No matter how hard Sangwoo tried to focus on his Intermediate Chinese class, his efforts were thwarted by the irritating presence seated next to him. He couldn’t help but notice when Jaeyoung would spin a pen around his fingers, bounce his leg, or occasionally bump against Sangwoo with his elbow. Although the class was only fifty minutes, it felt like five long hours. When the professor dismissed everyone, a huge wave of relief swept over Sangwoo. He sprang to his feet and practically ran out the door without a backward glance, leaving behind Jaeyoung, who was carefully coloring the corner of his desk with a pen. “I was planning on just ignoring you, since you didn’t seem…normal. But I’ve changed my mind. You should really look forward to next semester,” Jaeyoung had said. Had he been implying he’d do his best to disrupt Sangwoo in all his classes? A ball of anxiety began to form in Sangwoo’s chest, but he forced it away. It was much more plausible to assume that their schedules had coincidentally overlapped. Anything more sinister was extremely unlikely. But when he arrived at his next classroom in a frantic rush, Sangwoo once again found a bag occupying the seat that had always been his. This time, it was a navy backpack. Sangwoo tried to calm himself by taking several deep breaths. Someone else must have caught on to how perfect that seat was. It was simply an unfortunate coincidence. He sat down next to the spot that should have been his, then forced himself to open up his textbook. But he was so angry he couldn’t even process the letters. Sweat began to dampen the page that his fist was resting on. He was going to have to see that demon every single Monday morning, which meant he wasn’t going to be able to focus on the contents of the lectures at all. It was unbelievable. As Sangwoo cursed inwardly, the owner of the backpack arrived. He wasn’t the least bit interested in seeing who it was, but his head still turned before he could stop himself. His eyes jumped from one item to another: a red puffer jacket, a red sports jersey, a red hat, and finally, a red can of soda. It was his archnemesis. Jaeyoung Jang slung his leather shoulder bag and navy backpack across the back of his seat and sat down. For about thirty seconds, Sangwoo just sat there and stared at him like he was an alien. Jaeyoung took a sip of his soda and grinned at him. This couldn’t be happening. Sangwoo immediately rose to his feet, but he couldn’t skip this class. Instead, he went and put the greatest distance possible between himself and Jaeyoung. After a few minutes, the professor walked in and began to take attendance. When he reached Jaeyoung’s name, he raised an eyebrow and pushed up his glasses. “Jaeyoung Jang, visual arts major… Are you sure you’re in the right class?” “Yes, sir. I happen to love math,” Jaeyoung responded enthusiastically. “That’s well and good, but this class isn’t just regular math—it’s geared toward engineering. Do you still want to take it?” The professor sounded pleasantly intrigued, which was in stark contrast to Sangwoo’s utter dismay. He dropped his head into his hands, clutching at his hair and gnashing his teeth. So intense was his despair that he ended up missing four whole minutes of the lecture. It didn’t get any easier for him to focus after that. Not only did looking at the professor from such an unfamiliar angle throw him off, but the professor’s voice sounded oddly distant for some reason. To make things worse, he felt unsettled by everything around him. When the lecture finally concluded, Sangwoo shot out of the classroom like a bullet from a gun. He’d really been hit where it hurt, and it triggered such an overwhelming level of rage in him that his composure was completely shattered. Sangwoo nearly sprinted to the dining hall and lined up for food. As he caught his breath, bent over with his hands on his knees, he caught a glimpse of that eyesore of a red puffer jacket. Jaeyoung was chatting with the students who had lined up behind Sangwoo. Sangwoo suddenly felt a chill run down his back. Jaeyoung wasn’t paying any attention to him, but simply being within ten meters of him made Sangwoo feel like he was about to break out into hives. The line couldn’t move quickly enough. When Sangwoo finally reached the Korean food station and got his lunch, he ended up being two minutes earlier than usual. Despite that, his body shook, vibrating with anxiety. “Oh, look at that! There are empty seats over there!” Over there? Where? A terrible feeling settled in Sangwoo’s gut. Jaeyoung, who had been making a show of walking past the other empty tables, sat down right next to Sangwoo, who was eating by himself in the corner. Sangwoo had two options available: i) Go somewhere else: If Jaeyoung followed him and repeated his actions, then it would be a waste of time. ii) Stay where he is: Nothing more would happen. According to Sangwoo’s quick calculations, it would be best if he just ignored Jaeyoung. So that was exactly what he did, silently shoveling his food into his mouth. Moments later, he got to witness a fascinating phenomenon. “Whoa, Jaeyoung! Haven’t seen you at the dining hall in a while!” “Oh, hey! It’s good to see you, dude,” Jaeyoung replied. “I heard they’re not letting you graduate because you cussed out a professor.” “Who the hell said that?” Despite Sangwoo’s deliberate choice to sit in an empty, isolated corner of the dining hall, people quickly filled up the seats around him simply because of Jaeyoung’s presence. Sangwoo mechanically continued to shove spoonfuls of food into his mouth, uncomfortable with the bustling students and cacophony of noise surrounding him. His head spun. Once his plate was clear, he glanced at the clock: 12:22 PM. He was six minutes ahead of schedule. Sangwoo quickly stood from his seat to put his emptied tray away, then drank five cups of water at the fountain. He’d definitely eaten way too fast; it felt like there was a rock sitting in his stomach. Making his escape via the back door, Sangwoo then walked over to the convenience store. He always had a Black Holic canned coffee after lunch, as it was the cheapest option, and it had just the right amount of liquid. He drifted past the snacks, instant noodles, and ice cream before stopping in front of three beverage fridges. His target was the fifth shelf of the third fridge. But there was nothing there. Maybe he had missed something? But no matter how carefully he searched, Sangwoo couldn’t find any Black Holic canned coffees. This was completely unprecedented, and Sangwoo never did well in such situations. For the longest time, he just stood there, staring in despair. Then he approached the middle-aged woman who managed the store. “Do you not sell Black Holic canned coffees anymore?” he asked with a note of desperation in his voice. “Oh! Um…” She awkwardly averted her eyes. “Somebody bought out our entire stock yesterday afternoon.” The truth hit Sangwoo like a sledgehammer to the head. He didn’t bother asking about the culprit’s identity—there was only one person who could have committed such an atrocity. He had to focus on finding a solution instead. “When are you going to restock them?” “Hmm. It’ll be at least two weeks. They’re not very popular, so…” In the