Chapter 6

Sangwoo had never imagined that he would want to see Jaeyoung, but there he was, waiting for the asshole to walk into their classroom. He’d chosen to sit in the fourth row in the second seat to the right, next to his preferred spot that had already been claimed by Jaeyoung’s bag. His textbook was laid open on the desk in front of him, but he’d only placed it there out of habit—he hadn’t looked at it once. Instead, he patiently watched for Jaeyoung, his mind reviewing the three avenues of attack he’d prepared. He couldn’t wait to see Jaeyoung’s face twist in surprise. The professor walked into the classroom, but Jaeyoung was still nowhere to be seen, despite being the TA for the class. Sangwoo turned his entire body so that he could stare at the entrance at the back of the room, but there were no red puffer jackets among the swarm of hurrying students. Just then, a voice asked, “What’re you lookin’ at? I’m right here.” Sangwoo froze. A man in a dark-green coat stood in front of him, his hands in his pockets. Even upon meeting his eyes—which were unobscured by glasses—Sangwoo still struggled to identify him as Jaeyoung. But he’d spoken with Jaeyoung’s voice… Still awash in a sea of confusion, Sangwoo watched as the man sat down in Sangwoo’s favorite seat. All Jaeyoung had done was change a few aspects of his outfit, but that’d been enough to short-circuit Sangwoo’s entire processing system. Still, no matter what the man looked like, he was clearly Jaeyoung. Composing himself, Sangwoo took out a yellow desk divider—his first avenue of attack—and placed it on his right side, effectively obscuring Jaeyoung’s face. Unfortunately, he could still hear the deadbeat’s snort of laughter loud and clear. “We’ll start the skit presentations next Thursday, so I want everybody to start preparing now,” the professor was saying. The guidelines for the skit had been outlined in the class’s syllabus. Students were to separate into pairs and write up a five-minute sketch in Mandarin Chinese, which they would then present to the entire class. It was an important assignment that would be worth 20 percent of their final grade. As the professor passed out some worksheets to the first row, Sangwoo found himself wondering, Isn’t that the TA’s job? But the professor had already begun to speak again. “The pairs and presentation dates have already been assigned, and are written here,” she continued, projecting a list up on the board. “I’m aware that those of you presenting first might be at a bit of a disadvantage, but I’ll make sure to take that into account when I’m grading.” Sangwoo’s eyes quickly spied his own name on the list. However, they also quickly identified a glaring issue: the student he’d been paired with. Sangwoo Choo (Computer Science), Jaeyoung Jang (Visual Arts) Presentation: March 14 (Thursday) Out of the thirty or so potential partners he could’ve had, he’d somehow ended up with Jaeyoung. Furthermore, it looked like they would be presenting on the following Thursday, which was the earliest possible presentation date. Sangwoo’s hand shot into the air, and the professor looked over at him. “Yes? Do you have a question?” “Professor, may I choose a different partner if the one I’ve been assigned is so objectionable that it’d be impossible for us to work together?” The professor frowned at the question. “No. I’m sure some students will be more skilled than others, but the whole point of assigning the teams is to have you work through those differences. In fact, I specifically asked the TA to randomly select who would be paired with whom because I anticipated a question like this one. The process was totally fair. Now, does anybody have any questions that are not about changing partners or presentation dates?” How can it be totally fair when he’s the one who assigned the pairs? Sangwoo wanted to ask, but the professor had sounded so stern that he didn’t have the courage to say anything else. He’d already made a bad impression on his Embedded Systems teacher—he couldn’t let the same thing happen in another class. Suddenly, the yellow desk divider limply fell to the floor to reveal Jaeyoung, chin in hand and a strange smile playing on his lips. “It’ll be fine,” he said smugly. “You can be a freeloader if you want. I got this.” Ugh, shut up! Sangwoo snarled inwardly, shoving the useless divider into his bag. A few minutes later, the worksheets that had been going around the classroom reached Sangwoo’s desk. He made sure to grab one before Jaeyoung could take it from him, then wrote his class year and name in the upper left corner. “The sheet you just got contains expressions that you should have learned in Chinese 101, as well as some that are a bit more advanced. There should be a hundred of them overall. Please refer to them as you write your skit,” the professor instructed. “Now, get together with your partner and discuss the assignment.” Sangwoo carefully read through the list. About 30 percent of the expressions were familiar, since he’d already memorized them. He’d taken Chinese 101 during freshman year and had gotten full marks for both attendance and the regular exams, but had lost a whole bunch of points on the skit and oral exam. Ultimately, he’d gotten an A- in the class, but he was aiming for an A+ in Intermediate Chinese—which meant Sangwoo needed to get a good grade on this group project. Thanks to his fairly empty schedule, he’d likely have more than enough preparation time. The biggest challenge would be his partner, whom Sangwoo was sure would screw him over in any way possible. Honestly, though, Sangwoo wasn’t too worried. If need be, he’d just act out both sides of the skit. After all, the syllabus clearly stated that everybody would be getting graded on their individual performances. Sangwoo opened his notebook and began to scribble down some ideas, fully prepared to do the project by himself. These expectations were upended, however, when Jaeyoung took his desk and placed it directly in front of his own. Sangwoo didn’t even look at the asshole as he said, “A good portion of the sentences are questions or answers concerning certain locations, so we can make the skit about a Hanguk University student, played by me, giving directions to a Chinese exchange student, played by you.” He hadn’t been looking for any input, but Jaeyoung grumbled, “That’s so cliché. I really dodged a bullet not developing that game with you.” He seemed to be making a habit out of criticizing Sangwoo’s creative abilities. First, he’d said that Veggie Man was boring, then he’d given Sangwoo a zero out of ten in originality for his poem, and now he was attacking him about his idea for the skit. And that wasn’t even bringing up the countless other snide comments he’d made. “Let’s hear your brilliant plan, then,” Sangwoo said, tossing his pencil onto his notebook and leaning back in his chair like Jaeyoung always did. He crossed his arms, too, for good measure, and immediately found himself feeling much more powerful. Jaeyoung skimmed through the handout full of Chinese sentences and said, “A Qing dynasty merchant turned phone scammer—that’s our main character.” “Excuse me?” “We’ll start off with the merchant at a marketplace. ‘How much are those?’ ‘It’s a hundred thousand won for two bunches of grapes.’ ‘Th-that’s way too expensive!’ ‘Please stop. Violence is illegal, you know. The exit is that way.’ That’ll take care of all the expressions listed for us to use when buying or selling something, so…” Sangwoo, who had been fully ready to mock Jaeyoung’s idea, couldn’t help but get immersed in the story. “Next, we can have the merchant say: ‘Today, I earned zero won. I am very poor; I have no money…’ Then we can shift to the scammer part of the storyline by using these: ‘I sold all my items. Using the money I received, I bought a telephone. Now, I have nothing left…’ Oh, and here’s a good one: ‘I am a scammer.’” Sangwoo began to write down the plot in his notebook, referring to the worksheet to make sure Jaeyoung’s expressions were included in the list. “So he calls somebody with his phone: ‘Ring, ring. Wéi? I am with your son. Give me ten billion won, and he can go back home.’ Then the person on the other end says, ‘I am not married. You are a scammer.’” “So? How does it end?” Jaeyoung shrugged. “How do you want it to end?” Sangwoo mulled it over but couldn’t think of any plausible action a Qing dynasty merchant would take after failing to scam someone over the phone. The best he could come up with was… “He runs out of food and starves to death?” “…Yeah, you would say that. It’ll work with that idea, though: ‘I’m hungry. Give me food.’ The dying part doesn’t fit any of the expressions on the list, but it should be fine to add. As his final request, he could ask that the telephone he bought be handed down to his brother.” Sangwoo read through the plot he’d jotted down in the notebook. It was definitely a bit strange, but it contained the perfect mixture of difficult and easy expressions. At that moment, a question flashed through his mind. “Why a Qing dynasty merchant, of all people?” “The professor is a Qing dynasty buff. I’m willing to bet she’ll give us a perfect score if we show up wearing accurate clothes and a queue wig.” “If you really think—” he began, but Jaeyoung cut him off. “Just look at this. The rating criteria says that visuals, humor, and preparation add up to twenty percent of your grade for this project.” Sangwoo had already noted that section and wondered why such a category would be included. Considering that tone, pronunciation, and fluency accounted for 50 percent, and level of difficulty, appropriateness of dialogue, and grammar made up 30 percent, the weight for performance seemed extraordinarily high. Seeing the confused frown on Sangwoo’s face, Jaeyoung added, “Trust me, she’s my club supervisor. I know exactly what she likes.” “Which club?” “Drama.” The lead of the mechanical pencil in Sangwoo’s hand snapped, catapulting straight into Jaeyoung’s face. Sangwoo didn’t notice—not even when Jaeyoung lifted a hand to rub at his cheek with a frown. In his head, he was replaying the moment when his beloved walking path had been blocked off so the drama club could use it. Even that had been a part of the asshole’s plan. Sangwoo looked away from Jaeyoung, deciding to ignore his nemesis’s presence in favor of writing out the skit’s script instead. If he knew a certain Chinese phrase or saw it in the worksheet, he scribbled it down diligently. Otherwise, he just used Korean. The entire time, Jaeyoung didn’t say a word. He was so silent, it actually started to prick at Sangwoo’s nerves. Based on the previous data he’d compiled, this was highly abnormal; Jaeyoung was someone who couldn’t sit still for even a minute. He had to tap his pen on his desk, make snarky comments, or loudly flip the pages of his book. Blinking in confusion, Sangwoo glanced up—only to jolt in surprise when he saw Jaeyoung staring at him, chin resting on his intertwined hands. “Fascinating,” the asshole muttered, eyes not pausing in their dissection. Sangwoo immediately turned his gaze back to the paper and resumed working on the script. Unfortunately, this didn’t do much to deter his nemesis. “You wanna know what’s so fascinating?” Jaeyoung whispered. “I just realized we have something in common.” Yeah, right. That’s impossible. Sangwoo couldn’t hide his frown, and Jaeyoung chuckled lightly. “Geez, relax! I was talking about our handwriting.” Sangwo was utterly shocked. He had never considered his handwriting to be excellent by any means, but he knew it wasn’t nearly as horrendous as Jaeyoung’s. “Please stop distracting me.” “Sangwoo,” Jaeyoung crooned in a low voice. “You’re a pretty chill guy, aren’t you?” After two straight days of making Sangwoo’s life a living hell, now the guy wanted to act like they were best friends? It was quite an interesting development, but Sangwoo had no intention of indulging him. He kept working. “I mean, look at you! You’re working on a project with a dude who’s a deadbeat, sadistic piece of shit. Do you not know how to hold a grudge?” Ignore him. “Heyyy, Sangwoo…” Ignore him. “What are your thoughts on revenge?” Ignore him. “Personally, if I try to screw someone over, that means I care about them to some degree… But you don’t feel any particular way about me, do you? You just want me to get lost, right?” Ignore him. “Come on, Sangwoo. It’s not polite to ignore your partner.” “I can when said partner is an asshole.” Jaeyoung scoffed. “Damn… Is that seriously how you’re gonna be?” “Could you please be quiet? I’m in the middle of something.” “Fine, I will—if you do me a favor.” “I’ll pass.” “Take off your hat.” Sangwoo glanced up, caught off guard, and found Jaeyoung in the same pose he’d been in before. His face was completely nonchalant. It doesn’t seem like he’s trying to taunt or harass me… Sangwoo thought doubtfully. Either way, it would probably be best to ignore him. Sangwoo went back to working on the script. As soon as he’d jotted down the last line, Jaeyoung snatched it up and proceeded to look over it himself. “I see,” he murmured occasionally as he went, nodding to himself. “Not bad.” He even grabbed Sangwoo’s pencil and wrote down a few notes. When Sangwoo got his notebook back, he found that all the blank spaces he’d planned to fill later were gone—Jaeyoung had come up with original lines in Chinese and had written them in. What’s wrong with him? Sangwoo wondered, completely baffled. Had the asshole finally decided to stop harassing him whenever he got the chance? It seemed so, given he was the one who’d come up with the final idea for their skit. He was being more helpful than annoying. Sangwoo couldn’t help but ask, “Why the sudden change of heart?” “Huh? What do you mean?” “Before, you were doing everything in your power to make my life miserable. What happened in these past two days?” Honestly, Jaeyoung had to be the strangest guy Sangwoo had ever met. Everything about him was constantly changing. First, he acted like a deadbeat, then he popped up at a restaurant as a respectful waiter. He went from cussing Sangwoo out to smiling at him, as easily as if a switch had been flipped in his head. He’d even chased Sangwoo down like some kind of serial killer, only to make him compose a random poem! And now, after harassing him for days, the guy had decided to be a helpful collaborator for their group project. The professor, who’d been roaming around the classroom and assisting other students, drifted over to them. “How are things going over here?” she asked, then raised a brow when she realized who Sangwoo’s partner was. “Oh, so you’re in this group, Jaeyoung! You two should be set, then.” “Actually, Sangwoo is the one who did the hard work,” Jaeyoung responded with a smile. Was the asshole glitching out or something? Sangwoo blinked at the guy in total disbelief, but the professor had already turned to him with a smile. “Is that so? Let me take a look at the script.” If his partner had been anyone else, Sangwoo would have happily given them the credit for the outline. “I simply transferred their ideas onto paper,” he would have said. But…he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to compliment Jaeyoung in any way. Instead, he respectfully handed the notebook to the professor. “A merchant from the Qing dynasty?” She burst into laughter. “Oh, I love that. This will be a fun one for sure. But, wait. Some of these lines…” The smile slowly faded from her face. “I’ve never taught any cuss words in my class. Jaeyoung, are you the one who did this?” The professor glared at Jaeyoung, but then realized Sangwoo was the one holding the pencil. She fixed a stern look at him. “Fix those lines, or you get a zero on the entire assignment.” “Yes, ma’am,” Sangwoo muttered, unable to say anything else under her piercing gaze. She handed back the notebook and walked away, and Jaeyoung immediately began to snicker. Sangwoo gritted his teeth and ignored him in favor of erasing every single line the asshole had written, leaving behind bits of rubber in his fury. As he brushed them away, Jaeyoung whispered, “Personally, I love holding grudges.” Sangwoo pressed the eraser down even harder. return 0; Seething at the fact that Jaeyoung had managed to catch him off guard once again, Sangwoo immediately headed over to the engineering building after the conclusion of Intermediate Chinese. His hopes of regaining his desk of choice were high: He knew for a fact he’d managed to get out of the room before Jaeyoung, and the asshole couldn’t have reserved the seat in the middle of class. Alas, upon entering the room where Engineering Mathematics 2 was to be held, Sangwoo’s mood plummeted into the abyss. Jaeyoung’s navy-blue backpack, the one he usually used to steal Sangwoo’s seat in his second class of the day, had already been placed in the rightmost spot of the fourth row. Fortunately, Sangwoo had come prepared. He sat in the chair directly to the left of his favorite seat and put up the desk divider again, faithfully following Jihye’s wonderful advice. He might’ve had no other choice than to talk to Jaeyoung during Intermediate Chinese, but all he had to do during Engineering Mathematics 2 was pay attention to the lecture and solve math problems. Of course, Sangwoo had no doubt that his evil nemesis would try to annoy him around his defense. He’d already thought up several possible scenarios himself. Jaeyoung could “accidentally” knock the divider over, or tap relentlessly on his own desk, or just make weird noises throughout the whole class. Sangwoo spent the first six precious minutes of the lecture waiting for Jaeyoung’s first avenue of attack, but it never came. Finally, he crumbled. What the heck was that asshole up to on the other side of the divider? Silently taking down the barrier between them, Sangwoo found himself staring at a sleeping Jaeyoung, head plopped onto his desk. It was the perfect chance to examine his nemesis. The asshole had been setting his nerves on edge for the entire day, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. It wasn’t just the lack of Jaeyoung’s disgustingly red puffer jacket or glasses—it almost felt like a doppelgänger had taken his place, just like that time back in the Italian restaurant when Sangwoo hadn’t been able to recognize him at all. Taking a closer look, Sangwoo noted that Jaeyoung had taken out all three of his piercings, and his hair somehow looked much tamer. With his eyes closed peacefully, he didn’t resemble the lowlife who’d made harassing Sangwoo his job. It doesn’t make any sense, Sangwoo