# 3.
Sejong lowered his voice further so that only his friends could hear him, in case someone might be listening.
“That guy is 21 years old.”
It was a behavior that showed his determination to speak somehow.
“What?”
Sejong’s efforts were wasted with Jeongwoo’s loud response.
Even Hyewoon, who was only interested in sports, opened his eyes wide as if surprised. Hyewoon was relatively composed.
Jeongwoo, whose eyes and nostrils had expanded in shock, looked at Jihan. Unaware that his own blatant stare was as intense as the one Jihan had given him earlier.
‘How can he be 21?’
Just as he was wrinkling his nose in disbelief, Jihan, who had been playing with his friends, turned toward where Jeongwoo was. He smiled casually as if he knew he was being watched, and even waved at Jeongwoo.
Only then did Jeongwoo realize he had been staring and quickly turned his head away.
His crooked eyebrows clearly showed he wanted nothing to do with Jihan.
“I’d heard there was someone who had been held back, but I didn’t know it was in our class.”
It was such a famous story since enrollment that it would be stranger not to know about it.
Jeongwoo too, as part of the disciplinary committee, had heard plenty about classmates who had been held back, delinquents who hung out with troublemakers, and those who had been made to repeat a year after causing trouble.
‘But I didn’t know it was Moon Jihan.’
He was not someone Jeongwoo had expected.
Perhaps it was natural that he didn’t know. They hadn’t encountered each other during the first and second years.
‘No wonder it seemed strange that he didn’t seem intimidated by me as a disciplinary committee member despite being in the same grade.’
Jeongwoo watched Jihan playing with his friends.
At first, he had seemed so immature that Jeongwoo questioned if he really was a third-year, but now he just seemed like a childish adult. A thoughtless idiot.
‘Well, at 21, I guess he is an immature adult.’
It was strange to see him blending so naturally among students two years younger than him. Jeongwoo himself would never have been able to do that.
In fact, being an adult, he might have avoided hanging out with 19-year-olds.
People his age would be university students or already working, so wouldn’t he feel rushed with a sense of falling behind?
Thinking in that direction, the relaxed Jihan suddenly seemed remarkable.
But that didn’t mean Jeongwoo wanted to be like him.
Never, absolutely never.
“I thought you knew his age when you spoke informally to him.”
“All those guys speak informally to him too.”
“But they call him hyung. Didn’t you see earlier? When you called him Moon Jihan, all our classmates were shocked.”
“Is that really… so shocking?”
He hadn’t known, so he hadn’t done anything wrong.
But human psychology is such that even when you’ve done nothing wrong, you somehow feel guilty and concerned.
Jeongwoo covered Sejong’s mouth as he prattled on about how Jeongwoo didn’t know. But despite his calm face, his insides were not so composed.
Even as the teacher came in to organize the bustling classroom and students moved to their assigned seats according to their numbers, Jeongwoo kept thinking about Jihan. More precisely, about what he had said to him.
After moving to his seat based on his number, Jeongwoo tried hard to erase these thoughts.
“Hello, interrogator.”
But then a familiar yet strange voice came from beside him.
As seats were arranged so that numbers 1 and 11, 21 and 31 would be paired, Jeongwoo’s number 6 naturally meant his partner would be number 16, Jihan.
Jeongwoo’s nose twitched, having overlooked this fact while distracted by other things.
Jihan smiled as he placed his bag on the desk next to Jeongwoo.
Pale skin as if he’d never been exposed to sunlight and delicate features. His silly smile that revealed his teeth actually suited him well.
‘What’s there to grin about like that?’
Jeongwoo wasn’t in the mood to smile back. Given what had happened, how could he be?
Jihan, either not caring or not noticing, sat next to Jeongwoo and smiled brightly, very brightly indeed. With a smile that stretched from ear to ear, he said:
“We’re partners. That’s great, isn’t it?”
“You’re crazy.”
Looking at him, who was like an immature neighborhood hyung, the words “you’re crazy” escaped Jeongwoo’s lips before he knew it.
Though he knew Jihan was 21, two years older than himself, it was a reflexive response to being called “interrogator” and spoken to so casually.
‘Calling someone I just met today crazy? Crazy?!’
Jeongwoo’s face remained unchanged, as if he hadn’t said those words. But inside, he kept repeating “I’m doomed” over his verbal blunder.
Jihan’s smile deepened as he noticed Jeongwoo’s downcast eyes, filled with self-reproach.
“Crazy?”
“……”
“Did you just call me crazy?”
Jihan kept trying to engage from the side.
Having internally acknowledged his mistake, Jeongwoo pretended not to hear, deliberately ignoring him while rummaging through his bag.
Perhaps he was also continuously repeating, like a mantra, ‘I can’t hear, I can’t hear. I can’t hear anything.’
‘My mouth got ahead of itself, my mouth really got ahead of itself.’
In truth, if he could, he would have slapped his own lips for blurting out so impulsively. If he had been alone, he would have hit himself a hundred times.
‘How could I say “crazy” out loud?’
Of course, a truly crazy person would naturally be offended if called crazy. And he had openly called someone unpredictable “crazy” to his face.
‘I’m not avoiding the crazy guy because I’m afraid. It’s just annoying to deal with him.’
As he rummaged through his bag, finding nothing, Jeongwoo fell into contemplation. How should he handle the situation if Jihan persisted about this? How should he respond?
‘I’ll ignore him. If I ignore him, he’ll tire himself out.’
But Jihan didn’t seem willing to pretend nothing had happened.
