Fugly Casanova

Twenty-year-old guys were no fun. Jiwoo sighed, watching yet another guy her age drone on about his high school glory days. They all seemed the same—self-absorbed and oblivious. No matter what topic she brought up, they’d inevitably steer the conversation back to themselves: their academic prowess, how popular they were with girls, how much they could lift at the gym. Did they really think anyone but their mothers cared?

Their attempts at subtlety were laughable. Even the so-called “intellectuals” from prestigious colleges were no better. If anything, their boasting was more intense, as if terrified that without it, they’d fade into obscurity. It was like they were desperate to show how brilliant they were.

Despite her frustration, Jiwoo wasn’t cruel. These guys weren’t bad people, just… predictable. Most were polite enough, and they meant well. So she played along, nodding and laughing at the right moments, offering thoughtful responses when needed. It made her college life, and life in general, neither thrilling nor miserable—just comfortably mundane.

Then Noeul entered the picture.

From the start, he stood out. Unlike his peers, Noeul didn’t feel the need to constantly brag. Instead, he listened, really listened, to others. He had a knack for highlighting people’s strengths, making them feel even more remarkable than they already were. When conversations lagged, he’d crack a well-timed joke, breathing life back into the room.

The only time Noeul spoke poorly of anyone was himself, and even then, it was always in jest, never fishing for sympathy. Rudeness seemed to roll off him like water off a duck’s back. He’d deftly turn insults into humor, rendering any malice utterly toothless. It was as if negative words couldn’t find purchase on his unflappable demeanor.

Being around Noeul was comfortable and fun. It was no wonder Jiwoo found herself drawn to him.

For a while, she worried she’d somehow put him off. Maybe she’d been too eager, too pushy in her attempts to befriend him. She fretted that he was avoiding her, that maybe he simply didn’t like her.

But as it turned out, those fears were completely unfounded.

“…I don’t dislike you.”

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Jiwoo was relieved to know that Noeul wasn’t avoiding her.

But then, why did he keep leaving her alone with Joonki? It wasn’t that Joonki was a bad guy, but conversations with him were like pulling teeth—stilted, awkward, and often punctuated by his abrupt boasts about his professor praising his paper or wondering aloud why freshmen girls thought he was hot. What could Jiwoo say to that besides a polite acknowledgment?

“Are you full?” Joonki’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Huh?” Jiwoo blinked and looked at him.

“You’re not eating much.”

They had come to another bar. Jiwoo realized she’d been absently pushing peas around her plate while deep in thought. Noeul had claimed he had a major assignment due tomorrow and had rushed home after the first round of drinks.

Jiwoo tried to stop him, pointing out that it wasn’t exactly the best time to work on an assignment after drinking, but Noeul insisted it was important and left anyway.

But didn’t they all have similar classes? Did he really have an assignment due tomorrow?

Well, Noeul was diligent, so maybe he was taking an extra class or two.

“I guess I’m still full from earlier,” she replied.

“Oh…”

And there it was, Joonki’s trademark conversation-killer. Where Noeul would have quipped or teased, Joonki just stopped.

After an uncomfortable silence, Joonki spooned some soup from his kimchi hotpot. “Have you seen Dead Man?” he asked.

“Yeah, I heard the sequel just came out.”

“Right.”

Jiwoo could practically see the gears turning in Joonki’s head. She’d been here before—that hesitant look guys got before asking her out. Why did they always act like they were defusing a bomb?

Finally, Joonki blurted, “Would you… like to see it this weekend? Together?”

“Sure,” Jiwoo replied, then added without missing a beat, “Let’s invite Noeul too.”

The light in Joonki’s eyes dimmed noticeably. “Ah… Noeul…”

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“Oh? Uh… nothing. I’ll ask him.” Joonki mumbled something about Noeul being busy, but Jiwoo wasn’t buying it.

“Really? Well, let’s wait until he can join us, then.”

Joonki didn’t respond.

Jiwoo pressed on, genuinely curious now. “Is Noeul always busy on weekends? Does he have a part-time job or something?”

“You’ve really been wanting to hang out with Noeul a lot lately,” Joonki observed.

“Yeah, he’s fun to be around.”

“Yeah, that’s true…”

As the conversation petered out, Jiwoo couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. There was an undercurrent here, something left unsaid. What was really going on? Why did it feel like they were dancing around some unspoken issue?

“Do you like people who are fun?” Joonki asked.

Jiwoo shrugged. “Sure, doesn’t everyone?”

“I mean, is that your ideal type?”

The question caught her off guard. “Oh… I’ve never really thought about it that way. But yeah, I guess it beats someone boring.”

“I see…”

Why is he suddenly asking what my type is? Jiwoo’s boredom suddenly turned into slight restlessness. What’s going on?

“Isn’t Noeul really fun?” Joonki continued.

“He is…”

“Whoever dates him would be lucky. He’d always keep things interesting.”

“Probably.”

“…Have you ever thought about dating Noeul?”

Jiwoo’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? Dating Noeul? I’ve never thought about that.”