thought, hit by a sudden, dizzying wave of discomfort and confusion. Until now, he’d thought of Jaeyoung as a deadbeat, sadistic piece of trash, but the man sleeping beside him would be better described as an orderly, mature, and stylish human. It was like Jaeyoung Jang had been saved as different, completely incompatible file types. But no matter how shiny and handsome Jaeyoung was on the outside, Sangwoo knew the truth—on the inside, he was a disgusting, vile human. The most obvious proof of this was the fact that his visual arts ass was sitting in Engineering Mathematics 2 just so he could ruin Sangwoo’s grades. Worse, his plan was proving so effective that he was achieving his insidious goal even in his sleep. Clenching his fingers around his pencil, Sangwoo forced himself to focus on the lecture again. The professor had already moved on to another chapter while he’d been trying to figure out what Jaeyoung was scheming—now, Sangwoo could officially say he’d completely missed two entire chapters worth of material in Engineering Mathematics 2. Sadly, the same could be said for every single class on his schedule other than Pop Culture and Cultural Theory, the one class Jaeyoung couldn’t barge into. Sangwoo was reasonably confident that he could catch up on most of the content using textbooks and online lessons once Jaeyoung dropped the classes after the two-week period. Unfortunately, professors usually pointed out the content that would show up in exams during their lecture. There was no denying that he was missing out on some crucial information. With Jaeyoung asleep, there was no better opportunity to actually concentrate. And yet, strangely enough, Sangwoo found his attention unerringly drifting back to his nemesis every few minutes. Impressive, Sangwoo thought, doing his best not to look at Jaeyoung. He’s found a way to be distracting even when he is not actively harassing me. Pathetically, the rational side of his brain was overpowered by his impulses in just under a minute, and he couldn’t stop his head from turning. Then there he was, sleeping right before Sangwoo’s eyes: the most persistent error in the framework of his life. Sangwoo found himself swept up by an emotion that he couldn’t easily define, though he could confidently say he despised it. Thankfully, it dissipated pretty quickly once his mind turned to the slew of terrible things Jaeyoung had done to him while pretending to be a normal college student. A rush of hostility surged in Sangwoo. Jaeyoung appeared to be suffering under the delusion that he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. But the thing was, Sangwoo was more than capable of getting revenge on someone, so long as certain conditions were met. It was just that, generally, he didn’t think making someone’s life miserable was worth the amount of time and energy it required. Also, he wasn’t a complete weirdo. But…what was the saying? An eye for an eye? In that moment, the concept sounded quite appealing. Very carefully, Sangwoo extracted a black marker from his pencil pouch. Sliding closer to Jaeyoung, he took off the cap with all the solemnity of a soldier unsheathing his sword. However, the tip of the marker froze midair, right before it touched Jaeyoung’s forehead. It had been years since Sangwoo had last tried to draw something, and he found himself unable to use the canvas before him like he wanted to. Of course, there was no unwritten rule that a person needed to possess a certain amount of artistic talent to doodle on somebody’s face, but an innate sense of inferiority still held him back. Memories flashed through Sangwoo’s mind: his second-grade teacher scolding him because he hadn’t been able to come up with anything to draw in his notebook; losing his first-place academic ranking in his third year of middle school due to his arts evaluation… After a long moment of hesitation, Sangwoo decided leaving a single dot would be better than nothing. He carefully studied Jaeyoung’s face for a long time, trying to pick the best spot. The asshole’s eyebrows were dark with a natural arch to them, the slight dip before leading down to the straight line of his nose. His long eyelashes cast a shadow over his cheekbones, below which lay a set of slightly parted lips. I have to just go for it, Sangwoo silently reprimanded himself, clenching the marker even tighter. It doesn’t matter where. His hand was trembling—not only had he never done something like this before, but he was sacrificing precious class time to do it. Steeling himself, Sangwoo slowly moved the marker forward. But the moment the tip touched the skin of Jaeyoung’s forehead, his eyes met Jaeyoung’s now open ones. It was completely unintentional on Sangwoo’s part when the marker slipped, drawing a thick line down Jaeyoung’s face. His heart fell to the bottom of his feet. He felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was really nothing compared to the time when Jaeyoung had doodled on Sangwoo’s face, but it was still something he’d never even dreamed of doing to someone else before. Maybe being a terrible person required practice, like everything else in life. Jaeyoung simply stared at him, his eyes open wide. Sangwoo stubbornly ignored him, glaring at his textbook as he shoved the marker back into his pencil pouch. His head was blank, his heart pounding in his ears. Sangwoo sat frozen in his seat for the rest of the class, his head a jumbled mess. When he finally snapped back to awareness, the lecture had ended, and everybody was filtering out of the classroom. To think he’d let a momentary burst of anger overtake him like that… He’d allowed himself to fall down to Jaeyoung’s level. “Saaangwoo,” a voice called. A chill ran down Sangwoo’s spine—was Jaeyoung about to lose it on him? He’d have some choice words for the asshole if he did. Still, deep down, Sangwoo had to admit he was incredibly ashamed of what he’d done to the guy. How could he have doodled on somebody else’s face with a marker? “Hey, Sangwoo,” Jaeyoung said again. “I’m talking to you.” Reluctantly, Sangwoo responded, “Yes?” “That was an act of revenge, wasn’t it?” The asshole’s cheerful tone made Sangwoo glance to the side, revealing a laughing Jaeyoung with a thick black line stretching all the way down his nose. “Wow! Seriously, this is awesome,” he continued, not even a trace of anger in his voice. “I feel like my robot vacuum cleaner baked a little treat for me!” Jaeyoung reached over and patted the top of Sangwoo’s capped head. Sangwoo was so thoroughly baffled that he didn’t even snap at the asshole for touching him without permission. “Come on, let’s go eat,” Jaeyoung said with a big grin. “It’s on me.” Even after a long pause, all Sangwoo could manage was a mumbled, “I thought I made it clear that we’re not close enough for that…” Jaeyoung ignored him, standing up and grabbing him by the wrist. Still disoriented, Sangwoo allowed himself to be pulled along. Jaeyoung was the picture of a social butterfly as they left the engineering building, stopping to chat with what felt like every single person who walked by. Sangwoo’s artwork didn’t go unnoticed—Jaeyoung’s friends laughed at the sight of it. “Jaeyoung, what’s that on your nose?” one girl had asked. “Is it for your club?” “You like it? He did it for me.” The next time, it had been an upperclassman who waved at Jaeyoung. “Didn’t expect to see you anywhere near the engineering building,” he’d commented. “Oh, what happened to your face?” “Just dropping by. As for my face, he’s the artist.” Every single time Jaeyoung had announced that Sangwoo was the face-doodling culprit, he’d pointed at him as if he were citing a research reference. He seemed completely unembarrassed by the whole thing. Sangwoo, on the other hand, felt more humiliated than ever before. By the time they reached the first floor, his mind was in tatters from the endless “introductions.” Still, Jaeyoung wasn’t done with him. The senior kept dragging him along until, somehow, they ended up in front of a pizza parlor on campus. “Hope you like pizza,” Jaeyoung said—but only after they’d already taken a seat. At this point, Sangwoo couldn’t even find the energy to point out that the words had come a few minutes too late. Instead, he said flatly: “I don’t mind it.” “You’re being awfully cooperative…” “Can you erase the thing on your face?” “Nope! I’m keeping it.” Jaeyoung gave him a wide smile and scanned the menu, then ordered a pizza and two risottos without even asking Sangwoo’s opinion. “I didn’t order any pasta, since you hate it so much.” Sangwoo internally scoffed at the asshole’s audacity. Who was he trying to fool by acting all considerate? And anyway, he’d only made that comment about the pasta because Jaeyoung worked at an Italian restaurant. Sangwoo didn’t have any preferences when it came to food. He’d never even bothered to categorize the dishes he’d eaten based on taste. After all, the whole purpose of eating was to attain the energy and sustenance needed to stay alive and functioning. What was the point in being picky about appearance or taste as long as what you were consuming met the proper nutrient requirements? In that sense, Sangwoo firmly believed that the goofball sitting across from him with a black line on his nose was wasting his money. They could have eaten at