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“Yoonwoo, what on earth is this? Why’s the textbook so thick? Do we have to finish all of this in one semester?”
Yoonwoo and Jieun arrived early to the classroom and sat side by side. Yoonwoo felt uneasy being alone with her without Hyerim.
The ironic thing was that their relationship had developed because he felt uncomfortable being alone with Hyerim. Now, Yoonwoo feared that Jieun might become quiet and reserved when they were alone, as she was typically talkative when the three of them hung out together.
It wasn’t entirely impossible. After all, Jieun had suffered the most because of Yoonwoo. She couldn’t go to good restaurants with Hyerim, had to eat salads she didn’t want, and even endured Yoonwoo trying to feed her.
He suddenly recalled her words.
“Can’t I stop just coming?”
Was her reluctance really just about not wanting to eat salad? Maybe she simply didn’t like being around Yoonwoo. Even though she reluctantly agreed out of respect for Hyerim, it might have been an excuse to avoid sharing a meal with him.
While still unsure about Jieun’s feelings, she wasn’t entirely reserved. Unlike Hyerim, who kept the conversation flowing by continually asking Yoonwoo questions, Jieun was quite happy chatting on and on without much input. She was like Rabbit in that way. All Yoonwoo needed to do was offer appropriate reactions to keep it going, making it more comfortable for him.
The more he thought about it, Jieun’s slightly excited and playful manner of speaking resembled Rabbit’s. Their voices even sounded somewhat alike. However, even with Yoonwoo’s old and worn-out earphones, there was a clear distinction. Rabbit’s voice was lower in tone, and she pronounced words slowly and steadily. Jieun spoke so rapidly that Yoonwoo could hardly grasp half of what she said.
Another factor making it difficult for him to understand Jieun was their height difference. When they walked side by side, Jieun’s head barely reached his chest, leaving quite a distance between his ears and her mouth. Plus, with the noise around them, it was hard for him to hear her.
Yoonwoo wondered if it would be different in a quiet classroom, but as the surroundings grew quieter, Jieun’s voice also decreased in volume. Perhaps because she was tired, her voice was much softer than when she was in Hyerim’s room. She was almost mumbling. Yoonwoo tried to lower his head to hear her comment about the textbook clearly, but he found it difficult to respond while bending over like that.
“Noona, this class…”
Jieun let out a sudden shriek and jumped back from him. “Y-Yoonwoo, why did you suddenly whisper in my ear? You scared me!”
“Oh… Sorry. I couldn’t hear you…”
He had lacked caution. No matter how polite Jieun and Hyerim were to Yoonwoo, the fact that his voice bothered them wouldn’t change.
But does she hate it that much? Enough to jump away like that?
Interactions with others invariably left Yoonwoo feeling wounded. He believed solitude would shield him from such pain. Yet even with someone seemingly kind like Jieun, the outcome remained the same.
Inevitably, he’d realize others found him unlikable.
He suddenly found himself yearning to converse with Rabbit. If Rabbit truly despised Yoonwoo’s voice, she would have stopped communicating and gone silent long ago. So Yoonwoo figured Rabbit must not dislike his voice, a rarity among people.
He should have been content and left it at that, but his complaining led to him promising to meet up in person with Rabbit. If she abandoned him now, the emptiness would consume him. He would have to endure the remaining three years alone, without speaking to anyone, confronting his painful memories from the past every night.
Could he take it back? Cancel Sunday’s meeting? Even if it meant disappointing Rabbit when they eventually met in three years, he clung to the hope that she’d still talk to him until then.
He hoped she wouldn’t leave him.
“Oh, I see. I’ll speak up a bit,” Jieun said. “What were you going to say?”
“Just that you were surprised by the textbook. You mentioned attending this class before.”
Yoonwoo wondered what life would be like without Rabbit.
It would most likely involve engaging in superficial conversations with people who wanted to avoid him but pretended to be friendly on the surface. He would sense the underlying resentment toward him. Then, he would go home and repeatedly dwell on the hurt he received from such interactions.
Eventually, Hyerim would tire of his diet. Jieun, faking her friendship with him for Hyerim’s sake, would naturally drift away.
If they’re going to leave me, they should have left me alone.
When had he ever asked for their company?
Sometimes, it felt like the world conspired to break his heart.
“I only stayed for the orientation,” Jieun continued. “They said we’d use the book, so I thought I didn’t need to come. But it’s so thick! Are they serious? Finish this in one semester?”
“Oh, we’re only going to cover the back section. The contemporary section.”
Jieun’s eyes widened. “But this book is a thousand pages! Even half is five hundred. That’s insane. Midterms are in three weeks! What am I going to do?”
“The professor always tells us to review the less crucial sections independently,” Yoonwoo said. “He wants us to focus on what interests him most. Those parts usually end up in the exams.”
“Yoonwoo, what do I do?” Jieun said. “Help me out, please…”
He nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll summarize all the parts I’ve marked and share them with you.”
“Wow, thanks…” Jieun’s face lit up. “How can I repay you? Oh, right! You still don’t have my number, do you? Let’s add each other on KakaoTalk. I’ve sent you my contact info here. Feel free to call me whenever you want to grab a drink. It’ll be my treat.”
