Chapter 3

The first time Jaeyoung had encountered him was four years ago, during the first semester of his junior year. For some reason, the visual arts and computer science departments had decided to have a joint welcoming party for freshmen, so they’d ended up at the same barbecue place with just a few tables separating them. Although they were all around the same age, the two groups of students couldn’t have been more different. The visual arts majors were a sea of vivid colors, every one trying to stand out over the rest. On the other hand, every article of clothing at the computer science table was monochrome, like there was some rule against wearing anything but black, white, and gray. Just judging by the meager few who’d dyed their hair compared to visual arts students, it was obvious that the word “self-expression” had an entirely different definition depending on which side of the restaurant you found yourself. (1) Jaeyoung remembered sitting at a table, offering drinks to freshmen and getting slightly tipsy himself, when he suddenly heard somebody say, “No.” He’d always prided himself on being good with faces, but even he couldn’t recall the exact appearance of someone from years prior. On top of that, the weirdo didn’t exactly stand out in the looks department. Even now, Jaeyoung would simply describe him as an average guy who looked like he had a chip on his shoulder. Still, one thing about the weirdo had caught his eye back then: his notably slender neck. “Why not?” someone else asked. “You can’t hold your drink? Is it some religious thing?” “I can drink, but I don’t want to at this particular moment,” the first voice said firmly. Jaeyoung discreetly looked over and saw the student representative for computer science arguing with a freshman. The computer science rep seemed to be trying to get the younger guy to down a soju bomb that had been mixed in a makgeolli bowl. Word spread about a new weirdo over among the computer science majors, so even the visual arts reps put down their drinks to watch the disaster unfold. “Hey, I’m older than you! Show some damn respect!” the computer science rep exploded. “It has nothing to do with you,” the freshman responded matter-of-factly. “Like I said, I’m just not interested in consuming any alcohol right now.” Jaeyoung shook his head in disbelief, knowing the student rep wouldn’t give two shits about what a freshman had to say. Given that nearly 90 percent of computer science majors were men, it was culturally expected that any underclassman would bend over backward to follow an upperclassman’s orders. Honestly, it made sense that the student rep was pissed—sure, there was the occasional oddball who refused to drink because of their religion or some allergy, but it sounded like this particular freshman had no good reason to turn down the bowl. Unfortunately, the situation only got worse when the student rep, drunk and angry, yelled at someone to bring him a baseball bat to teach the insolent kid a lesson. Unlike most people, the weirdo refused to back down. He pulled out his phone instead. “Who the hell are you tryna call?” the computer science rep snapped. “The police.” From there on out, it was total chaos. People tried to snatch the phone out of the weirdo’s hand, but he ran around the restaurant, neatly evading them. The entire time, the computer science rep continued to screech at random people to bring him a baseball bat. Jaeyoung remembered being content to watch it all from a distance until shit really hit the fan. In the end, he’d been the one who ripped the phone out of the weirdo’s hand and chucked it on the floor. Then he’d helped the guy get away before his oh-so-respectable upperclassman succeeded at braining him with a frying pan. Jaeyoung might’ve even taken a punch to the face in the process, but he couldn’t recall all the details. The welcome party had been completely ruined, but the students had still managed to stuff themselves and get wasted after the weirdo escaped. For the remainder of the night, the guy had been the talk of the room, and definitely not in a good way. Jaeyoung remembered the computer science rep declaring that he’d throttle the asshole with his bare hands. But given the weirdo was still alive, it seemed that had proven harder than expected. Realistically, it made sense that nobody had been able to torment the guy; he wasn’t involved in any clubs or the student council. He literally only showed up for class, nothing more. Still, from what Jaeyoung had heard, the computer science rep had bullied him in every form and fashion he’d been capable of as a sophomore, but the freshman hadn’t been affected in the slightest. Apparently, he hadn’t cared if he had to eat alone in the dining hall, or if someone insulted him to his face. And if things started to get violent or people tried to physically block him from going to class, the guy would just call the police. Honestly, the most surprising part about the whole thing was that the weirdo happened to be an extremely diligent and talented student. In spite of the numerous efforts to bring him down, he’d ended up with the highest GPA in his entire department. The prominent theory among