"Transformations"

"Transformations"

by:

Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD

(A Chat GPT experiment) 

The bell above the door chimed.

Jihoon glanced up from behind the espresso machine, brushing a streak of foam off his apron. It was late afternoon—quiet time. The regulars had filtered out, and the playlist had settled into soft lo-fi. The perfect lull before the rush.

Then she walked in.

She was taller than he remembered—slimmer, too. A different haircut, styled and curled to perfection. Designer sunglasses perched on her head. But Jihoon felt the jolt like muscle memory.

Kei?

Not the Kei who sat beside him in homeroom chewing on mechanical pencil tips. Not the Kei who used to kick his chair when he talked too much about Naruto or sorted his Magic: The Gathering decks by elemental types during lunch.

This Kei had been reborn.

She stepped in like she belonged on the cover of a glossy magazine—and Jihoon knew she had been. He’d seen her before. The rising gravure model whose photos had started trending online last month. A whirlwind of figure, flair, and fierce eyes that stared straight through camera lenses like they were beneath her.

Jihoon hadn’t known what name she used professionally, but now there was no mistaking it.

Kei.

She didn’t see him.

She ordered quietly—just a black Americano—and took a corner seat, tilting her face away from the windows. Trying not to be noticed. But fame, even early fame, has a scent. People pick up on it.

The two guys near the pastry counter didn’t even try to hide their stares.

“Yo, that’s her, right?” one whispered. “From the calendar shoot?”

“No way—she’s hotter in person,” the other muttered, pulling out his phone. “Should I ask for a photo?”

“C’mon. Just be cool,” the first guy said, but neither of them looked away.

Jihoon’s jaw tightened.

When they started inching toward her table, he dropped the milk pitcher into the sink harder than necessary.

He rounded the counter before either of them could say a word.

“Excuse me,” Jihoon said calmly, stepping between them and her. “She’s here to enjoy her drink, not to be bothered. I’m going to have to ask you both to take it outside if you’re not ordering anything else.”

The taller one frowned. “Hey, man. We’re just saying hi—”

“You’re loitering,” Jihoon said, his voice suddenly cold and unreadable. “And she didn’t say hi back. Did she?”

They hesitated, then mumbled something and shuffled out, the door slamming behind them.

Jihoon turned slowly.

Kei was watching him now, brows slightly furrowed. “Thanks,” she said softly. “People like that are getting bolder these days.”

“No problem,” Jihoon said with a small smile. “Happens more than you’d think.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Have we met before?”

Jihoon’s heart skipped.

Her voice hadn’t changed. Still sharp around the edges, but with that undercurrent of quiet curiosity.

“I get that a lot,” he said with a small shrug, wiping the table near her. “I just run this place.”

Kei nodded slowly, then looked out the window again. “Well. You’ve got good coffee. And good instincts.”

He smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

She took a sip of her drink. Winced. “Still too bitter for me.”

He paused.

That same complaint—word for word. She used to say it in homeroom, stealing sips from his thermos when she forgot hers.

Jihoon looked at her for a heartbeat too long, then turned away before she could read his face.

He didn’t tell her.

Didn’t say, You used to call me 'Naru-nerd’ and steal my lunch pudding.

Didn’t say, I had a crush on you that made high school unbearable.

Didn’t say, You’re even more beautiful now, but it’s your voice I remembered first.

He let her sit there, alone with her coffee and her transformation, while he returned behind the counter.

Maybe one day he’d tell her.

Maybe she’d recognize him when she was ready.

But for now, Jihoon simply watched.

And brewed her another Americano—this time, with just the right hint of vanilla.