Chapter 17
Strange things sometimes happened to Ji-woo.
A friend who’d been laughing and hanging out with her just the day before might secretly be bad-mouthing her.
Another friend might suddenly burst into tears mid-conversation, and when Ji-woo asked why, the answer would be, “Because of you.”
Ji-woo was always caught off guard.
If someone approached holding a hammer, you could run or scream.
But if the blow came from nowhere, all you could do was take it.
Curiously, Ji-woo was the only one who never saw it coming.
Others would always say, “I knew this would happen.”
When she asked why no one warned her, they’d reply, “How could you not know?”
Later she realized even asking for a heads-up just proved how clueless she was.
People called her a “pretty fool.”
They’d joke, “Being a pretty fool is way better than just a fool. If you’re pretty, you can be a fool.”
Ji-woo, being a fool, only laughed along—Hehe.
Yet the words lingered, and every time she remembered them, she felt uneasy.
In the end, those “unexpected” events usually sprang from something harmless she’d said or done—or simply from her existence.
Maybe she went shopping with friends and every outfit suited her better, upsetting someone.
Maybe a friend introduced a boyfriend who couldn’t stop glancing at her.
It was always something like that.
Each time, Ji-woo wondered whether to apologize.
She hated upsetting her friends, but she hadn’t actually done anything wrong.
After a few such incidents, Ji-woo made a decision:
She would apologize only when she was truly at fault.
No more guessing whether someone’s mood was her responsibility.
If someone demanded an apology, she’d listen and only apologize if it was really her mistake.
After all, with her not-so-sharp mind, overthinking only brought pain.
This time was no different.
Ji-woo chose to trust No-eul and Han-sol.
She hadn’t wronged them; they’d had fun together.
She’d even messaged Han-sol after their movie outing to say thanks for taking care of the tickets and snacks.
That day she’d felt sure sincerity always gets through.
Yes—surely.
Ji-woo held on to that thought.
She stepped into the department lounge.
“Ji-woo~!”
“Lee Ji-woo looks fine. I’m dying of a hangover.”
“Ji-woo, want some?”
As she entered, people greeted her one by one—mostly familiar faces.
She greeted them all back.
In one corner sat No-eul and Han-sol.
No-eul, facing away, kept typing on her laptop, indifferent to Ji-woo’s arrival.
Han-sol just tilted her chin in a cool little nod.
That tiny gesture felt effortlessly stylish.
Ji-woo doubted she could ever pull it off herself.
She noted Han-sol’s outfit.
Han-sol always dressed well—simple clothes paired with striking accessories or unexpected combinations that somehow looked great.
Ji-woo wasn’t bad at dressing, but she lacked that flair.
Ji-woo sat at their table.
No-eul glanced up. “You came.”
“Yeah. What are you doing?”
“IMC assignment. You finished yours?”
“Isn’t that still far off?”
“Exactly. From the way you’re talking, you haven’t even started.”
“Last-minute work boosts efficiency!”
“You only care about efficiency when it suits you.”
Ji-woo playfully tapped No-eul’s arm.
No-eul flinched, her face tightening slightly.
Ji-woo quickly pulled her hand back.
“Classes all done?”
“Yeah. Just finishing this before I head home.”
While chatting, Ji-woo stole glances at Han-sol.
“Han-sol,” Ji-woo said, “I’m going shopping later. Want to come?
I kinda want to shop with you.”
Under the table, Ji-woo fidgeted with her fingers.
“Ah… I’ve got a required-course make-up lecture. Sorry,” Han-sol replied.
A make-up? Do any of our core classes even have make-ups now?
Ji-woo wondered if Han-sol was lying again.
If it’s a lie, I’ll ask why.
Why don’t you treat me like you treat No-eul?
I like you—I want us to be close.
Just then a senior at the lounge computer called, “Han-sol, let’s go.”
“Ah, yes.”
Han-sol patted Ji-woo’s shoulder.
“Let’s hang out next time.”
She left with the senior.
Ji-woo stared after her, puzzled.
“There really is a copywriting class make-up,” No-eul said.
“Copywriting? Isn’t that mostly for the upperclassmen?”
“Yeah. Maybe she signed up without knowing. Sat in a few times and decided not to drop it.”
“…You sure know everything.”
“…I only found out recently.”
Ji-woo nodded weakly, then suddenly brightened.
“Then you hang out with me!”
“…I don’t like shopping.”
“Who said shopping? Let’s drink.”
“Drinks? Ah… should we? Maybe…”
No-eul’s hesitation pricked Ji-woo.
“Hey, when others ask you to drink, you say yes before they even finish.
You and Han-sol drink together without me.
Why hesitate when I ask?
You’re thinking of an excuse right now, aren’t you?
I remember—you said you were done with classes and heading home.
Don’t you dare back out today.”
The more she spoke, the hotter Ji-woo felt—her own words feeding her irritation.
“Okay, okay,” No-eul said, startled.
“Calm down. I never said no.
I was about to say, Yeah, that sounds good.”
Ji-woo’s lips jutted slightly.
Right—No-eul had only paused.
Why had she gotten so worked up?
Feeling embarrassed, she covered it with mock irritation.
“Hurry up. Close that laptop.”
“Wait, let me just save this.”
