HMN C4

Chapter 4

(Photos)

Scrolling down a bit, he tapped Wonjung’s message with a photo preview. It was a screenshot of a post from the university’s anonymous community app.

Author Anonymous

(Video)

Saw someone feeding a stray cat yesterday lol

“…What the hell.”

In the video thumbnail the anonymous poster had uploaded, he was captured crouching in the alley, hand outstretched toward a cat. Shot from a distance and zoomed in, the image had some noise, but anyone who knew him could tell it was him.

“This bastard—who is this? Why film people—”

His flare of indignation cut off as the video continued to play. The frame zoomed further—not on a cat—but on a black plastic bag, puffed by the wind, its “ears” pricked up.

“……”

“Don’t go scavenging food waste… You should be eating healthy protein, you rascal….”

Smack.

At the brush of a returning memory, Daeyoung pressed a palm to his brow. His nape and face flared hot, making his hand feel all the colder.

He vaguely remembered feeding a cat. No—more precisely, he remembered thinking, “I should give the cat some chicken breast.”

“Sigh….”

Apparently, it hadn’t been a cat, but a black plastic bag.

— You lunatic….

From the other end of the line, Wonjung’s brief scolding came, as if he’d pieced it together from Daeyoung’s sighs and muttering.

“…Crazy—hey, can’t we report this? It was filmed secretly, wasn’t it?”

— Just come out…. Let’s get hangover soup….

Ending the call without another word, Daeyoung pressed his temples hard and slowly stood. The laundry wouldn’t dry in time for a proper nap anyway; if he went out for soup now and came back, he’d hit the timing just right. Even if his face didn’t show clearly, he planned to grab Wonjung and find out whether a report could get the photo taken down. No way something like this would help this semester’s goal.

“Damn it.”

Carefully pulling on his pants to spare the large hydrocolloid plaster on his knee, he slipped into a knit and grabbed his jumper. He stuffed the wallet he’d miraculously not lost into his pocket and headed out. Thunk. As the front door fell shut behind him, the bright pop-up confirming his course registration glowed on the laptop screen.

“Ahn Daeyoung, that video was you, right? Drink less, man.”

“Go away….”

“Hi, Daeyoung. Long time. I saw on Insta you were back.”

“Quiet…. Where’s Hyunwoo?”

“He enlisted.”

“Damn, doesn’t line up with my timing.”

The classroom after lecture hummed with chatter. First week of term—conversations always went like this. For Daeyoung, who had finished freshman year and done his military service, every other face was an old acquaintance.

Of course, there was fodder for noise. His video had gotten far more attention than expected. He didn’t use the app himself, but checking on Wonjung’s phone, he saw the comments had piled up. Apparently it had already spread across SNS and other communities.

Thanks to that, only Daeyoung had been exhausted for days. Every acquaintance in his cohort had messaged him. He didn’t have a wide circle, barely a few saved contacts in his messenger, but even people he’d never saved sent him messages out of the blue. Turned out a student from another department he’d barely brushed past during a freshman gen-ed group project had recognized him. When he asked how, since the video didn’t show his face properly, they said they’d guessed from the vibe—and then a comment that said, “In that case, it’s Ahn Daeyoung~” had clinched it.

Comments

In that case, it’s Ahn Daeyoung~

└?? what’s that mean

└lololololol

└lol I wondered why it was pinned—turns out that guy’s name is Ahn Daeyoung lolol

└@oq.. hey look at thiiiis lolol

└@19.. lol that name ffs lol

There was no need to dig up which supreme jerk had plastered his real name in the comments. While he and Wonjung were eating hangover soup, Haegyeom called. Jung Haegyeom. The culprit. He wheezed with laughter for almost thirty seconds, endured a torrent of curses, and only then deleted the comment—but by that time, everyone who could recognize him already had. Naturally, no one had figured out who shot the video.

“Oh? Wonjung—there you are. You two went together?”

“Yeah.”

“Still glued at the hip? You were with him when you got filmed too, right?”

At the classmate’s words, which he hadn’t heard in a while, Daeyoung paused in packing his bag and shook his head.

