At the same time, Go Hoon narrowed his eyes sharply.
“Bae Jung-yoon.”
Calling out Jung-yoon’s name in a much firmer tone, Hoon spoke resolutely.
“This isn’t kindness.”
Bae Jung-yoon immediately shut his mouth.
“Just a few minutes ago, I told you I don’t have parents.”
Worried his emotions might flare up, Go Hoon took a breath and continued in a calm voice.
“Honestly, I’m not ashamed of being an orphan. But that doesn’t mean I’m fine with you openly pitying me.”
“……”
“Even if you brought it up with good intentions, what you’re doing right now? To me, it just feels like pity.”
Hearing the words come from his own mouth, he realized another reason for the discomfort that had been nagging at him—he couldn’t shake the feeling that Bae Jung-yoon was looking at him with sympathy.
It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to being treated this way. But for some reason, it rubbed him the wrong way now.
He was past the age of wearing hand-me-downs or using secondhand things from others. He was more than capable of handling things on his own now, even if money was tight. That didn’t mean he was in such a bad spot that he had to beg.
Besides, he was no longer Jung-yoon’s pet cat. The days when it made sense for Bae Jung-yoon to take care of him were over. That was why Jung-yoon’s casual willingness to hand over an expensive item didn’t sit well with him.
Whether as a cat or a human, why did he always have to rely on Bae Jung-yoon? A subtle sense of rebellion stirred inside him.
Go Hoon, who had been silently watching Jung-yoon drive, turned to face forward and crossed his arms.
“I’ll handle the laptop myself.”
He rejected the offer firmly, but still got no response from the other side. The car rolled to a stop at a red light in the thick silence.
Hoon, who had been stubbornly staring straight ahead, glanced sideways.
Jet-black eyes had already turned toward him, watching intently. The mismatched pair—each eye giving off a different vibe—remained fixed on Go Hoon without a single twitch.
‘Did I say that too harshly?’ The thought came belatedly.
In a situation where he didn’t even know what Bae Jung-yoon’s intentions were, the words had come out sounding more aggressive than he intended.
Trying to lighten the stiff atmosphere, Go Hoon spoke again.
“Well… if it’s not free, and you’re offering it cheap, then maybe I’ll think about it.”
If he could buy it for a low price, then it’d be a transaction. That made it okay.
At those words, Bae Jung-yoon, who had been silently watching him, lifted the corners of his lips.
“You’re seriously funny, Hoon.”
“…What?”
Go Hoon instinctively furrowed his brow. Funny? What part of him was funny? He hadn’t cracked a joke or said anything amusing.
It was just one simple sentence, but it felt disturbingly chilling, as if it carried layers of hidden meaning. And then there were those deep black eyes—brimming with curiosity—as they stared him down.
“Yeah. From your perspective, what I said might’ve been uncomfortable. I was rude this time. Sorry.”
Bae Jung-yoon didn’t answer Hoon’s question but responded with something else.
Offering an easy, casual apology, he gave a crooked smile and then started driving again as the light turned green.
‘Wait, what the hell? What was so funny? Where exactly was the joke? Wanna let me in on it too?’
Go Hoon shot him a heated look, more intense than usual, but Bae Jung-yoon didn’t budge.
Still, he couldn’t just pester someone who was driving. What if he caused a distraction and they got in an accident?
And even if he did nag him about it, it wasn’t like Bae Jung-yoon would give him a proper answer anyway.
With a dissatisfied expression, Hoon kept his mouth shut and looked out the window.
Watching the scenery blur past, his mind naturally drifted back to the laptop. His thoughts became increasingly tangled.
Before long, the car rolled into the university’s outdoor parking lot and came to a stop.
As soon as it did, Go Hoon unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to Bae Jung-yoon.
“Thanks for today.”
They’d had a bit of a spat—or at least something close to one—but gratitude was still gratitude.
“…Get home safe.”
Feeling too awkward to continue talking, he grabbed the laptop and reached for the door when Bae Jung-yoon grabbed his arm.
He turned around and found Jung-yoon leaning in toward him.
Their faces were suddenly close, and as memories of their earlier eye contact flickered back, Go Hoon reflexively pulled away.
Not that it helped much in the cramped car.