the computer science majors was that he could write in programming languages like they were his mother tongue because he was a machine himself. The only one who’d ultimately suffered from the entire fiasco was probably the computer science rep. Facing such a complete, utter defeat must have left some lasting scars. Jaeyoung never imagined he’d end up interacting with the weirdo directly— (2) …or so he’d thought, but there they were, taking the same elective the following semester. Around that time, Jaeyoung had been the furthest thing from an early bird, spending his evenings and nights getting absolutely hammered. As a result, he was always late to class, which meant he always sat at the very back of the room. And the other guy? He’d sat in the same seat every single class: the one right in front of Jaeyoung. Despite how hungover he’d been back then, Jaeyoung could still remember thinking that the weirdo’s neck was strangely pretty, and that he had really pale skin for a man. That stupid neck had frequently distracted him from the lecture, although he wouldn’t have paid close attention regardless. However, the two of them had never talked, and the weirdo had soon faded from Jaeyoung’s memory after, in the middle of the semester, the older man decided he couldn’t be bothered to keep going to class. (3) The next time Jaeyoung encountered the then-freshman, the guy had been standing in front of a convenience store. He’d looked at Jaeyoung with eyes that were both indifferent and slightly upturned. Then, without any preamble, he’d declared: “I loaned you 850 won precisely three days ago. I would like it back.” Though caught off guard, Jaeyoung grabbed a thousand-won bill from his wallet, probably because he felt a little guilty about staring at the weirdo’s neck during class. The guy took the money from him and carefully scanned it, as if he suspected that Jaeyoung had given him a fake bill. Weirdly enough, Jaeyoung found himself marveling over how thick the guy’s lashes were. He glanced at the baseball hat—apparently a permanent part of the guy’s daily outfit—wishing he could take it off and get a better look at the other man’s eyes. Finally, he muttered, “I need to provide some change, but I don’t have any coins.” “Oh, don’t worry about it.” The weirdo ignored Jaeyoung and quickly ran into the convenience store. After a few seconds, he came back and placed exactly 150 won into Jaeyoung’s palm. At that moment, a tall, well-built man came up to them and greeted the freshman. The computer science major looked between him and Jaeyoung in visible confusion. “By the way, I borrowed money from you, right? Or was it somebody else?” asked the tall student. “Yes, it was me. I loaned you 850 won.” “Here. Just take this.” The weirdo accepted the thousand-won bill, then diligently passed it to Jaeyoung. “I mistook you for somebody else,” he said. “Please return the 150 won to me.” Jaeyoung admittedly felt a bit stupid as he took the offered cash and returned the coins to the freshman, who then handed the coins to the tall student and disappeared in a blink. It took him a few minutes to finally realize what had just happened. Although the other student had looked nothing like Jaeyoung, they both had brightly dyed hair, which was why the weirdo had mistaken the two. By the time Jaeyoung completed the second semester of his junior year and enrolled for his mandatory military service, the shock and confusion of that day had faded away, along with any thoughts of the weirdo. When he’d returned to school after being discharged, his schedule had been filled with classes, freelance work, playing sports, and drama club activities. The second semester of his senior year had been particularly busy, to the point he’d barely had time to eat and sleep. Still, when an underclassman had begged him to be the MC for the school festival, Jaeyoung hadn’t been able to turn the desperate kid down. In the end, he’d wound up moderating several events and had walked around campus interviewing students with the broadcasting club’s cameraman. (4) It was during one of those interviews that Jaeyoung ran into the weirdo again, this time right in front of the engineering building. He was wearing his black baseball cap, a dark-green checked flannel, dark straight-legged jeans, and a pair of worn sneakers. He was a bit tanner and more muscular compared to how he’d looked in his freshman year, probably because of his own military service. But his eyes, totally cool and indifferent, hadn’t changed one bit. Jaeyoung’s next action had been more impulsive than anything else. For some reason, he’d been happy to see the guy again after so long, so he’d walked right up to him and said, “Hey! How are you enjoying the festival?” But Jaeyoung had made a critical mistake—he’d assumed the other man would recognize him. Instead, the guy didn’t even glance at him as he responded, “No, I’m not interested.” A surge of annoyance created a lump in Jaeyoung’s throat, though he wasn’t quite sure where the emotion had come from. But when the weirdo began briskly walking away, he followed, refusing to give up. Pushing the microphone closer to the guy’s face, Jaeyoung said