HMN C33

Chapter 33

“Ah, then… I’ll have about two drinks first, and then we can drop formalities together.”

Feeling a bit more relaxed, Daeyoung raised his glass and suggested it carefully. There wasn’t much of an age difference between them, and being addressed formally as sunbae never quite sat right with him. He’d said something similar to Seongrae at a previous gathering, but she’d refused with a smile, saying, “It’s just how I draw the line with male seniors.”

“Well then, we’ll drop them first!”

But these kids were different. They laughed and agreed without hesitation, and Daeyoung’s face brightened in turn. He wasn’t used to socializing much—least of all with women—so he couldn’t help the small waves of excitement that came and went with each interaction.

After that, glasses clinked across the table multiple times. Though the guy sitting opposite him occasionally broke the rhythm of conversation with muttered complaints, it wasn’t bad enough to bother anyone. Just the usual petty drunkenness that surfaced in gatherings like this. Daeyoung had half-decided that if the guy crossed the line or said something inappropriate to the younger members, he’d step in—but thankfully, the freshmen were handling things with impressive grace.

“Sunbae, I heard the thing you do most at the café job is washing dishes?”

Whenever someone asked him something,

“Washing dishes? Please, I did plenty of that in the army…”

—the guy across from him would butt in with his slurred, twisted words. Each time he spoke, conversation across the table would grind to a halt. Still, no one directly called him out. Instead, people quietly refilled each other’s glasses or picked at their food, letting him talk himself out.

“Oh, I see. So how many days a week do you work, Sunbae?”

“Right. You can’t make it to club meetings often, right?”

And just like that, they would steer the conversation back to Daeyoung the moment the other man finished. Even someone as oblivious as him could tell now—everyone at this table disliked that drunk guy. They were redirecting the topic, shifting focus toward him instead. Still, since making more friends was his goal for the semester, Daeyoung didn’t mind being the center of attention.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

As the drinks flowed, so did the energy. On his right, Go Chiwoo hadn’t said a word all evening—his lips sealed as though he’d swallowed honey—so it almost felt like he was sitting alone. Their shoulders brushed every now and then, but Daeyoung didn’t bother turning his head.

“But you two work at the same café, right?”

This time, there was no dodging it—the drunk guy across from him opened his mouth again, pointing a flushed finger at both him and Chiwoo. His face was as red as the alcohol staining his cheeks. Daeyoung worried he might say something obnoxious, but for now, it was just an innocent question. Manageable. He could handle this politely. What was his name again? Park Hyundong, maybe.

Finishing his fifth drink, Daeyoung wiped his mouth with his palm and nodded.

“Yeah, we work together.”

“Oh. But you’re not close?”

Had they seemed too distant, even sitting side by side? Daeyoung blinked.

“Uh… we just haven’t known each other that long.”

If he’d had a little more time, or hadn’t been tipsy, or if he’d seen that question coming, maybe he could’ve phrased it better. The second he finished speaking, he regretted how awkward it sounded. When he lifted his head, most of the others were already nodding in understanding—except for that one guy.

“I see. I just figured you two were really close—since you work together and you’re in the same club. But if you’re not… what, is it just you following him around?”

As he said it, Hyundong picked up his phone, using the black screen to fix his messy hair. Daeyoung blinked, startled by the sudden hostility. A moment ago, he’d just seemed generally grumpy—now it was obvious he had a target. While Daeyoung debated how to respond, the others jumped in, eager to change the subject.

“Oh my god, my glass is empty—someone fill it!”

“Me!”

Grateful for the distraction, Daeyoung lifted his own glass and drank in silence.

Gulp.

That familiar sting crept into his chest. The kind of sneering tone hidden under fake jokes—the quiet malice wrapped in laughter. He recognized it too well. It wasn’t the person that felt familiar, but the feeling. He’d endured that atmosphere all through high school.

“I used to have this lackey when I was in cram school,” the drunk guy continued, swaggering now, his tone slick with condescension. Every word dripped with mockery, his gaze sharp, his smirk mean.

Daeyoung’s heartbeat quickened, thudding loud in his ears. He knew it was all in the past, but the alcohol blurred his composure. The old bitterness, the sting of humiliation—those emotions surfaced easily, raw and vivid.

“……”

He knew he outranked the guy, at least by age, but he didn’t respond. Honestly, he couldn’t think of what to say. So instead, he finished the rest of his drink in silence. The liquid burned down his throat as others, sensing the tension, scrambled to shift the topic again. But the man’s voice only grew louder, now boasting about his glory days and the attention he’d gotten preparing for college.

Daeyoung’s gaze flicked right—toward Chiwoo. He was clinking glasses with Minhye now, smiling faintly, as if completely detached from the situation. All Daeyoung could see was the back of his head. He wasn’t even pretending to listen.

Swish.

“What’s going on here? Looks fun.”

The atmosphere loosened instantly as Seongrae appeared, drink in hand. When they’d first met, Daeyoung had thought she was shy like him, but apparently, she was a social butterfly. The table lit up again with chatter. Thank god—the night wasn’t completely ruined.

“See? I told you he’s just shy,” one said.

“Exactly. He barely greets us, so I thought he was cold, but actually he’s just…”

They laughed and traded teasing smiles that Daeyoung couldn’t quite decipher—but at least the mood had turned friendly. Even he, with all his awkwardness, could tell when a room’s energy leaned warm instead of cruel.

He smiled back politely, letting out small laughs where appropriate. Yet, his eyes kept drifting back to the guy across from him. The discomfort in his chest wouldn’t ease, though the alcohol was making his limbs heavier by the minute.

As conversation shifted elsewhere, Daeyoung reached down to find his phone on the chair beside him. His coordination was off, fingers clumsy from drink—and instead of cold metal, his hand brushed against something firm.

“……”

“……”

Their eyes met.

“Oh—sorry…”

He’d just grabbed someone’s thigh. Heat flushed his face. Muttering an apology under his breath, he quickly pulled his hand back.

“Hey.”

The voice was low, cutting through the noisy din of laughter and clinking glasses. No one else was paying attention. Daeyoung looked toward Chiwoo.

But his gaze didn’t hold long. His eyes, hazy with drink, drifted downward again. Daeyoung rubbed his fingers together, sticky with spilled soju, and muttered faintly, “Yeah?”

“Watch how much you drink—and learn to control yourself.”

“……”

Still fiddling with his damp fingers beneath the table, Daeyoung slowly lifted his head. For a moment, Chiwoo’s eyes met his—dark and heavy under the low lights—before sliding away.

He was right, of course. His head was spinning slightly now; it was time to stop.

But still—did he have to say it like that? In that cutting, superior tone? Even if he did lose his sense of restraint, what business was it of Go Chiwoo’s? The man barely reacted to anything all night, sitting there indifferent—and then suddenly, he’d lash out at him. The unfairness burned. First the drunk freshman, now him. Why him, every time?

Normally, he’d have muttered something under his breath—what an ass—and brushed it off. But now, the alcohol made his temper flare instead. His lips pressed tight.

“Sunbae, are you okay? You seem drunk. How much did you even drink?”

“Seongrae, let me give you some important advice. When it comes to alcohol…”

“Oh my god, stop…”

Their laughter rippled across the table, bright and careless. But Daeyoung didn’t catch the rest. Between his rising irritation and the swirl in his stomach, the air felt thick, stifling.

He pushed against the table and stood carefully.

“Uh… I’ll just—go to the bathroom for a bit.”

The others shuffled aside to let him through. Daeyoung moved past them, opened the bar’s door, and stepped out into the cooler air.

Each step echoed in time with his heartbeat, steady and loud.