end, Sangwoo was left with no choice but to purchase a drink that seemed similar enough. He staggered out of the convenience store, clutching the coffee to his chest. His day had been a complete, total mess. Nothing had gone according to plan. Feeling dazed, he headed over to the entrance of a small trail that led up to the mountain behind the college. He always walked this particular path while drinking his coffee after lunch. It took eleven minutes to navigate from beginning to end, and it was a way to keep himself energized throughout the day. He trudged down the road as he recalled the unsavory events from earlier in the day. Now that he thought about it, several oddities stood out to him. How had Jaeyoung known his schedule so thoroughly? How had he known where Sangwoo liked to sit and what coffee he usually bought? He was almost like…a stalker. Just as Sangwoo’s thoughts reached that conclusion, he was met by yet another obstacle. “Sorry, you can’t go that way,” someone called out. Sangwoo stopped in his tracks. “Why not?” “The drama club reserved it.” Just as the man had said, the entrance to Sangwoo’s usual walking trail was blocked off. It wasn’t too absurd a happening in the grand scheme of things, but it was certainly something that had never occurred before. And though Sangwoo couldn’t help but find it suspicious that the space had been reserved on that particular day, he wasn’t going to stand there and argue about it. With a sigh, Sangwoo turned around and took another path that would take him through the campus. The new canned coffee that he’d bought ended up being so sweet it made him grimace. And strangely, when he walked past the futsal court, one of the construction workers who’d been taking a short break in front of the work site called out to him. “That’s not your usual route! What’s the occasion?” Puzzled by the query from a complete stranger, Sangwoo ignored the man entirely. Too many bizarre things have happened today. After pouring the rest of his coffee down the gutter, he walked over to the School of Natural Sciences, where he knew he would find three trash cans placed in a line. He always tossed his coffee in the second trash can, since it was always empty. Today, however, it was completely full. Sangwoo gritted his teeth and threw the empty can at the third bin, only to be even more infuriated when it bounced off the lid and fell on the ground. After picking it up and properly disposing of it, he headed to the library, practically shaking with anger. He can’t get to me here, he thought as he stormed into the library. Finally, he felt safe. Since he always reserved a study carrel as soon as spots opened at midnight, nobody could take his spot away from him. After requesting a book that he would need later through a public computer, he located another one that would prove useful on the shelf for newer titles and checked it out. Next, he walked into the reading room and sat down at his chosen desk: the rightmost seat of the eight-seater booth in the theology corner. It was his favorite spot, and for a good reason. Most people didn’t come over to this section of the library, and there were no windows that could serve as a distraction. He’d never sat anywhere else. Glancing to the side, Sangwoo caught sight of a bag in the chair next to his. His heart skipped a beat, but it was a white tote, not a backpack or a leather shoulder bag. Relieved, he opened his computer science textbook and began his regularly scheduled study session. At some point, he got up to use the restroom. When he came back to his seat, he found a can of Black Holic coffee on the table. i) Did I purchase it? N ii) Is the owner around? N iii) Is it something of use to me? Y (Reason: It’s Black Holic) The three-step algorithm only took a few seconds, but just as Sangwoo reached out to open the drink, he saw a sticky note on the can. The handwriting was so awful that it looked like a toddler had written it with their non-dominant hand. Property of Jaeyoung Jang As Sangwoo scowled in disgust, a hand emerged from over his shoulder and snatched up the can. Slowly, Sangwoo looked up to meet a pair of smiling eyes, framed by large glasses, staring right back at him. “Fancy seeing you here,” Jaeyoung said cheerfully. He then picked up the white tote that had been sitting in the chair of the desk next to Sangwoo and slung it over the chair’s back. His backpack and leather bag soon followed. For a moment, Sangwoo could only gape at him in disbelief. Apparently, the asshole had carried around three entire bags just to make Sangwoo’s life miserable. Without further ado, Jaeyoung placed his red beanie on his desk and walked away. Sangwoo tried his best to focus on his textbook, but his grip was so tight on his mechanical pencil that he broke the lead twice. To him, Jaeyoung was like a cockroach—more unsettling when he was out of sight than in it. Sangwoo couldn’t stop thinking about what the older man might be doing after dropping off that stupid beanie. A moment later, Jaeyoung returned carrying three books in his hands. Sangwoo glanced at the titles: The History of Sex, The Nature of Orgasms, and The Beauty of the Naked Form. They were exactly the kind of books he expected a lowlife like Jaeyoung to read. After plopping the books on top of his desk, Jaeyoung leaned back in his chair and began to flip through the pages. Whenever there was an illustration, he stopped and peered closely at it. He really is the scum of the earth. Although Sangwoo did his best to avoid looking over at Jaeyoung, he kept getting distracted by the sound of pages turning. Jaeyoung also kept bumping the table as he shook his leg. It was a shame that Sangwoo was the only other person sitting there—if anyone else was around, it would have been much easier to silently pressure Jaeyoung to stop. Unfortunately, it was apparent the asshole was hell-bent on making Sangwoo’s life miserable. Why else would he choose the seat right next to him and continually rattle a table that sat eight when there were six other seats farther away? Express anger = Defeat Ignore him = Victory Sangwoo had encountered a guy similar to Jaeyoung in high school. At the end of the day, attention seekers like them just wanted to catch people off guard and fulfill their disgusting desire for notoriety. It was obvious that the asshole was waiting for Sangwoo to lose his cool and start cussing him out. Sangwoo didn’t want to give the asshole what he wanted, but his patience was wearing thin. He tried to force himself to reach some kind of nirvana, but when the desk shook so violently that the lead in his pencil snapped yet again, he’d had enough. He sprang to his feet, quickly grabbed his writing utensils, shut his textbook, shoved his belongings into his backpack, and began to walk away. He didn’t get far, however, before Jaeyoung stretched and rose from his seat, following Sangwoo as if it were the most natural thing. At this point, Sangwoo was too tired to feel surprised. He told himself again that it was best to ignore the asshole, but his anger just kept growing as he briskly headed down the library staircase. When Jaeyoung nearly ran into him from behind, he completely lost it. Scowling, Sangwoo spun to face him. It was like a scene