Chapter 22
“Phew… why do you think Ji-woo doesn’t like me…?”
“…Maybe she doesn’t actually dislike you…”
“No… you should’ve seen the look in her eyes. You know that polite nod people do when they’re just being courteous? She listens and nods like that… and when I show up to a gathering, it’s not like she’s happy to see me either…”
“….”
No-eul silently refilled Jun-gi’s empty soju glass.
She’d assumed Jun-gi didn’t notice—he’s always been a bit clueless and often gets teased by their friends for it.
But no one can stay oblivious about someone they like. No matter what, Ji-woo’s reactions had to be what he watched most closely. Even if he pretended otherwise, his attention must have kept drifting back to her.
Jun-gi knew. He just acted as if he didn’t—anything to keep looking at Ji-woo, to avoid things becoming awkward. What did he feel every time he asked, “Is it okay if I come too?”
No-eul could have said to Ji-woo and Han-sol, “It’d be nice if Jun-gi came along,” but she never did. Even though she knew he wanted to join, she rationalized: If he wants to come, he’ll say so himself. We’re all adults. And Ji-woo and Han-sol seem reluctant, so it’d be weird to keep inviting him myself.
Sometimes Jun-gi managed to ask and come along; other times he hesitated and stayed quiet. Looking back, No-eul felt childish.
Was it the petty mindset of “If I can’t have them, no one can”? It wasn’t as if that would make Ji-woo hers. She could have been cool about it, could have happily encouraged a decent guy like Jun-gi to date her.
But she hadn’t wanted to see that. Maybe she just wanted to protect a flimsy sense of pride—handsome or not, you can’t have Ji-woo either.
It felt like she’d thrown away the chance to be a better friend, a better person.
Still, she didn’t want to beat herself up. Helping Jun-gi was never her obligation, just a kindness. Failing to show kindness isn’t a sin.
Jun-gi wasn’t suffering some great tragedy. The girl he liked simply didn’t like him back. No-eul had faced that countless times herself. The only difference was their assumptions: No-eul’s default belief was the person I like will never like me, whereas Jun-gi’s was of course the person I like will like me back.
Was it really her job to comfort him? Was it wrong that she didn’t feel heartbroken over his rejection? Jun-gi was young and handsome. He could just like someone else, and odds were that person would like him too—like so many other girls already did.
Maybe Jun-gi didn’t even like Ji-woo that much. Maybe he was half-serious, half-prideful, intrigued by the rare fact that a girl didn’t return his feelings. There’s a sweetness in that kind of pretty-boy heartbreak—it can even make someone seem more romantic. Perhaps he knew that and savored it.
Thinking this far, No-eul realized she was spinning excuses.
No one was accusing her of anything, yet here she was, crafting elaborate justifications—proof that something inside her felt guilty.
No one else knew, but she did. She knew she’d secretly enjoyed it when Ji-woo and Han-sol kept their distance from Jun-gi. She could have fully defended him—Ji-woo and Han-sol trusted her enough to believe her—but she only offered vague, half-hearted support. And not for Jun-gi’s sake, but to maintain the image of herself as the friend who speaks up.
That hidden truth was what pricked at her.
So she wasn’t actually sorry to Jun-gi. She was sorry to herself—for thinking she was a decent person despite her plain looks, only to learn she wasn’t. Even that self-respect was gone.
No-eul felt rotten.
She filled her own glass and downed it in one shot.
Jun-gi, slurring a little from drink, chuckled.
“Hey, why the one-shot? Don’t get all moody on me.”
“…I just felt like it.”
Jun-gi snickered.
“Always trying to sound tough. No wonder people don’t realize how kind you really are.”
“What are you talking about? Everyone knows I’m nice. Whole department knows.”
Jun-gi giggled.
“If I were as fun as you, maybe Ji-woo would like me more.”
“Why bother being fun? With your looks, if you can’t win her over, maybe you should reflect on that. If I had your face? Ha… seriously…”
“What? If you had my face then what? Finish your sentence.”
“I’d love it, obviously. I wish I had your face.”
“Ha… idiot. You’d just say, ‘If I had your face I’d charm every girl,’ right?”
Would she? Somehow No-eul doubted it. She thought she’d probably stay single anyway—half out of revenge. Look how handsome I am, and I still don’t date anyone, as if to prove even the most beautiful woman couldn’t have her.
The realization unsettled her.
Why did knowing herself only reveal more ugly corners?
“Hey.”
Jun-gi was almost drunk, swaying as he called to her.
She looked at him.
“Maybe… I should try one last time,” he said.
“….”
“I’ve never seriously asked her out, just the two of us. Maybe I should, one last time. If she says no again, I’ll stop for real.”
No-eul’s first thought was I wish he wouldn’t. She hoped he’d give up—because maybe, on that last try, Ji-woo might say yes.
When she didn’t answer right away, Jun-gi shook his head hard.
“Ah, forget it. No, that’d be pathetic. Better to stop now. If I push again, it’s not clean anymore, right? I’ll drop it. Drop it.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
He wasn’t sure. One word from No-eul—Yeah, maybe just end it here—and he’d probably back off.
