Delusional Love

After the seating chart for the Contemporary Management class was released on Monday, Yoonwoo spent a few uneasy days. But when Wednesday’s class finally rolled around, he realized his worries had been for nothing. Isn’t that how life often goes? We spend sleepless nights fretting over something, only to find out it’s not as serious as we imagined.

Hyerim, who was seated next to him, fell asleep within five minutes of the class starting. What exactly had Yoonwoo been so concerned about? It was doubtful Hyerim even remembered what the professor looked like, let alone who was sitting next to her. Unlike in their Economics Principles class, there weren’t many eyes on her. The large lecture hall, combined with the long, seminar-style chairs, obstructed the view, and most students were already dozing off. The only one who seemed to notice was the girl on Hyerim’s other side, who occasionally glanced at her in disbelief at how quickly she’d dozed off.

Only a handful of enthusiastic students and those unfortunate enough to be seated directly in front of the professor were still actively listening. Even someone as captivating as Hyerim couldn’t resist the drowsiness induced by the professor’s monotonous lecture. After all, even the brightest stars fade at night. Yoonwoo felt a wave of relief and exhaustion wash over him. For a brief moment, he considered paying attention, like those few diligent students…

“Management, you see, is everywhere. For example, back in the Stone Age, when humanity was making fire and shaping stones… even there, you could apply principles of management.” The professor, known for his long-winded explanations, began his lecture on management from the Stone Age. Yoonwoo quickly realized he couldn’t endure listening to the entire history from then until the present day. The course was called Contemporary Management—when would they get to the contemporary part? Besides, it was 2 p.m., the most sleep-inducing time of day…

As Yoonwoo drifted off to sleep, he didn’t notice that Hyerim, now awake, was watching him. The following Monday, the Economics Principles class held an unexpected challenge that Yoonwoo hadn’t seen coming. Just as some worries turn out to be unfounded, the things you feel confident about can sometimes surprise you in the worst ways.

Up until now, Yoonwoo had thought economics was the perfect major for him, mainly because group projects were rarely assigned in those classes. Most assignments involved solving textbook problems or completing exercises given by the professor. Yoonwoo, who neither participated in extracurricular activities nor engaged much with his peers, never missed a class and always had ample time to review the material, so handling the assignments on his own had never been an issue.

Group projects were a rarity in the economics department, and Yoonwoo had usually managed to avoid them by carefully checking course reviews. But he hadn’t anticipated that this Bolivian professor would assign one. The task was straightforward: each week, the group would divide and solve four practice problems, review the solutions together, and submit them for grading. The professor even planned to award extra points to groups that performed exceptionally well.

The most critical part of the assignment was forming teams. Students had to create their own groups with at least one other person and then submit the team list to the professor. This requirement felt unnecessary to Yoonwoo, considering that even the most complex introductory exercises could easily be solved solo with the help of library reference books. Was this minor teamwork component the reason why course reviews didn’t mention group projects? Did the professor see Korea as a developing country from the 1960s, thinking students needed teamwork for basic theoretical problems? Or did she simply enjoy forcing solitary students like Yoonwoo into pointless group projects? Perhaps, coming from Bolivia, a country she viewed as happy and communal, she couldn’t imagine students being isolated or struggling to form teams. As Yoonwoo mulled over these thoughts, someone approached him.

“Excuse me. Uh… You’re in the Contemporary Management course, right?”

When Yoonwoo turned around, he saw a strikingly beautiful girl with long limbs, dressed in a red hoodie with the school’s leopard mascot and skinny jeans. It was Hyerim.

Yoonwoo tried to hide his surprise. He had made it a habit to arrive in the lecture hall just before class started to avoid the chatter of the closely-knit Food and Resource Economics students, then select an empty seat farthest from Hyerim.

“You’re the one next to me? The far left seat in the middle row,” Hyerim continued.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Hyerim’s face lit up. Yoonwoo thought to himself, She’s been asleep the whole time… When did she even notice me?

“If you don’t have a group yet, would you like to team up with me? I’m studying alone.”