“I don’t need more favors,” Yoonwoo said softly. “You’ve done more than enough already.”
Jieun shook her head. “No, Yoonwoo, that’s not right. Anyway, if I had to guess, you probably won’t be the one to reach out first. Hmm… What can I do for you?”
Yoonwoo knew Jieun was probably right about him not reaching out. He hoped that, at the very least, she’d see him as someone helpful and valuable. Even if she eventually left him, he wanted to ensure she didn’t harbor any ill feelings.
As Yoonwoo added Jieun’s contact information, the professor walked in. The professor of Korean economic history was famous for analyzing Korean history as objectively as possible, moving away from nationalist biases. However, since undergoing stomach cancer surgery two years ago, his voice had lost its strength, and his lectures were notorious for being incredibly dull.
Despite the class’s leniency in grading, review sites labeled it difficult for this reason alone.
“Yoonwoo…” Jieun whispered, her face close to his chin. “What’s up with this class? Why is the professor’s voice like that? So sleepy… I want to go lie down in Hyerim’s room.”
Her breath tickled his neck. Had she already forgotten what happened earlier?
“Yoonwoo? Hey. Aren’t you sleeping? Why are you ignoring me? Is it because I’m small?”
Jieun jabbed his side with her fingers, persisting even when he tried to block her.
I wish she’d stop. I should listen properly for her benefit too…
Finally, Yoonwoo whispered, “Jieun! Stop.”
She let out a small shriek, jumping in surprise. Her body shrank away from him. He’d hesitated to answer, fearing exactly this reaction.
It hurts seeing her react like that. Is this how a child feels when they poke a caterpillar with a stick? They poke it, and when it wriggles, they scream in disgust and run away.
After that, Jieun kept her distance, quietly listening to the lecture. The spot where she’d poked him seemed to throb.
As they left the classroom, Yoonwoo asked, “Where are you going now?”
“Huh? What?” Jieun blinked, as if coming out of a daze.
Yoonwoo wanted to say goodbye quickly, but the noisy surroundings and their height difference made it difficult. Speaking closer might make her uncomfortable, so he opted for clarity and steadiness.
“Where are you going?” he asked again.
“Oh, the Humanities building. You?” Jieun moved closer, remembering she needed to hear him better.
“Same,” Yoonwoo replied.
“We can go together then. What class? Which floor?”
“Logic and Expression. Third floor, I think.”
Jieun’s eyes lit up. “The freshman class? You’ll meet some newbies, right? Ask if anyone knows me. I treated a lot of juniors to meals early in the semester.”
Gogo University’s large freshman population was divided into multiple classes, fostering close-knit groups. Yoonwoo, however, remained an outsider.
“I don’t know anyone, so I can’t ask,” he admitted.
Jieun looked puzzled. “You don’t know anyone? How’s that possible? Don’t they assign group activities?”
Yoonwoo shrugged. “The professor focuses on writing, so I don’t have to talk much. It’s embarrassing to show my work on screen, but since no one knows me anyway…”
Logic and Expression, mandatory for first-years, varied greatly by professor. This semester seemed easier than the previous one, which had been group project-heavy.
“Still…” Jieun mused, “Yoonwoo, you seem like you’d be popular.”
He shook his head. “Definitely not. There’s no way.”
Yoonwoo was caught off guard by Jieun’s words, especially given her tendency to recoil from him. He wondered if her compliment stemmed from gratitude for sharing his notes. Even though it was hollow praise, it at least indicated she might think of him as useful.
“There’s no way you’re not popular,” Jieun said, her face perplexed. “Do you just not realize? Oh no!”
The route to the Humanities building on the second floor was mostly stairs. Jieun was wearing slippers, and when she happened to look up at Yoonwoo while descending the stairs, one of her slippers fell off.
Instinctively, Yoonwoo caught her, his arms encircling her small frame. Her forehead pressed against his chest. A faint scent of beer mingled with her shampoo’s fragrance.
Hyerim’s comment about Jieun smelling like beer in her sleep was indeed true.
“Jieun! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Oh, yeah… Thanks…” Jieun answered in a dazed voice.
“That was close. I’m glad you’re alright.”
The steep stairs could have spelled disaster. Yoonwoo felt Jieun’s racing heartbeat. She looked shaken.
“Let’s be careful and take it slow. Sneakers would’ve been safer.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Jieun didn’t say a word after that and stared intently at her feet until they reached the Humanities building.
Yoonwoo wondered if his embrace had made her feel uncomfortable.
I was just trying to help.
Jieun continued to avoid his gaze. This type of occurrence was quite common in Yoonwoo’s life.
Come to think of it, back in fourth grade, there was a girl who vomited while riding the Viking ship next to me.
He’d tried to help, ignoring his own soiled clothes. But after he’d cleaned her up, she’d fled. He couldn’t recall who she was, but it hardly mattered now.
Except for Hyerim’s pity, his classmates only felt disdain for him. Perhaps that girl, like Jieun now, hadn’t wanted his help. It would’ve been better if someone else had been with Jieun. A cool, confident person to catch her when she fell.
Why am I even here?
He wanted to go home and hear Rabbit’s voice. He should suggest not meeting on Sunday. He should tell her he just misunderstood for a moment; he trusted Rabbit.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll say.