Even if she said nothing, he might take her silence as a sign to quit.
So No-eul didn’t have to do anything. And no one would blame her.
But… was that really what she wanted?
Was letting the moment pass enough?
She decided to give herself a chance to make things right—to be a better person.
“Hey,” she said. “Ask her one last time. For real.”
Buzz—
Ji-woo checked her phone. Her expression tightened slightly.
She set the phone face-down on the table.
“What’s up?” No-eul asked.
“Hm? …Ah. Jun-gi.”
“What about him?”
“…He wants to meet. This weekend.”
Han-sol asked, “Are you going to?”
“No.”
Han-sol nodded, unsurprised.
In truth, No-eul had tipped Jun-gi off—told him to text Ji-woo to meet this weekend, promising she’d talk to her.
Before speaking, No-eul steadied herself. She knew her own darker impulses could surface at any moment.
This isn’t for Jun-gi; it’s for me.
If she set aside all tricks and genuinely tried to help them, she might finally feel different—like someone who acts on what’s right instead of petty desire. That was the real gain.
She might also earn Ji-woo’s and Han-sol’s respect as an honest, admirable friend. If Ji-woo and Jun-gi actually ended up together, she’d have been the one who brought them closer. She could even grow closer to Han-sol, maybe laugh about it someday.
From every angle, it was the right thing to do.
Feeling more certain, No-eul began.
“You two are close to me, right?”
Ji-woo and Han-sol looked at her as if wondering where that came from.
“Of course,” Ji-woo said. “Why?”
“You’ll still hang out with me even if you get boyfriends, right?”
“Of course!” Ji-woo said a little louder.
Han-sol watched silently.
“Honestly,” No-eul continued, “I like how the three of us hang out.”
“Me too,” Ji-woo said.
“But if you and Jun-gi got together, I thought maybe the three of us wouldn’t hang out as much.”
Ji-woo blinked, caught off guard.
“So… honestly,” No-eul said, “I haven’t really wished for you and Jun-gi to work out.”
“….”
“I never said anything bad about him, but… I also didn’t go out of my way to tell you the good things about him.”
Han-sol said, “That’s all? Don’t overthink it. That’s for them to figure out. You don’t have to explain anything.”
Her words sounded sweet to No-eul, and she was tempted to let the conversation drift that way.
But then her confession would mean nothing. She wanted to stay honest with herself.
“It’s true I didn’t have to,” No-eul said. “But when you two said things you might not have if you knew him better, I stayed quiet. And because I stayed quiet, you might’ve thought I agreed, that maybe Jun-gi really was like that. I didn’t do anything, but that silence could mislead you. That’s on me.”
Han-sol replied, “Maybe. But how can anyone know every fact about someone? We just go by what we see—some truths, some misunderstandings. Your silence didn’t ruin anything.”
Han-sol clearly thought well of No-eul, which made No-eul grateful.
“I should’ve spoken up, like you’re doing now,” No-eul said. “Said, ‘Jun-gi isn’t like that, you’re misunderstanding.’ But I didn’t. I’m not even really sorry to him—it just nags at me.”
“If you truly thought highly of him, you’d have defended him. You didn’t, and that tells Ji-woo something too. We think you’re a good person. If you strongly defended someone, we’d assume he’s good as well. If you don’t, we assume maybe he’s not worth it. If you defend him out of duty, that just distorts things,” Han-sol said.
“Maybe so. But like I said, my own selfishness was involved. I… wanted to keep you both to myself.”
Her face grew hot saying keep you to myself—it was the truest thing she’d admitted.
Han-sol countered, “If you really thought Jun-gi was good, you’d want all four of us to hang out.”
“No. That’s… different. You two see it differently.”
“How’s it different? Sounds the same to me.”
No-eul hesitated. She wanted to be honest—but only up to where she could still seem admirable. She didn’t want to reveal every dark corner of her heart.
“…You’re both… pretty,” she said. “When pretty girls hang out with one guy, it’s different if it’s just two of you versus three, especially with someone as good-looking as Jun-gi. People look at you differently. You know what I mean, even if I can’t explain it.”
She hadn’t meant to go that far. A sense warned her not to be more candid.
“Anyway,” she continued, “what I really mean is… Jun-gi’s actually a great guy if you take him seriously. Sure, he can be a little oblivious, but that’s not what matters. He’s not calculating, doesn’t weigh gain and loss—he just cares about the people around him. I don’t have many close friends, but Jun-gi’s one of the few I consider genuinely good. So if you trust me, I think it’d be good to give him a chance.”
Han-sol’s expression darkened slightly.
Ji-woo looked deep in thought.
A quiet moment passed.
No-eul felt she’d done well—done enough. Maybe now she could stop feeling uneasy.
At the same time she wondered, Why is it so hard for me to follow my own heart?
Some people can. But if she did, it always seemed to lead to shame.
“Okay,” Ji-woo said at last.
“…What?”
“I’ll meet him.”
No-eul looked at her.
“I said I’ll meet him,” Ji-woo repeated.