Ji-woo huffed and stepped out of the lounge.
To say No-eul disliked the idea of drinking alone with Ji-woo would be a lie.
This time she simply couldn’t dodge it—she’d already been caught in one lie before.
I avoided her enough.
She pushed hard.
I’m innocent, she told herself.
Yet “not liking it” wasn’t quite true either.
She was deeply uneasy.
When someone has exhausted you emotionally, even if you like them, part of you recoils.
You remember the regret and pain afterward, and that memory trains you.
Soon it’s not just your head saying avoid them—your heart steps back too.
Like carrying an insanely expensive designer bag you once spilled soup all over—then trying to take it out again.
No-eul felt not just mixed emotions but an extreme push-pull:
the good was so good, the bad so bad.
And lately, like a menopausal housewife, her emotions felt hard to control.
She worried about herself.
Stay rational.
Stay calm.
Even if you feel a surge, hold it back, she told herself.
But today Ji-woo was unusually chatty.
“What do you and Han-sol usually talk about when you drink?”
“Hmm… everything and nothing.
All sorts of stuff.”
“All sorts? Like what?”
“Like… well…”
Flashes of past conversations with Han-sol raced through No-eul’s mind—
saying pretty people are basically born with ten billion won,
that being pretty makes life easier,
that “loving someone because you click” is nonsense.
Which of these could she repeat to Ji-woo?
She finally said,
“Things like whether we’re scared of dying,
what our relationships with our parents are like,
what we think about marriage.”
“Oh, marriage. Do you want to get married?”
“…Not really.
The risks are obvious, the benefits vague.”
“Really?
But isn’t the benefit clear—living forever with someone you love?”
“You can live together without marriage.
Why tie it down legally, especially if you’re not having kids?
People say marriage brings stability, but that’s so abstract.”
Ji-woo nodded, though she seemed slightly bored.
“We talk about boring, useless stuff like that,” No-eul added.
“Mmm.”
Ji-woo gave her a curious look.
“But you’d still date, right?”
Sometimes Ji-woo’s words sent a ripple through No-eul.
Thankfully, the more frequent the ripples, the duller they felt.
No longer a crashing wave.
“Well… dating’s like collecting all seven Dragon Balls.
The desire to date is just one of the seven.
I don’t have the other six.”
Ji-woo giggled.
“Still, you’ve dated before, right?
Maybe someone like Sharina?”
“You’re awful.
You tease me with such a serious face.”
“Why? You once said Sharina was your type.”
“…Oh.
Right, I did.”
It had just been the name of the prettiest celebrity that came to mind.
She’d hardly remembered.
She remembered that…?
“That’s why it’s silly,” No-eul said.
“‘Ideal type’ means ideal—unreal.”
“True.
So when was your last relationship?”
“…Never.”
“Really? So you’re totally inexperienced? Wow.”
“You sound delighted.
Go on, tease me all you like.”
Ji-woo looked puzzled.
“Why would I tease you?
I’m just happy.
I’ve never dated either.”
“…Seriously?”
“Yeah. Not once.”
No-eul wasn’t surprised.
Ji-woo hadn’t failed to date; she’d simply chosen not to.
Nothing and no one had measured up, so she could say it proudly.
It wasn’t a flaw; it meant she was discerning, with high standards.
At times like this, gentle teasing was fine—
calling a brilliant person “silly” only highlighted their intelligence.
“I’m usually fine,” Ji-woo said softly,
“but sometimes I get lonely.
Like when I get home at night and all the lights are off.
That’s when it hits hardest.
Don’t you feel that?”
“Yeah.
That’s a universal single-life rule.
Sometimes I imagine carrying a slingshot in a game
and zapping one half of every couple I see.”
Ji-woo chuckled.
“Listen to Han No-eul.
…but seriously, when the lights are off I feel really lonely.
Maybe that’s why I drink so often—
if I come home drunk, I pass out before I can feel it.”
“…Yeah. True. That makes sense.”
No-eul nodded, realizing Ji-woo was sincere.
But she couldn’t fully relate.
Ji-woo’s loneliness felt almost romantic, a kind of game.
No-eul might truly be alone forever; Ji-woo could be with someone anytime.
Her loneliness was voluntary, like a rich person playing at being poor.
No-eul chose to let the topic drop with a quiet nod.
Then Ji-woo said,
“Why… are you closer to Han-sol than to me?”
…Out of nowhere.
“What do you mean? I treat you the same.”
“No, you don’t.
Why do you only joke around with me?”
“…”
“You talk with Han-sol about whether marriage is good or bad.
You have serious talks with her.
Why only jokes with me?”
“…Did I…?
I don’t know…
Maybe we drank more then…
Why did we even talk about that…”
Flustered, No-eul rambled.
“You drink more with her, too.
With me it’s like you decided in advance to drink less,” Ji-woo pressed.
When did Ji-woo get so perceptive? No-eul thought.
“That’s not it…
I just didn’t sleep well last night.
I told myself to drink less today.
It just happens that I’m with you.”
Ji-woo blinked, unconvinced.
A silence settled.
Then Ji-woo said softly,
“I want to be close to you two.”
“What are you talking about? We are close.”
“…No, we’re not…”
Her face was like a puppy caught in the rain.
Seeing that, No-eul’s heart softened.