the dining hall for much cheaper. “Sangwoo, did you understand anything from that lecture?” “I would have if you weren’t there.” “That’s pretty wild, considering you have trouble even remembering my name.” “Personally, I find it more fascinating that the same person who went out of their way to get someone else to answer roll call for them would take a nap in a class they have no reason to be in.” At some point during this back-and-forth, the server had brought their food to the table. Sangwoo turned his focus to mechanically churning through pizza and risotto, not speaking another word. Jaeyoung tried to get a rise out of him by making a comment about his “unappetizing” way of eating, but he ignored it. The moment he felt he’d eaten enough, Sangwoo rose to his feet and left. He felt slightly irked, perhaps because he’d been forced to dine at a place outside of his usual routine. Though it could have just as easily been the guy sitting across from him, smiling like an idiot despite the marker on his face. “Hey, Sangwoo,” called a voice from behind him. Jaeyoung must have paid for the meal in record time—he’d already caught up. “Look at the sky! Isn’t it pretty? Personally, I think it’d do you good to stop and smell the roses.” Just fly away into the sky and quit bugging me, Sangwoo groaned inwardly, not deigning to lift his gaze from the ground. The pair hadn’t been walking for long when Jaeyoung took something out of his leather bag. When Sangwoo glanced at it, his gaze was immediately drawn to a familiar logo placed against a black background—it was a Black Holic canned coffee. Immediately, he knew that Jaeyoung was planning on taunting him by sipping away at the drink, keeping it out of his reach. It was the moment Sangwoo had been waiting for: the moment where Jihye’s second bit of advice would come into play. He’d already asked the owner of the convenience store when the next shipment of Black Holic coffee would arrive, and been informed it was coming the Monday after next. Since he only drank one can a day on weekdays, he only needed seven cans to hold him over—and he’d already purchased them all from his local grocery store. Even better, one of them was stored away in his bag. Alas, he never even got to unzip his bag before Jaeyoung did something that stopped him in his tracks. The asshole reached out a hand and offered him the coffee. “Here. Coffee delivery.” Error. Error. File not found. Unsure why Jaeyoung wasn’t chugging the coffee and taunting him, Sangwoo instinctively took the can, then held it up to his eye to confirm that the seal hadn’t been broken. This elicited some murmurs from the asshole about how weird he was, but Sangwoo chose to ignore them in favor of continuing his inspection. However, even after he’d thoroughly inspected the can and shaken it back and forth, he didn’t find any leaks or evidence of the drink having been tampered with. “Geez… Just drink the damn thing.” “You must have done something to it,” Sangwoo said firmly. “What, like poison it? Relax. I’m just trying to get rid of it because I bought sixteen cans worth of the stuff, and it’s nasty as hell.” Sangwoo seriously began to doubt his nemesis’s state of mind. Nothing he’d done today made any sense. It was like looking at a totally normal sequence of numbers, only for a √55 to pop up out of nowhere. “How about this?” Jaeyoung asked in an impassive voice. “If you take off your hat, I’ll give you the other fifteen.” “I’m not sure what me wearing headwear or not has to do with you,” Sangwoo shot back. But inwardly, he couldn’t help but wonder why the asshole was so obsessed with his hat. The canned coffee opened with a satisfying, refreshing pop. Sangwoo carefully lifted the opening to his lips and tilted the can, letting the lukewarm liquid inside trickle into his mouth. Jaeyoung, who had been watching from the side, suddenly asked, “Do you actually enjoy drinking that stuff?” That wasn’t something Sangwoo had ever considered. He simply found the taste of the familiar drink comforting, since it had always been a part of his daily routine. And speaking of that routine…maybe he could actually start rebuilding it right now. Ignoring Jaeyoung’s question, Sangwoo headed toward the humanities building. When he reached his walking path of choice, he found the “Drama Club - Filming in Progress” sign still stuck in the ground. That lie might have worked the past three days, but he knew the truth now. Without hesitation, he gave the sign a swift kick, then stuffed it in the garbage can. Peace filled Sangwoo’s heart as he began walking down his favorite path for the first time in forever. Not even Jaeyoung’s presence could spoil his mood. He sipped on his canned coffee, his feet leading him down the trail with practiced ease. “Well, this is pretty brave of you,” Jaeyoung commented. Unwilling to let the asshole spoil his walk, Sangwoo picked up his pace. Unfortunately, Jaeyoung was more than capable of keeping up. “I mean, think of all the things I could do to you on this quiet, isolated forest path…” “What are you, a damn thug?” Jaeyoung scoffed. “Tsk, tsk. Watch your language.” Sangwoo shrugged. “If you’re not, what is there for me to worry about? I was simply confirming whether it was worth my time to be concerned or not. What, did my question hit too close to home?” “Watch it,” Jaeyoung snarled through gritted teeth. “Even your friends over at the police station can’t get here right away.” Sangwoo’s lips twitched. While Jaeyoung was much taller than average—a trait his nice coat accentuated quite well—he didn’t look like he’d be all that good at fighting. Deciding to voice his observation, Sangwoo commented, “You don’t strike me as a good fighter.” “Oh, yeah? Sounds like we got an athlete over here.” During grade school and middle school, Sangwoo had consistently taken tae kwon do lessons. He’d started prioritizing his studies once he entered high school, however, and now he didn’t do much exercising except riding his bike to and from school and doing push-ups at home. “I used to exercise consistently, but not anymore.” “We should shoot some hoops together sometime, just me and you. I guarantee that your hands will never even touch the ball.” “I’ll pass. Also, stop acting so chummy with me.” As they neared the end of the path, Sangwoo saw the construction area on the route. Walking past the nearly complete futsal field and over to the natural science building, he stood right at his usual spot, took aim, and tossed his coffee at the second trash can. When it tumbled inside, a wave of satisfaction hit him. It felt like he was reconstructing a tower of cards that someone had carelessly knocked over. His next stop was the library. Sangwoo took his reserved seat, and Jaeyoung once again sat right next to him. This time, however, the asshole decided to take out a pen and spin it around with his fingers instead of borrowing a bunch of books like he usually did. Sangwoo took out his textbook and notebook, then turned around to hang his bag on the back of the chair. But when he returned to his original position, he found that Jaeyoung had snatched up the second of the two items. “Give it back. You’re committing theft.” Jaeyoung rolled his eyes and flipped over the notebook to check the price, then took out his wallet and handed Sangwoo the exact amount. Sangwoo blinked at him, rendered speechless. He would still have reported the asshole for his crime if he’d considered the notebook valuable, but he only ever used it as a scratch pad. In the end, he decided it would be much more efficient to get a new one than to waste his time arguing with Jaeyoung. But despite his magnanimity, the distractions began almost immediately. Still, Jaeyoung could loudly flip through his stolen notebook all he pleased—Sangwoo had come fully prepared. In fact, he’d been waiting for this very thing to happen. Reaching into his backpack, Sangwoo quickly took out the earplugs he’d brought—his third avenue of attack against Jaeyoung’s harassment—and placed them in his ears. Immediately, the noises that had been driving him up the wall ceased. At least I was able to make good use of one piece of Jihye’s advice, Sangwoo thought. The earplugs were admittedly a bit uncomfortable, but wearing them was infinitely better than having to listen to Jaeyoung’s fidgeting. For the first time in days, he felt like he could actually focus on studying. Unfortunately, he hadn’t even finished reading a single paragraph before he felt a piercing gaze start boring into the side of his face. Glancing over, Sangwoo found that Jaeyoung had turned his chair to face him, pen and stolen notebook in hand. He appeared to be drawing something. The concentrated frown on his face, coupled with his frequent glances between the notebook and Sangwoo, made him look absurdly professional. This is ridiculous, Sangwoo thought. Without any further ado, he put up the divider between him and Jaeyoung and turned his attention back to his textbook. But his focus faltered only a minute later—and when he glanced to the side, the divider was gone. Clearly, a certain asshole had taken it down, but he’d missed it because of his earplugs. Sangwoo put the divider back up, but Jaeyoung removed it again almost immediately. By the time they’d repeated the childish cycle three times, anger