insistently, “Come on, you’re on camera! Anything to say about this wonderful festival?” “I hope all universities get rid of festivals in the future. I find them both uninteresting and unenjoyable, so kindly stop trying to force me to enjoy myself.” While Jaeyoung had stood there, trying to process what he’d just heard, the weirdo had strode off far into the distance. Jaeyoung had turned to the underclassman holding the camera and laughed over how absurd the comment was, but he’d been silently boiling with anger. That being said, his life had been too amazing back then for such a minor incident to put a dent in his mood. Just a few months before his graduation, Jaeyoung had won the grand prize at an international branding competition, subsequently attended the award ceremony in Singapore, and was accepted to a master’s program at a top design school in the U.S. thanks to his awards and stand-out portfolio. In the latter half of the semester, he’d started skipping most of his classes, choosing to hang out with his friends and prepare for his last drama club play instead. To put it simply, his life had been good. “Had” being the operative word, since before long, he’d received horrifying news. Ethics for Hanguk University Students (Required course) — FAIL Verdict — Graduation Prohibited He’d genuinely had no idea he could get so completely screwed over by an elective, let alone one that was only two credits. Plus, everybody knew Ethics was a complete waste of time. Each semester, the hundred-plus students that signed up got crammed into a classroom, forced to listen to a series of useless lectures, and ordered to put together bullshit presentations so the professor had something to do for the last few classes. Although passing it was a requirement to graduate, nobody gave a shit since all you had to do to pass was show up. Obviously, Jaeyoung had never gone for a variety of reasons—he was basically allergic to classes with such a stupid topic, not to mention that he’d been too busy with his competitions and drama club to care. Above all, he’d blindly trusted an underclassman’s promise to answer roll call for him and take care of the group project. To be fair, he’d learned much later that very underclassman had gotten dragged down on the same sinking ship he had. “I’m so sorry, Jaeyoung,” the underclassman had told him. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m screwed, too… I went to every single class, but I still got an F because the professor gave me a zero for the group project. The leader is such a heartless asshole. I can’t believe I have to deal with this on top of my great-aunt’s funeral.” Jaeyoung had scrambled to buy a premium green tea set from Jeju Island to present to the professor, along with a whole spiel about how sorry he was. He’d made sure to mention the amazing grad school opportunity that he’d been given, and that he was planning to serve as a good representative of both Hanguk University and South Korea itself while studying abroad. Unfortunately, the professor hadn’t budged. He’d just said in a tired tone, “I do think it’s quite unfortunate, but there’s nothing I can do for you. I told the head of the arts department the same thing when she dropped by to go to bat for you. Honestly, you should have informed me that you wouldn’t be coming to class because you’re about to graduate. Forging attendance has been a hot topic recently, so I’m afraid I can’t just sweep it under the rug. Maybe if nobody had ever found out…” He’d trailed off with a shrug. “That student really was quite stubborn.” It had almost sounded like the professor would be willing to overlook the issue of Jaeyoung’s attendance if he managed to change the group leader’s mind. Thus encouraged, a fuming Jaeyoung had gotten the guy’s number from his underclassman buddy, but that dipshit had never responded to any of his texts or calls. Eventually, Jaeyoung had realized he’d probably been blocked. At that point, it was winter vacation, which meant Jaeyoung would have to go and talk to the guy in person. Unfortunately, the asshole’s address had been harder to find than a damn unicorn. Jaeyoung had looked through the member directories of the movie club, a cappella club, judo club, and countless others, but not a single one of them contained the name “Sangwoo Choo.” The mysterious group leader was a returning student who didn’t participate in extracurriculars, so even the admin staff of the computer science department wasn’t much help. The grade-correction period had ended during this wild goose chase. Jaeyoung’s initial despair had worn off within a few days, mainly because he’d brought the situation upon himself with his own laziness. In fact, once he’d come to terms with his new reality and being the laughingstock of every single social gathering he attended, he found it pretty hilarious. Though that didn’t mean he hadn’t talked shit about this so-called “Sangwoo” with his friends. The fact was, Jaeyoung could afford to laugh at his own misfortune. Sure, he was graduating later than he expected, but compared to some of the guys who were just returning from the military, the timeline for his future had barely been affected at