To her surprise, Joonki burst into laughter, relief palpable in his voice. “Right? I knew it. Sorry, my bad.”

“Sorry for what?”

Joonki looked at her, clearly uncomfortable. Jiwoo wondered if they were having two completely different conversations.

“Oh, I just thought you might’ve been offended,” Joonki explained. “I didn’t really think you’d be into him, but I asked just in case.”

“Oh… Right.”

As Joonki sipped his soju, clearly embarrassed, Jiwoo felt a wave of irritation wash over her. Why was she suddenly so annoyed? Was it just Joonki’s company grating on her nerves?

The realization hit her: she didn’t want to be here anymore. She didn’t want to talk to Joonki, didn’t even want to look at him. All she wanted was to go home.

***

Noeul stumbled into his apartment, dropping his bag by the door before collapsing onto his bed. As the sensor light in the entryway flickered off, he found himself staring into the darkness, his mind a jumble of thoughts.

The emotional whirlwind he’d felt earlier with Jiwoo had subsided, leaving behind a strange numbness. It wasn’t relief or resolution—just… emptiness. He’d been down this road before, mistaking fleeting feelings for something deeper, only to realize there was nothing substantial beneath the surface.

Was he truly feeling nothing? Or was he forcing himself into emotional numbness because that’s what he thought he should do? After years of second-guessing his own emotions, Noeul couldn’t even trust his gut anymore. All he knew was the vague uneasiness in his stomach.

As he propped himself up against the wall, his phone buzzed insistently. Hansol’s name flashed on the screen.

What does she want?

Noeul hesitated before answering, his voice rough with fatigue.

Let’s just get it over with.

“Hey, Hansol.”

“Were you sleeping? What’s up with your voice?”

Noeul almost mentioned the drinking, but caught himself. No need for excuses. “Maybe it’s because I’ve been crying my eyes out,” he deflected.

Hansol chuckled. “Hey, your class ends early tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Wanna start drinking early? Let’s get hammered and spend all day Saturday hungover at home.”

Noeul couldn’t help but laugh. “What kind of absurd plan is that?”

“Well, are you in or not?” Hansol said, giggling. “Or is Mr. Popular too busy?”

That made Noeul let out a bitter laugh. Sure, he got invited out often enough, but did he actually enjoy it? Or was it just another performance, a way to prove to the world that he was normal, safe, part of the group?

The truth was, Noeul was afraid. Not of being alone, exactly, but of how society might view someone like him—an unattractive guy without friends. He imagined the judgmental glances, the whispers of “unstable” or “dangerous.” So he kept up the charade, laughing at the right moments, buying rounds, being the guy everyone wanted at their party.

But girls like Hansol? They could be loners without consequence. If a pretty girl didn’t have friends, society would assume it was by choice. Her beauty was a sign of safety, normalcy, and stability. No one would ever think a girl like that was dangerous or untrustworthy.

As Noeul reflected on this, he found himself growing irritated with Hansol’s voice. Why wasn’t she like other attractive girls? Her kindness, her desire to spend time with him—it all felt like some cruel joke.

“Sorry, I’ve already got plans,” he lied, forcing a lighthearted tone. “Next time, book in advance.”

“Oh, come on, hang out with me.”

“No can do. I’m hanging up now.”

“Hey, I’m serious!” Hansol yelled on the other end. “You know I don’t have any friends besides you. Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

“What do you mean you don’t have any other friends? That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true. When have you ever seen me hanging out with anyone else?”

“…I’m hanging up,” Noeul repeated.

“Why do you keep acting like that? Stop trying to run away.”

Something in Noeul snapped. “If you want to make friends, just ask the others to hang out. They’d all jump at the chance to be friends with you.” The words came out harsher than he intended.

A beat of silence followed.

“I just feel the most comfortable with you,” Hansol said softly.

“What do you mean ‘comfortable’?” Noeul scoffed. “You even said it yourself—it’s all nonsense about how personality matters more than looks. So why are you trying to be friends with me?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Noeul felt a wave of shame wash over him.

“Well, that’s because…” Hansol trailed off.

Noeul let out a bitter laugh.

See? I almost fell for it again. What’s wrong with me lately? It’s like I’ve lost my mind just because a couple of pretty girls suddenly want to hang out with me. What an idiot…

As he chuckled bitterly to himself, Noeul suddenly snapped back to reality.

What am I doing right now? Why am I getting mad at her? What did she even do wrong? She just called to ask me to drink tomorrow.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, unable to find the right words. Everything sounded like a pathetic excuse.

“It’s okay. It happens,” Hansol replied, her understanding only making Noeul feel worse.

He felt exposed, raw, like all his insecurities were on display. Here he was, not just unattractive but emotionally volatile, while Hansol handled his outburst with grace. What must she think of him now? He felt humiliated.

“Uh… I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” he muttered, hanging up before she could respond.

Alone in the darkness of his room, Noeul buried his face in his hands.

“Ugh…” he groaned, his expression pained. “What am I even doing?”