HMN C10

Chapter 10

“There—there’s a free table.”

Amid the buzzing crowd of sprouts and social butterflies, the arrival of two grim-looking returnees felt mortifying. With his head half bowed, hesitating awkwardly, Daeyoung pulled out a chair where Min-hye pointed and sat. Before long, Wonjung took the seat beside him.

“What, Ahn Daeyoung—I thought you wouldn’t come back after discharge.”

“Oh? You’re here too?”

At least there was one familiar face at the table—someone he’d seen a few times in freshman year, apparently now in the same club. That eased him a little. He craned his neck slightly. Not far away sat Min-hye, though she soon took a spot at the outermost table. His gaze lingered after her for a moment.

“So, as mentioned earlier in the club room, we’ll watch films together through the semester, do festival outings, and attend various film events. Everyone gets busy with job prep after junior year, so before that—”

A dozen-plus freshmen sat in a row, eyes gleaming with excitement as they watched the club president. As Daeyoung quietly glanced around, his eyes drifted back to Min-hye.

“Oh, and our club room…”

He didn’t particularly care for film. At most, he’d catch a buzzy blockbuster or a popcorn flick and think it was fun; he’d never formed a clear, subjective opinion, and he didn’t even enjoy watching movies. Still, a club like this once wouldn’t hurt. The way Min-hye brightened while talking about film festivals struck him as a little cute.

“Ah, here he is.”

She suddenly raised a hand and beckoned to the back. Naturally, all eyes followed.

Someone who had just come up to the second floor glanced over the long table, then stopped beside Min-hye. He was tall.

“For f—’s sake…”

Was there nowhere that bastard didn’t insert himself?

“Our vice president I mentioned earlier. Name’s Go Chiwoo. He’s busy the first week so he got here now, but he’ll be at the next event and meeting.”

At her introduction, the table went quiet for a heartbeat. No mystery there. A tall, handsome guy arriving at a gathering always did that. Wonjung leaned in subtly; his voice tickled the ear.

“You knew?”

“Yeah, right…”

With eyes slightly narrowed, Ahn Daeyoung studied the man. He wore an indifferent look, as if uninterested in the gathering, scanning briefly with a blank face. Their eyes might have met—or it was too quick to be sure. He took an empty seat. Next to Min-hye. For no reason, Daeyoung cast another sidelong look, then dragged a beer glass toward himself. God, damn it. A stubbornly persistent ill fate. He couldn’t bolt and risk becoming “the unhinged returnee,” so at least he’d wet his throat.

“Okay, let’s drink! Say hello to those around you.”

With Min-hye’s cue, the bar quickly turned raucous.

“You’re a senior, right? I heard you’re returning.”

“Ah, yes. I’m a returnee.”

“Drop the honorifics. Is it okay if I call you sunbae? ‘Oppa’ is too cringey.”

“Sure. Uh… anything’s fine. As long as it’s not an insult…”

“Oh.”

At the inexplicable little exclamation, he nodded while sipping beer. The freshman at the same table was speaking to him quite warmly. But having gone to boys’ middle and high schools, he found conversations with women difficult. He had zero practice making female friends and worried about being seen as someone butting in without reading the room.

“Uh… if this is uncomfortable, we don’t need to talk. Should I switch seats?”

“…Pardon?”

He thought no one would want to chat with a returnee. He wasn’t handsome like Go Chiwoo at the far table, thronged by the kids. So he tried to be considerate—only for the student to blink, startled.

“Sorry, he’s just shy. He’s not weird.”

Nearby, Wonjung apologized with a smile. The freshman smiled back and nodded.

“Oh, he doesn’t seem weird. That’s why I started talking.”

“So you really wanted to talk to me? Not just being polite?”

“Yes.”

“Ah…”

This time, he was deeply moved. So he didn’t look like the sort of creep who’d hit on freshmen or women. With that confirmed, he relaxed a little.

“Nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

“Kim Seong-rae.”

