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Jiwoo’s life had a peculiar rhythm to it. One day, she’d be laughing with a friend, their bond seemingly unbreakable. The next, she’d discover that same friend had been gossiping about her behind her back. Or mid-conversation, the girl she was talking to would suddenly burst into tears, blaming Jiwoo.
These moments always caught Jiwoo off guard. They were like shadows leaping from hidden corners, impossible to anticipate or defend against. While others claimed they saw these betrayals coming, Jiwoo remained oblivious until the damage was done.
“I knew that was going to happen,” people would say, shaking their heads. When Jiwoo asked why they hadn’t warned her, she’d get exasperated looks and replies of, “How could you not see it?” Eventually, she learned that even asking for a heads-up marked her as hopelessly naive.
The label “clueless bimbo” followed her like an unwanted shadow. People would chuckle, saying it was lucky she was pretty, since she clearly wasn’t the sharpest. Jiwoo would laugh along, playing into the role assigned to her. But those words burrowed deep, leaving an uneasy feeling she couldn’t shake.
When the dust settled, Jiwoo often discovered these “betrayals” stemmed from her own unintentional actions or mere presence. She’d try on an outfit that looked unfairly good on her, or a friend’s boyfriend would stare a little too long in her direction. Small things, really, but they left Jiwoo in a constant state of uncertainty.
Should she apologize? Her friends were clearly upset, but Jiwoo hadn’t actually done anything wrong. After several of these awkward incidents, she made a decision.
No more preemptive apologies. She wouldn’t waste energy wondering if she’d upset someone unless they confronted her directly. If asked, she’d listen carefully and only apologize if she was truly at fault. Her “bimbo brain” didn’t need the extra stress of constant second-guessing.
This situation with Noeul and Hansol felt no different. Jiwoo chose to trust in the good times they’d shared. She’d thanked Hansol for the movie tickets and snacks, believing that genuine gratitude always shone through.
Surely, this time would be the same. Jiwoo clung to that belief.
She breezed into the student lounge, greeted by a chorus of friendly voices.
“Jiwoo!”
“Looking good as always, Jiwoo. Some of us are still nursing hangovers.”
“Want some?” someone offered, waving a snack.
She smiled and waved back at the familiar faces, her eyes scanning the room. In one corner, she spotted Noeul hunched over a laptop, oblivious to her arrival. Beside him, Hansol barely glanced up, giving a slight nod that Jiwoo couldn’t help but admire. How does she make even that look so effortlessly cool? she wondered.
Jiwoo took a moment to appreciate Hansol’s outfit. As always, her friend had that uncanny ability to elevate simple pieces with unexpected accessories or combinations. Jiwoo considered herself decent at fashion, but Hansol was in a league of her own.
Sliding into a seat at their table, Jiwoo caught Noeul’s eye. He glanced up from his screen. “Hi.”
“Hey. What’s got you so focused?”
“IMC assignment. You finished yours yet?”
Jiwoo’s sheepish grin was answer enough. “It’s not due for a while, right?”
“Sounds like you haven’t even started,” Noeul said, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“I work best under pressure,” Jiwoo countered with a wink.
“Right, of course. Pressure always brings out your best work.”
Jiwoo playfully tapped Noeul’s arm, but he flinched, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly.
She quickly pulled back. “Classes done for the day?”
“Yeah. Just wrapping this up before heading home.”
As they chatted, Jiwoo kept stealing glances at Hansol. Finally, she turned to her. “Hey Hansol, I’m going shopping later. Want to come? I’d love some company.”
Jiwoo’s fingers fidgeted under the table as she waited for a response.
“Ah… I’ve got a makeup class for a required course. Sorry,” Hansol replied, not quite meeting Jiwoo’s eyes.
A makeup class? Now? Jiwoo’s brow furrowed slightly. Was Hansol lying again? If so, why? We used to be so close… What changed?
