HMN C7

Chapter 7

He still seemed diligent about showing up to group-project meetings, but rumor had it he’d throw a fit telling people not to tank his GPA, so the social ineptitude remained unchanged. He never formed private circles or made friends—save for exactly one person. Even a misanthrope like Go Chiwoo had a single friend.

“What else do you call a self-absorbed rich boy besides ‘prince’? ‘Princess’?”

“Ugh, don’t. Toss it.”

“Name fits, though—they say his dick is huge.”

“Ah, f—!”

Daeyoung, who’d been flapping his hands to shut the conversation down, scrunched his face and dropped his chopsticks at the sudden intel on his nemesis’s endowment.

Granted, he’d heard it before. It was one of the big reasons he’d been dubbed the Pepper Prince. But even if it was old news, he hated it all the same. Sensing the recoil, Haegyeom lowered even his lip movement and whispered like a ventriloquist.

“Okay, okay. But don’t toss this one. Listen. You know that big new building near the main gate—the one with the café? Word is he had a penthouse built on the very top floor and moved in.”

“What kind of ‘penthouse’ in a commercial building.”

Daeyoung recoiled again. It wasn’t jealousy of the handsome rich; it was the exhaustion from tall tales that ballooned into ever more ridiculous gossip. He’d been the target himself; it made his skin crawl.

“Whatever. That’s the rumor. Lucky bastard, right?”

When neither Daeyoung nor Wonjung took the bait, Haegyeom hunched and lifted his shoulders, realizing he had no partners in slander.

“Gasp.”

Another reason to shut up: the star of the gossip walked through the cafeteria doors. Since he didn’t eat “spit-sprayed food,” he’d surely just pass by. Head buried, the once-chatty Haegyeom busied his spoon. For the already fatigued Daeyoung, that was a blessing. Wonjung tugged a tissue and wiped the smear of sauce on the sleeve that he’d missed; Daeyoung obediently held out his arm. The unexpected conversation began immediately after.

“Oh? Hey, Wonjung.”

At the voice calling his name, all three looked up at once. The cheerful greeting had come from the woman beside Go Chiwoo. Since the companion of their gossip target had spoken, the most flustered was Haegyeom. Naturally, so was Daeyoung across from him.

“……”

What are you staring at. The warm brown in his eyes drained to dullness. His dead-fish gaze sank back to his water glass.

“Hey, Min-hye. Been a while—only texted lately, huh?”

But the name “Min-hye” snagged Daeyoung’s ear again. She was the friend of Wonjung who’d lured them into that ridiculous film club.

“You’re Daeyoung, right? Wow, I didn’t recognize you. Since you came back from the army, you’re… even more handsome?”

“Ah, uh—thanks. Nice to see you….”

Knowing it was a purely polite compliment, he smiled awkwardly. The bright face was familiar. Back when he’d first entered college and befriended Wonjung, he’d run into her a few times. Petite and slight, yet lively and confident, with a sunny smile—he’d once thought he’d like to be friends.

He worked to hide the awkwardness and discomfort, and to keep his eyes off the man standing stonily behind her, and offered a mild smile.

Regrettably, the very classmate he’d hoped to befriend—Yoo Min-hye—was Go Chiwoo’s only friend. There had been rumors she was his girlfriend, but Daeyoung had heard she’d gotten angry insisting she was not. People still seemed to think of them as a couple, but Daeyoung tried not to believe everything he heard.

“I was going to reach out since we’re recruiting new members. I became club head while you two were in the army—it’s time to get active again, right?”

“Mm. Right….”

He couldn’t very well bring up quitting in front of radiant, welcoming Min-hye, so he nodded for the sake of social grace. She clapped—snap!—and pointed to the man half a step behind her.

“Oh! This is Go Chiwoo. Different section, same department—you know him, right? Chiwoo, these two just returned from service. Ahn Daeyoung, Koo Wonjung.”