Yoonwoo felt like replying, “No thanks, I’d rather work alone,” but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Even though he felt a strange sense of familiarity, this was their first real conversation, and he knew he needed to keep things polite. As someone without allies, he was acutely aware that even a small misstep could lead to being gossiped about or excluded, so he couldn’t afford to lose his composure in any situation.

Unfortunately, there was no polite way for Yoonwoo to decline Hyerim’s offer. It was obvious he was attending the class alone, and he had no valid excuse to refuse her and find another partner. Besides, Yoonwoo wasn’t skilled at coming up with convincing reasons to reject someone’s offer. The best approach was to keep the conversation short and professional.

“Let’s do that. How about we each solve half of the problems and then review and submit them together?”

He decided to keep their interaction strictly business-like. By splitting the tasks evenly and using KakaoTalk to discuss any issues, he hoped to avoid further conversations with her once the arrangement was in place.

“Yes, that sounds good! My name is Hyerim Jo! And you are…”

Just as Hyerim was about to ask for Yoonwoo’s name, they were interrupted.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but could I join you? I don’t have a group yet,” a tall, handsome student with a trendy two-block haircut cut in.

Was he interested in Hyerim? Regardless, Yoonwoo saw this as a fortunate interruption. The presence of this guy would likely diminish Yoonwoo’s role in the group project, allowing him to quietly contribute without drawing much attention. Yoonwoo was more than willing to accept the guy’s request, but before he could respond, Hyerim spoke up.

“Since there are four problems, it might be easier to work in even numbers. I think it’ll be simpler if just the two of us handle it. Sorry.”

Just like that, Hyerim rejected his request. Was that a good reason? Wouldn’t it be easier with more people since each would have fewer problems to solve?

“Um… wouldn’t it be easier with more people… like, splitting the problems two, one, and one? Wouldn’t that work better for everyone?” the guy suggested, sharing Yoonwoo’s thoughts.

“The problems aren’t that difficult, and more people make it harder to align schedules. If there are delays, the rest will have to pick up the slack. I’d rather avoid that kind of drama. I’m sorry.”

Hyerim’s tone was firm. The guy, sensing her resolve, backed off with a disappointed look. Yoonwoo started to understand Hyerim’s reasoning.

Having a well-connected, busy person on a group project could be risky. They might delay their part due to other commitments, rush the assignment at the last minute, leaving no time for review, or shift their responsibilities onto someone else.

In that sense, someone like Yoonwoo—who had no friends, didn’t participate in departmental activities, and spent most of his time in the library—was ideal for efficient group project work. It was clear that Hyerim had chosen him knowing he was the perfect loner for the job.

“I’m sorry, I just rejected him without consulting you,” Hyerim said.

“No, it’s fine. Your point makes sense.”

“Let’s just speak comfortably. My name is Hyerim. What’s yours?”

For a moment, Yoonwoo’s mind flashed back to his memories of fourth-grade Hyerim Jo and all the worries he had been carrying. But if Hyerim had recognized him and wanted to bring up their past, she would have done so already. Judging by how things were going, Yoonwoo decided that the situations he feared were unlikely, and he let go of his anxiety.

“My name is Yoonwoo Lee.”

“Yoonwoo Lee… Alright, Yoonwoo. Could I have your number, please?”

Hyerim dialed her phone number into Yoonwoo’s phone, and he saved it in his contacts. Yoonwoo hoped the semester would pass quickly so he could delete the number as soon as possible.

Hyerim eventually submitted their names as a group to the professor. They agreed to split the problems evenly: Yoonwoo would take on problems 2 and 4, while Hyerim would handle 1 and 3. They planned to upload their solutions by the weekend, avoiding the need to meet or speak in person beyond this arrangement. As long as their interaction remained strictly about the assignment, Yoonwoo could avoid feeling inferior.

After class, as Yoonwoo was leaving the lecture hall, his phone, usually silent during the day, chimed.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Yoonwoo! I look forward to working with you!

The message included an emoticon of a cute cat character making an exaggeratedly cheerful gesture. Just seeing it irritated Yoonwoo, making him all too aware of the bitterness he felt inside. He responded in a business-like tone.

Yes, thank you.