Before Jiwoo could voice her concerns, a senior called out from across the room. “Hansol, let’s go!”
“Oh, okay!” Hansol stood, giving Jiwoo’s shoulder a quick pat. “We’ll hang out next time, yeah?” And with that, she was gone.
Jiwoo stared after her, confusion written across her face, until Noeul’s voice broke the silence.
“It’s for her Copywriting course.”
“Copywriting? Isn’t that mostly for seniors?”
Noeul shrugged. “Yeah, but apparently she signed up without realizing. Decided to stick with it after a few classes.”
“You really do know everything, don’t you?”
“I only found out recently,” Noeul mumbled, not meeting her gaze.
Jiwoo nodded, then suddenly brightened. “Well, if Hansol’s busy, how about you hang out with me instead?”
“…I’m not really into shopping.”
“Who said anything about shopping? Let’s grab a drink!”
“Drink? Oh… I don’t know…” Noeul’s response wasn’t very enthusiastic, and Jiwoo felt a familiar sting of rejection creeping in.
Her voice rose. “Hold on. When anyone else asks you to grab a drink, you’re all, ‘Hell yeah!’ You’ve been out drinking with Hansol without me. So why the hesitation when I ask? Are you trying to come up with an excuse to ditch me? I distinctly remember you saying your classes were done and you were heading home. Don’t even think about bailing on me today.”
As she spoke, Jiwoo felt her anger building, each word seeming to fuel the fire.
Noeul looked taken aback. “Okay, okay. Geez, calm down. I wasn’t saying no. I was about to say, ‘Should we? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.’”
Jiwoo’s lips formed a slight pout. She realized how quickly she’d flared up over a moment’s hesitation.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, she covered with mock anger. “Well, hurry up then. Close that laptop and let’s go.”
“Just a sec, let me save this first.”
Jiwoo huffed dramatically and strode out of the lounge.
***
Noeul couldn’t deny wanting to spend time with Jiwoo, but the prospect filled him with unease. He’d already been caught in one lie; he couldn’t risk another excuse.
I could tell myself I tried to avoid it, but Jiwoo was too persistent. That I’m blameless in this, he thought. But while he did want to hang out, the idea made him deeply uncomfortable. It was like being around someone who’d hurt you—even if you care for them, their presence brings back painful memories. Each encounter leaves you miserable, teaching you to stay away.
It felt like carrying a designer bag he’d accidentally ruined—beautiful, but tainted with regret.
Noeul’s feelings weren’t just mixed; they were at war. The good times were so good, but the bad… They were devastating.
Lately, he’d been struggling to keep his emotions in check, feeling as volatile as a hormone-addled teenager. It worried him.
Get it together, he told himself. Be rational. Stay calm. Even if you feel overwhelmed, keep it under control.
That was the plan, anyway. But today, Jiwoo seemed particularly chatty and inquisitive.
“What do you and Hansol usually talk about when you drink?”
“Well… it’s hard to pin down one thing. We talk about all kinds of things.”
“All kinds of things? Like what, for example?”
“For example… well…” Noeul muttered.
Noeul’s mind raced through his conversations with Hansol, realizing most were far too raw to share with Jiwoo. How could he explain their discussions about the unfair advantages of beauty or their cynical takes on love? He searched for something honest yet palatable.
“We talk about… deep stuff, I guess,” Noeul finally offered. “Fear of death, our relationships with our parents. Even our thoughts on marriage.”
Jiwoo perked up. “Oh, marriage! Do you want to get married?”
Noeul hesitated. “Not really. The risks are too clear, the benefits too uncertain.”
“Really? But the benefits are obvious. Living with someone you love forever!”
“You can do that without marriage,” Noeul countered. “Why legally bind yourself, especially without kids? People talk about stability, but that’s so vague.”
Jiwoo nodded, her interest visibly waning.
Noeul shrugged. “Yeah, boring stuff like that.”
“Hmm…” Jiwoo’s expression shifted. “But you still think about dating, right?”
