My parents divorced when I was in the second year of middle school. And a year later, my dad died. I was suddenly left all alone, but because of that, I didn’t have to keep transferring schools once I became a high schooler.
Personally, it was a painful time, but fortunately, school life was decent. Without the fear of being transferred again, making friends became way easier. I even made a few I got pretty close to. But after the second semester of freshman year began, everything went to shit.
Back then, I was insanely lonely. I fucking hated going home to an empty house. I did everything I could to delay coming home. I hung out with whoever, doing whatever, just to avoid going back until it was late.
And that’s when I met Kim Shinju. One of the guys I used to hang out with at the time took me to him. It was probably something Kim Shinju had him do. The moment Shinju saw me, he grabbed my cheek and twisted it around. Like I was some kind of mutt. The moment I shook off the hand that was manhandling me like trash, that was when our cursed relationship began.
I didn’t have many friends, so I had no idea there was even a pecking order among kids our age. Kim Shinju started acting like a little fuck, so I just acted like a little fuck right back. And by the time I came to my senses, I was already his official punching bag.
Do I regret the choices I made back then? I regret them to my fucking core. If I could go back in time, I would've handled Shinju’s provocation with a little more wisdom. But regret doesn’t change the past. I can’t rewind time. All I can do now is not make the same mistake again. That’s it.
I jotted down the rules I failed to follow at my last school into the corner of my notebook. While I was doing that, the bell rang, signaling the end of the break. The classroom grew noisy in an instant. I lifted my head and looked at the messy classroom. Aside from a few side glances, no one seemed particularly interested in me.
Good. Just follow these rules, and I can graduate quietly.
“Hey.”
Right as I was trying to carve that resolve into my heart, someone tapped my shoulder. Looks like it’s already time to put those rules into action.
“Huh?”
I looked up at the guy standing in front of me with what I hoped was a calm expression. I couldn’t afford to look pissed off, but I couldn’t look pathetic either.
“Did you really molest Kim Shinju?”
He stood there with a slouched posture, staring down at me. His shirt was wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, and he gave off this unmistakable thug stench. He was clearly the same type as the ones who used to tail Kim Shinju around. He scanned my face with that slanted glare of his, then made a face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. I blinked on purpose, trying not to come off as hostile. He asked me again.
“You really molested Kim Shinju?”
This time, it was more like he was asking himself. I quickly started calculating in my head. I had to think of the quietest way to get through this situation. Judging by how he talked, he definitely knew Kim Shinju. Say the wrong thing, and it might blow up. But telling the truth wasn’t exactly a safe option either. Who’s to say he’d even believe me?
“Hey, why aren’t you answering? I’m asking if you molested him.”
He jabbed his finger into my forehead. I clenched my teeth, keeping my mouth shut so I wouldn’t start swearing right away. I dodged his finger, resisting the urge to snap it in half.
“Oh? You dodged me?”
The room instantly went quiet. Everyone was watching to see what I’d do. Or maybe they were all hoping I’d get my ass beat. It hadn’t even been ten seconds since I promised myself I wouldn’t stand out, and already everything was about to go to hell.
When I didn’t respond, his eyes turned sharp.
Staying quiet had only made things worse with Kim Shinju back then too. Got hit three times more than I would’ve if I’d just said something. I had to say something. Something that wouldn’t blow things up. I went with the most realistic answer I could give.
“Officially, yeah.”
“You really did it?”
“Yeah. Officially.”
“…What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
I paused and looked at him. He looked stumped. Did he really not understand what I meant by "officially"? A high schooler?
“What?”
Someone snickered from the corner of the classroom. I didn’t even have it in me to laugh. He was even dumber than I thought. Before some dumb shit slipped out of my mouth, I rushed to speak.
“I mean… um…”
“Jesus, this fucker’s taking forever. So did you or didn’t you?”
“On paper, I’m the assailant.”
“So that means you did it?”
I had no choice but to nod. It didn’t seem like he was someone I could reason with. I already had the label of “Kim Shinju molester” slapped on me. Explaining would just make things worse. I gave a half-hearted nod, and he just stood there, too shocked to speak.
“How? A loser like you managed to molest that guy?”
Even a dumbass like this could tell I wasn’t the kind of guy who could lay a finger on Kim Shinju. So why the fuck didn’t the School Violence Committee believe a word I said? My mouth tasted bitter.
“Ask Kim Shinju if you wanna know the details. He’s the one it happened to.”