“……”

“……”

What a filthy coincidence. Does he own the campus? With a look that made his displeasure plain, Daeyoung cut him a flat glance and silently lifted his spoon again.

“How do you not know a celebrity. You know him—the kid who chased the plastic bag.”

Twitch.

Daeyoung’s hand froze midair. It wasn’t the teasing tone so many classmates used about the photo. The weighty voice carried the smallest hook of a sneer, enough to grate.

“……”

The air cooled around them. It was only natural; one person had fumbled social graces right after being introduced. But with nothing going right since morning, Daeyoung used his own emergency exit: a smile. His lips quivered in tiny tremors. Go Chiwoo said nothing either. Anyone could see they already knew each other—and not in a good way.

“Uh, well… we’re all friends here, then.”

Once again, it fell to Wonjung to smooth things over. Min-hye picked it up quickly.

“Right? Let’s grab a meal together sometime.”

“Why would I.”

Of course, someone had to throw cold water. No one present truly believed they’d sit at the same table, so everyone wore the same baffled look when Min-hye poked Chiwoo in the side and scolded, “Quiet.” With the wrong friend, the innocent suffered.

“Hey, Wonjung. I’ll text you about the club soon, okay?”

“Got it.”

Only after Min-hye and Wonjung traded a few more words did the sharp edge in the air soften. Min-hye knew the vibes were off; she steered Go Chiwoo firmly toward the opposite exit. Watching their backs for a beat, Daeyoung visibly twitched a brow.

“Ahn Daeyoung, what was that? Doesn’t feel so one-sided anymore.”

Even these two close friends knew Daeyoung was especially prickly about Go Chiwoo. Sometimes he’d show up fuming and say Chiwoo had “given him a look,” but since he never explained the specifics, they assumed Chiwoo’s off-putting personality had just rubbed him wrong.

“Yeah.”

Clack.

With that short answer, he set down his spoon and gulped water. Why does that bastard get under my skin for free? The joints of the hand gripping the cup blanched.

“What. What now.”

Wonjung’s question. Daeyoung wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand and stared daggers at the fading afterimage of the two who had already disappeared.

“That bastard. He filmed my video and uploaded it.”

“What?”

In the memory that had surfaced earlier, that bastard was definitely there. The alley had been quiet; he was the only person to appear. And the way he’d feigned ignorance face-to-face, only to toss a line in front of others—somehow that made the suspicion feel even more solid.

“How did you figure that out?”

Wonjung’s voice went grave. Across from him, Haegyeom’s eyes sparkled with delighted curiosity. Brow furrowed, Daeyoung’s face went serious.

“My gut says so.”

“Oh, come on.”

Both turned back to their food. Unhappy with the reaction, Daeyoung rapped his knuckles on the table.

“What’s with you two? My instincts point right at him. I clearly remember seeing him in that alley.”

“Dude, you think he was the only one who passed a college-town alley on a weekend at dawn? And a guy that in love with himself—why would he bother filming and posting you?”

Every point Haegyeom made was fair, but Daeyoung only stared, eyes going square.

“I’m telling you, it was that bastard. Koo Wonjung, you believe me, right?”

“……”

Put on the spot between friendship and reason, Wonjung cleared his throat and glanced between them. Haegyeom shook his head.

“Look, you don’t have proof yet. Don’t jump to it….”

“Ah, f—. Forget it.”

Honestly, he would’ve reacted the same way in their place, but today of all days it felt like even his friends weren’t on his side. He’d thought the army had aged him out of this, but a childish emotion still crouched under his ribs. He picked up his tray and stood; behind him, Wonjung called out.

“I’m going to look for a part-time. See you tomorrow.”

As if he weren’t sulking at all, he tossed off a short farewell and carried his tray to the return slot. But to the two left in the cafeteria, his turned back spelled out his miffed expression clearly enough.

“…He’s sulking.”

“He’s sulking.”

Footnotes

1. “Silver spoon” (금수저) is a Korean term for someone born into wealth or privilege, widely used in youth slang and social discussions about class.