Chapter 4
For a moment, I was blank, not understanding what he meant. More precisely, I was preoccupied with why Cha Seokyung was even asking me that.
I didn’t answer, just tilted my head and looked at him, and his gaze nudged me again toward my forehead. Only then did I reach up and touch the bandage I had washed and reapplied.
“…No, it’s not that. It’s just that yesterday my grandmother threw a spoon…”
Was it even appropriate to share something so personal? It almost sounded like I was always getting hit.
“So, I told my grandmother to go back quickly, and she got angry…”
The more I spoke, the deeper I felt I was sinking into a swamp.
Normally, I was someone who, at least when it came to words, spoke clearly and decisively. Especially in front of boys.
If I smiled awkwardly or let my words trail off, the boys would mistake it for something else, often confessing their feelings. Since middle school, I had learned from experience not to give anyone that impression without reason. By high school, I never wavered even once without cause.
So this clumsiness—this suddenness—was entirely new. Cha Seokyung, whom I had known for only three seconds, suddenly started talking to me, suddenly closing the distance to just five steps. A hint of the soap scent girls always talked about wafted to my nose.
Up close, his face was even clearer and brighter than I had imagined in my head.
His eyes wandered over my forehead and face, then withdrew. As suddenly as he had approached, he turned and rode off on the bicycle lying on its side, as if nothing had happened.
I glanced at my watch. 7:05 a.m.
A strange start to a day: an unusual five minutes inserted into the otherwise unchanging three seconds of the morning.
After that, nothing extraordinary happened between Cha Seokyung and me—no sudden closeness, no love story like you’d expect at the end of such anecdotes.
The days simply continued unchanged.
At 6:59 a.m., Cha Seokyung would ride past on his bicycle, and I would follow behind, lagging.
I endured the boring zero period through fourth period, then slipped in my earphones at lunchtime. I drank strawberry milk instead of eating and listened to music.
By the time the A-side of the cassette I’d rewound neared its end, lunch was over and fifth period began.
Lee Hojeong’s group would, every other day or so, gossip about me, glare at me, or scan me up and down with disgust.
During PE, I still didn’t have a partner, so I played with the teacher, and if I nodded off in class, there was no one to share notes with, so I gritted my teeth and stayed awake.
It was just the continuation of the same, mundane days.
The only difference was that new thoughts had begun to intrude, displacing the usual preoccupations in my mind.
Cha Seokyung had seen that day, when Kim Eunho and I were… Was he thinking of me as the girl standing at the gate? Why was he curious about my forehead? Thoughts like that.
But these questions soon found an answer through another dimension of evaluation—one added by Cha Seokyung.
“Cha Seokyung is so kind…”
It was during the last PE period, when I stayed behind, claiming to feel unwell, lying on my desk.
One of the two PE teachers had taken sick leave, and it had been announced that classes for two groups would be combined.
As the students finished PE, returning dust-covered, Lee Hojeong entered the classroom late, her voice like someone under a spell.
“Why? What did Cha Seokyung say?”
“Oh, no… I was carrying the basket of shuttlecocks to the PE storage, and it was heavy, so he helped me carry it…”
She mimicked Cha Seokyung, lifting the basket effortlessly with one hand.
“Even though he hardly talks to the girls, he seems really kind when you watch closely.”
Little anecdotes about Cha Seokyung, like holding doors or carrying things, spread from the girls’ lips like minor legends. These small, trivial stories were enough to make me acknowledge a side of him I couldn’t deny.
So his question about my forehead was simply one of the many visible acts of kindness he displayed—a glimpse of the side hidden behind his calm, indifferent exterior. Like the B-side of a record that plays a different tune.
By the end of April, some students had begun confessing to Cha Seokyung. First-years, second-years, and even senior girls in the third year.
Lee Hojeong would scoff at these girls, looking confident, as if she already knew the answer.
Whether there was any real cause for her confidence, no one had heard that Cha Seokyung had accepted any of those confessions.
In the hallway, on the playground, on stairs during class transitions, before zero period, after homeroom, during breaks—the time and place varied.
Observers said that Cha Seokyung never smiled, frowned, or showed irritation.
He would patiently listen to girls, blushing or twisting nervously, and reject them with exactly one word:
“Sorry.”
That was all. No matter how embarrassed they were, he didn’t care. His kind, gentle side that everyone spoke of seemed to vanish in those moments.
Rumor had it that, among all the pretty girls in school who had confessed, Cha Seokyung seemed to have someone special he was waiting for. This made Lee Hojeong’s lips twitch in frustration every time she heard it.
I, on the other hand, found Cha Seokyung simply intriguing. How could a single word, “Sorry,” instantly break off a persistent admirer? I wanted him to tell me, but I never could, so my curiosity ended there.
At that time, I also had my own chaos. Damned Kim Eunho showed up in the classroom near the end of lunch, holding a bouquet of roses.
“Yeonseo, I’ve thought and thought about what’s best for you.”
I was quietly doing math homework in my seat. Suddenly, it felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me.
Sensing more nonsense was coming, I tried to stand, but two girls friendly with Kim Eunho dragged chairs to my sides and held my arms.
Kim Eunho cleared his throat. A sense of foreboding rose from my stomach. Apparently, news had spread; students crowded to the windows in the hallway.
“Let’s not restart, let’s start fresh.”
Like a would-be celebrity aware of every eye on him, Kim Eunho held me in place and declared his love—promising to wait and asking me to someday notice him. I don’t want to dwell on the feelings; it was humiliation, shame, pure embarrassment. My ears burned.
“Will you accept my heart, Ji Yeonseo?”
A bouquet of roses was shoved into my arms.
The classroom erupted with applause, teasing jeers, and the pounding of desks, like a cheer at a sports festival. The red of the roses felt like an emblem of the insult itself. My face must have been just as red.
I had refused many times. How many more times did I have to say no?
My stomach churned. The cheers felt mocking. Eyes stuck to me. Snickers, giggles.
I got up, knocking my chair back, and threw the roses into the trash at the back of the classroom. The petals scattered and clung to me, making me nauseated.
Suddenly, silence fell. The rose scent choked the air. The students blocking the windows made the classroom feel suffocating.
I squeezed through the gaps and headed for the door, when a voice cut into my ear:
“Such a show-off face. What a shameless bitch.”
I had heard that before, but this time, it pierced my chest sharply, igniting a sudden, uncontrollable heat of tears.
I hurried out the back door. Crying was embarrassing, especially at eighteen, at school.
Rubbing my eyes in the hallway, I stopped after only a few steps.
Cha Seokyung was there. Hands in his pockets, indifferent, his presence casting a shadow over me.
As I was held captive by his calm, quiet gaze, Kim Eunho grabbed my wrist again, pleading desperately.
“Yeonseo, I truly like you. I’ll do anything, please respond?”
“Anything,” he said—but why not respect that we had broken up?
Everything suddenly felt exhausting.
I roughly shook Kim Eunho’s hand off, ignoring the staring eyes around me, and hurried past.
I couldn’t stand it. Whether it was the ridiculous confession, or Cha Seokyung’s gaze, I felt like I couldn’t breathe—like I was going to die.
After that, among my countless shameful labels, “Total Reject” became my identity for a while. I received even harsher looks than before.
Every morning, a chocolate milk sat on my desk, accompanied by a post-it with a cringe-worthy declaration of affection.
“….”
After two months together, shouldn’t an ex-boyfriend at least know what his former girlfriend liked?
Every time the innocent chocolate milk was tossed into the trash, my unpopularity stacked up like points.
At the same time, Cha Seokyung gained a new title, different from before.
