The situation was already absurd enough—being suddenly framed out of nowhere—but the reason he was being accused made even less sense. Apparently, it was all because of the way he looked at someone. They said only someone with that kind of insolent gaze would try to screw over a senior like that.
Go Hoon had naturally pushed back. Sure, he admitted he didn’t like the senior, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who bad-mouthed people behind their backs.
Park Ki-cheol completely lost it at that. Enraged, he ended up throwing a punch, and Hoon took it right to the face. As he fell flat on his rear, students rushed in to pull Ki-cheol off him—it was like something out of a sitcom.
Since then, Go Hoon hadn’t seen Park Ki-cheol again. His stress had peaked due to multiple issues, and he chose to enlist in the military to escape it all.
He’d hoped that by the time he returned from service, Ki-cheol would’ve graduated and they’d never have to cross paths again. He never imagined they’d meet like this. Worse yet, Ki-cheol hadn’t changed one bit.
Park Ki-cheol was the type who strutted around just because he was a sunbae, acting all high and mighty. Yet he had even less going for him than Hoon—who he’d mocked for being an “orphan.”
“You should be team leader, Jung-yoon. Yeah, team leader.”
Talk about growing older without growing up. Out of everything, being grouped with that guy was the worst part. Hoon could already see the rocky road ahead.
He’d chosen this class because the professor was famous—he even appeared on TV—and was known for grading generously. But just two weeks into the semester, they were already being thrown into group projects. And to make matters worse, fate had tossed him into the same group as his old nemesis.
If he’d known it’d be like this, he would’ve dropped the class sooner. But now that the teams had already been assigned, it was too late to back out.
With his arms crossed, Go Hoon quietly observed the situation. He was hoping Bae Jung-yoon would take charge and handle everything smoothly. But all Jung-yoon did was flash his friendly smile.
“You look like you’d be good at this kind of stuff, don’t you think?”
“…Ah, yeah. Probably,” Kim Yeo-jin replied awkwardly, smiling faintly as her eyes met Ki-cheol’s when he tried to act all buddy-buddy.
Just from watching how things were going, Hoon could tell—there was no way he was getting out of this.
“Alright, so Jung-yoon is our team leader? Confirmed?”
“Looks like—”
“Sure, I’ll do it.”
Hoon was just about to object to how the responsibility was being dumped so casually, but Bae Jung-yoon beat him to it.
“Man, you’re just like I heard—straightforward and confident. I like that!”
Park Ki-cheol laughed heartily, clearly pleased, and Kim Yeo-jin looked visibly relieved that the responsibility hadn’t fallen to her. Since Jung-yoon had volunteered and most of the group had already agreed, Hoon couldn’t exactly butt in now.
“Okay, let’s start with a quick round of introductions.”
Bae Jung-yoon didn’t show even a hint of annoyance. Under his lead, the four of them introduced themselves and began selecting a topic for the presentation.
Things went more smoothly than expected. After a few minutes of discussion, they managed to settle on a topic fairly easily. The only hiccup was one person who couldn’t stop staring at their phone.
Still, considering how many teams stumble right out of the gate, this wasn’t a bad start. But it was too soon to relax. The real group project struggle was only just beginning.
“We’ve got our topic, so let’s divide up the roles now,” Jung-yoon suggested.
No sooner had he spoken than Park Ki-cheol finally put down his phone and laid his cards on the table.
“Hey, I’ve been super busy lately with this contest I’m preparing for. So yeah, I was hoping you all could cut me some slack.”
He said it in a roundabout way, but the message was clear—he didn’t want to do any real work. True to his reputation as a shameless freeloader, he clearly intended to skate by this time too.
Go Hoon frowned instinctively. Who wasn’t busy these days? Everyone had their own things going on. And that damn contest—wasn’t that the same excuse he used three years ago during another group project?
The scheming was plain as day. Hoon was about to speak up when, once again, Bae Jung-yoon beat him to it.
“I’m good at presentations.”
Ki-cheol’s eyes lit up.
“Ah, then you should totally do the presentation!”
“Sure. I’ll take it.”
‘Is this guy for real?’ Volunteering for the one job everyone avoids—again and again? Honestly, Hoon was grateful Jung-yoon was willing to handle the presentation, but watching Park Ki-cheol’s smug face made the whole thing hard to stomach.
“Then Yeo-jin and I will handle the research. We’ll make it super clean and pass it on. Yo, Go Hoon, why don’t you make the PPT?”
Of course, Ki-cheol didn’t miss a beat, sneakily throwing out his suggestion. Hoon didn’t respond. ‘Why the hell should I listen to you?’ He just stared back at Ki-cheol, arms still crossed. Ki-cheol cleared his throat awkwardly and quickly turned his attention elsewhere.
