She was on her way to class when he leapt out in front of her.

“Stop! Let me have your bike!”

“W—What?” she stuttered, skidding to a stop in front of his eagle-spread arms.

He approached her and grabbed the handlebars. “—I mean borrow! Let me borrow your bike!”

His eyes were large with distress behind his brown square-rimmed glasses and she noticed that he wore a striped cardigan and fitting beige pants both of which emphasized his long, lanky frame.

When he realized she wasn’t budging from her bike, he reached around and pulled her arm. Surprised by his grip and force, she slipped down from the bike, not unwillingly and slightly curious about this weirdo’s intentions.

“Wait—who are you!” she tried asking as he scooted her aside to hop onto her bike.

“Sorry! I have to go!” he shouted, already pushing off and away. “Call me later at xxx-xxx-xxxx!”

-

-

The incident was still clear in her mind when she got home that night, considering that it had taken her double the amount of time it usually did because she had to walk instead of bike the distance. She plopped down at her desk, huffy after going through an arduous school day after her bike had been stolen. She decided that now was the time to ring up the bike thief without further hesitation.

When she took out her phone however, she realized that she could barely remember the number gave her. xxx-xxx-x… what? Or was it xxx-xxx- something….? Heck, for all she knew, he could’ve given her a fake number! She had no idea why she had so passively practically given him her bike like that.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she buried her head in her arms on top of the desk for a moment before an idea came to her. He definitely seemed like he went to her school, and the university did have a directory of all the students. If she could only find him on there…

Turning on her computer, she pulled up the student directory from the school’s website and began to search. After a good half-hour at least of trying different combinations of phone numbers which she had remembered, she finally came by some fruit.

“Lee Sungyeol.”

There was, fortunately, a picture attached the profile. She clicked on it and when it had enlarged, she was more than certain that it was her bike thief. Quickly, she grabbed her phone and dialed the number on the profile. It took four rings before he picked up.

“Hi?”

“Hi—um,” she began, suddenly nervous. “You took my bike this morning…”

“What?”

His nonchalant answer sparked the irritation in her again.

“My bike!! You stole my bike this morning! This is you isn’t it??”

“—Oh!” Finally, the reaction. “Oh my god, yes, I remember now.”

“Are you Lee Sungyeol?” she grumbled, squinting at the small picture on her screen and trying to imagine him at the other end.

“Ah yes, that’s my name,” was the answer. “How did you find me?”

“I had to search the student directory,” she answered, suddenly aware that he seemed to be avoiding the main topic. “Where’s my bike?”

“Um, your bike?” The hesitation in his voice made her very suspicious.

“What happened to my bike?? What did you do??” she yelled into the phone.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down. It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, though she still recognized his ambiguous avoidance of the matter. “Okay, how about tomorrow at noon you meet me at the corner in front of the main gate and I’ll bring your bike?”

She took a moment to think, wondering whether she could trust him to show up or not or push the issue further right now. He, however, seemed to take her silence as an acceptance.

“Sounds good then? Okay, see you tomorrow!”

There was a click and he hung up, leaving her bewildered and with no other choice but to do what he had proposed.

-

-

The next day saw her waiting at the scheduled meeting corner for twenty minutes past the agreed time. In that time, she made three calls to his phone, none of which he answered. At the thirty-minute mark, she was ready to stomp away in frustration until he finally came hurling around the corner. He was wearing what seemed to be the garments of a waiter, including a black buttoned-up shirt, white pants, and an apron, and was carrying her bike because, as she soon noticed, it was missing a wheel.

When he set the bike down before her with a clank, lopsided and funny-looking without its back wheel, she took a moment of stillness to stare at it before letting out a shriek so horrible that it made him jump and back away in nervousness.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” she screamed, freezing him to utter immobilization. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

“I’m sorry!” he yelled, in a pitch much higher than she could’ve imagined for him. “I—I was late for work yesterday and I just needed to get there really quickly and—and I left it outside and when I came back out the wheel was gone!”

He said all of this in one breath and with a look of such desperation that she almost softened in pity for him—but one look at her broken bike hardened her heart again.

He must’ve gotten the message from her piercing glare because he instantly straightened himself and gave a proper bow which she was slightly surprised at.

“I’m sorry!” he repeated as he bowed. “I won’t be any good in fixing your bike, but I am willing to be your slave for a week to repay!”

Her eyes widened and she gaped at him. Did this guy have any pride? By that time, he had straightened from his bow and was watching her face to observe her reaction. She peered back at him, mind whirling crazily.

“Okay,” she replied after the surprised hesitation. “Let’s do that.” And as she said it, she felt her insides boil with excitement. This was going to be super-interesting.