Delusional Love

In September, as the new semester kicked off, Yoonwoo found himself in a nightmare. The very girl he had been trying so hard to avoid at the gym walked into his Economic Principles class. The thought of having to see her all semester was unbearable. If he had known she’d be there, he would have dropped the class. Unfortunately, she showed up right after the course adjustment period had ended.

As an economics major, Yoonwoo had to take an introductory course in economics. But he wasn’t interested in socializing with his classmates. The introductory course was split into several sections, so Yoonwoo chose one held in a classroom on the engineering campus—far from the social sciences building—hoping to avoid running into anyone he knew.

The Economic Principles class was taught by a blonde Bolivian professor, with everything conducted in English. According to course reviews, it was known for being exceptionally easy with generous grading. The only downside was that the professor’s English pronunciation could be hard to understand, but since the exams were based solely on the PowerPoint slides, that wasn’t a big deal. Gogo University required students to take a certain number of English-taught courses to graduate, so this class seemed perfect for boosting his GPA and fulfilling graduation requirements.

However, the course reviews hadn’t mentioned that the professor would require students to introduce themselves in English at the start of the semester. This might not bother most people, but for someone as anxious as Yoonwoo, it was a nightmare. When the professor announced it was time for introductions, panic washed over Yoonwoo. He had done plenty of reading and listening in English for the college entrance exam, but speaking was a different story. Talking in front of others was already nerve-wracking enough for him, let alone doing it in English. Being asked to introduce himself on the spot felt overwhelming.

Like many who aren’t used to speaking a foreign language, Yoonwoo tried to think of sentences in Korean, translate them into English, and then memorize them. But the only sentences that came to mind were self-deprecating ones like, “I’m trash,” or “I plan to die soon.”

“I have a disgusting voice,” was what Yoonwoo felt best described him, but of course, he couldn’t say that out loud.

This particular section of Economics Principles was mostly filled with students from the Department of Food and Resource Economics, so about seventy percent of the class already knew each other and were chatting loudly. Yoonwoo had planned to keep a low profile, blending into a corner without drawing attention. A noticeable introduction could easily make him the topic of lunchtime gossip, and that usually wasn’t a good thing. A small slip-up might be just a passing joke among friends, but for someone who kept to himself, it could lead to prolonged teasing. That’s why solitary students are especially vulnerable in college life.

Despite Yoonwoo’s worries, the introductions went by without any trouble. Sitting at the very back of the classroom, he watched as the introductions started from the front and slowly made their way back. By the time it reached the rear, the class had lost interest, and people began to wrap up their introductions quickly and without much fanfare, often echoing what others had already said. Yoonwoo simply did the same.

After the introductions, the Bolivian professor surprised everyone by using the entire seventy-five minute lecture time, assuming that the Korean students’ understanding of the material was fairly basic. She carefully explained concepts that other professors might have skipped over, usually with remarks like, “You know this, right? No need to explain? If you don’t, that’s on you—go look it up.”

The course didn’t earn “easy A” reputation for nothing. How the professor viewed the level of education in Korea didn’t matter as long as she graded leniently. Yoonwoo thought that the self-introduction at the start of the class might be the first and last real challenge he’d face in this course.

However, he was wrong. Just one week later, after the course registration adjustment period ended, she—the girl from the gym—walked into the lecture hall.

Unless a class primarily involved conversation or debate, this was the first time Yoonwoo had encountered a course that required self-introductions at the beginning of the semester. That alone made it an unusual class, but he didn’t expect the professor to specifically call on the new students who joined after the course adjustment period to introduce themselves as well. If Yoonwoo had been forced to do that, his discomfort would have been painfully obvious.

But she was destined to stand out. Even in just jeans and a T-shirt, she outshone everyone in the classroom. The sports tank top she always wore at the gym, which had hidden her strength, now revealed it. Perhaps that’s why her plain white cotton T-shirt, with an odd cartoon character printed on one side of her chest, seemed even more striking than the Bolivian professor’s off-shoulder top.

When it was her turn to introduce herself, the classroom fell silent, and everyone’s attention zeroed in on her. Everyone seemed eager to remember her name, curious to hear her voice. Yoonwoo might have felt sick with so much attention. But there she was, smiling as she spoke.

She began to fluently discuss her major and what she hoped to learn, but none of it registered with Yoonwoo. His mind went blank the moment she said her first word. The problem was her name.

It was Hyerim Jo.