from a Western movie—two cowboys standing in a field, ready to duel to the death. For all intents and purposes, Sangwoo looked like the angry villain trying to attack Jaeyoung, the smiling, confident hero. When he glowered at him, a gust of wind even blew between them, like a set animation in a video game. If only we were in an RPG… Sangwoo thought wistfully. If they had been, he could’ve taken out a weapon and stabbed Jaeyoung right in the heart. Instead, he could only attack with words. “Have you lost your mind?” he snapped. The blow didn’t land. In fact, Jaeyoung looked more satisfied than anything else. Sangwoo figured he would take another swipe. “Are you a stalker?” “What a wild accusation to make. Have you ever considered that you’re just too predictable?” Jaeyoung let out a leisurely yawn, then slipped his hands into his pockets. “It wasn’t exactly hard to find out that you do the exact same things at the exact same places every single day. Did you seriously think nobody would notice because you wear black? You stand out more than you think.” “How did you figure out my schedule?” Jaeyoung took a familiar notebook out from one of his three bags and tossed it at Sangwoo, who recognized it immediately as the one he’d left in the meeting room—the one with his schedule in it. As Sangwoo stood there, his mind racing, Jaeyoung took a few steps toward him. The closeness made their difference in height much more palpable. Determined not to appear intimidated, Sangwoo glared at Jaeyoung fiercely. “Harassing me will not give you a diploma. This is a complete waste of your time.” “Yeah, I know. Trust me, this is pretty annoying for me, too… But you really had it coming.” “What do you stand to gain from doing this?” Sangwoo demanded through gritted teeth. Jaeyoung gave him an evil grin. “It’ll make me feel better.” A chill ran down Sangwoo’s spine. Initially, he’d believed he might be able to reason with Jaeyoung, but he’d been entirely incorrect. To tell the truth, nothing Jaeyoung was saying made any sense to him. Didn’t people usually hurt others in order to obtain something they desired? How was Sangwoo supposed to handle a total sadist whose only desire was to torture him? Finally, Sangwoo asked, “What can I do to get you to stop?” “Hmm…” Jaeyoung glanced up thoughtfully. “I dunno. Haven’t thought that far ahead. Maybe you could try being a bit more polite, or repent for being such a rude asshole.” “I have nothing to repent for.” “Fine, then. You can just wait until I have a sudden change of heart. It happens pretty often.” “You know, I initially thought you were just a scumbag. I was unaware that you’re insane.” “Thanks. I hear that a lot.” For a moment, they glared at each other silently, invisible sparks flying through the air. Sangwoo’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You must think I’m a spineless idiot. Well, you’re wrong. I’m not scared of anything, and I’ve faced all sorts of jerks, scumbags, and freaks in the past.” He injected confidence into his voice. “You’re nothing more than a pest to me.” Jaeyoung shot him a bright grin. “Good to know! I do love a challenge.” “Do your worst, you scumbag.” “Oh, I happen to have a ton of free time on my hands, thanks to a certain asshole.” Scowling, Sangwoo turned around sharply and approached his bicycle, which he’d secured to the railing in front of the library. He made sure to obscure the code to the bike lock just in case Jaeyoung was trying to take a peek, then quickly swung himself onto the seat. What if he deflated my tires? Sangwoo wondered suddenly. If Jaeyoung had messed with his bike, he could call the police on him right away. But despite his initial suspicions, nothing seemed amiss. Sangwoo ended up getting home earlier than usual. He secured his bicycle to a post in front of his building, then quickly climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. It was only when he finally stepped into his apartment that all the built-up tension drained from his body. He collapsed onto the bed without bothering to change his clothes and lay there for a long time, letting himself recover. That was awful, he thought. It had been a horrible, horrible day. He’d been distracted during class, had eaten his lunch so quickly that it’d given him a stomachache, hadn’t been able to take his usual walk, and had his library study session ruined. Although he’d forced himself to sound confident when he was facing Jaeyoung, Sangwoo felt the exact opposite. Jaeyoung was different from the villains he’d faced in the past. The asshole was meticulous and sly, and it was unlikely that he would do something illegal that Sangwoo could use against him. Which left him with only one solution: Withstand the torture until Jaeyoung got tired of it. The asshole’s behavior so far had been bizarre enough to totally catch Sangwoo off guard, but there was one thing he knew—there was no way the jerk would stick with a class like Engineering Mathematics 2. Not only was it incredibly difficult, but he wouldn’t benefit from it in any way. That meant Jaeyoung’s harassment would last for two weeks at the most, since that was the duration students had to drop classes. Two weeks. It would be a pain, but it wasn’t very long in the grand scheme of things. Sangwoo could handle that; it would be an exercise in patience, nothing more. And once it was over, his world would be peaceful again. Of course, that didn’t make the situation any less annoying. A surge of anger and indignation rose in Sangwoo, but he had no one to vent them to. Not only did he suffer from a perpetual lack of friends, but most people wouldn’t be able to empathize with the amount of stress he’d felt from simply having his seat robbed from him and being forced to sit next to someone else. Needless to say, he didn’t get much rest that night. return 0; On the second day of the new semester, Sangwoo stumbled out of his apartment an hour earlier than usual and weakly swung himself onto his bike. He usually made sure to get a full eight hours of restful sleep, but he was running on four today. He’d been snapped awake in the middle of the night thanks to a nightmare, and his entire body was now protesting as a result. In said nightmare, a red puffer jacket had zipped open to reveal sharp teeth and tried to bite him. It felt pretty ridiculous upon waking, but in his dream, he’d only been able to run around in terror. Sangwoo clenched his jaw and repeated his magic mantra to himself: Just two more weeks. It was important to steel himself against the strange, unwelcome sense of anxiety that kept whispering that his stable, peaceful life would soon collapse. All he could do was be patient; he wasn’t about to drop his required courses, and even if he did, Jaeyoung would probably show up in his new classes as well. Taking a gap year wasn’t an option—not for such a minor inconvenience. When he rode his bike through the front gates of the school, the time on Sangwoo’s digital watch read exactly 8:24 AM. To his relief, the campus was almost entirely empty. The only reason he’d gotten up so early was because he was determined to secure his rightful spot. Sangwoo parked his bike in the designated area in front of the library and briskly walked to the engineering building