Oh gosh… Angel…”
Angel tore at her hair with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to recall the hazy blur of yesterday.
“So last night… I went to a nearby bar with my friends… drinking like there’s no tomorrow… Before I knew it, I managed to sneak out of the bar. Then I remember heading home… I was actually kind of excited. Well, everything seemed all right till then…”
But then—
Something flashed across her mind.
Angel’s face paled. “Oh gosh… Maybe I should just go and hang myself.”
Chanwoo leaned his chin on his palm, unimpressed. “So you remember now?”
Angel grabbed his sleeve like a prisoner begging her last chance.
“Chanwoo… What should I do? I just moved in…”
“What should you do? Obviously, go and apologize.”
Angel slammed her forehead onto the table. “And one of those guys… he’s in my college! My senior! I can’t believe he lives next door.”
Chanwoo shrugged. “Right. And I think everyone, including him, lives in your block.”
She shot up, horrified. “All of them?! I’m totally screwed!”
What a first impression. Her rosy, fresh new life of living alone had already started on the most humiliating wrong foot.
Chanwoo tapped his chopsticks against the table. “Maybe you should prepare some rice cakes for them and apologize.”
Angel squinted at him. “Rice cakes? No one gives out rice cakes to neighbors nowadays.”
“Whatever. Anyway, I did what I could. It was so hard dragging you back to your room… You were just about to puke, remember?”
Angel covered her burning face with both hands. “…I’m sorry… I’ll never—I mean, I don’t think I’ll never drink again—but I promise, I’ll drink moderately…”
Chanwoo sighed. “By the way, did you call your mom?”
Angel suddenly jumped in her seat, eyes wide.
“Oh! Right! Mom!”
Her hands flew to her cheeks. “I didn’t call her yet… What should I do? She’ll yell at me as soon as I call her! When I checked my phone this morning, I saw I got ten missed calls from her.”
She clutched her head. “What do I do?! She must be so mad. I know I should call her immediately, but— I’m scared she’ll order me to come back home again. I tried so hard to get her permission to live alone!”
Chanwoo watched her meltdown with a face that screamed, here we go again. He let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair.
“It’s going to be fine. Just give her a call. Quick.”
Angel peeked at him nervously. “It’s going to be fine…?”
Chanwoo nodded confidently. “I made up for you yesterday. Just call her and repeat what I said.”
Angel’s jaw dropped. “Wow, what did you tell her?”
Chanwoo smirked a little, proud of himself. “I told her you went to meet your friends last night and lost your phone. Then you went around looking for it with me. And luckily, we found it. After that, I took you home, and you were so tired you fell asleep immediately.”
Angel stared at him with shining eyes, then grabbed his hands dramatically. “Wow… Chanwoo… You’re my savior!”
He smirked, pretending to shake her off. “You should be nicer to me, you know.”
Angel raised a hand like she was swearing in court. “I promise I’ll always be nice to you!”
Chanwoo raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
Angel, in her usual dramatic fashion, pinched both of Chanwoo’s cheeks and pulled hard.
“Argh! Don’t youu darrre puuull my cheeeks!” Chanwoo mumbled, his face stretched like dough.
“Lunch and coffee is on me!” Angel declared proudly. “Friend in need is a friend indeed! My Chanwoo is a good boy!”
“...Pfft.” Chanwoo rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips curled into a smirk.
After their lunch, the two headed to a nearby café.
Angel’s eyes sparkled the moment they stepped inside. “I didn’t know there was a café like this… It’s so pretty.”
“I think it opened recently,” Chanwoo said casually. “I came here last time, and it was okay.”
They ordered coffee and settled into a small table by the window. Angel fidgeted with her cup, her stomach already twisting.
“I’ll call my mom now,” she muttered, gathering her courage.
“Okay,” Chanwoo replied simply, leaning back to watch the show.
Angel opened FaceTime—her favorite trick. If her mom saw her face, there was a slightly smaller chance of being completely scolded. At least that’s what she believed.
Still, her fingers trembled as she pressed the dial button. She even nibbled on her thumbnail while waiting.
The call connected.
“Hello?” came her mom’s voice, sharp and expectant.
Angel straightened her back instantly. “Hello! M-mom! Did you sleep well?”
“You just woke up?”
“Y-yes! A few hours ago!” Angel forced a laugh, but her eyes darted nervously toward Chanwoo.
Her mom’s unimpressed face filled the screen. “Look at the time. Why did you call me only now?”