At 11:45 a.m., as the class ended, Yoonwoo quickly slipped out among the crowd of students heading to lunch and hurried back to his studio apartment. Once home, he mulled over what had just happened. The name “Hyerim Jo” dredged up painful memories from his childhood. It was a name he had hoped to avoid, yet here it was again—this girl, just like the Hyerim Jo from his fourth-grade class who was always the center of attention, had the same name.

Could it be the same person? He couldn’t remember what the elementary school Hyerim Jo looked like, so he couldn’t be sure. While it wasn’t entirely impossible, what were the odds? The name Hyerim wasn’t as common as the old generic names like Cheolsu or Younghee, but it wasn’t particularly unique either. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. He lost his appetite and spent about an hour lying face down on his pillow.

That helped settle his mind somewhat. Thinking rationally, the only immediate issue Yoonwoo faced was the discomfort he felt whenever he saw this girl. Whether or not she was the same Hyerim from fourth grade, it was unlikely that Yoonwoo would have to interact with her.

Even if she were the same Hyerim from fourth grade, imagine the countless and varied problems she must have faced in her life due to the love and attention people showered on her.

Regardless of gender, Yoonwoo couldn’t even begin to imagine the number of people she must meet, communicate, and interact with. Even now, she most likely had seniors and peers lined up, eager to buy her a meal and waiting for her call.

There was no way she’d remember someone like Yoonwoo Lee, who had talked back to her without knowing his place. Even if she did remember, she wouldn’t be able to connect the past Yoonwoo to who he was now.

Yoonwoo himself couldn’t remember what young Hyerim looked like, so she probably would’ve forgotten someone like Yoonwoo by the time she was in fifth grade. As far as Yoonwoo knew, the unfamiliar economics students in this class were likely returning from military service or other breaks, suggesting Hyerim wasn’t an economics major. Besides the two mandatory courses for freshmen, Economics Principles and Contemporary Management, all his other classes were specific to his major. Thus, the odds of running into Hyerim in any other class were slim.

Even if by some miracle she remembered the name “Yoonwoo,” it wouldn’t matter. Yoonwoo had no reason to reveal his name to her. Additionally, the Bolivian professor in the Economics Principles class could barely pronounce Korean names correctly during roll call, often turning it into a comedic moment before class. Only the student whose name was called could understand it was meant for them. So there was no chance the girl would recognize his name and connect it to him.

In short, Yoonwoo’s biggest worry was that this Hyerim was the same one from elementary school and might bring up the past. However, even if, against all odds, she did remember him and connected the dots to his face, Yoonwoo was just a silent figure in the corner, as inconspicuous as a wriggling worm. There was no reason for her to start a conversation with him.

Therefore, the solution was simple: as long as Yoonwoo avoided making eye contact with her, everything should be fine. After much deliberation, Yoonwoo reached this conclusion and suddenly felt a pang of hunger. He decided to open a can of tuna, drain the oil, and quickly eat it with a salad before heading to his next class.

After carefully pondering the situation, Yoonwoo concluded that he only needed to be cautious during the 150 minutes per week he was in the Economics Principles class, from 10:30 a.m. to 11:45 a.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays, to avoid Hyerim.

But at 2 p.m., at the start of fifth period, Yoonwoo discovered a flaw in his plan. He realized that Hyerim Jo also attended the Contemporary Management class, which ran from 2 p.m. to 3:15 p.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays.

Because the class was popular with many students, and roll call wasn’t taken until after the course adjustment period, it was unclear whether she had registered before or joined later. This course was a general education requirement for students from various departments and a mandatory class for business management students. Attendance was taken in a format like “xx department, Mr./Ms. xx.” Before calling the roll, the professor stated that names would be called in order of student numbers and urged everyone to pay attention in case there were duplicates. From this, Yoonwoo learned that Hyerim was also a freshman, like him, and a Business Management major.

Unlike the Economics Principles class, which had about sixty students, the Contemporary Management class was held in a large lecture hall that accommodated around four hundred and fifty students, making it difficult to keep track of who was sitting where. Moreover, the high-backed chairs, designed to support up to the neck, prevented anyone from seeing the faces of the row in front of them.

One of the reasons Yoonwoo, who had little to no interest in business management, enrolled in this lecture was because the chairs were rumored to be the most comfortable on the liberal arts campus. The professor of Contemporary Management believed in giving freshmen a broad outlook and often invited distinguished experts from various fields for guest lectures. On regular days without guest speakers, the professor would share his wide-ranging experiences from working in government agencies. Although there was a designated textbook for the course, and both midterms and finals were based on it, it wasn’t used during the lectures.