“You called me crazy. Why are you pretending you didn’t hear?”
“……”
Contrary to his wish that class would start soon, the teacher was still setting up the screen.
Today was the first day as third-year students.
Jeongwoo was dismayed, expecting a sermon-like lecture from the principal, as always happened along with the first-year entrance ceremony.
‘They usually have classes regularly, but they don’t when it’s really needed.’
The screen displayed the broadcast room. Jeongwoo released the bag he had been holding for no reason.
Instead, this time he fidgeted with his empty textbook and notebook. He felt like he needed to do something.
Jeongwoo, who was always composed, hadn’t felt this anxious since he first entered middle school and had to wear a uniform, leaving behind the freedom of elementary school.
As he sat silently doing this, Jihan tapped his fingers on the desk. His short, stubby nails created a small noise as they hit the wooden desk.
Simultaneously, the principal’s voice resonated from the now occupied empty seat.
Yet strangely, that small noise seemed louder than the deep voice calling out “Ah, ah.”
Tap, tap. As the fingers approached, the sound grew closer.
In horror movies, the heart beats frantically in scary situations. Jeongwoo, experiencing firsthand what he’d only seen in movies, took a deep breath.
Jeongwoo, who didn’t even flinch when watching horror films, found dealing with a crazy person scarier than any moderately frightening movie. To be more honest, it was more annoying than scary.
It would be as annoying as being bitten by a mad dog. Perhaps even more annoying than that.
“Interrogator.”
Jeongwoo, who had been trying to calm himself, turned his head irritably at the word calling him, but then dropped it awkwardly.
So unnatural was the movement that Jihan, watching from the side, giggled.
‘Does pretending not to see or hear get easier with practice?’
It became easier to pretend he hadn’t heard anything than before.
Reminding himself that dealing with a crazy person might make him explode with frustration, Jeongwoo forcibly suppressed his irritation. Just as he had done this morning.
Throughout, Jeongwoo only endured.
“It’s noisy. Be quiet.”
Unable to focus due to the whispering that erupted from various places, the male teacher who was the homeroom teacher of class 5 struck the podium with a long stick, ordering silence.
Everyone shut their mouths at that threatening sound, but there are always exceptions. Jihan continued to address Jeongwoo despite the homeroom teacher’s sharp gaze.
“Jeongwoo. Jeongwoo?”
Jeongwoo wanted to move to where his friends were sitting, but couldn’t even try because of the homeroom teacher glaring from the front. At this moment, he envied his friends who were sitting together.
Why did he and Jihan both have to have the number 6 in their student numbers? Jeongwoo was dissatisfied with everything.
‘Such bad luck. Why did I have to encounter a crazy person in my third year? After not crossing paths even once until last year, why now during this crucial time?’
“Kwon Jeongwoo. Hey, interrogator.”
Irritated again at being called “interrogator,” Jeongwoo glared at Jihan.
“Now you finally look at me.”
As if this was the reaction he wanted, Jihan grinned senselessly again. Jeongwoo, whose attention had been caught by the rounded upturned corners of Jihan’s mouth, met his eyes again.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“Huh?”
Jihan made a silly sound at Jeongwoo’s clipped voice. His slightly widened eyes and parted lips embodied pure confusion.
“Huh? Huh?” As Jihan made strange sounds, Jeongwoo put more force into his voice this time.
“I said please don’t call me ‘interrogator.'”
He wanted to demand why Jihan called him that when he clearly knew his name, but he refrained. The less he engaged, the shorter their interaction would be.
Jeongwoo’s gaze was unfriendly as he looked at Jihan, who appeared exactly as he had when caught at the school gate, just without the piercings.
He was already annoyed enough having to speak after trying to ignore him, but seeing that slovenly uniform made his insides churn.
From Jeongwoo’s perspective of adhering to school rules, it would be faster to find what wasn’t irritating rather than what was irritating from head to toe.
Simultaneously, Jeongwoo regretted not pointing out all the violated rules at the school gate earlier because he had been too flustered. He blamed himself, feeling he shouldn’t have let it go.
He should have listed them all right there to instill a sense of caution so that Jihan might at least pay attention next time.
He harshly admonished himself for being too lenient, vowing not to do so next time.
He was also rationalizing that today was an unavoidable situation since it was his first time experiencing this. He consoled himself, thinking that if Jihan had been only moderately improper, he would have let it slide.
‘What can you expect from someone who brazenly walks in wearing piercings? You’re expecting from someone you shouldn’t expect from.’
Jeongwoo’s first impression of Jihan was the worst of the worst.
With his lips tightly closed, he glared at Jihan, who seemed to lack any concept of “moderation.”
Looking at Jeongwoo, Jihan couldn’t understand the current situation.
First Jeongwoo had called him by his name just fine, then changed it to “crazy,” and the brief words he’d been uttering had somehow grown longer.
Jihan didn’t mind being called crazy, but the formal speech was a bit off-putting.
For someone whose greeting to classmates was always to speak comfortably because formality created too much distance, the current situation was very uncomfortable.
“You called me Moon Jihan just fine earlier. You even called me crazy a moment ago. So why are you speaking formally now?”
The point of his question was why Jeongwoo was using formal speech, but an important question followed.
Not caring about such details, Jihan stared intently at Jeongwoo as if demanding an answer.
“Please be quiet and don’t talk to me.”
But instead of answering the question, Jeongwoo drew a line.
It was a clear line that seemed to say, “Don’t come near me,” for anyone to see.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