all. Furthermore, his portfolio was so solid that he’d definitely be able to study abroad or get a job despite the unplanned half-year delay. That’d been when Suyoung came into the picture. She was a fellow Hanguk University student who was the same age as Jaeyoung, and was graduating at the end of the current semester after several gap years. She’d been planning to stay at Hanguk Uni for her graduate degree, but had recently gotten a job offer from a large overseas company and been left scrambling. “Hey! I heard all about how your graduation plans got screwed up,” was the first thing she said upon seeing Jaeyoung. “Wanna work on a mobile game instead?” “A game? Like a student project?” “Yeah! The developer is supposed to be some kind of computer science prodigy, and I think it’ll be fun! Plus, you have a ton of free time, don’t you? If you ask me, working on it would be better than being a total bum.” Jaeyoung had raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Basically, you want me to do your job.” “Yeah… Something like that,” Suyoung had muttered, then looked at him with large, pleading eyes. “Could you please do this for me? I just don’t have the time for this right now, and the developer is a bit…particular, if you get what I mean. Even if you end up turning it down, please just go to the meeting for me and explain that I can’t do the project anymore. C’mon, I’m begging you!” “I don’t work for free.” Suyoung gave a desperate nod. “Of course! I’ll buy you drinks as soon as my schedule frees up a bit.” Although Jaeyoung had pretended to accept her request reluctantly, the truth was that he was so free that he’d been wasting away his days gaming in the clubroom. But what Suyoung didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. (5) When Jaeyoung had walked into the meeting room, he’d thought he was dreaming. There he was: the same idiot who’d tried to square up against an upperclassman as a freshman, had an unusually pale neck, and never managed to remember Jaeyoung’s face. True to form, the punk didn’t recognize him yet again. To say that the meeting had turned out to be more entertaining than Jaeyoung had expected would have been a colossal understatement. The other guy’s initial air of caution had fallen away when Jaeyoung showed off his portfolio, and Jaeyoung had found himself becoming more and more excited about the guy’s coding skills, since they were rumored to be nothing short of mythical. This anticipation nearly overshadowed the extreme irritation he’d been feeling about his botched graduation plans. At some point, the weirdo had even signaled his willingness to share his contact information with Jaeyoung by asking, “Could I have your number, then?” Unfortunately, things had gone downhill from there. By the time Jaeyoung realized the weirdo was the group leader, the little shit had already disappeared from the meeting room, leaving only a notebook behind. The frustration over his delayed graduation plans because of two damn credits bubbled up inside him anew. He’d tried to get the weirdo to meet with him again, thinking he might feel better if he gave the guy a good scolding, but the weirdo ghosted him once more. Jaeyoung had been angry—like, truly, honestly, fuming mad. But he’d also known that it was too late to correct his grade, so beating the shit out of the weirdo wouldn’t fix anything. And anyway, he still didn’t have a clue where the guy lived. In the end, he’d been forced to move on. (6) That is, until one peaceful weekend when Jaeyoung encountered the weirdo once more. He’d gone to an internet café to play games with his friends, only to see the weirdo manning the counter. Immediately, he’d thought of a variety of ways to make the guy’s life miserable, but he’d also known that he’d need a special form of torture if he truly wanted to torment him. After all, the list of people who’d failed to bully the guy was long. Ultimately, he’d forced himself to be calm. To be patient. But unfortunately, it’d been nearly impossible to focus on gaming when the weirdo’s mere presence pissed Jaeyoung off. More impulsively than anything else, Jaeyoung had ordered some ramen. It’s not like he had any intention of harassing the weirdo by forcing him to remake it over and over until it was “just right” or something like that. All he’d wanted was to see a hint of apology or discomfort in that robotic face of his. But the weirdo had remained completely shameless until the very end. Jaeyoung had gotten so pissed off he’d cussed the guy out, feeling an odd sense of solidarity with the students who’d tried to bully the weirdo in the past. “Fine. You can continue being a lowlife if you wish, but please do refrain from contacting me,” the guy had told him. Did this guy get raised by wolves or something? Jaeyoung had wondered, fighting the urge to punch him in the face. He’d only held himself back because he knew he wouldn’t get an ounce of satisfaction from it. The weirdo would just call the police without so much as a wince. The truth was, Jaeyoung had kind of grown fond of the guy after observing him for several years despite what others said about him. It made sense, since Jaeyoung had always been drawn