for class. A few minutes later, he found himself standing at the door to his classroom. He pushed it open slowly, his heart pounding. No! Sangwoo despaired. A leather shoulder bag was already placed on the rightmost desk in the fourth row. He ran over to the desk and examined the bag, but he couldn’t figure out how Jaeyoung had managed to get to the classroom and take his seat so early. Did he leave the bag here yesterday? It was a disturbing idea, but it was much more plausible than the alternative, which was that Jaeyoung had come to school at the crack of dawn. Sangwoo was near certain that Jaeyoung was someone who’d rather die than wake up that early. Defeat tasted bitter. Robbed of his rightful seat once again, he picked out another: the one farthest away from his original choice. Given how early it was in the morning, the classroom heater hadn’t been turned on yet, and the room was freezing. After some contemplation, Sangwoo decided he would keep his puffer jacket and scarf on. Drowsiness began to creep in as he sat waiting. Although he had his textbook lying open on the desk, the letters were blurry. It made sense, really—he’d barely slept the night before. But he absolutely could not fall asleep during class. In that case, maybe I should sneak in a short nap now instead. Sangwoo shut his textbook and put his head down on it, using it as a pillow for the first time in his life. His consciousness faded rapidly away. When he came to, a monotonous voice was saying, “Each of your assignments is worth thirty percent of your grade, with the final project being worth the last twenty. My office and email address are listed on the syllabus. If you would like to request a meeting, reach out to the TA or send me an email. Now, let’s take a look at this set of examples…” Sangwoo blinked, only to find his vision filled with red. Jaeyoung was sitting right next to him, a mocking smile on his face, even after Sangwoo had made sure to distance himself from the asshole’s stupid bag. Sangwoo surged upright and glanced at his watch—class had started fourteen minutes ago. Every single student in the room except for him had a worksheet in front of them. Sangwoo turned back to see Jaeyoung waving one at him. That insufferable ass… Sangwoo frantically scanned the room, but he didn’t see anybody with a spare worksheet. He entertained the idea of interrupting the professor and asking for one, but that probably wouldn’t go well—it was a request he should have made at the beginning of class. There was only one other option. Gritting his teeth, Sangwoo thrust his hand at Jaeyoung. “Give me my worksheet,” he demanded in a low voice. “Your worksheet? Sorry, but this is mine.” “So? I already know you won’t be using it.” Jaeyoung narrowed his eyes and gave the worksheet another flap. Sangwoo reached out and tried to snatch it from him, but the older student pulled it back sharply and folded the paper in half once, then again. Sangwoo watched him, his throat tightening with anxiety. “Did nobody ever teach you how to say ‘please’?” Jaeyoung whispered, raising an eyebrow. In that moment, with his bright red outfit, he looked just like the devil. And clenched between his fingers was Sangwoo’s printout—now a paper airplane. “Give me that,” Sangwoo hissed. “Nope. I’m not hearing enough desperation.” “I said, hand it over.” The professor turned his back to the class to write something on the board, and the paper airplane flew from Jaeyoung’s hand and out the back door, drawing a graceful arc through the air. “Oops… Looks like you lost your chance.” Sangwoo stood from his seat. Rage bubbled up inside him, but he suppressed it with everything he had. He should have known better than to think that Jaeyoung would cooperate. Trying his best to stay silent, he squeezed through the rows of desks and grabbed a worksheet from the pile on the podium. Unfortunately, the professor chose that exact moment to turn around. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, giving Sangwoo a stern look. “I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t receive a worksheet, but I thought it would be rude to disrupt the class by raising my hand.” “Well, maybe you would’ve gotten a worksheet if you weren’t dozing off during your first class.” The professor clicked his tongue, eyes filling with a strange mixture of exasperation and pity. “You might want to go to the bathroom before you sit back down.” “Pardon?” Sangwoo asked, confused. “Bathroom. Now.” Slightly baffled, Sangwoo walked out through the front door, still holding the worksheet. He’d never been the type to be a teacher’s pet, answering every question and making a point to visit during their office hours, but his high scores on exams and assignments were typically enough to earn his professors’ trust by the end of a semester. Getting on a teacher’s bad side on the first day of class was an entirely new experience. To make things even worse, Professor Choi was a well-regarded computer science teacher who usually taught advanced 400-level courses. Questions still swirling through his mind, Sangwoo hurried into the bathroom. The sight that greeted him in the mirror was so shocking that he nearly shouted—somebody had drawn a thick, dark mustache under his nose. He frantically tried to wash it off, but he couldn’t scrub it away no matter how hard he tried. Judging his current efforts to be a waste of time, Sangwoo put some soap on his hands. His desperate rubbing seemed to yield some results, but the process was painfully slow. Precious minutes of the lecture were going down the drain along with the dirty water. How did I end up in such a stupid situation? Sangwoo lamented. Ugh, that asshole really lived up to his arts major and drew this on so well. In total, it took Sangwoo nineteen minutes to restore his face to normal. At that point, there were only five minutes remaining in class, and he didn’t feel like getting another pointed look from the professor by walking back into the classroom. What did I do to deserve this? he thought indignantly. Sure, he’d told the Ethics professor that he’d been the only one who’d worked on the group project, but that was the pure, honest truth. Jaeyoung might be bitter over his inability to graduate, but that wasn’t Sangwoo’s fault—the senior had brought it upon himself. And yet, despite Sangwoo’s innocence, he’d been ousted from class and left with no other choice but to wait outside until the lecture was over. It wasn’t fair. “That damn error…!” And Jaeyoung wasn’t just any error, either: He was a semantic error. It was the worst insult that Sangwoo could come up with. Not all errors were the same: syntax or formatting issues, for example, could be easily debugged. Errors in logic, however, were trickier to deal with since they tended to pop up in code that seemed to be done perfectly. They were so hard to catch that even a careful line by line inspection wasn’t always enough to pinpoint where the issue was coming from. To Sangwoo, Jaeyoung was the human equivalent: an unwelcome intruder who’d inexplicably materialized out of nowhere to destroy his carefully built routine. Students began to walk out of the classroom, signaling that class had ended. Sangwoo painstakingly cut through the crowd, finally