In essence, for students like Yoonwoo, who were only interested in securing their attendance points and not in the content itself, this class was ideal because it allowed them to mark attendance and then comfortably doze off in the plush chairs. During the first class after the course registration adjustment period, when the full list of attendees was confirmed and Hyerim Jo’s name was called, Yoonwoo felt a momentary twinge of annoyance but quickly shook it off. Regardless of what Hyerim did or where she was sitting, Yoonwoo had no intention of actively participating in the class. With the high backs of the chairs blocking his view, he wouldn’t have to see her.

However, there was something Yoonwoo hadn’t considered.

“Lastly, everyone, please note that this class will use assigned seating. It’s impractical for me to call attendance for so many students each time. Going forward, please sit in the designated seats, and the teaching assistant will check attendance as they walk around. I’ve randomly assigned the seats and posted the seating chart at the back door. Make sure to check it before the next class. We will also check attendance before class ends, so no leaving early. If anyone is unhappy with where they’re sitting, please negotiate with the person in the seat you prefer and inform me.”

As the class ended, students hurriedly pushed toward the back door. Yoonwoo silently muttered to himself several times, That can’t be right. Surely not… He’s not serious, is he?

It was almost laughable. The girl probably didn’t even think of him as more than a passing woodlouse, yet the idea that she might sit near him filled Yoonwoo with dread.

Even if Yoonwoo were a woodlouse, if she weren’t around, he could forget that fact and just live his life. Even if his life was all about dying alone, eating corpses or dust in a damp crevice where sunlight never reached, that would be fine with him.

Yoonwoo had no interest in discovering the sunlight. He didn’t want to know about the life beyond his narrow crack, the one where people played and laughed in a vast, sunlit meadow. Even if he knew about it, he wouldn’t want to experience it. That kind of setting would only serve to torture a lowly creature like him, forever trapped in life’s hidden corners.

But if there’s a god who intentionally manages all probabilities, it seemed like they wanted the woodlouse named Yoonwoo to swim in scorching pain and die in agony.

When he checked the seating chart, Yoonwoo found that he was assigned to the leftmost seat in the middle row. And sitting next to him on his right was… Hyerim Jo.

The professor had said students could change seats if they found someone to switch with, but Yoonwoo didn’t know anyone in the class well enough to ask. He also didn’t have a valid excuse to request such a change.

For a fleeting moment, he imagined shouting, “Who wants to buy the right to sit next to Hyerim Jo for a semester?” He imagined there might be takers, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Nor was it likely that university students would publicly disclose their private desires so openly.

How can this be happening? How does my life keep getting so tangled? I just wanted to get through these three years without any issues.

Returning to his studio apartment, Yoonwoo spent some time wallowing in self-pity before sending a message to Rabbit. It wasn’t until 9:30 p.m. that he received a reply, suggesting a voice chat.

“Tofu! Hi!” Rabbit said excitedly on the other end.

“Drunk already?”

“Yeah, I started early today! I didn’t see your message because I was busy drinking.”

“What did you have with your drinks today?” Yoonwoo asked.

“Chicken! What did you have for dinner, Tofu?”

“I had…”

And so, their light, casual conversation continued.

Yoonwoo, who usually would have cut off Rabbit’s chatter to go to sleep, stayed quiet and didn’t even think of closing the app. Rabbit quickly realized that Yoonwoo wasn’t in his usual spirits.

“Tofu, did something bad happen today?”

“It’s just… No, it’s nothing. I just feel kind of down.”

To anyone else, it might not seem like a big deal. It might even be considered nothing at all. Some might even say it’s a good thing. But that’s from the perspective of someone living in the sunlight.

“Do you want to leave this on and fall asleep?” Rabbit asked.

“This? Leave the app on? Then the call charges… oh, right, this isn’t a phone call.”

“Yeah! Even if we don’t talk much, just hearing someone moving around can be nice. Living in a tiny room can be lonely sometimes—believe me, I know. What do you think?”

“Um… okay…”

Rabbit’s suggestion turned out to be surprisingly comforting. Lying still, Yoonwoo found solace in the background sounds—the shower running next door, the tapping of a keyboard, and other everyday noises. It provided a strange sense of reassurance.

As he drifted off to sleep, Yoonwoo couldn’t help but reflect on Rabbit. Despite being cooped up in a room, Rabbit was thoughtful and caring. Such a person should be able to mingle with others easily—what dire circumstances could make someone like that consider ending their life?

Meanwhile, Rabbit, with earphones in, quietly listened to the sound of Yoonwoo’s breathing as he slept.