was bubbling away in the back of Sangwoo’s throat. If things kept going like this, his study session would be ruined for a third time. He put the divider up yet again, holding it firmly in place with one hand this time so that Jaeyoung couldn’t topple it over. This was effective enough that, for the next few minutes, he was allowed to read his textbook in peace. But that didn’t last long—soon, he felt Jaeyoung’s intense stare land on his face once more. Sangwoo turned his head to find that Jaeyoung had climbed to his feet. The asshole was still scribbling away in the stupid notebook, using his new position to peek over the barrier. “What is wrong with this guy?” Sangwoo muttered under his breath. For the first half of the day, Jaeyoung had actually been tolerable; he’d contributed to their group project, given Sangwoo one of the canned coffees he’d bought out from under him, and even let Sangwoo bust down the fake drama club sign without raising a fuss. But that would be looking at the situation through rose-colored glasses. Jaeyoung had also tampered with their skit’s script and tricked the professor into blaming the result on Sangwoo. And now, the asshole was staring at him so intently that he couldn’t digest a single word of his textbook! It appeared that, while the Jaeyoung in the green coat was significantly less annoying than his red puffer-jacketed counterpart, he certainly wasn’t a relaxing person to be around, either. There was nothing else for it—Sangwoo would have to go over his textbooks at home instead. The desk back at his apartment was much smaller than the ones at the library, and his lights were dimmer, meaning the studying environment was less than ideal, but it would be worth it just to escape Jaeyoung’s endless distractions. Sangwoo had already yanked his earplugs out of his ears and begun to pack up when the sound of ripping paper reached his ears. Slipping his textbook into his bag, he turned to find something hovering right in front of his eyes. “I have a gift for you,” Jaeyoung declared. As it turned out, the sketch Jaeyoung had been working on so intently for all that time was a caricature of Sangwoo’s face. It was even more exaggerated than the political cartoons in American newspapers. Sangwoo’s cheekbones jutted out, his eyes slanted up, and prominent dark circles lurked under his lower lash line. On top of that, his lips were downturned, and his neck was so thin it resembled a stick more than anything else. Worst of all, the head of the hideous replica of him had been crowned with a gigantic black hat. Sangwoo shredded the drawing into small pieces. “That’s a bit harsh,” Jaeyoung muttered. Sangwoo ignored him, making sure to brush every last piece of paper into his hand. He neatly deposited them in a trash can on his way out. Of course, the asshole followed him. “Do you have any idea how much people are willing to pay for my illustrations?” “I fail to see what the pricing of your art has to do with me.” “I’m just saying, that drawing didn’t deserve to get ripped up like that.” “I didn’t destroy it because it was of bad quality. I destroyed it because you’re the one who drew it.” Jaeyoung scoffed. “Why’d you drink the coffee, then?” “You didn’t make the coffee.” “That…is true. Whatever.” By the time they left the library, it was 1:32 PM, which meant Sangwoo had wasted a truly absurd amount of time trying and failing to study. As he swung himself onto his bike, Jaeyoung yelled, “Sangwoo!” “What?” “I know it’s a bit early, but…good night!” It was a pointless thing to say in the middle of the day, but it would’ve probably pissed Sangwoo off just as much to hear it right before he went to bed. “I hope you have a nightmare,” he responded, then rode away downhill. return 0; Sangwoo’s routine saw a slight improvement the following day. Both of his Friday classes were requirements for his major, so Jaeyoung spent the duration of the lectures napping instead of harassing him. Sangwoo had felt slightly tempted to look over at the asshole on occasion, but forced himself to focus on his professors instead, reminding himself of the disaster that had befallen him after he’d tried to doodle on Jaeyoung’s face. At the end of his second class, he was pleased to find he’d done fine despite having the guy stuck to him like a leech. As they walked out of the building, Jaeyoung casually said, “I can treat you to another meal, if you want.” It was yet another nonsensical offer to provide expensive food for free. Sangwoo would have accepted without a second thought if the proposition had come from anyone else, but the fact that his nemesis had delivered the words made him hesitate. Sangwoo let the possible results play out in his brain. i) Accept invitation Financial gain Y, Stress Y = Slight loss ii) Decline invitation — If Jaeyoung follows me to the dining hall Financial gain N, Stress Y = Terrible loss iii) Decline invitation — If Jaeyoung goes to eat somewhere else Financial gain N, Stress N = No change to status quo No matter what, if he accepted Jaeyoung’s offer, he’d have to suffer through the painful ordeal of eating with the asshole. If he declined his offer, however, there was a possibility Jaeyoung would follow him, and he’d have to suffer the same agony without even getting free food. He had no choice but to take a gamble—it really all depended on how Jaeyoung would react. “I’m good.” “Going to the dining hall again?” “Yes.” “Geez, you must be their biggest fan. They should give you an award.” It was Sangwoo’s lucky day: His decision resulted in the third outcome. Jaeyoung wandered off somewhere else, and Sangwoo entered the dining hall by himself. He followed his usual routine of getting his food, then finding a quiet section of the hall to sit. It proved a peaceful meal indeed, and, as an added bonus, he was only one minute off schedule when he finished eating. Feeling only slightly bothered by his lateness, Sangwoo began to make his way out of the dining hall. His good mood was shattered all too soon, however, when he saw someone waiting for him at the entrance. His nemesis. “Here,” Jaeyoung said, thrusting something at Sangwoo. It was a can of Black Holic. Once again, Sangwoo only opened the coffee after giving it a firm shake and a thorough examination to prove to himself it was safe to drink. As he took a sip, Jaeyoung asked, “You want a good grade on the skit, right?” “Obviously.” “Come with me, then.” Getting a good grade equals going somewhere with him? Sangwoo wondered. It seemed a strange equation. “To where?” “To get costumes, of course.” “Why would we do that?” “Come on… A Qing dynasty merchant can’t just wear some T-shirt with English written all over it!” “But…it’s time for my walk.” “You can go on a stroll later,” Jaeyoung snapped, irritation seeping into his voice. When Sangwoo showed no signs of budging, the asshole grabbed his wrist and began to drag him off somewhere. “This is assault!” Sangwoo yelled, lifting his phone with his free hand. “I will call the police. I said, I will call the police!” Alas, it turned out that Jaeyoung was much stronger than he looked. He snatched Sangwoo’s phone away with a frown and slipped it into his own pocket before Sangwoo could follow through with his threat. Sangwoo scowled. “Just taking my phone away won’t stop me. I hope you enjoy having a criminal charge on your record.” “Stop being so stubborn! I’m trying to help, okay? You can report me all you want if you still think I assaulted you when we’re done. I won’t try to stop you.” Though Sangwoo found it hard to believe, he figured he might as well try to trust him. Reluctantly, he agreed to Jaeyoung’s terms. Finally releasing Sangwoo’s wrist, Jaeyoung asked, “You okay with being the merchant?” “Yes.” Why wouldn’t he be? The merchant had significantly more lines in the skit, which meant taking the role significantly raised his likelihood of receiving a high score. “Okay. Then I’ll be the customer and the person being scammed.” Staunchly refusing to reveal their destination, Jaeyoung led Sangwoo across campus. Eventually, they arrived at the student center and went up a flight of stairs, where they stopped in front of a door with a sign that read “Drama Club.” The door swung open to reveal a room that was filled with haphazard piles of props, costumes, and masks. There was a pile of Black Holic coffee cans—definitely purchased by Jaeyoung—sitting on top of a mini fridge, and posters of old plays covering the walls. Two guys sat on a couch, playing some kind of soccer game on a gaming console. They both perked up as soon as they saw Jaeyoung. “Oh, good afternoon, Jaeyoung!” “Carry on. Don’t worry about me,” Jaeyoung said, not even glancing at them as he moved a mannequin aside to reveal a door. He beckoned Sangwoo forward, and the two of them walked inside. The space they entered was awfully tight. Two-tiered hangers lined three of the four walls, displaying a wide assortment of costumes. While Jaeyoung rummaged through them using a long garment hook, Sangwoo tried to find something that looked like it could have come from the Qing dynasty. But with all the clothes packed onto the hangers, it was a difficult mission. “How about this one?” Jaeyoung asked excitedly, extracting a long blue ensemble from a jumbled mess of costumes. It had a high-neck