returning to the desk where he’d been sitting. He saw Jaeyoung’s horrible red jacket out of the corner of his eye as he picked up his backpack, but ignored it and swiftly made his way out of the classroom. He knew the asshole’s goal was to piss him off, and he didn’t want the enemy knowing he’d succeeded. Now that Sangwoo had started the day off on the wrong foot, it felt like everything was crumbling around him—like he’d placed a semicolon in the incorrect spot somewhere in his code. During Algorithms, he had no other choice but to claim the leftmost seat in the second row, which left him blankly staring at a pillar that obscured his entire vision. The seat was so terrible that it essentially rendered attending the class pointless, but it was the only way Sangwoo could distance himself from Jaeyoung’s desk-snatching self. The rest of the day continued to play out like some kind of terribly written movie script. When Sangwoo had gone to the dining hall after class and sat at the most secluded table he could find, Jaeyoung had sat right next to him despite the literal dozens of other tables available and began to eat wordlessly. Feeling indigestion settling in, Sangwoo had put away the tray of Korean food he’d retrieved and had gone to the convenience store, only to find that his favorite canned coffee was still out of stock. And the path he typically used to take a walk? It was still cordoned off by the drama club. By the time he finally plopped down at the library desk he’d reserved, Sangwoo was exhausted. It had only been two days since the harassment had begun, and already he wasn’t confident he could endure eight more of the same. Jaeyoung chose that moment to swagger up to Sangwoo like a villain, a fantasy novel clutched in one hand. “Hope you have a productive study sesh,” he crooned, claiming the seat next to Sangwoo before leaning back and flipping the book open. Sangwoo glowered at him. Just looking at Jaeyoung’s face was enough to send his blood pressure through the roof. Maybe I should report him, he mused, silently listing out all of the crimes Jaeyoung had committed in his head. List of Offenses: –Walking around in red clothes (not illegal) –Taking my preferred seat (not illegal) –Sitting next to me (not illegal) –Bouncing his leg (inconclusive) –Spinning his pen (inconclusive) –Buying up all the cans of Black Holic coffee (not illegal) –Filling a trash can to the brim (not illegal) –Refusing to provide me with a worksheet (not illegal) –Drawing on my face (not illegal) –Existing (not illegal) –…… The longer the list went on, the more pathetic Sangwoo felt. Jaeyoung had never insulted him outright or laid hands on him—all the things he’d done were small and trivial, but they had made Sangwoo want to rip his own hair out. He’s like a bug in my code. Glaring at the man next to him, Sangwoo watched as Jaeyoung flipped to the next page of his novel. The senior was lounging back in his chair with one of his legs propped up on his opposite knee, bouncing it up and down like an overly energetic child. Sangwoo felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to smack his stupid beanie-covered head. Although Jaeyoung had managed to thoroughly distract him for quite a while, Sangwoo finally got a moment of respite when the asshole yawned and fell asleep on the desk. To Sangwoo’s profound relief, his enemy never snored, ground his teeth, or muttered in his sleep. Some students—presumably Jaeyoung’s friends—came by and took pictures of him as he slept, snickering quietly. A few girls had hung around too, whispering among themselves, but Sangwoo hadn’t minded. They hadn’t been loud enough to prove a bother, so by the time two hours had passed, he found he’d actually been able to accomplish some of the objectives he’d had in mind for the day’s study session. Sangwoo quietly put his books and pencil pouch back in his bag, trying not to wake Jaeyoung, but the moment he slid back his chair and stood up, the asshole sprang to his feet. Sangwoo could only watch in horror as Jaeyoung’s elbow brushed against the pile of snacks and drinks that some students had placed next to him in some kind of strange ritual offering, knocking them onto the floor. Ignoring the commotion, Sangwoo headed toward the exit of the library. He tried to move as quickly as possible, but it was no use—Jaeyoung caught up to him effortlessly. By the time they reached the stairwell that led down to the first floor, he found himself caught in some kind of idiotic competition, racing down the stairs like his life depended on it. “I bet this is pissing you off, Sangwoo,” Jaeyoung commented from behind him. “Please do not talk to me. Your voice is grating.” “Well, too bad. You brought this upon yourself.” “How? I did nothing wrong,” Sangwoo snapped as he marched out of the building and headed to his bicycle. “You’re the one who’s acting like a child. In fact, not even a child would do things like—” “Oh, I see… You still think you’re totally innocent, don’t you? You think I’m some kind of stalker.” Sangwoo stopped dead in his tracks, as Jaeyoung’s words had struck a chord. “Of course I do. What fault can you find in my actions? If the offense was having your name excluded from the presentation—” “Okay, enough,” Jaeyoung snarled. Sangwoo spun around to face his enemy, only to find that Jaeyoung and his infuriatingly red beanie had gotten much closer to him than he had thought. Face uncharacteristically serious, Jaeyoung stared straight into Sangwoo’s eyes as the last traces of sunlight disappeared behind him. “Believe it or not,” he said softly, “I wanted to be friends with you.” Sangwoo stared at him in silence. He’d seen Jaeyoung up close before, but beyond his questionable attire, he’d never taken the time to examine the man carefully. He’d never realized—or cared—that Jaeyoung’s eyes were slightly downturned, that his nose was straight and high-bridged, or that his hair and eyes were closer to brown than black. “Humans run on emotion, you know,” Jaeyoung continued. “If you hadn’t treated me like absolute shit, I wouldn’t be so pissed over the group presentation.” “Will you leave me alone if I apologize, then?” After a moment of visible disbelief, Jaeyoung laughed out loud. “How stupid can you be? I thought you were supposed to be a computer science genius! Though I guess your specialty is machines, not people…” “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to take away from that.” “Think about it. If there was such a simple solution as apologizing, things wouldn’t have spiraled into this mess.” Sangwoo had solved countless difficult problems in the past, but Jaeyoung’s words sounded like total gibberish. He might as well have been speaking a different language. Fighting with Jaeyoung was the equivalent of trying to get a void function to return a value—impossible. Finally, Sangwoo managed to say, “You can justify your actions all you want. At the end of the day, you are and will never be more than a lowlife, a deadbeat, sadistic piece of trash.” Jaeyoung smirked at him instead of getting angry or offended. “I love it when you compliment me.” “It seems you’ve truly lost your mind now.” “Sure have! See you tomorrow.” What a complete freak, Sangwoo thought, undoing his bike lock. He