Chapter 4
As soon as classes ended on the first day, Yoon-ah stopped by the café, checked the delivered supplies, and went straight home.
“Move fast,” she told herself.
Her one-room officetel (rented monthly) was full of boxes—she’d packed early because the lease would end soon.
She tossed down her eco-bag, opened the fridge, and took out two-for-one yogurts from the convenience store. She used a rice spoon. Before the divorce she would have cared about cutlery and placemats; now, comfort came first.
Standing at the sink, she filled her empty stomach, washed a plastic cup, then sat at the small table that doubled as a desk.
“I really owe Young-won. If my mentor suddenly changes, I shouldn’t be surprised,” she muttered.
Even though she tried hard, her everyday “life sense” was a bit behind other people’s, and that frustrated her most.
A country girl with only a high school diploma, she’d married less than a year after graduation. Married life had felt like being locked up in a palace.
Living almost like a houseguest, she had been completely alone. That’s why Young-won, who calmly taught her everything step by step, felt like a guide speeding up her social independence.
Her phone buzzed. It looked like the first-year group chat, so she grabbed it quickly.
[Class 5 Freshman Welcome — reminder. Please check time and place in the pinned notice. If your class ends late, join us later. If you can’t come, tell us by tomorrow morning.]
It was the welcome party she had planned to skip because of the café. She hadn’t answered yet, but now she had to decide.
She’d overheard customers say that from events like this, friend groups start to form. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she could fit in like a normal twenty-year-old freshman. But she didn’t want to become a lonely island again, like in her old life.
From now on it was just Han Yoon-ah’s life.
With a little nervousness, she typed slowly:
[I will attend.]
“Teacher Choi Young. Won. I urgently wish to meet and speak with you—do you have a moment?”
Gitae—nowhere to be seen all day—appeared right when Young-won’s last class ended. Hands folded like someone who’d done something wrong, he stood in front of Young-won as the latter put his laptop into his backpack.
“Why?” Young-won asked.
“Please, this way.”
So he really had done something. Instead of talking there, Gitae led him off. After a long walk they reached the Founders’ Memorial Hall, a place students rarely visited.
Even there, Gitae looked nervous. Standing where a video display hid them from view, he made a pained face. Young-won’s brows drew together.
“What is it?”
“Did you know our boss lady is the ex-wife of that dermatologist—some influencer or whatever?”
…
Sometimes customers at the café recognized Yoon-ah and whispered. Her photos were mostly gone now, but if you searched hard, you could still find them.
When Young-won didn’t answer, Gitae clicked his tongue and pointed.
“Aha, you did know. I came to tell you! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I tell you?”
“I’m hurt! Because of you I said the wrong thing!”
“…What?”
Seeing Young-won’s face turn cold, Gitae slowly lowered his raised hand. Young-won pressed him.
“Explain properly.”
“So… the girls asked who our pretty boss was. I said she runs Café Yoon, and they knew right away. Said they’d heard rumors. That’s how I found out…”
“Which girls?”
“…Kim Min-ji, Shin Ha-young, Hwang Eun-a.”
They were the biggest gossipers in their year—“sociable,” to say it nicely. If those three knew, it meant the whole department would soon know.
People were already talking because Yoon-ah had entered college at twenty-seven. Now they had an even juicier story.
Young-won rubbed his forehead. “…Ha…”
Was that why she hadn’t messaged all day? He had half expected a question from Yoon-ah, but not a single text came.
He felt uneasy. Still, Yoon-ah wasn’t helpless—she didn’t need him for everything, so he hadn’t reached out.
Maybe he should have.
As Young-won’s expression darkened, Gitae glanced at his watch and started to turn away.
“Anyway, this sinner must go serve as the knight protecting the boss at the welcome party, so I’ll—”
“Where is it?”
“H-huh?”
“The party. Where.”
Young-won grabbed Gitae’s shoulder. Gitae’s eyes went round.
“…You’re coming? People think you’re not.”
Even as a freshman, Choi Young-won hadn’t gone to his own welcome party.
He pressed his lips together and walked past Gitae.
An hour and a half into the event, most seniors who stopped by Yoon-ah’s table seemed to do so out of politeness, and at some point the classmates at the next table had all drifted away.
Maybe out of concern—or just curious about the new freshmen—some kind fourth-year women stayed with her. In the noisy bar full of drinking games, Yoon-ah’s table stayed quiet.
She was fine with that—she wasn’t good at drinking games anyway. And she was a bit excited: it was her first time drinking with people without her husband or in-laws around.
They were chatting softly when a chair scraped and someone plopped down, reeking of alcohol. His jacket showed he was an upperclassman. The fourth-years recognized him and looked alarmed.
“Se-senior Do-hyun…!”
“So you’re that freshman. You look really young,” Do-hyun said, staring only at Yoon-ah. Surprised by his sudden pushiness, she bowed a little.
“Hello, I’m Han Yoon-ah. Senior… Do-hyun.”
“Why so formal, noona? Just call me Do-hyun. We’re only a year apart—you’re twenty-seven, right?”
“But we just met, so…”
“I like it when older women speak casually to me.”
“…Pardon?”
She blinked. Not knowing how to respond, she just picked up a new glass and a soju bottle.
“Please take care of me, senior,” she said politely.
“Wow, you know how to drink? Pouring first—great.”
The fourth-year women knew Do-hyun had a big thing for “collecting older women” outside school. They never expected him to show up tonight—apparently he’d chosen Yoon-ah as his new target. One of them reached to take the bottle from Yoon-ah:
“Senior! I’ll—”
“Let noona pour,” Do-hyun cut in, holding out his glass. When she poured, he grinned again.
The whole time he kept pushing drinks on the women at the table. They couldn’t leave or refuse, so they accepted quickly; their faces turned bright red. Only Yoon-ah looked outwardly fine—though she was actually getting paler.
Five red-cap bottles emptied in no time. Then Do-hyun asked Yoon-ah:
“Noona, want to go buy ice cream?”
Startled, she looked at the fourth-years. They were slumped back in their chairs, flushed and drunk.
“Now?” she asked.
She hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of going out alone with Do-hyun, who’d said shady things—but it felt rude to refuse a senior in this cheerful atmosphere. After a quick glance around the noisy room, Yoon-ah stood up.