I tried to put it as politely as I could—if you’re so curious, go bug him instead of me. I just wanted this conversation to end. I wasn’t looking for more attention.
“So, you’re gay?”
But this asshole wasn’t getting it. Fucking idiot.
“No.”
“Then why’d you molest a dude?”
I let out a sigh before I realized it. This wasn’t a conversation—it was a goddamn loop. Maybe it would be easier if I just admitted to being gay and let the label stick. Or should I try again to reason with him? But it didn’t seem like he’d understand no matter what I said.
“Kim Youngjin. Shut it.”
A cold voice rang out from behind me just as I was stuck in my thoughts.
I turned slowly, wanting to see the kind soul who’d said what I was thinking. The same sharp-eyed guy from earlier was looking at me with a half-smile. I saw the blue name tag over his crisp white uniform shirt. Park Sion. That was his name.
“Stop harassing the new kid from our class and go back to your own.”
He was clearly talking to Kim Youngjin, but he was staring at me. I should’ve felt grateful, but I didn’t. Must’ve been because of that arrogant look in his eyes. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way the more I looked. I couldn’t quite put it into words, but he had this way of getting under your skin. The thought crossed my mind—maybe this guy was even worse than Kim Shinju.
I can’t afford to get on this guy’s bad side—warning bells went off in my head. I slowly shifted my gaze toward Kim Youngjin, trying not to make it obvious.
“Fuck this. I’m outta here!”
Kim Youngjin shoved my head with his finger and said that like he was pissed off. The fuck are you doing, taking your anger out on someone unrelated? My eyes sharpened for a moment, but thankfully, the class bell rang before Kim Youngjin noticed.
Once I saw him walk out of the classroom, I immediately lowered my head. I could feel everyone's eyes on me—my cheeks itched. I just wanted the class to start already. I stared desperately at the clock. And that was when his voice came from behind me again.
"Hey, transfer kid."
“……”
"Aren’t you gonna say thanks?"
His voice was soft, but somehow felt overbearing. My shoulder twitched in embarrassment. Ignoring him here would mean turning that guy into an enemy. I slowly turned my back and looked at him. To avoid eye contact, I fixed my gaze on the center of his name tag.
"Ah… thanks."
I think I made an awkward face without meaning to, so I forced my lips into a smile. He smiled with his eyes while looking at my twisted expression. I couldn’t tell whether it was a friendly smile or a mocking one. The moment our eyes met, I looked away.
****
To my surprise, the days passed in peace.
During breaks, I quietly read my book. When class started, I either took notes or dozed off. For lunch, I ate alone in the cafeteria or had bread I bought earlier from the convenience store.
That dumbass Kim Youngjin came looking for me a few times, but he must’ve lost interest because I haven’t seen him lately. I guess responding with overly academic words every time he spoke actually worked. Our conversations were like two parallel lines that never met. In short, total communication breakdown.
"Hey, are you, like, actually gay?"
"I'm heterosexual."
"Fuck, so you're gay?"
"I'm telling you, I’m hetero."
"The fuck are you even saying?"
Yeah, it went something like that. Every time he asked something, I picked the most complicated words I could. If I used plain language, I was afraid I’d end up calling him a dumbass without realizing it. Anyway, whatever I did seemed to work—he stopped showing up in our class. That, to me, was a small slice of happiness.
Same with Park Sion. He rubbed me the wrong way in a lot of ways, but after the first day I transferred, we didn’t really interact. I was suspicious of him for no reason, but honestly, he was more normal than I expected. His grades were good, his behavior was clean, and he seemed diligent. His eyes were still shady as hell, but still—unexpected.
It was clear now that my trauma around Kim Shinju had made me narrow-minded. Judging people by first impressions? That was some wannabe-thug behavior. I had to reflect on that.
Anyway, Park Sion didn’t mess with me, and I didn’t have to worry about him anymore. Just like I’d hoped, I was now enjoying a peaceful life as a quiet loner.
Being branded a pervert who molested another guy wasn’t as painful as I thought. Actually, to be honest, my school life lately was practically paradise. The ones who were absolutely convinced I was gay kindly kept their distance, and the ones who used to whisper behind my back eventually lost interest.
From a bullied punching bag to someone totally ignored—this level of isolation was bliss. Happiness really is relative.
"You transferred here?"