rode away without looking back. return 0; On Wednesday, Sangwoo had a two-hour-long block of Pop Culture and Cultural Theory. The class was infamous for being difficult, but it was the only liberal arts class that had been available during the time slot in his schedule he’d been looking to fill. At a glance, the course’s syllabus was filled with confusing concepts and phrases Sangwoo had never heard before, like “the Frankfurt School” and “Orientalism.” He knew the material would be difficult for a computer science student like him. He’d read ahead in the textbook, but it hadn’t particularly helped. And if he had to deal with Jaeyoung’s harassment as well… Sangwoo felt resigned before the class even began. That was why, when he walked into the lecture hall exactly nineteen minutes before it was set to commence at 9:30 AM, he immediately squeezed his eyes shut. It was his way of avoiding the inevitable sight of Jaeyoung’s loathsome shoulder bag sitting in the most perfect seat in the room. But to Sangwoo’s surprise, when he finally opened his eyes, there was nothing there—both his chair and desk were pristine and unclaimed. Am I dreaming? Heart pounding from the shock of this unexpected turn of events, Sangwoo quickly claimed the spot. In that moment, he felt like an emperor sitting on his throne. But the initial rush of satisfaction was quickly overshadowed by fear of what Jaeyoung would do next. Suppressing his anxiety, Sangwoo began to review the material that would be covered during class. For the first time that semester, he actually felt satisfied with his studying environment—something that seemed highly correlated with the reclaiming of his proper seat and the absence of a certain crimson devil. Alas, he was a few pages in when somebody plopped a white tote bag on the desk next to him. Sangwoo heaved a giant sigh. “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?” His head whipped up at the unexpected voice—the higher pitch was not only infinitely more pleasant to the ear, but it also definitely didn’t belong to Jaeyoung. Instead, a girl wearing a dark-green jacket stood beside the desk next to him. As his joy subsided, Sangwoo realized she looked oddly familiar. As if she’d read his mind, the girl cheerfully announced, “It’s me, Jihye!” as she took a seat. “You helped me with those boxes, remember? We even grabbed lunch together.” Recognition sparked in Sangwoo’s mind. He hadn’t caught on to who she was at first because she was wearing a ponytail now—her hair had been down last time. Jihye turned to face him. “I didn’t think I’d see you in this class! Are you interested in philosophy? I’m taking it because I wanted to learn about the theories of French thinkers like Lacan and Foucault.” “No, I don’t particularly care for it. I’m only taking this class to fill a requirement to graduate.” “Oh… That makes sense. I’m actually required to take a computer science course, too. Can you tell me which one’s the easiest? I heard that Information-Processing Theory and Intro to Computer Science are—” Jihye fell abruptly silent as the professor walked in, saving Sangwoo from listening to her babbling any further. Still, overall, things weren’t too bad; despite the fact that he was seated next to someone who seemed to take great pleasure in chattering the day away, Sangwoo had the best desk in the classroom and a professor who appeared both punctual and well-organized. I haven’t seen Jaeyoung so far, he abruptly realized. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that the guy had given up—there was probably a reason behind this pleasant development. Still, it felt like a breath of fresh air. return 0; “Basically, he believed the world is divided into two categories: the elite and the working class,” Jihye explained. “And the former is who controls society.” “But that’s the truth,” Sangwoo shot back, “so what use is there in an opposing opinion that glorifies the masses? It should have been discarded a long time ago.” “No, no. Remember, the professor said it doesn’t matter if a theory is true or not! You can’t approach sociology with such a black-and-white way of viewing things.” The two of them were walking down the hallway of the humanities building, discussing what they’d learned in class. The infuriating red color Sangwoo had come to dread remained delightfully absent, and the joy of that fact drowned out any surprise he felt over Jihye’s markedly high intelligence. This was the way things were supposed to be. With how much suffering he’d gone through over the past two days, Sangwoo found that even the brief moment of normalcy felt like heaven. Though Jihye had sat next to him for the entire class, she hadn’t been distracting in the slightest, unlike a certain someone. To top it off, she’d even been kind enough to explain anything he hadn’t understood from the lecture. “Anyway, where’s your next class?” “I’m done for today.” “I’m so jealous… I have two more after this. What do you wanna get for lunch?” She seemed to be operating on the premise that it was only natural for her and Sangwoo to eat together since they’d sat next to each other during class. Though he silently questioned the validity of her rationale, Sangwoo let it slide—either way, the dining hall was his next stop. As they exited the building and walked through the campus, Sangwoo kept glancing around nervously, trying to predict where his enemy would attack from next. Then, just as Jihye asked him if there was anything wrong, he spotted a crowd of people pouring out of the humanities building. The only good thing about that damn red puffer jacket was that it was highly visible, even from a distance. “We have to hurry,” he said. “Huh? Why?” “Come on!” Not bothering to check if Jihye was following him, Sangwoo basically sprinted to the dining hall and quickly got in line for the Korean food station. Judging by the size of that crowd, he must have attended a large lecture, he mused. Now that he thought about it, Jaeyoung had to be retaking Ethics for Hanguk University Students, which probably overlapped with Sangwoo’s Pop Culture and Cultural Theory class. Looks like I’ll be getting a break on Wednesdays, Sangwoo concluded with satisfaction as he grabbed a dining tray. To make things better, a bolt of genius struck him as he tried to decide where to sit. Walking over to a section of the dining hall that was much more crowded than he usually preferred, Sangwoo quickly scanned the tables until he located one that had only two vacant seats. His heart filled with joy as he sat down with Jihye—now, Jaeyoung wouldn’t be able to harass him here, either. “You look like you’re in a good mood,” Jihye commented, voice curious. “Indeed.” With that, Sangwoo began to eat his food in total silence. Despite everything, he wasn’t entirely relaxed—his eyes consistently scanned over the students in line to get food. The red puffer jacket was lurking among the people in the tonkatsu line, its owner’s eyes sweeping over the dining hall in a fashion not unlike Sangwoo’s. It was only a few minutes later, when Jaeyoung walked over to the seating area along with a crowd of other students, that his gaze finally fell on Sangwoo. Sangwoo gave the asshole a triumphant look, and Jaeyoung’s face twisted into a