Chapter 38
“Ugh….”
Jiwoo felt a sharp, squeezing pain in her head — like someone had put her brain in a juicer.
She struggled to lift her upper body and glanced around. Hyemi and Hansol were still asleep.
‘Ah right, I came on a trip….’
Her brain slowly started to reload yesterday’s memories.
Jiwoo frowned deeply. Ugh, I mixed soju and beer out of spite yesterday… No wonder my head hurts like hell. I must’ve just passed out after that. I can’t even remember—
“…”
It wasn’t that simple.
Pieces of memories she shouldn’t have started surfacing, one by one.
“You’re pretty… so why didn’t you say that to me earlier?”
“I just need to know what you think of me.”
The more the memories returned, the wider Jiwoo’s eyes grew.
“Why are you so obsessed with that? You already get told you’re pretty all the time.”
“So that thing about not caring about looks — that was a lie, huh? You’re such a hypocrite.”
Jiwoo covered her mouth with her hand.
The shock was so strong she couldn’t even feel her headache anymore.
“Who’s prettier — me or Hansol?”
“Ahh!!”
The horrible memory made her scream before she could stop herself.
“Whoa— what the hell!”
Hansol jolted awake at Jiwoo’s sudden cry.
“You…”
“AAAH!!”
Jiwoo screamed again.
Hyemi woke up, startled by the noise.
“What the— what’s going on?!”
Hansol and Hyemi stared at Jiwoo with bewildered eyes.
Jiwoo, pale as if she had seen a ghost, was staring into the air.
Then she suddenly went frantic, searching for her bag.
She dumped everything out, grabbed her makeup pouch, and took out a mirror.
The moment Jiwoo saw her reflection, her face went pale.
‘…I asked that question looking like this…?’
As she sat there blankly, Hansol’s rough morning voice said,
“Hey, you don’t look swollen. You’re fine.”
Hyemi added,
“Yeah, you look pretty, seriously.”
“Ugh… don’t say that. Don’t call me pretty….”
Jiwoo buried her head in the blanket, near tears.
Crazy, crazy, crazy…
What must Noeul think of her now? Probably that she was some deranged looks-obsessed narcissist. Someone who claimed looks didn’t matter, but secretly cared about them more than anything — a shallow, hypocritical mess.
She could even remember her expression while asking.
All those fake-cute gestures, that desperate attempt to hear she was prettier than Hansol — like a child fishing for validation.
‘Aren’t I adorable? Come on, say I’m the prettiest,’ as if begging for it….
Ugh. How low. How disgusting. I’m so embarrassed I could die.
For a moment, Jiwoo tried to comfort herself — Maybe I looked kind of cute though?
Her cheeks had been flushed from drinking, her hair loose… maybe that was a bit sexy—
…No. Nope. Still drunk. Definitely not sober yet.
Jiwoo smacked her own head hard.
Hyemi and Hansol looked at her worriedly.
Ugh, I should’ve just passed out. Why’d I have to wake up and create this nightmare of a memory?
“You…”
Jiwoo’s hand froze midair.
“….”
Noeul had said that — “You.”
She remembered the way Noeul said it clearly — his voice, his expression.
She wasn’t misremembering.
Was he serious…?
No, that couldn’t be.
It wasn’t sincerity — it was forced. Practically dragged out of him.
Who would answer sincerely when someone was harassing them, demanding, Say I’m prettier than her! like a maniac?
He must’ve just said it to shut her up.
But the memory refused to agree.
The look on Noeul’s face when he said “You.” The nervous expression, the eyes that met hers, the low, serious voice… it had felt like he was confessing something long hidden.
Was that just her imagination?
All the other memories were blurry, but that one — that one was crystal clear. Maybe her subconscious just wanted to remember it that way.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone tapped on the door.
Then Noeul’s voice came from the other side.
“Spicy ramen with chopped chili, fresh green onions, and a cracked egg on top — breakfast is served!”
“Ooh, me! Me, I want some!”
Hyemi crawled toward the door on all fours and went out.
Jiwoo peeked through the crack.
Noeul was ladling ramen into bowls. He’d washed up — face and hair neat. No sign of a hangover.
“Jiwoo still asleep?”
That was Noeul’s voice.
Hansol answered, “She’s up.”
Jiwoo hesitated.
Should she pretend to still be asleep? No — she’d have to face him sooner or later. Better to go out now. Act natural. If he teases her about last night, she could just laugh it off. That might actually be easier.
Or maybe he’d just ignore it. Pretend nothing happened.
She could do the same — act like it was no big deal. Just a drunken mistake.
Yeah. Just play it cool.
Rubbing her eyes exaggeratedly, Jiwoo stepped out.
“Ugh, my head’s killing me.”
She made a show of groaning loudly.
She couldn’t even glance toward Noeul.
“Wow, that ramen smells amazing.”
She sat at the table, trying to look natural.
Noeul, sitting closest to the pot, handed her a bowl.
“Thanks,” Jiwoo said as casually as she could.
Just as she was about to eat, something appeared beside her face — a small bottle.
Noeul was holding out hangover medicine.
“Oh…”
Startled, Jiwoo took it.