collar and was long enough to cover the wearer’s ankles. Gold bands wrapped around the waist and sleeves, and a complex pattern was sewn onto the chest area. After another brief search, Jaeyoung found a purple one of a similar design and held it up to himself. “Which one suits me better?” “They look the same.” “Dude, the hems are totally different.” Sangwoo sighed. “Pick whichever one you like. I don’t understand why you’re so concerned over what to wear for a skit.” “Hey, I’m just trying to get a hundred,” Jaeyoung responded. He held up a yellow piece that looked similar to the other two—identical, if you were asking Sangwoo. “Oooh, I like this one. Now we’ve just got to find you a queue wig.” Nodding, Sangwoo crouched and tried to locate one in a large box, only to come up with nothing. He dragged another box closer, but Jaeyoung surprised him by hunkering down right next to him, his face suddenly swooping in much closer than ever before. “Back up, please.” “Sure, sure,” Jaeyoung said easily. But he didn’t move an inch. Fidgeting uncomfortably, Sangwoo began to look through the second box. A few minutes had passed when he suddenly realized something had gone missing: his hat. He looked up to see Jaeyoung clutching it in his hands, staring at Sangwoo like something was lagging in his brain. What is he planning now? Sangwoo wondered, but couldn’t come up with a plausible answer. The only thing he could think of was that Jaeyoung had decided he wanted his hat for some reason. After all, he’d been going on and on about the thing since the previous day. “You would be better off buying a new one,” Sangwoo informed him resolutely. “I’ve been wearing that since high school.” Jaeyoung just continued to stare at him, not saying a word. Thinking that an if-then statement might be more effective, Sangwoo tried: “If you stop harassing me, then I will buy you the exact same one.” He didn’t particularly expect the words to trigger Jaeyoung to give him the ragged old hat back. As the asshole had said once before, the problem likely wasn’t that simple. But Jaeyoung didn’t react how Sangwoo had guessed he would, either. There was no laughter, no joking, no plopping the hat on his own head. Instead, he caught Sangwoo entirely off guard by reaching out to him with his free hand and murmuring, “You’ve got something right…here.” Jaeyoung’s long fingers advanced toward him very slowly, very carefully. Sangwoo could have backed away from them if he wanted to, but a strange tension gripped his limbs, holding him in place as Jaeyoung’s hand brushed over his bangs and drifted to his forehead. The second Jaeyoung’s fingertips touched his skin, fireworks went off in Sangwoo’s head. The disturbing sensation had him jerking backward so abruptly that he crumpled the prop box and sent Jaeyoung’s hand flying. “Give me the hat.” “But you look so much better like this! Why not try going without it?” “Whether I do or do not is none of your concern,” Sangwoo said flatly, extending his hand. Despite the clear request, Jaeyoung made no move to return the hat. Abruptly, rage surged up in Sangwoo. “Give. It. Back.” “Come on, I just wanted to see what you actually looked like!” “I said, give it back!” Sangwoo didn’t usually raise his voice at upperclassmen, but he couldn’t help himself. He lunged forward and snatched the hat out of Jaeyoung’s hands, his chest colliding with the other student’s. Jaeyoung fell backward, arms waving, but Sangwoo didn’t wait around to see if he was okay. Instead, he sprang back to his feet and raced out of the costume room. The two students on the couch glanced up with wide eyes when he slammed the door shut behind him. Sangwoo’s heart was pounding, and he could feel blood rushing to his face. That crazy asshole has to stop taking other people’s belongings! he thought angrily, seething as he marched out of the room. Jaeyoung had been completely correct when he’d described himself as unpredictable; helpful one moment, and incredibly irritating the next, he was as unpredictable as the weather. As he continued walking, Sangwoo’s footsteps gradually slowed. Embarrassment trickled in, gradually drowning out the anger that had overwhelmed him. Why had he yelled at Jaeyoung? Sure, the asshole had stolen his hat, but his reaction had been way over the top. It had also been deeply out of character for him. In Sangwoo’s defense, Jaeyoung’s closeness—not to mention the unexpected and unwanted physical contact—had made it impossible for him to think logically. But that was a problem in and of itself, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like the asshole was a member of the opposite sex. Naked men sat in the same tub in public bathhouses all the time, and nobody batted an eye when men touched each other all over during a wrestling match. Even in football, tackles weren’t much different than aggressive hugs. None of it meant anything because they were all men. Reluctantly, Sangwoo reached the conclusion that his actions had been completely irrational. When Jaeyoung finally caught up to him, he found that he couldn’t even look into the asshole’s eyes out of sheer embarrassment. Jaeyoung handed Sangwoo the blue costume, the queue wig, and his phone. “I really wasn’t trying to make you mad,” he said. “I only took off your hat to put the wig on you. I didn’t know you’d get upset.” “I’m not upset.” It was a lie. Even now, Sangwoo’s heart was pounding with anger, despite it being more than clear that he’d misinterpreted Jaeyoung’s attempt to be helpful. Apparently, that asshole has a talent for stressing me out, even when he’s not doing it intentionally. “Let’s try to get along, Sangwoo. We’ve gotta do our best to get a good grade on that skit.” Ignoring him with an ease that only came with practice, Sangwoo shoved his costume and wig inside his bag and walked out of the building. When he heard Jaeyoung following him, he spun around. “Your new strategy isn’t going to work on me. Stop acting like we’re friends.” A smile crept onto Jaeyoung’s previously emotionless face. “What strategy? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just following my heart.” “Furthermore, you need to stop following me. I’m going home to study, since it’s impossible to do so at the library with you.” “You know, telling someone not to do something… That’s the perfect way to get them to do it.” “Please follow me, then.” “Sure! If you say so.” Gritting his teeth, Sangwoo nearly jogged over to the library, then got on his bicycle. He figured leaving Jaeyoung behind in a cloud of dust as he sped down his usual downhill path might lift his mood, but when he glanced behind him, the asshole was still there. In fact, he was riding a bright neon skateboard. “What are you doing?” he called over to him, gaping in shock. “I thought you wanted me to follow you?” Sangwoo was struck speechless. He stared at Jaeyoung’s skateboard, unable to even begin to fathom how Jaeyoung’s brain functioned. Did the man not value his own time? He simply couldn’t comprehend why the asshole would do something like this when he could be doing something infinitely more productive. Sangwoo shook his head and tried to focus on riding his bike, but his gaze kept being drawn back to Jaeyoung like the other man was a damn magnet. He hated to admit it, but Jaeyoung was obviously good at skateboarding. On top of that, he had a way of drawing people’s attention. Nearly every single passerby looked at him with fascination and exclaimed in wonder. Jaeyoung not only seemed well aware of their admiration, but reveled in it—whenever he passed through a particularly crowded area, he’d send his skateboard catapulting into the air, grinning like he was a celebrity as he gave out high fives to every kid he passed. Watching him, Sangwoo couldn’t help but think Jaeyoung’s wild, free attitude resembled that of a video game character. He’d always known the two of them were very different from one another, but the sight of Jaeyoung skateboarding, wind blowing through his hair and a smile on his face, really drove the truth home: They were polar opposites. Whereas Sangwoo only did what was absolutely necessary, Jaeyoung did as he pleased. He moved through life like he wasn’t tied down by anything, grinning like a kid seconds away from getting in trouble, while Sangwoo was eternally emotionless and always stuck to the same routine. Even worse, in stark contrast to Sangwoo’s complete lack of friends, Jaeyoung seemed to stumble across one wherever he went. The asshole’s closet was probably bursting with colors, while Sangwoo’s was a drab, relentless black. The two of them might breathe the same air, but they lived in two very different worlds. If it hadn’t been for “the incident,” their paths would likely have never even crossed. When Sangwoo took a turn and entered an alley, Jaeyoung sped up so they were cruising along, side by side. Despite the fact that no one else was around, Jaeyoung still jumped high into the air, did a half-spin, and landed safely on the ground. It looked so effortless, Sangwoo had to wonder if the skateboard had been glued to his feet. “Why are you following me?” Sangwoo called out to Jaeyoung once again. He didn’t get it—the asshole would’ve had a better time skateboarding literally anywhere other than the unevenly paved alleyway they were