Chapter 26
[ Hey. ]
“What are you doing?”
[ Just lying down. Recovering. ]
“Feeling any better?”
[ Yeah. I think I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. ]
“That’s good.”
[ What about you? Is the first round over? ]
“Yeah. The others went on to the second round, but I’m just heading home.”
[ Early night for you. ]
“Yeah. You’re not here, so it’s not that fun.”
[ Right? See? I told you I’m the fun one. ]
“Please. You sound fine enough—why don’t you come for the second round?”
[ Nah. I’m just someone who keeps the baseline level of fun even when I feel sick. ]
“Such nonsense.”
[ You could’ve hung out with Ji-woo without me. ]
No-eul spoke as if it were nothing.
If Han-sol didn’t know what kind of person No-eul was, or how No-eul felt about Ji-woo, he might have thought it was an offhand remark.
But Han-sol knew.
He knew No-eul had probably been wondering all evening whether Ji-woo had shown up at the gathering—and had been trying to figure out how to ask naturally while they talked.
“I sat a bit away from Ji-woo.”
[ …Oh? Really? ]
“Yeah. We stepped outside for a bit and talked. She said it wasn’t that fun.”
[ Well, drinking parties can be like that. ]
Han-sol shared the information he knew No-eul wanted but wouldn’t ask for.
“Ji-woo went to the second round, but not because she was having fun. More like… habit. You know how she always stays to the end.”
[ Are you an NPC or something? Why are you giving me all the updates so easily? ]
Han-sol chuckled.
Then he remembered why he’d called in the first place.
“Oh, right. Hey, you don’t need to do that anymore.”
[ Do what? ]
“You know. Acting like you’re carrying all the world’s sorrow alone, hiding it from everyone. That thing you’re so good at.”
[ What are you even… That’s not what I’m doing. ]
“Yeah right. You’re totally doing it.”
[ Nooo, I’m not. ]
“Really not?”
[ …Really. ]
“…Then I’m not telling you this fresh, piping-hot bit of info I got from Ji-woo herself.”
[ What info. ]
“You have to admit it first.”
[ Oh, please. I’m not listening. ]
“Really? You’re not curious? You’ve got it completely wrong.”
[ I said I’m not listening. You won’t be able to hold it in anyway. ]
“I swear I won’t tell. If you don’t admit it, I’ll sew my lips shut.”
[ Why so dramatic. ]
“Come on. Admit it or not?”
[ …No. Not this time. ]
“…….”
[ I said I’m not sulking at home like some hermit. ]
“…No way. I felt it—you must have too. Ji-woo admitted she was avoiding you.”
[ …What? …Why? ]
“…….”
[ ……. ]
A silence stretched between them.
Han-sol spoke first.
“…Am I prying too much?”
[ …Huh? ]
“I mean, you don’t owe me every detail. Of course you have things you’d rather keep to yourself…”
[ ……. ]
“I don’t know… why do I feel so hurt every time?”
[ ……. ]
No-eul stayed quiet, but Han-sol could almost feel his discomfort through the phone.
Han-sol suddenly worried he’d pushed too hard, worried No-eul might be thinking, You’re just like everyone else.
Maybe he had gotten too emotional.
Even if No-eul did think that—Han-sol understood why.
It wasn’t about trust; anyone could feel that way.
And still, he’d let his hurt slip out.
Han-sol brightened his tone.
“I just wondered if maybe you think I’ll drift away from you like Ji-woo did. And so you keep your distance from everyone, including me.
Thinking that made me suddenly feel sad.”
[ …No, it’s not that… Sorry I couldn’t be completely honest. ]
“No, I was the one being ridiculous—getting mad that you weren’t.”
[ I didn’t know you were thinking like that. ]
“It’s fine, really. Anyway, here’s the ridiculous news I got. Ji-woo said she did avoid us. Not just you—us.
But not because she dislikes us.
It’s just… ugh, it’s awkward to say… She thought you liked me. She was giving us space.”
[ Huh? Was there even anything to make her think that? ]
“Well, there were those times we drank just the two of us. Went to a movie, too.”
[ …That was ages ago. Why realize it now? ]
“Who knows. She probably pieced it together and went, ‘Ah-ha, that’s it!’”
[ Ha… wow. ]
No-eul let out a breathy laugh—half disbelief, half relief.
Han-sol found himself laughing too.
“Ridiculous, right?”
He giggled.
[ Yeah… Tell her she owes me for all that needless stress. ]
“Exactly. Next time she should at least double-check before deciding something like that.”
[ Ha… you’re right. ]
“…Ha. Seriously…”
Even after hanging up, No-eul kept letting out small, incredulous laughs.
Thinking of how Ji-woo must have seen him and Han-sol, and what was in her head when she avoided them, was equal parts absurd and embarrassing.
Still, it was a relief to know Ji-woo still considered him a close friend, not someone she’d simply outgrown.
But it also felt like yet another confirmation that Ji-woo didn’t think of him as anything more.
No-eul didn’t dwell on that.
He’d always known.
There would be more little confirmations like this—like repeated drills teaching him to accept the obvious.
Maybe he was already getting numb.
He realized he tended to interpret things in the worst possible way.