Yoonwoo quickly finished his meal in five minutes at his studio apartment and headed straight to the library. The idea of splitting the problems and waiting for someone else to complete their part frustrated him. The thought that a sociable person with many commitments might not be a reliable team member also applied to Hyerim.

Given her likely packed schedule, Yoonwoo figured it might be easier to solve all the problems himself rather than have to painstakingly check whether Hyerim’s hastily completed assignments were correct. With an hour and a half left before his 2 p.m. Contemporary Management class, he planned to take his time solving the problems.

However, since the first assignment consisted of introductory-level questions, even with meticulous graphs and detailed explanations of the concepts, Yoonwoo finished in less than forty minutes.

There’s nothing left to do.

Yoonwoo snapped pictures of his work and solutions, sent them to Hyerim, and headed to the lecture hall for Contemporary Management. He intended to catch some sleep in the most comfortable chairs on the liberal arts campus.

Five minutes before class was set to begin, Yoonwoo was startled awake by someone calling his name.

“Yoonwoo, did you sleep well? The professor will be here soon.”

It was Hyerim.

Seeing her beautiful face right in front of him as soon as he opened his eyes left Yoonwoo feeling deflated. He generally disliked attractive people and the way they made him feel inferior, and he did his best to avoid noticing them.

“You didn’t see my message because you were sleeping. How did you solve all the problems so quickly by yourself? I feel bad now. I brought this for you.”

Hyerim handed Yoonwoo an iced Americano and a macaron, both from a café near the central square, close to the reading room. The Americano cost 2,800 won, and the macaron was 3,000 won, totaling 5,800 won. Meanwhile, Yoonwoo’s lunch had been far cheaper: just 3,900 won, including a can of tuna for 1,200 won and a salad for 2,700 won. The dessert Hyerim bought was 1,900 won more expensive than his entire meal—a lavish gesture for solving a few simple problems.

“I just… solved them quickly because they were easy. This feels like a lot,” Yoonwoo replied, looking uncomfortable.

“Come on, it’s just a coffee. In that case, don’t solve them by yourself from now on—make sure we do them together!”

“I was just trying to get them done quickly… Okay, I understand.”

“Great! Then I’ll try to finish the assignments on the same day they’re given!”

To Hyerim, the cost of coffee and dessert, which exceeded the price of Yoonwoo’s entire meal, was “just a coffee.” So what would “a meal” mean to her? How much would that be? While Yoonwoo scarfed down a salad and a can of tuna, was she savoring different foods around campus with her friends? Yoonwoo hated feeling inferior about these things and resented Hyerim for making him feel that way.

“By the way, Yoonwoo…” Hyerim’s next words made Yoonwoo dislike her even more. “Your voice is really pretty.”

Yoonwoo’s voice was his biggest insecurity. He had been teased for sounding like a girl. In retrospect, children’s voices, whether male or female, are often similar, so was it even fair to single out his voice as particularly feminine? Yet, because of this, Yoonwoo had always thought of his voice as “strange.” This feeling persisted even after puberty, when his voice changed. To his own ears, it didn’t sound like a typical male student’s at all.

He had considered recording his voice to listen to it objectively, but he couldn’t bear the thought of confronting it in case he found it repulsive. Why would this woman, whom he barely knew, make such a comment? She hadn’t even said it was “cool” but “pretty.”

“Ah… sure…” Yoonwoo mumbled, turning his head away.

It was a subtle protest. Some compliments feel hollow, so not acknowledging them with a thank you seemed the easiest way to respond.

Hyerim looked like she wanted to say more, but Yoonwoo didn’t want to hear it. He took a big bite of the macaron she had given him, signaling that he wasn’t able to elaborate.

Hyerim then looked at Yoonwoo with a pleased expression. Yoonwoo recognized that look. It was the same expression Hyerim Jo had back in fourth grade when she approached him with a tone of pity, relishing her role as class president while carrying out the teacher’s request.

Yoonwoo swallowed the same humiliation and misery he had felt back then, closing his eyes. Saying nothing was the best course of action. He had learned that from fourth-grade Hyerim Jo.

During today’s Contemporary Management class, Yoonwoo found himself unable to drift off to sleep.