“Damn. If I find the bastard who filmed that, I’ll kill him….”

He widened his eyes and ground his teeth. Blood surged into his pale face, the veins popped, and instead of looking scary, the flush on his cheeks made his classmates laugh; one of them clapped him on the back. As the classmate edged closer, Wonjung stepped in, slung an arm around Daeyoung’s thin shoulders, and changed the subject.

“I’d love to fly solo, but Ahn Daeyoung here likes me too much.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one tailing him.”

“Huh? What—am I in unrequited love now?”

With shameless mock injury, Wonjung pulled a face. Used to this routine, Daeyoung waved perfunctorily and left the lecture hall. If he heard one more mention of that video from a classmate, he would develop a neurosis. The ambition to seem like a good person, to be popular among his peers, had slammed into a wall right out of the gate. This wasn’t popularity—this was being easy pickings and a joke. A few more farewells chimed behind him, and then Wonjung fell into step. He shrugged off the heavy arm settling over his shoulder again.

“Hey. You’re really not switching classes?”

“Ugh, too much hassle. Why bother with corrections. My major courses are the same anyway.”

More urgent than a polished timetable was landing a part-time job—now.

We’re sorry; we’ve already filled the position~

Last dawn, a reply finally came from the PC café by the school’s back gate where an application had been submitted. Was it really so hard to find a single place willing to take one person like me to work.

“Ah, damn. Maybe I should’ve just done deliveries over break….”

“I heard you helped your parents during break. Didn’t you get paid?”

“It was minimum wage…. And I can’t work there on weekdays anyway.”

Thanks to the place’s reputation as a hot spot, there were countless employees working alongside, but among them, only he was paid the minimum wage. He grumbled that it felt like pure exploitation, but the only response he ever got was, “If you’re upset, become a full-time employee and inherit the shop.” Even so, he couldn’t just pretend not to notice his parents toiling from dawn till night all the way through the vacation, so he had no choice but to keep at it while grumbling under his breath.

“Where’s your classroom?”

“I’m this way. Hurry along.”

“Text after you’re done.”

His spirits were thoroughly deflated, so he only waved his hand again instead of answering. It was time to compromise. Either work on weekends as well, or sniff around places a bit farther away, where part-time openings were relatively plentiful.

Clack.

The lecture hall, fairly broad, already had quite a few people seated. Checking the time, it seemed the chatting after the previous class had eaten up more minutes than expected. He took a seat in an empty spot near the back and set his bag down. He chose the place behind a big, broad-shouldered person for a reason: to discreetly look for part-time job listings.

A few more times, the door opened and people filed in, but Daeyeong was already fully absorbed in part-time job apps. Even after the teaching assistant walked in, nothing changed. All he did was steal a glance past those broad shoulders to check the assistant’s face once. If he widened his search radius and used the city bikes, but—could he really ride a city bike in this cold to get to a part-time job?

“Alright, everyone applied after reading the info sheet, but this is a Social Service class. As long as you meet the final hours requirement, it’s a pass/fail. You go volunteer at an institution approved by the school and bring back proof of completion. Simple, right? Today we’ll do the preliminary training. There’ll be one more meeting before finals—you’ll probably forget by then, so I’ll announce it separately.”

The teaching assistant, who looked entirely devoid of pep, spoke in a languid voice. He was already drowsy. Staring vacantly at the board, Daeyeong accepted the handout being passed back. It was the exact schedule and guidelines posted online. He put the paper down and went back to scrolling on his phone.

Ugh, because of morning classes, a dawn shift at the PC café is a bit much. And this one requires weekends too…

He wanted something that paid at least a bit more than a convenience store, but none of the listings fit cleanly.

“…So we’ll proceed in teams of two. Which means, you’ll need a partner.”

At those words, sighs leaked out here and there. He finally lifted his head. Don’t tell me. But the teaching assistant, utterly unbothered, still wore the same blunt expression.

Now he understood why this class’s enrollment had been wide open until the very last minute. Should he drop it. He let out a sigh.