“I’m Ahn Daeyoung. Let’s be friends.”

Seong-rae was breezy by nature. And quite the cinephile, apparently—she rattled off film talk so readily that even Daeyoung found himself listening with real interest. With conversation to go along with what he was drinking, the somaek went down in sips. From the side, Wonjung kept nudging him to take it easy, but for the first time in a while, Daeyoung was enjoying a new friend’s company.

“Sunbae, then you must know our club president and vice president over there.”

He turned where she pointed. The far table seethed with people, men and women alike.

“No. Min-hye is friends with him.”

“Oh, I see.”

He tossed back the last of his drink and looked that way again. A pair of beauties, that pair. On looks alone, they’d be popular regardless of gender. Some who’d sat nearby had drifted over there, too; Min-hye was busy replying with an easy smile, while Go Chiwoo slouched into the sofa, glued to his phone.

Why sit there with so little interest? It was odd. His standoffish personality was well known; the only ones who approached were said to be kids hoping to catch crumbs, and even they weren’t there.

Just then, Min-hye seemed to say something to him, turning toward him. He shook his head and forced himself into the conversation. Are they actually dating? If they were, that would explain it. A handsome pair. Strip away the subjective filter and they made a good-looking couple. Heena noona must have fallen for that face, too.

“……”

Glug.

“Hey, why soju all of a sudden? You get drunk if you switch from somaek to soju.”

“I’m craving it. Craving.”

Wonjung’s tone was concerned, but Daeyoung waved him off and filled his glass again. In truth, Wonjung didn’t have the bandwidth to mind him; he was under freshman attack himself—just like in the early days when they first became friends.

“Must be nice to be good-looking.”

At the far ends, tables were in upheaval; alone in calm, he muttered and downed soju. Hiss. The cheap alcohol scent flooded his face. The buzz had arrived a while ago.

“…Sunbae.”

He lifted his head. Seong-rae sat with her face scrunched slightly. So she heard. He waved both hands quickly.

“Ah, that was to myself. It’s not that I’ve got, like, an inferiority complex—just saying… Well, maybe a little?”

He pinched a sliver of air between thumb and forefinger; now she really looked baffled, studied his face a few seconds, then snorted.

“Sunbae, you don’t have any female friends, do you?”

“What, is it that obvious?”

Bull’s-eye. He’d never had a “girl friend” in his life. He’d spent middle and high school surrounded by a sea of guys.

“Boys’ school?”

“Boys’ middle and high.”

“Ah.”

A sigh with the air of having solved the riddle—but she didn’t pry further. Easy to guess anyway. So that’s why he can’t talk to women. That sort of thing. Obvious enough without seeing more.

“I personally think the dorkier the guy, the better, so I’m not going to say anything.”

“Say anything about what?”

“It’s a thing.”

If not the explanation he expected, then he had no idea. Brow knitting, he thought it over; he opened his mouth to ask what she meant.

Thud.

“Wow, I’ve put away half a bottle in a row…”

Just then, Wonjung, half-turned away, slumped onto him. His head landed on Daeyoung’s shoulder, a solid weight.

“Hey, heavy.”

Despite the grumbling, he left his friend be and cracked peanuts absentmindedly. Seong-rae pressed her lips together, then narrowed her eyes and looked between them.

“When I first saw you two, I thought you were the bear and you were the fox. But I think it’s the other way around.”

Her finger poked, poke—first at Wonjung, then at Daeyoung. He frowned at the metaphor he’d never heard.

“…I’m the fox type?”

“Only at first glance. But now that I see… after a short chat, you’re kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“…a clueless, naïve, dork-bear?”

He clamped his mouth shut at the first-time assessment.

“……”

“Pfft.”

It was Wonjung who burst out laughing. Whatever struck him, he doubled over, clutching his belly, rolling his bulk into a ball. More than the off-the-mark, unrelatable metaphor, the cackling beside him grated. Daeyoung’s eyes sharpened another notch.