From a step back, there’d been no reason for Ji-woo to think I need to drop No-eul forever.
Maybe she’d lose interest a bit, sure, but that wasn’t a reason to avoid him.
…And here he was, thinking negatively again.
He really wasn’t attractive, sure, but Ji-woo wasn’t that cruel.
Neither was Han-sol.
He’d worried Han-sol would eventually leave like Ji-woo, but Han-sol clearly valued their bond.
…I don’t know. Why do I feel hurt every time?
Remembering those words from Han-sol made No-eul’s heart lurch even now.
Han-sol had only meant it as a friend—disappointed that a best friend wouldn’t share everything.
Han-sol truly thought of him as a best friend.
Handsome guys might not have that kind of bond, but someone like No-eul could.
He reminded himself of this.
He couldn’t let the fluttery feeling trick him into crossing a line.
Everyone cared about him more than he thought.
But he always imagined the worst.
It was safer that way: expect people to leave, and it won’t hurt as much if they do.
And if they don’t—well, that’s just a pleasant surprise.
That was how he’d protected himself.
He wondered if he could ever break this habit of negative thinking.
Then wondered if he even needed to.
It had shielded him from deeper wounds all this time.
Selfish maybe, but… he still wanted to avoid pain if he could.
Anyway…
First, he needed to clear up Ji-woo’s misunderstanding.
That kind of rumor could bother Han-sol.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad, but still unpleasant—like drinking clean water from a toilet-shaped cup, telling yourself it’s fine while suppressing a gag.
Had Ji-woo really wanted him and Han-sol to get together?
Did she not see how insulting that might feel to Han-sol?
It was worse than teasing, “Hey, there goes your boyfriend.”
Maybe Ji-woo owed Han-sol an apology.
If Ji-woo acted like she earnestly hoped they’d become a couple, it’d be impossible for Han-sol to laugh it off.
How do you answer someone who says, “Why not No-eul? I don’t see the problem,” without blurting, “Because he’s ugly, damn it”?
Did Ji-woo secretly dislike Han-sol?
Some hidden rivalry between pretty girls?
Who knew.
Maybe she wasn’t as free of prejudice as she seemed.
No-eul really couldn’t tell.
Real or not, he had to set things straight.
He couldn’t look as though he enjoyed the rumor.
Otherwise Han-sol might one day stop being his friend, thinking he was secretly harboring feelings.
“Wow. Ooh, it’s stir-fried sausages and veggies. Haven’t had this sober in a while.”
Jun-gi said as he grabbed his cafeteria tray.
Ji-woo laughed in disbelief beside him.
The lunch lady looked up.
“Well, handsome, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
She scooped an extra spoonful onto his plate.
“Haha, thank you so much.”
Then she glanced at Ji-woo.
“Been skipping meals to go on dates, huh?”
“Ah, no. We’re just friends. Could you give her a bit more too?”
The woman looked skeptical but put more food on Ji-woo’s tray.
“Pretty ones always hang out together.”
“Thank you.”
Jun-gi hummed happily as he searched for seats.
Ji-woo followed, teasing,
“Excited to get extra sausage, huh?”
“Of course. It’s my favorite.”
Jun-gi wasn’t a bad friend to have around.
He didn’t try to impress her, and when he wasn’t acting cool, his goofy side was kind of charming.
Jun-gi, I’m not looking to date you or anything.
Yeah. Then let’s just be friends.
Because she knew he liked her a little, Ji-woo felt it was only fair to be clear.
That way he wouldn’t waste effort, and there’d be no misunderstandings.
He’d surprisingly agreed easily.
No-eul had gone out of his way to introduce them, but Jun-gi didn’t seem all that smitten.
Ji-woo felt a fleeting, odd disappointment.
Still, it was for the best.
Without Jun-gi, she’d have been eating alone today.
It was nice to have him there…
…but not exactly wonderful.
Even with Jun-gi, a small emptiness lingered.
Would it fade someday, or would campus life always feel a little hollow?
“Oh—there they are.”
Jun-gi brightened and headed toward the windows.
He was walking toward No-eul and Han-sol, who were eating together.
Ji-woo quickly hurried after him.
“Wait—hey, Jun-gi, let’s sit over there.”
“Why? There’s space next to them.”
“No, just… let’s go over there.”
“Why? Did you guys fight?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then what’s up?”
“Just—come on, dummy. I’ll explain later.”
“Dummy…?”
Because of Jun-gi’s stubbornness, Ji-woo accidentally caught No-eul’s eye.
She quickly steered Jun-gi to another table.
“Seriously, dummy. I’ll explain later—just follow me.”
Jun-gi looked baffled but trailed along.
But then No-eul stood and started walking straight toward them.
What? I went out of my way to give him space, and now he’s coming over?
Is he going to ask us to join them?
Yeah, that sounds like him. Can’t just pretend not to see me. Silly guy.
Still, Ji-woo felt a small, guilty happiness that he came.
No-eul stopped in front of her.
“Let’s eat together.”
“Why? I’m eating with Jun-gi.”
“…I need to talk to you. Just this once, sit with us.”
“Talk? Just text me. I’m going.”
Ji-woo turned to leave—but couldn’t.
She looked down.
No-eul was holding her arm.