to outcasts and rebels. Now that he’d been forced to deal with the weirdo personally, however, those feelings had been washed entirely away by a flood of irritation and disgust. I hope I never see that asshole again. (7) The weirdo had made it crystal clear that he never wanted to see Jaeyoung. Therefore, it’d come as a rather nasty surprise when he’d walked right into the restaurant where Jaeyoung worked, and with a pretty girl in tow. It was a well-known fact that Jaeyoung worked there—the place was owned by one of his close friends who’d asked him to be a server. He’d been a fixture of the establishment since the day it opened. Unsurprisingly, he’d felt his blood boil the moment the weirdo walked through the door. His heart had been pounding away in his chest as he walked over to the little dipshit’s table to meet his challenge head-on. But then, to Jaeyoung’s shock, the weirdo had simply ordered pasta. Even worse, there had been absolutely no recognition in the guy’s eyes when he’d glanced at him. In that moment, a strange emotion had swept over Jaeyoung like a wave, powerful enough that it swept away even the immense anger he’d felt at the computer science student ever since the younger man had screwed him over. Which made him wonder: Why did the weirdo rile him up so much? As the kitchen prepared the order, Jaeyoung had carefully tried to pinpoint the answer. When he really thought about it, the answer had been obvious—Sangwoo Choo treated him like he was a tiny, insignificant rock on the side of the road. To be fair, some of their encounters—from the freshman welcome party, the 850-won incident, and the campus festival interview—had happened a long time ago. Jaeyoung wasn’t unreasonable; he understood if the weirdo didn’t remember those incidents. But not recognizing the very person he’d screwed out of graduation? That was crossing the line. Any normal person would have the basic human decency to pretend to be embarrassed, especially since Jaeyoung had extended an olive branch first. However, it was clear that Sangwoo felt he’d done nothing wrong. He’d just wanted Jaeyoung to get the hell out of his life. When that weirdo had looked at him and said, “You’re…the Kim dude. Youngjae Kim,” his tone had made it obvious that he thought of Jaeyoung’s displays of anger as mere tantrums. It was no wonder a simple outfit change had been enough to make the guy think he was someone else. Never in his life had Jaeyoung met anybody with the ability to make him feel so insignificant and meaningless. While that feeling had driven the computer science rep years ago to try and crush the weirdo under his foot, Jaeyoung’s anger had taken a different form. He just wanted Sangwoo Choo to notice him. He wanted the other student’s nonchalant face to crumple with some kind of intense emotion. He wanted to open that meticulously organized skull and carve his name there. “What’s something you dislike?” he’d asked the weirdo. “You.” Too easy, Jaeyoung had thought. He’d come up with a master plan the moment he got off work that day. First, he’d used the weirdo’s schedule, which was in the notebook left behind after their interview, to rewrite his own. After that, he had done some reconnaissance. He’d talked to the security guards at the front and back gates, the servers at the dining hall, the dining hall nutritionist, the owner of the convenience store, the administrative work-study employees, the librarian, the construction workers at the futsal court, and all the students who’d taken a class with the weirdo in the previous semester. He asked them all the same question: “Do you know Sangwoo Choo? He’s a student here, and he’s usually dressed in black clothes with a black baseball cap.” The results had been quite interesting, to say the least. “Yes, I know him. He rides his bike to school at the exact same time every day,” the security guard had said. “Oh, him?” the convenience store owner had responded with a nod. “He buys the same kind of coffee at the same time every single day. He’s never purchased anything else.” “Last semester, he came to the library at exactly 4:02 PM every single day without fail,” the librarian had observed. “It’s like he has some kind of internal clock…” The construction worker had chuckled and asked, “The guy who’s always walking around by himself, you mean? I noticed he always walks past us at exactly forty-one minutes to the hour. Then he walks around that corner and throws away his coffee in the second trash can. Maybe he doesn’t like the other ones.” As for the students, one had told Jaeyoung thoughtfully, “I remember him sitting in the same seat every single day for the entire semester.” Basically, Sangwoo Choo was much more abnormal than Jaeyoung had ever imagined. And given those who’d tried their hand at annoying the guy beforehand had demonstrated he couldn’t be affected through normal means, Jaeyoung would have to come at this from the weirdo’s perspective. With that in mind, he’d poured all his energy into coming up with a plan that would ruin the weirdo’s precious, perfect daily routine. The day before classes began, Jaeyoung was excited to return to campus, his plan ready to be set into motion.