“Umm… I… I woke up late, and had lunch with Chanwoo.” Angel’s voice shrank with every word.
Her mom’s eyes narrowed. “How come you didn’t even send me a text message?”
“I’m sorry…” Angel murmured, her shoulders shrinking under her mother’s sharp tone.
“And I heard from Chanwoo that you lost your phone yesterday,” her mom pressed.
“Ah, y-yes!” Angel blurted. “I went around the town with Chanwoo to find it! I was very lucky to have found it.”
“What’s so lucky about that? Where did you find your phone?”
“At the restaurant where I had dinner with my friends…” Angel’s eyes flickered briefly to Chanwoo, silently begging for support.
Her mom clicked her tongue. “How clumsy… You should’ve at least sent me a text with your friend’s phone. Do you know how much I worried about you, because you wouldn’t answer my call all night?”
“I’m sorry…” Angel whispered again, her voice trembling like a child caught sneaking cookies.
A heavy sigh escaped the other end of the line. “Phew. I shouldn’t have listened to your dad. If you are acting like this on your first day of moving out, how am I supposed to not worry about you?”
Angel clenched her hands together tightly. “I’ll never lose my phone again. And I’ll keep in contact, I promise.”
“I’ll let it go this time. But if you ever lose contact again like yesterday, I can’t just let you live away from home.”
Angel’s throat tightened. “…Yes, Mom.”
“And I’ll be there with your dad today. Around 2 p.m. You’re going to stay home today, right?”
“Two…? Yes.” Angel forced a smile, though her stomach sank.
“Okay. See you soon.”
“…Yes.”
The call ended.
Angel set her phone down on the table as though it weighed a hundred pounds. She slumped forward and let out a heavy sigh that fogged her untouched coffee.
“Your mom hasn’t changed a bit, has she?” Chanwoo asked softly, watching her from across the table.
“Nope,” Angel groaned, her face buried in her hands. “She’s still the same. I feel so stuffy. My mom is a bit—no, rather too much—overprotective. She should know her daughter is already twenty. Why’s she still worried about my every move?”
Chanwoo stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his tone calm but firm. “Umm… your mother really cares for you. She must be worried. You’re her only child, after all.”
“I know…” Angel’s voice softened, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her coffee cup. “She had me at quite an age. And I know she’s being overprotective because of that incident. But still, I have to report every single thing to my mom, and I have to walk on eggshells not to upset her… Isn’t this too much?”
When she was younger, Angel thought every guardian was like her mother—strict, cautious, always watching. But as the years passed, the differences became glaring. No pajama parties. No late-night hangouts. No carefree sleepovers with friends. Each “no” chipped away at her belief until she realized her mother wasn’t like the others at all.
“I managed to get the permission to live away from home thanks to my dad,” she added with a sigh, half-smiling at the memory of his quiet support.
Chanwoo tilted his head toward her. “By the way, shouldn’t you head home now? Your mom said she’ll be there at two.”
“Huh? R-right.” Angel blinked, suddenly remembering the time.
“Go home and clean up a bit,” Chanwoo advised with a knowing grin. “Your mom might scold you again.”
“Well, I cleaned it up yesterday.”
“What…?” His eyebrows shot up. “I saw your room yesterday when I took you home. It was a total disaster.”
“Hey, it’s pretty decent!” Angel shot back defensively, cheeks puffed in protest.
Chanwoo smirked. “Are you sure you can tell that to your mom?”
Angel froze, then laughed awkwardly. “Haha… I suppose not.”
“There. Do some vacuuming,” he said matter-of-factly. “You won’t get nagged that much then.”
Angel rolled her eyes. “You remind me of my mom…”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His tone was teasing, but there was warmth in it. “That’s how much I care about you.”
Her lips curled into a small smile. “Well, point taken.”
Fifteen years of friendship didn’t just pass in vain—Chanwoo knew Angel in ways her own parents couldn’t. He understood her habits, her stubbornness, even the tone she used when pretending she wasn’t tired.
“Let’s go now,” he said, standing up and gesturing toward the door.
“Right,” Angel replied, falling into step beside him.
Angel picked up her half-full coffee and walked out of the café.
“See you then,” Chanwoo said, raising a hand.
“Yes! Going to do your part-time job?” she asked.
“Yup… a bit later.”
“Okie! Here, gimme five! Go make a lot of money, Chanwoo!”
“Right. Text me later.”
“Okay!”