Was he giving it because she said her head hurt? In front of everyone?
She glanced around — and saw that everyone had one.
‘Oh… he gave it to everyone….’
Suddenly she felt ridiculously self-conscious.
What the hell was I imagining just now?
She twisted open the bottle cap.
“Still, at least she can open that.”
Hyunsu spoke with a swollen face.
“She spent all night hugging an olive bottle going, ‘I’ll open it, I’ll open it,’ remember?”
Junki laughed.
“So did she open it?”
“Of course not.”
“Why didn’t you open it for me earlier?”
“…You said you were fine.”
“You’re not supposed to ask! Just take it and open it! Like, ‘give it here!’”
“Why should I do that?”
Jiwoo forced a laugh.
Another forgotten memory surfaced.
‘Wow… I really did all kinds of nonsense.’
But she remembered — Noeul’s face in that moment had been cold.
Was he angry? Did she annoy him?
I mean… he had a right to be angry.
There were probably parts she still didn’t remember — things worse than what came back. Judging by that expression, she must’ve been an absolute disaster.
Jiwoo glanced at Noeul.
He was smiling peacefully, joking with the others.
Even if she said nothing, he probably wouldn’t bring it up.
But Jiwoo still felt too guilty to just ignore it.
She’d have to apologize — somehow.
After finishing her ramen, she quietly looked for the right moment.
Finally, as they left the lodging and headed for the bus terminal, Jiwoo managed to walk up beside him.
“Hey… are you feeling okay? Your stomach and all?”
“Of course. You guys are so weak. Drinking’s all about willpower. If you feel like puking, just swallow it back down. Suppress it with more alcohol.”
He sounded perfectly fine — like nothing had happened.
Jiwoo felt a little relieved.
Maybe she shouldn’t bring it up after all?
What if it just made things awkward again?
No… better to apologize anyway.
“Hey, about last night — I’m sorry. I got too drunk. I must’ve been so annoying.”
“Huh? Oh, you know that? Yeah, you were really damn annoying. Glad you’re aware.”
“Ugh, you jerk…”
Jiwoo laughed. Noeul’s light teasing was actually a relief.
“Anyway… I’m still sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Later that night
Noeul stepped outside the lodging.
The air was still, heavy — not a hint of wind.
He checked his phone: 4 a.m.
No point in lying down now. Even if he fell asleep, he’d wake up in an hour or two.
He gave up on sleeping and just sat outside, listening to the crickets.
It was the calmest moment since they’d left Seoul.
Still, he thought — Why is this trip so exhausting?
Then he realized it: the exhaustion was self-inflicted.
He didn’t have to clean up by himself. They could’ve done it together in the morning. He didn’t have to play the clown, making everyone laugh. Nobody asked him to.
He’d chosen all of it himself.
Because ever since he was young, Noeul had believed that to belong in a group, he had to be “the good one.”
To be accepted, he had to please others.
That habit never left him.
Everything about Noeul now — his personality, his habits, his attitude — all grew out of that.
It was his way of surviving.
His way of living in a world that mocked his face.
What had hurt the young Noeul so much back then?
As a kid, girls used to ask him questions like:
“Hey, out of us, who’s the prettiest?”
Noeul had hated those questions.
They felt less like curiosity and more like being forced to confess something.
He’d try to dodge the question, but children were cruel. They’d always make him answer.
Saying “you’re the prettiest” felt humiliating — like a coerced confession.
And the others’ reactions made it worse: laughter disguised as cheers, teasing disguised as excitement.
The girl he picked would blush, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.
He hadn’t understood back then why it hurt so much — only that it did.
When he grew older, he finally figured it out.
And that realization hurt even more.
Because he finally saw how those kids had really seen him.
Even children, in their own way, can sense other people’s feelings.
They can think, If I say this, maybe that person will feel bad.
But those kids never thought that way about Noeul.
Because Noeul was ugly.
They’d divided the world — people, and ugly people.
Like dividing humans from animals.
And just like you don’t worry about an animal’s feelings, they thought there was no need to worry about an ugly person’s either.
So they said anything to him, in front of him or behind him.
They took out their frustrations, entertained themselves.
Things they’d never dare say to others — they said freely to him.
As if he couldn’t feel anything.
“Who’s prettier, me or Hansol?”
“Forget everyone else — I just want your opinion.”
What had Jiwoo been thinking, asking that?
Had she not realized how much that question could hurt him?
Maybe she’d just been curious — like those kids were.
Curious what the “ugly one” thought.
Something she’d always secretly wondered, but only dared to ask because she was drunk.
Maybe Jiwoo wasn’t the only one curious.
Noeul knew — everyone wondered about him.
Jiwoo, Hansol, Junki — all of them.
But knowing that and hearing it out loud are two different things.
From now on, every time Noeul saw Jiwoo, he’d remember that moment.
He’d imagine all the thoughts she might be having about his face.
He’d shrink away from her — just like he once did from those cruel kids.
He realized now — he’d been wrong about her.
He’d thought Jiwoo was kind and genuine, someone who didn’t judge by appearances, who wouldn’t hurt someone because of their looks.
But that was just an illusion he’d created.
Jiwoo was no different from the others.