“Yeo-jin, how about it? Doing research with oppa sounds good, right?”
Oppa? Just because he’s an upperclassman doesn’t mean he can casually call himself that. Especially since they didn’t seem to know each other—she’d used formal speech before, so it wasn’t like they were close.
“Ah, yes? Yeah… I’m good with doing the research….”
Kim Yeo-jin seemed unsure, eyes darting nervously before she gave a hesitant nod in agreement to the towering sunbae.
“Alright, it’s all set then. Jung-yoon, presentation. Me and Yeo-jin, research. Go Hoon, you do the PPT.”
Park Ki-cheol tapped his chin, legs bouncing with satisfaction. Go Hoon stared back blankly, his face unreadable.
“Don’t like it? Huh? Go Hoon, got a problem with this?”
Now he was openly pressuring Go Hoon. It was obvious he was doing it on purpose. He probably found Hoon just as unpleasant as Hoon found him.
Go Hoon thought for a moment, then met his glaring eyes without flinching and offered an alternative.
“If we split it by steps, it’s obvious only a few people will end up doing all the work. Let’s just divide it fairly by section. Everyone handles their own part—research, PPT, and presentation, all of it.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Ki-cheol’s face twisted with rage.
“Wow, you’re real funny, you know that? You saying that to me right now? You think I’d half-ass the research and just dump it on you? Huh?”
Go Hoon didn’t bother denying it. Apparently, Park Ki-cheol wasn’t totally oblivious. He clearly understood the insult embedded in those words. Hoon responded in a flat tone.
“Based on my experience, people who insist on doing the research themselves rarely ever pull their weight.”
“Tch. Look at this guy. You really think I’m just some worthless asshole, huh?”
Still, Go Hoon didn’t deny it and kept his eyes on him. Actually, calling him a “worthless asshole” felt too generous.
To be honest, even asshole sounded a little too cute. There were plenty of harsher insults out there—why use one that implied some connection to a dog? It almost felt unfair to the animal.
“Tch. Unreal. Seems like you’re really misunderstanding something here. I’m not some irresponsible piece of shit. And what, making a damn PPT is such a big deal? You think I’m not doing it ‘cause I can’t?”
Watching him get all flustered and defensive was almost entertaining. Hoon scratched his eyebrow and replied with indifference.
“That’s why I’m saying let’s divide it by section. Everyone’s responsible for their own research and presenting their own slides. From what you’re saying, it sounds like PPTs and presentations shouldn’t be a problem for you. Why not take this chance to really show off what you can do, sunbae?”
Park Ki-cheol’s face flushed a deep red. Things weren’t going his way, and he was clearly rattled.
“I told you, I’ve got this contest coming up—”
“So you want to do the research because it seems like the least hassle? And you’re saying even though you’re so busy, you’ll have time to do the research properly?”
Go Hoon cut him off, and Ki-cheol let out a frustrated, wheezing breath.
“Splitting it by section just sounds too inefficient.”
At that moment, Bae Jung-yoon stepped in to break the tension.
“Let’s just split the roles by what each person is good at—it’s the most efficient way. I’ll help out with the PPT.”
He looked at Go Hoon with a soft voice, trying to soothe the moment. But Hoon wasn’t particularly pleased that Jung-yoon was stepping in.
He’d been feeling it from earlier—Jung-yoon wasn’t some pushover, and yet here he was, going easy on this parasitic leech. It irritated Hoon more than he wanted to admit. He stared at Jung-yoon silently, not responding.
Jung-yoon made a subtle gesture, urging him to look around.
The argument had started drawing attention from the surrounding groups. While other teams seemed to be getting along reasonably well, their own Group 4 was drenched in tension. It felt like sitting next to a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any second.
Then suddenly, Kim Yeo-jin came into view—her eyes darting nervously, shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear. She looked visibly uncomfortable from the heated atmosphere.
Only then did it hit him. He was the one making everyone uneasy, all because of some personal grudge. The realization helped him rein in his boiling frustration.
“See? Even Jung-yoon says it’s inefficient. Why are you being so stubborn and making a scene?”
Park Ki-cheol seized the moment again, puffing himself up smugly. Hoon shot him a look of disbelief, incredulous that he could be so shameless. There was no way Ki-cheol could miss the disgust in his eyes, and yet the guy still had the nerve to get worked up.
“This punk, look at the way you’re staring at your sunbae—!”
“Sunbae-nim.”
But Bae Jung-yoon interrupted.
With a soft, pleasant smile, he turned to Ki-cheol.
“Let’s stop here, sunbae-nim. No good will come from drawing more attention to this, for you or for us.”