currently traveling down. “Got nothing else to do,” came the nonchalant response. It didn’t exactly answer Sangwoo’s question, but at this point, he understood there was no need to try and comprehend his nemesis’s strange brain. Soon enough, the time he’d spent suffering would come to a close. “Just one week left,” he pronounced. “Until what?” “The deadline for dropping classes.” Instead of responding, Jaeyoung just laughed. Not long later, the pair rolled to a stop in front of Sangwoo’s apartment: a four-story building with mold crawling up the external walls. Sangwoo pulled his bike over to a canopied bike rack and secured it to the spot labeled “Unit 402.” Jaeyoung stared up at the building, absently pushing his skateboard back and forth with his foot. “So this is where you live,” he commented mildly. “The minimum sentence for home invasion is three years’ incarceration.” “Yeah, yeah, I was waiting for you to say that.” “I will immediately call the police if you steal my bicycle. The same applies to the saddle and any other components.” He’d thought Jaeyoung would come up with some sort of sarcastic retort, but the asshole just smiled silently. Stepping on one end of his skateboard, he pressed down hard and sent it flying up into his left hand at the same time that he waved at Sangwoo with his right. “Have a good weekend, Sangwoo.” There was no ill intent in the words. Left with no other choice, Sangwoo responded with a curt, “I will.” Finally looking away from Jaeyoung, he walked into his apartment building. But as he began to climb the stairs, unease sat in Sangwoo’s stomach like a brick. Wondering why, he sank into careful contemplation. Then… Oh. This is the first time we’ve ever parted ways like normal people instead of cussing at one another. A small part of him worried that Jaeyoung would chase him up the stairs or something, but the staircase remained silent even as Sangwoo reached the fourth floor and entered the code to his door. As he stepped into his apartment, a heavy sigh left his lungs. After that, muscle memory took over. First, he placed his bag by the door and put his hat and coat on a hanger. Then he changed into sweats and washed his hands with soap. When he looked into the mirror, he was met with the reflection of a mundane-looking guy with hair slightly pressed down from wearing a cap. Grabbing a textbook from his bookshelf, Sangwoo placed it on top of his desk. He then took his pencil pouch and notebook from his bag and put them right next to it. The next step was to take a seat at his desk, but his feet carried him over to the window instead. When he lifted the edge of the curtain and peeked out, he found that Jaeyoung was still lurking down below. He’d left his skateboard on the ground, and was scratching a black cat on its belly. Sangwoo was familiar with the feline—he’d encountered it on several occasions, but it had always angrily hissed at him or left him behind as it dashed away. For a moment, he stood there and watched as Jaeyoung took several pictures of the cat. Then he closed the curtain. The first two days had definitely been the hardest, like the video game that was his life had gotten switched to hard mode. Then he’d been allowed a single day of rest, which had then been followed by two days of mild irritation. It was an irregular sequence, operating totally without pattern—just like Jaeyoung’s personality. Sangwoo hated things that didn’t follow a pattern. How was he supposed to predict anything about them? He opened his textbook and began to study. return 0; Unpredictability was always accompanied by inefficiency. In this case, it was Jaeyoung’s endlessly inconsistent actions that were driving Sangwoo up the wall. It was impossible to anticipate the asshole’s weekend plans, so whenever anyone walked in through the glass door of the internet café—which was partially covered by a game poster—Sangwoo couldn’t help but tense up. He’d only relax, letting out a sigh of relief, when he was sure the entering customer wasn’t his nemesis. Today, the café was pretty slow. Unfortunately, Sangwoo ended up spending almost his entire shift stealing glances at the door. Although he was simply trying to prepare himself in case Jaeyoung burst into his workplace, funnily enough, it was like he was waiting for him instead. Even if he had been, Sangwoo had an argument to support his actions. If there was one consistency in Jaeyoung’s routine over the last week, it was that he’d found some way to interact with Sangwoo every single day. The asshole had even chased him down on Wednesday, the one day their schedules didn’t overlap. Still, contrary to Sangwoo’s expectations, Jaeyoung remained nowhere to be seen even once the clock hit 10:00 PM. He could be waiting in front of my apartment, he theorized, battling a mixture of confusion and unease. After all, Jaeyoung was one of the most persistent people he’d ever come across, and the guy knew exactly where Sangwoo lived. It would be no surprise if he showed up unannounced. When Sangwoo walked back to his apartment after clocking out of work, he found a black silhouette waiting for him in front of the building. I knew it! he thought triumphantly, but in the end, the figure turned out to be nothing more than a large trash bag. Clearly, he wouldn’t be seeing Jaeyoung today. The realization left Sangwoo slightly deflated as he unlocked the door to his apartment—he should’ve spent his time at work more efficiently rather than constantly glancing at the door. i) There is a [100]% probability of Jaeyoung appearing on weekdays. ii) There is a [x]% probability of Jaeyoung appearing on the weekend. (0 ≤ x ≤ 50) This was the equation Sangwoo finally reached based on his existing data and what had happened on Saturday. It was basically useless, but he still told himself that Jaeyoung wouldn’t appear on Sunday, to lift his spirits if nothing else. Unfortunately, this resolute belief was shattered when the small bell above the café door rang and Jaeyoung walked through at precisely 7:33 PM. Sangwoo forced himself to make eye contact with the asshole—greeting customers was part of his job description. But even as he did, frustration swirled inside him. He’d been proven wrong again. What’s that asshole going to do now? Sangwoo thought anxiously as Jaeyoung walked past him. He found himself grateful that there was a security camera on the ceiling. If Jaeyoung tried to harass him, Sangwoo could simply report him to the owner and ensure that he was banned from the premises. He had full faith that the owner would have his back—he had taken Sangwoo’s side a long time ago when he’d gotten into a fight with a guy who wanted to run a tab. Sangwoo glowered at the notification. It had only been a minute since Jaeyoung walked past the counter, which meant he’d placed the order immediately after booting up his PC. After measuring out the right amount of water, boiling it, and cooking the ramen according to the recipe, Sangwoo placed the plastic bowl on a tray and headed over to his nemesis. Jaeyoung was leaning back in his chair, bouncing his leg as he read a comic book. Sangwoo put the bowl down, then left without stopping to chat. As he walked away, he heard Jaeyoung sigh behind him. About three minutes after he’d returned to the reception desk, another notification popped up on his screen. What, is he training me to fetch? Sangwoo wondered. Honestly, compared to the other things Jaeyoung had subjected him to, he didn’t find it that objectionable. Not only was he getting paid to do it, but Jaeyoung’s seat wasn’t too far from the counter. Filling exactly 80 percent of a cup with water, Sangwoo mixed in lemonade powder with a spoon. When he put in four ice cubes, the liquid reached the top of the cup. Placing it on the same tray as before, he brought it over to Jaeyoung—who was now watching a video of people painting graffiti on a wall. The bowl of instant noodles was half empty. The asshole let out a heavy sigh, but Sangwoo ignored it and placed the lemonade right next to the bowl of ramen, then turned around and left. Another notification popped up just five minutes after he returned to the reception desk. Sangwoo glared at the screen, a scowl contorting his lips. Though the system allowed customers to order any item on the menu, most people were sensible enough to come up to the desk and purchase chips on their own instead of ordering them through their PC. It’s fine, Sangwoo reminded himself. I suppose I should be grateful for the exercise. Grabbing the chips from the cabinet, he headed toward Jaeyoung’s computer once again. This time, the asshole was watching a basketball game. “Haaah…” It was possible he was mistaken, but Sangwoo had a sneaking suspicion that Jaeyoung’s sighs were growing louder. But what business was that of his? He put the chips next to the other food and returned to the front desk, then crossed his arms and stared at the screen. He knew the asshole wasn’t done just yet. Just as he’d thought, it wasn’t long before he got a fourth notification. Sangwoo snatched the gummy bears from the shelf and brought them over to Jaeyoung, who released another long sigh as soon as he saw Sangwoo. Scowling, Sangwoo tossed the bag full of candy at Jaeyoung’s thigh. “Order them all at once next time.” “Haaaaaaaaah…” “And stop sighing