strange, almost mocking smile before he walked away to sit somewhere else. It was so minuscule a victory that it barely deserved to be called one at all, but Sangwoo felt euphoric. “Are you going right back home after lunch?” Jihye asked. “No. I’m going to the library.” “Oh, that’s great! Wanna drop by the convenience store? I’ll get you something to drink.” Sangwoo shook his head. “You can’t.” “Huh? Why not?” He paused in the middle of picking up a bite-sized chunk of marinated meat. How could he possibly explain the situation? The story was far too long and convoluted. “This will sound very strange,” he began, picking his words carefully, “but I’m being…harassed.” “What?” Jihye looked so shocked that Sangwoo fell silent for a moment. When it seemed obvious that he wasn’t going to elaborate, she said worriedly, “Like, actually? Sangwoo, that’s a huge problem! How exactly are they harassing you?” He immediately regretted bringing it up. As he tried to figure out the best way to explain his predicament, Jihye’s eyes filled with horror. “It’s okay,” she said. “Whoever it is, there’s free counseling available for students, and we can even go to the police if you need to. We’ll get you help!” Hearing the blazing determination in her voice somehow made Sangwoo feel even more uncomfortable. Silently, he decided it would be best just to focus on answering her initial question. “He purchased every single one of the canned coffees that I always drink, so there are none left at the convenience store.” “Huh…? So, he bought out your favorite drink? Like in a buyer’s monopoly?” Jihye said, blinking in disbelief before bursting out laughing. “Just order a box online, then! You can even express ship it!” Sangwoo felt like he’d been hit over the head with a club. He’d never even considered the possibility of acquiring a Black Holic coffee somewhere else. Despite his intelligence, thinking outside of the box was definitely not Sangwoo’s strong suit. At one point during grade school, he’d actually gotten an incredibly low score on a school IQ test. His teacher had explained that, though he was quite gifted in the realm of logical-operational intelligence, he was far below average in the realms of applied reasoning and interpersonal intelligence. Sangwoo stared at Jihye, starting to see her in a new light. “You’re so smart,” he said in wonder. She laughed in response. “All right, so how else does this guy harass you?” “This one will sound quite strange as well, but I can only focus during class when I’m sitting in a specific seat.” Jihye gasped dramatically. “Hey, I saw something like that in an American TV show! Hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you considered that you might have obsessive compulsive…?” “No, the doctor said my symptoms aren’t that serious. Anyway, this guy keeps taking my seat before I can. The farther away I sit from that spot, the harder it is for me to concentrate, but I can’t bring myself to sit next to that assho—that person, because I dislike him so much.” “Hmm…” Jihye narrowed her eyes in contemplation, then snapped her fingers. “Just get a desk divider! You know, like the ones people use in grade school?” Sangwoo contemplated this. If he used the method she was proposing, he’d be able to remain in close proximity to his preferred seat without making visual contact with the enemy. It was a good solution. Impressed with Jihye’s flexible problem-solving, Sangwoo found himself nodding. His voice was a bit more hopeful as he said, “He also bounces his leg in the library and is very rough with books. When he’s reading, I can hear every time he turns a page.” “Try earplugs. They’re, like, dirt cheap.” Jihye smiled at him, and he smiled right back. “Thank you. I mean it. Let me treat you to a meal sometime.” “Yay! I’ll be looking forward to it!” she said, beaming. Sangwoo decided to go shopping at a home goods store instead of going to the library as he usually did. When he was done with his food, he stood up and glanced over to the other side of the room—Jaeyoung was still eating with his friends. “Wait! I’m not done yet!” The words didn’t even register in Sangwoo’s mind. Oblivious of everything but the excitement burning in his chest, he put away his tray and chugged a cup of water. There was a barely noticeable skip in his step as he exited the dining hall. “Hey, wait up!” Jihye called out. When Sangwoo glanced back, he saw her sprinting toward him, ponytail swinging. “Can I help you?” “Huh?” she gasped out, panting. “What do you need?” “N-nothing! I just thought it’d be nice to, you know…walk together. Also, I hate eating alone. It’s so embarrassing.” Her perception of things was so different from his own that Sangwoo found himself intrigued. He ate alone every single day, but he had never felt embarrassed… “We don’t have to go to the convenience store,” Jihye continued. “Can you just walk me to the humanities building? I have a class there.” “Why?” he asked. She seemed a bit old to need an escort. It wasn’t like she was some little kid who might be kidnapped without supervision. “Taking a walk after a meal is good for your health. It prevents all sorts of illnesses,” she responded, a bit more stubbornly this time. It was a sentiment he couldn’t find fault with. For the first time in his life, Sangwoo found himself going on his post-lunch stroll with somebody else. He’d been planning on heading straight to the home goods store, but Jihye’s proposal had proven pretty convincing—after all, he knew his morning regimen of bodyweight exercises wasn’t enough to appropriately maintain his health. Sneaking some cardio in during his time at school by taking a walk or two was vital. “Can I ask you something?” “You just did.” “No, that was a rhetorical expression indicating that I was about to ask you something,” she shot back right away. “Since your name is Sangwoo Choo, was your childhood nickname ‘Sangchoo’? Y’know, like the word for ‘lettuce’?” He blinked. “How did you know?” “I knew it!” Jihye doubled over laughing. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me your name. I almost called you that a couple times!” She lost it again, only barely managing to contain herself a few moments later. “Um… Would you get mad at me if I called you ‘Sangchoo’?” “No,” he replied—and he meant it. People had been calling him Sangchoo ever since he was a kid, regardless of his protests, and he was resigned to it at this point. On top of that, Jihye already acted very familiar, so her referring to him by a nickname didn’t faze him. People were going to call him whatever they wanted—it was a waste of energy to get worked up over it. It was definitely preferable to how a certain someone loved referring to him as “Sangwoo” in a snarky tone that irritated him to no end. As if fate was playing a trick on him, the accursed red puffer jacket entered Sangwoo’s vision the second he thought of its owner. Jaeyoung had just stepped out from behind a building, accompanied by two other guys. As soon as their eyes met, Sangwoo spun around. “Sangwoo…? You okay?” Jihye asked, sounding slightly confused. But Sangwoo couldn’t afford to waste time talking to her. “I’m going that way. See you next time.” “Sure! See you later!” She’d barely finished talking before