Ever since Minji is aware of it, there’s a soulmate mark on her neck. It isn’t much: the outline of three colorful feathers tied by a string of frayed rope at the calamus. The issue was the size, roughly a palm, and hard to hide without the aid of clothes or makeup.

It’s not like she’s obligated to cover it up, but her mother finds them distasteful, touching the mark on her cheek, so Minji spends her childhood and a few good teenage years wearing turtleneck sweaters and light scarves. 

When she goes to college in Seoul, away from her mother’s watchful gaze, Minji buys her first few shirts that have a cut that doesn’t cover her clavicles and wears her mark out proudly.

It’s weird, she’ll admit, to have her neck bare after a lifetime of covering it. The wind feels foreign, but Minji, putting a stray strand of freshly dyed purple hair behind her ear, fights off the compulsion to grab a scarf and put the weight on her neck, comforting and familiar, as she goes to class.

Or, at least, she tries. Minji’s picking up a coffee before class because she can, and also because she’s spent the entire night tossing and turning at the thought of not covering her neck, which made her too anxious to sleep, when someone crashes into her, spilling hot coffee all over her new sweater.

A cuss passes through her mind and stops at her lips, staring at the girl, who’s looking at Minji with an horrified look. She’s pretty, Minji will concede that, with black hair tied neatly in two low ponytails. She lowers her gaze, and her eyes find a colorful, roughly palm-sized, trio of feathers outlined on the girl’s neck.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve looked where I was going, I don’t pay attention to my surroundings, this is the third time today so I should’ve, I’m so going to be late to class, the laundry bill this month is going to be huge and it’s just the fifth day of it, and...” The girl was, at first, gently patting Minji’s sweater with a napkin, and by the end of the phrase it seemed like she was trying to sand down a piece of wood. Minji, still awestruck by the fact she found her soulmate an hour into college life, put a hand to the girl’s own, and that made her stop. “Uh, yeah? Something wrong?”

“Your mark…?” Minji starts, ever so helpful because she’s busy losing brain cells by the second, and the girl blinked. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of these prudes who don’t like showing off their marks, in which case I’m going to grab another coffee and throw it at you on purpose.” A pause. “, my alibi’s gone. Can you unhear that?”

“No, no, not the case. Er, my neck?” Minji vaguely gestures to the place, and the girl’s eyes trail to there, surprise dawning on her face. The sweater is sticking to her body, cold and uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you, I’m Minji, your soulmate I guess, and how about we redo this whole first meeting thing another time?”

The girl seems to calculate something in her head, and nods.

“Sounds good to me. Gahyeon’s the name.” She extends a hand, and Minji clasps it. She finds the wet napkin between their hands, and both of them cringe at the cold, wet sensation. “Yeah, we’re definitely redoing this.”

“Don’t tell me. Do you want my number?” Minji replies, and the girl - Gahyeon - offers a smile so bright it could outshine the sun.