at me if you have something to say. Spit it out.” “This suuucks.” “I’m not sure what you expect me to do about it,” Sangwoo muttered, turning around. Behind his back, he heard Jaeyoung call out, “I’m not gonna stop ordering shit until you ask me why I’m sighing!” Sangwoo scoffed in disbelief. Apparently, Jaeyoung was okay with wasting not only time but money, all because he couldn’t bring himself to simply speak his mind. “Fine. Why are you sighing?” Immediately, Jaeyoung responded: “My laptop is broken.” Jaeyoung tried to pass it off as a casual comment, and it successfully piqued Sangwoo’s interest. “How? What is the issue?” “No idea. It keeps beeping at me whenever I try to turn it on.” “The memory card might have come loose from the slot, or it may be an issue with the motherboard. If it’s the memory card, you can simply open the body and put the RAM back in place. If it’s the second, you’ll have to take it in for repairs. The number of beeps will indicate what is going on.” “Ugh… I didn’t understand a thing you just said. I suck at this stuff,” Jaeyoung muttered glumly, then sighed yet again. “What should I do? Take it to a hardware store? That’d cost me, like, five hundred thousand won, right?” Sangwoo spun around, his arms crossed. How stupid was this guy? If the asshole wasn’t careful, he was going to get upsold to high heaven. Jaeyoung stared up at Sangwoo from his chair, then mumbled, seemingly to himself, “I did bring it with me, but it’s not like I can do anything to fix it. Maybe I’ll look up a repair shop after I game a bit. It’s probably too late in the day, though. What a disaster…” Finally, Sangwoo gave in. “Give it to me.” It wasn’t that Sangwoo felt bad for Jaeyoung in any way. No, no. He was simply allowing himself to follow his desires—and he’d gotten a whim to solve the asshole’s problem. “Oh! I completely forgot you were a computer science major!” Jaeyoung exclaimed, clapping his hands together and widening his eyes to a comical degree. “How convenient. You must have an affinity for fixing computers, right?” “I’ll just take a look.” Jaeyoung nodded and eagerly handed him a green laptop bag. When Sangwoo returned to the reception desk and unzipped it, he uncovered a silver fourteen-inch laptop. It had been released two years ago by a foreign brand, but that wasn’t an issue. He’d used their products before and knew them well. The laptop refused to boot up when he attempted to turn it on, but beeped twice. Two beeps instead of four—it was a telltale sign that something was wrong with the device’s memory. Sangwoo forced the laptop to shut down and began to take it apart with a screwdriver he grabbed from a drawer. When he got it open, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief. How in the world…? He’d imagined the RAM stick had just been jostled slightly out of place, but it was nowhere to be seen. Turning to his work PC, he sent a message to Customer 22. Why would it be in his bag? Sangwoo frowned slightly, but figured he had nothing to lose by looking. Lo and behold, after rummaging around the laptop bag’s pockets for a while, he was able to locate the component. He scoffed silently. So I’m supposed to believe that not only did the RAM stick fall out by itself, but it also somehow slipped through the laptop’s outer casing? Even for someone like Jaeyoung, it was a ridiculous thing to say. Sangwoo plugged it back in, and the laptop finally turned on. Unfortunately, the hardware didn’t seem to be the only issue. It took an abnormally long time for the system to boot up, and the screen that finally appeared after five excruciating minutes struck him speechless. Nearly half the desktop was filled with icons for design programs, and the other half consisted of images, videos, documents, and various untitled folders. The messy array almost completely covered the female celebrity on Jaeyoung’s wallpaper, which made recognizing her—an already difficult task for Sangwoo—nearly impossible. Alas, soon it became clear that the program he had in mind wouldn’t solve anything—it took more than a minute to open a web browser. The most shocking part was that the computer was relatively new. Sangwoo didn’t even want to think about the abuse it must have suffered. Who in the world carries around the OS for their laptop? Sangwoo thought dubiously. He was understandably shocked when he discovered a USB drive in the back pocket of the laptop bag that, indeed, turned out to have the OS installed on it. Sangwoo scoffed in disbelief when he found a one-terabyte external hard drive in the inner pocket. If Jaeyoung didn’t even know what a backup was, how had he ended up with such a large-capacity hard drive in his bag? At this point, it was starting to feel like the bag had been enchanted to give whoever had it whatever they needed. The laptop remained agonizingly slow, but Sangwoo eventually managed to back up the data onto the hard drive and reformat the laptop. He then went on to download some basic software and optimize things as best he could. Pride filled his heart when he finally shut the lid. That feeling was the core reason he loved to stay productive—not only did it make time pass quickly, but it put him in a good mood as well. “Your eyes are sparkling,” said a nearby voice. When Sangwoo glanced up, he saw Jaeyoung looking down at him, leaning against the reception desk with his chin propped up on his hands. Sangwoo hadn’t even noticed him approach. “And wait, you’re done already? That was crazy fast!” Belatedly, Sangwoo realized he’d wasted two hours on the laptop. There was nobody to blame but himself—he was the one who’d made the choice to repair the deadbeat’s device, after all. To be fair, that deadbeat had been acting pretty nice recently for whatever reason… Sangwoo scowled as he slipped the laptop back into the bag and shoved it at Jaeyoung. “Here. Don’t try to run any graphic design programs. Your laptop doesn’t have the specs for it.” “Thank you, Sangwoo.” It was a simple statement, flippant perhaps, but it made something strange stir inside Sangwoo’s heart. The organ tickled, almost as if a feather had run over it. Mentally, he knew a simple thank you wasn’t suitable compensation for the time he’d spent. So why, from the very moment he’d heard Jaeyoung say those words, had he felt like his efforts had been worth it? Unable to find the words, Sangwoo simply nodded mutely without making eye contact. When the shift changed, Sangwoo quickly packed his things and put on his jacket. He walked out to find Jaeyoung standing in front of the door of the internet café with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. Sangwoo took off at a walk, still feeling slightly elated from his successful laptop repair. But after a bit of time had passed and the endorphin rush had faded, he realized that he’d been mindlessly strolling along with Jaeyoung at his side. The other man was humming some bizarre song, his hands tucked in his pockets. Feeling as if it would be a good idea to be more cautious, Sangwoo kept a careful eye on Jaeyoung for the next few minutes. But, contrary to his expectations, the guy didn’t try to trip, embarrass, or harass him in any way. Finally, Sangwoo burst out, “What’re you doing?” “Huh?” Jaeyoung put on a shocked expression, like he’d just realized he wasn’t alone. “Where are you going?” Sangwoo questioned. “Uh… Home, I guess?” “Why are you walking in the direction of my apartment, then?” “Hey, you’re not the only one that lives over this way.” Sangwoo inwardly nodded to himself. It seemed Jaeyoung was simply on his way home, not stalking him. After a brief silence, Jaeyoung said, “So…you’re really good with computers.” “Well, everything I needed just happened to be in that laptop bag.” “I gotta thank you for your help somehow,” Jaeyoung continued. It was like the asshole hadn’t even heard him. “Don’t worry about it,” Sangwoo told him firmly. “I only fixed it because it would have bothered me otherwise.” It wasn’t like he’d been looking for a reward. And besides, he didn’t want to know what Jaeyoung’s idea of “thanking” him was. “No, no. You should be rewarded for your hard work!” “It’s fine.” There was a long pause. Then, out of nowhere, Jaeyoung asked: “Wanna see a movie?” Now, Sangwoo wasn’t an avid moviegoer, but he was fully aware that two individuals going on an outing to a theater together was usually considered a date. So when he responded, his voice was filled with bewilderment. “Why would I go see a movie with you?” “Hm? No, not with me. I meant, I’ll buy a ticket for you.” Sangwoo’s heart began to pound. He’d misunderstood far too many things in way too short a period of time. “Sure, fine,” he muttered. Thankful that he was almost at his apartment, he started walking even faster. When they finally arrived at the building, Jaeyoung came to a stop at the door. “Have a good night, Sangwoo,” Jaeyoung called out from behind him. The tone of his voice was incredibly kind, which meant it also felt totally out of place and ridiculous. And yet, to Sangwoo, this goodbye was somehow different than the ones he’d received from Jaeyoung in the past. He wanted to ignore the deadbeat piece of trash, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “You too,” he uttered, then raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time.