Sangwoo made himself scarce. His mind raced as he sped down the path before him. A Jaeyoung-less class, lunch, and short walk… The day had been perfect—despite the lack of his favorite coffee—but the appearance of that red jacket had ruined it all. Sangwoo found himself genuinely hating the color. After speed-walking for a few minutes, he glanced back. Jaeyoung was about ten steps behind him, his buddies nowhere to be seen. Sangwoo’s legs propelled him forward again before he could even think about it, his movements more instinctive than anything else. He had to escape. Where his firewall had once been unassailable—even in the face of outside threats or potential violence—now an error had slipped in right under his nose and corrupted the whole program, rendering it inoperable. Calling the police or tattling to a teacher like he had in grade school would not be enough to save him this time. Driven entirely by the horror of seeing Jaeyoung’s face, Sangwoo found himself sprinting as fast as he could. He hadn’t run with such vigor since his days in the military. Buildings flew by: the natural science building, the student union building, then the convenience store. Countless students, their faces completely unfamiliar to him, were left in his wake. Finally reaching the school’s front gate, Sangwoo turned around, huffing and puffing. I must have lost him, he thought. But unfortunately, fate had betrayed him once again. “Geez, you’re fast!” Jaeyoung gasped, flopping on the ground. “Shit, let me just…catch my breath for a second. I’m too old for this, I swear… What is this, a track meet?” Internally, Sangwoo let out a howl of despair. He would have turned around and raced away a third time, but he was in a similar debilitating state. Instead, he stumbled away from Jaeyoung, plopped himself down on the sidewalk, and chugged the bottle of water that he’d put in his backpack. After a moment, Jaeyoung huffed, “What the…hell…is wrong with you? Why did you run away?” “Why does it matter if I ran away or not? You’re the creep who chased after me,” Sangwoo responded, also panting heavily. “You were acting strange! I just followed without much thought.” “That’s even stranger!” A long silence followed the bizarre conversation. Sangwoo waited until he’d caught his breath, then rose to his feet and headed over to the library to get his bike. Jaeyoung followed with an annoyed scowl, matching Sangwoo’s pace regardless of how fast or slow he walked. At some point, Sangwoo decided to just ignore him and walk at his normal pace—he didn’t feel like racing through the campus again. “So…your girlfriend is pretty cute,” Jaeyoung commented nonchalantly. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” The asshole raised an eyebrow. “Then who were you eating lunch with earlier?” It was an easy question. “Jihye Kim.” “What’s her major?” “Philosophy…I think?” Sangwoo answered mechanically, all his attention focused on walking. At this, Jaeyoung scoffed. “Her family name is Ryu, and she majors in French.” Sangwoo froze mid-step, then whipped around to stare at Jaeyoung in horror. “You’ve been stalking her as well? She’s a nice person. She has nothing to do with me!” Jaeyoung’s lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Stalking, my ass,” he spat. “The two of you came to the restaurant where I work, and I checked her student ID. After something like that, it’d be weirder if I didn’t remember her name.” Deciding that this speech wasn’t worth listening to, Sangwoo continued walking. Unfortunately, the pointless questions just kept coming. “Do you even know my name?” “Why should I?” he asked flatly. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart or something?” “An efficient brain is programmed to delete worthless information.” “Well, you’re definitely talented at making people feel like crap.” Jaeyoung reached out and grabbed Sangwoo’s shoulder, forcing him to a stop. An instinctive scowl found its way onto Sangwoo’s face at the feel of the asshole’s fingers on him. “Task: compose a three-line poem with the initials of my name,” Jaeyoung said with a sly smile. What the hell? Sangwoo slapped the asshole’s hand away from his shoulder. “Reward: I’ll stop harassing you.” Sangwoo paused. It was a tempting offer. “Query,” he replied after a brief moment of contemplation. “Are there any other conditions I need to meet in order to receive this reward? What exactly is your definition of ‘harassment’?” “Answer: you have to exhibit some level of artistic talent in your composition. And I’ll leave the defining to you.” “Artistic talent” was a bit too vague for Sangwoo’s liking, but he liked the fact that Jaeyoung was giving him the ability to determine the scope of his own reward. He decided he might as well play along. “What are your initials?” “Knowing that is your job, dipshit.” Sangwoo had been under the opposite impression, but thankfully, he already knew the asshole’s full name: Jaeyoung Jang. Two J’s and a Y. He began the poem, silently fumbling for the right words. “J… Just like rain, you dropped into my life.” Glancing up at Jaeyoung, Sangwoo found him smirking arrogantly with his arms crossed. The next line wasn’t too hard to come up with. “J… Jackass is what you are.” It was the fabric of Jaeyoung’s red jacket, glinting away in the sun, that inspired the final line. “And Y… You should go piss off for the rest of time.” An odd expression came over Jaeyoung’s face. Although there was a slight downturn to his lips, they seemed to keep twitching upward. Sangwoo fell silent, wondering what was going through the asshole’s brain. In his opinion, his poem had been pretty well-crafted—but as the seconds ticked by, he began to feel increasingly anxious. This might be a questionable contest moderated by an even more questionable judge, but he still wanted his hard work to be recognized. Finally, Jaeyoung said with quite a bit of authority, “Score.” Sangwoo perked up and listened intently. “Accuracy, ten out of ten.” “Hmm…” “Emotional sincerity, ten out of ten.” “I didn’t expect the scores to be so generous.” “Literary quality, three out of ten.” “Pardon…?” “Narrative element, one out of ten.” Gaping indignantly, Sangwoo stared at Jaeyoung as he worked himself up to announcing his assessment of the final category. If I get a perfect score here, maybe the reward is still in reach? “Originality, zero out of ten.” Sangwoo had to suppress a violent stream of cuss words. His archnemesis smiled at him brightly. “That’ll bring the score to…twenty-four out of fifty. Guess we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow, Sangwoo!” Gritting his teeth, Sangwoo hurriedly walked away from Jaeyoung. He should have known better. Why had he wasted his time on a bunch of Jaeyoung’s crap? To Sangwoo’s relief, Jaeyoung had the decency not to follow him. But the senior still had to get in one last parting shot. “I’ve gotten a pretty good grasp on what makes you tick now, don’t you think?” “What am I, a clock?” “I mean, you’re not that far off…” The words weren’t even worth responding to. Instead, Sangwoo turned his attention to following his original plan: going to the home goods store. Quickly undoing his bike lock, he swung himself onto the seat and sped past Jaeyoung.
Chapter 4
51 min read