Living alone made Angel anxious sometimes, but at least there was comfort in knowing Chanwoo lived just a block away. In fact, it was one of her mother’s strict conditions—that she stay close to Chanwoo, the one friend her mom actually trusted.
Angel got off the elevator and crossed the corridor toward her apartment—only to see someone standing by the door next to hers. Joowon. He was pressing the door lock button.
“Oh geez…” Angel muttered under her breath, nerves prickling. “What should I do? Okay, let me first say hi…!”
She forced a smile. “Hi, Joowon…”
“Angel?” He turned toward her.
Joowon Kim: the guy next door. Apartment M, 206 Block, Room 303. Third year in the same college, though not exactly close. The center of that gossip at school. Out of everyone in college, why did it have to be him living next door?
They often ran into each other on campus, but they’d never had a real conversation. And now, standing in the quiet hallway, Angel felt her stomach twist. Joowon always looked cold… intimidating even. Would he even accept her apology? She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, but she decided to say something.
“Joowon, I am so sorry—”
He cut her off. “Are you feeling better?”
Angel blinked. “Huh? What?”
“I think you drank a lot yesterday.”
“Ah… yes, I’m fine now,” Angel said quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Did he just worry about her hangover?
Joowon’s gaze lingered only briefly before shifting back to the door lock. “When did you move in? I knew someone recently moved out from here.”
“Oh, yesterday afternoon. I didn’t know you lived next door.”
“Yes.”
And just like that, the conversation flatlined with his short reply. Silence crept between them, heavy and awkward.
Then Joowon spoke again. “…Can I go in now?”
“Huh? Yes, yes! I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday.”
“That’s all right. Just don’t do it again. Goodbye.”
“Y-Yes…! See you at college, Joowon.”
“Yes.”
He gave a faint chuckle—barely audible, but enough to soften his otherwise cold demeanor—before disappearing into his apartment.
Angel let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “…I thought he’d bite my head off.” She smiled faintly to herself. “Well, at least… he doesn’t seem like a bad person. And he… did help me that day.”
Her thoughts slipped back to a memory, unspooling like film.
An incident. A scene she could never quite forget.
Last year, during freshman orientation.
February, Daehan University. Advertising and Public Relations.
The hall had been loud, rowdy with laughter, the smell of alcohol thick in the air.
Heechul, one of the seniors, towered over the table with a booming voice. “What is this! My dear freshman! Your glass is empty! It breaks my heart to see your glass empty!”
“Oh, no. I don’t think I can drink any more—” Angel whispered, pressing her hand over her glass.
Her first drinking experience after entering college was… a nightmare.
The problem was that Angel’s face didn’t even turn red when she drank. No matter how much alcohol slid down her throat, her expression remained unchanged—making it impossible for anyone to realize how drunk she already was. And now, trapped between the two infamous heavy drinkers, Heechul and Geunsoo, she was being cornered with glass after glass.
“A freshman should drink more,” Geunsoo smirked, nudging the soju bottle. “I haven’t poured for you yet, right?”
Angel, the youngest at the table, felt her stomach tighten. She didn’t dare refuse. One by one, she kept emptying her glass as they laughed and poured her another.
“Okay,” Geunsoo grinned, “empty that, and I’ll pour you another.”
Angel groaned inwardly. Crabs! Angel lost count of how many glasses she had already. Yikes… the alcohol smell, the cigarette smoke—it’s suffocating!
Her head swam. She glanced around desperately. “Jiyoon… Where’s Jiyoon?”
Her friend Jiyoon, the only lifeline she’d made at orientation, was across the room. But even she was trapped—surrounded by seniors, her glass constantly being refilled as well.
Why do they even keep up this awful tradition? Angel thought, her chest tight, her phone buzzing endlessly with calls from her mom. Her brain felt ready to burst. If this is college life… Angel want to quit already.
She looked down in dismay, clutching her glass with trembling hands. That’s when a calm, low voice cut through the noise.
“Hi.”
Angel blinked.
"Joowon."
He appeared out of nowhere, sliding casually into the seat between Heechul and Geunsoo, right beside her. His presence was so natural, so unbothered, that the seniors hardly questioned it.
“Joowon?” Geunsoo raised an eyebrow.
“You came?” Heechul added, half-surprised.
“You told me I had to show up this time,” Joowon replied smoothly.
“Right, right.” Geunsoo chuckled and raised the bottle. “Then first—give me your glass.”