Someone spoke to me while I was quietly humming to myself, enjoying the peace. A bag I’d never seen before was sitting in the seat next to mine, which had been empty until now.
"Yeah."
"Cool."
A guy with a buzz cut like an athlete plopped down in the seat next to me without another word. I remembered what the homeroom teacher said—that my seatmate would be absent for a while due to surgery.
"You’re Jung Suwon?"
"Yeah. When did you transfer?"
"Not long ago."
Jung Suwon gave a small nod and asked me, almost out of obligation.
"What’s your name?"
"Yoon Seonwoo."
And that was it for our conversation. He rummaged through his bag, pulled out a manga, and read it until class began.
Just like the impression he gave off, Jung Suwon was the quiet type. And that was exactly what I liked about him. I hadn’t realized how comforting complete disinterest could feel. I was relieved to have someone like him as my desk partner—someone who didn’t give a single shit about me.
"How far are we in the textbook?"
As class began, Jung Suwon whispered to me. I pointed to the page, and he followed it with a quiet “thanks.” I couldn’t remember the last time someone had thanked me for anything. A small greed started creeping into my chest. The kind of greed that made me think… maybe I wouldn’t mind being friends with this guy.
"Want to borrow my notes? You can take photos later if you want."
That wasn’t something I’d normally say. But it just came out. Jung Suwon nodded and said thanks again.
After only ever meeting assholes with no manners, no brain, no decency, or no soul, meeting someone who was actually polite and normal made me feel… excited. I’d been content being an ignored loner just moments ago, but if someone like Jung Suwon wanted to be my friend, I’d be ten times happier than I was now.
At first, we exchanged just a couple words a day—sometimes five, max. But over time, I grew closer to Jung Suwon. I was worried that once he heard the rumors about me, he’d start avoiding me, but he didn’t.
Of course, he already had his own friends, and they weren’t exactly friendly toward me. Because of that, he never ate lunch with me or hung out with me during breaks. Still, whenever we were in the classroom together, he talked to me. That alone was more than enough.
"Wanna read this manga?"
"Yeah. Don’t you have volume one?"
"Nope. Just start here."
"Alright, hand it over."
Jung Suwon handed me the manga he’d been reading. It looked like a romance comic, but since I didn’t know the beginning, it didn’t grab me. He looked like the type to be into shounen manga—what a weird taste.
"You’re into romance comics?"
"They’re fun."
"This one?"
The pretty art style, the flimsy story logic, the same recycled clichés—I flipped through a few pages and could already see how it would go from start to finish. I quickly skimmed through and handed the book back.
"Didn’t like it?"
"Yeah. Not really my thing."
I went back to the book I’d been reading earlier. I glanced sideways—Jung Suwon was still reading the manga with a dead-serious expression. It was kind of funny watching someone read a romance comic that seriously, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
"What are you laughing at?"
"You just look so serious."
At my words, he let out an embarrassed puff of laughter and started rubbing his chin like he was shy.
"There’s this girl I like…"
"Yeah?"
"She’s a huge fan of this manga."
A flush spread across his stoic face. I let out a soft chuckle. So that’s why he’d been staring at the manga like he was solving a calculus problem. Jung Suwon furrowed his sharp eyes and focused back on the book like he was drilling holes through it.
"You gonna read this just so you can talk to her about it or something?"
"Well, that’d be nice, but... honestly, I just wanna know what she likes about it."
So it’s not about using it as conversation material—he actually wants to understand the girl he likes. That’s what he meant? His emotional depth was on another level compared to the half-baked losers I’d dealt with. He was solid, through and through. Made me want to shamelessly beg him to be friends.
"Hope it works out for you. I’m rooting for you."
I gave him a couple of supportive pats on the shoulder, and Jung Suwon replied the same way he always did.
"Thanks."
Every time he said thanks, it made me feel good. A faint smile tugged at my lips.
During breaks, Jung Suwon and I read manga together and debated the characters’ emotions. People would probably laugh if they saw us, but we were dead serious about it.
The female lead, Hanako, was loved by two handsome guys—Miyuki and Rui. She didn’t seem to realize she was loved by either of them, though. At first, the repetitive clichés were kind of boring, but the more I read, the more I understood why clichés exist. There’s a reason they become tropes.
"Which one does the girl you like prefer, Miyuki or Rui?"
"Miyuki."
Miyuki was the cockier one. Rui was more kind and considerate. The fact that Jung Suwon’s crush liked Miyuki wasn’t exactly great news for him.