Her words stirred something in Noeul, but the sensation was duller now. What once felt like a tidal wave had become a mere ripple.
“Dating’s like if I collected all six Infinity Stones,” he said. “Thinking about it is just one Stone. I’m missing the other five.”
Jiwoo giggled. “But you must have tried. Did you date someone like Sharina?”
“Wow, teasing me with a straight face,” Noeul deflected.
“Why? You said Sharina was your ideal type before.”
“Oh. Right, I did.” The memory surfaced—he’d just named the first pretty celebrity that came to mind when asked. It hadn’t meant anything.
She actually remembered that?
Noeul shrugged. “That’s why it’s mean. The whole point of an ‘ideal type’ is that it’s ideal. It doesn’t exist in reality.”
“Hmm, true,” Jiwoo mused. “So when did you last date?”
“I’ve never dated anyone.”
Jiwoo’s eyes widened. “Really? So you’re a relationship virgin? Wow, that’s impressive.”
Noeul bristled slightly. “You seem pretty excited. Great, now you have something to tease me about. Go ahead, have at it.”
“Why would I tease you?” Jiwoo looked genuinely puzzled. “I’m actually glad. I’m a relationship virgin, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve never dated anyone before.”
Noeul wasn’t particularly shocked. Jiwoo’s beauty wasn’t the issue; it was her choice. She simply hadn’t found anyone meeting her standards. The fact that she had never dated didn’t imply a flaw in her; it showed she was someone with discernment and wouldn’t settle.
He knew the best response was to tease her lightly, the way you might any single person. It was like calling a genius “stupid”—it only highlighted their intelligence.
Jiwoo’s tone softened. “I’m usually fine, but sometimes I get lonely. You know how when you come home at night, and all the lights are off? That’s when I feel it most. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Noeul nodded. “That’s classic aromantic territory. Sometimes I imagine carrying a slingshot, just to pelt those lovey-dovey couples.”
Jiwoo chuckled. “Wow, Noeul, what an attitude… But honestly, the darkness really gets to me. That’s partly why I drink so often. If I come home drunk, I pass out before the loneliness hits.”
“Hmm… Yeah, that makes sense…”
Noeul nodded, recognizing Jiwoo’s sincerity. Yet he struggled to fully empathize. To him, Jiwoo’s loneliness seemed more like a romanticization than a pressing reality. It felt like she was “playing at being lonely.”
Noeul, however, feared genuine, permanent solitude. Not as a possibility, but as a likely outcome. Jiwoo, if she chose, could easily find someone. Her loneliness was temporary and self-imposed, like a wealthy person pretending to be poor.
Noeul gave a bitter nod, hoping to end the conversation. But Jiwoo, noticing his expression, pressed on.
“So… why are you and Hansol suddenly so close?”
The question caught Noeul off guard. “Are we? I think we’re the same.”
“No, you’re not,” Jiwoo insisted. “Why don’t you ever talk about deep stuff with me?”
Noeul fell silent.
“You talk about serious topics with Hansol, like whether marriage is good. But with me, it’s just jokes.”
“Did I?” Noeul stammered, flustered. “I don’t know… Maybe with Hansol… we just got more drunk… I’m not sure why we talked about that.”
Jiwoo’s gaze sharpened. “You drink a lot with Hansol. But with me, it’s like you’ve decided from the start to never let your guard down.”
Since when was she so perceptive?
He fumbled for an excuse. “Really? It’s not because it’s you… I just didn’t sleep well, so I thought I should take it easy. It just happened to be you I’m drinking with…”
Jiwoo’s eyes dropped, clearly unconvinced. A heavy silence settled between them.
Finally, Jiwoo spoke, her voice small. “I want to be close with you guys.”
“What are you talking about? We are close.”
“No, we’re not…” Jiwoo’s face crumpled, resembling a rain-soaked puppy.
Seeing her like this, Noeul felt his resolve crumbling.