"Hmm... I hope her real-life type isn’t cocky douchebags."
"Why?"
"'Cause you’re not that type."
Jung Suwon’s face instantly fell. And fair enough—he was nowhere near that vibe. His clean-cut short hair, big clear eyes, and upright features made him look more like a diligent athlete than anything else.
"Maybe she just likes him because he’s more prominent in the story?"
"That could be it."
Yeah. It looks like a love triangle on the surface, but Miyuki is obviously the main guy. He gets the most screen time, the story favors him, and he’s more fleshed out. If I really wanted to analyze his crush’s preferences, I’d need a bigger sample size.
"Does she like any other manga?"
"I’ll ask her at cram school today."
"While you’re at it, try flirting a little. Don’t act like some clueless dork."
"Alright."
Jung Suwon nodded with a strangely serious expression, which made me laugh again before I returned to the manga. I was genuinely curious who Hanako would end up with—Miyuki or Rui. Personally, I didn’t care for either. My favorite was Hanako herself. Whoever you choose, I’m rooting for you, you cute thing.
"What’s got you so into it?"
A shadow fell over my head as I buried my face in the comic. I looked up and saw Park Sion standing above me, backlit by the window. His sudden appearance caught me off guard. We hadn’t spoken since the first day I transferred, which made it even more unexpected. I looked up at him cautiously, but he just smiled. When those normally cold eyes curved up, they actually looked gentle. The light behind him cast a soft shadow across his expression.
"Manga. Wanna read too?"
Trying to make up for judging him too harshly on day one, I forced myself to sound as friendly as possible. I thought he’d say no, but Park Sion pulled out the chair in front of me, sat down, and took the comic from my hands.
"It must be good? You were laughing the whole time."
"Yeah. It’s decent."
I turned my eyes back to the pages. Park Sion, sitting in front of me, held the book but didn’t open it. I could feel his eyes on me, even without looking. Why the hell does it feel like he’s staring at me? Am I just paranoid? Or is this me being self-conscious again? I didn’t want to meet his eyes, because if I did, I felt like he’d say, “What the hell are you looking at?”
"This isn’t volume one."
His low voice drifted down over my bowed head. His voice had the same cool edge as his eyes—smooth, but chilly.
"Ah, yeah. We don’t have volume one…"
"Mind explaining what it’s about?"
Park Sion met my eyes and smiled again. Then he stretched his long legs out toward me. The moment our calves touched, I pulled mine back, feeling uncomfortable. Maybe I moved too obviously—he immediately drew his legs back with a guilty look.
"Ah, sorry."
"It’s fine."
How long had it been since I heard normal words like “thank you” or “sorry” that make human interaction actually pleasant? Aside from Jung Suwon, this was the first real conversation I’d had in a while. I quickly shook my head like it was nothing. Park Sion smiled again, just with his eyes. Shit… he’s good-looking.
I mean, I’m not really in a position to say anything, since I was the one who assumed he was trash like Kim Shinju based on first impressions. I don’t usually care about people’s appearances. But I’m only human. It’s natural to be a little more forgiving toward people who are good-looking.
And Park Sion was definitely good-looking. Maybe even taller and more built than that bastard Kim Shinju. Pale skin, delicate features. His dark hair made his fair face stand out even more. That chilly gaze of his suited him.
Maybe that sharp vibe I got from him originally came from his cold-looking appearance. Not that Park Sion would care what I thought of him anyway.
I felt a tiny prick of guilt for judging him too soon, so I scooted my chair closer and leaned toward him. Then I slowly began explaining the plot. So, this girl is Hanako, and these two are Miyuki and Rui...
I pointed to the characters as I explained the story. While I was doing that, I felt someone staring at me—like, really staring. I looked up and locked eyes with him again. Does he always stare at people like that?
"You even listening to me?"
"Yeah. So, it’s a love triangle between them, right?"
"Right. That’s all you need to know. Start from here."
"I don’t really like love triangles, though."
"Well, it’s all we’ve got right now."
"Alright, I’ll read it anyway."
With that, Park Sion finally turned his eyes to the pages. I watched him for a second, then glanced sideways at Jung Suwon. He wasn’t trying to join in on the conversation at all—just silently reading his manga with a stiff expression.
I checked the time. Lunch break was almost over. I started flipping through the pages faster. The story was close to the end. I had to finish this chapter before the bell rang.