Bae Jung-yoon calmly looked at him, his expression relaxed as he softly curved his lips upward.
“So, when are you gonna buy me dinner?”
Dinner? What dinner?
Go Hoon gave him a confused look, and Jung-yoon clarified.
“Next time, you said it’d be your treat.”
“…Ah.”
He was talking about the time they’d eaten together at the soondae soup place.
“Next time, you can treat me, yeah?”
It was the conversation they had right after leaving the restaurant. So he remembered that.
Go Hoon had been feeling slightly uneasy about relying on Bae Jung-yoon again, especially after flatly rejecting his generosity. So this seemed like a good chance to relieve some of that guilt.
After a brief moment of thought, Go Hoon met Jung-yoon’s gaze.
“You free tonight?”
Strike while the iron’s hot.
***
After finishing his two-hour class, Hoon packed up and exited the lecture room. He stopped by his locker on the first floor of the Business Building, picked up the now burdensome laptop bag, and headed briskly toward the lounge.
“Damn, it’s my first time seeing him this close. He’s seriously good-looking.”
“Right? With that face, why isn’t he a celebrity or something?”
As he passed by a group of chattering students, their murmurs pricked his ears. It was obvious who they were talking about.
As expected, when he reached the lounge, there stood Bae Jung-yoon.
He was staring intently at his phone with a serious expression. Hoon quietly observed him.
The ever-present gentle smile was gone from his face, and only now did Hoon realize how cold his features could look.
Almost as if sensing the gaze, Bae Jung-yoon lifted his head. Upon spotting him, he gave a wide smile. Life returned to his expression in an instant.
“Hoon-ah.”
Only after hearing his name did Go Hoon slowly approach him.
“I was just about to call. Thought you might be running late—timing’s perfect.”
So that’s what he’d been so focused on. Guess he’d been checking when would be the right time to call.
“Had to stop by my locker, took a bit.”
He lifted the laptop bag in his hand as a show-and-tell, and Jung-yoon let out an understanding “Ah.”
“See? Should’ve just left it with me.”
“Didn’t wanna bother you with it.”
“You could’ve just left it in the car.”
True, but Hoon had felt awkward about that.
If he said anything more, the discussion might spiral into a full-on back-and-forth again, so he quickly switched topics.
“Let’s just go eat. I’m starving.”
He pressed a palm to his empty stomach and started walking, and Bae Jung-yoon quietly fell into step beside him.
Today, they had decided to grab an early dinner together. Though, calling it “dinner” was a bit of a stretch—it was only 4:30.
When Go Hoon asked if he was free that evening, he’d secretly hoped Jung-yoon would say he had plans. It had been a spur-of-the-moment offer, and as far as Hoon knew, Jung-yoon didn’t have classes that afternoon.
Which meant, if they were going to eat together, he’d either have to wait at school until Hoon’s class was over or go home and come back.
So Hoon thought he might try to politely turn it down.
But contrary to expectations, Jung-yoon readily admitted he had no plans—and didn’t seem busy at all. He even said he’d just wait in the car until Hoon’s class was over.
Tonight’s dinner spot was a tonkatsu place near Daehak-ro.
It had been a carefully chosen location. The tonkatsu meal cost even more than the gukbap Jung-yoon had treated him to before. The cheapest combo meal went for a whopping 12,000 won.
At first, Hoon had considered picking a place in the same price range, but it didn’t feel right—this was meant as a thank-you. Even to himself, that felt too cheap.
After all, the guy had practically been his chauffeur all day. Treating him to a 6,000-won meal would’ve just been petty.
“Pick whatever you want.”
Standing in front of the kiosk, Hoon offered the choice to Jung-yoon. After scanning the menu carefully, he selected the pork tenderloin cutlet set. Hoon followed by choosing the cheese cutlet set, and they completed the order.
They sat by the window. It was an odd hour, so the restaurant wasn’t crowded.
While Go Hoon poured water into a cup, Bae Jung-yoon pulled out spoons and chopsticks from the utensil bin and set the table.
Now that he thought about it, he’d ended up eating both lunch and dinner with Jung-yoon today.
As that idle thought crossed his mind, he turned to look out the window. At that moment, his phone buzzed, and Jung-yoon glanced down at his own screen before asking a sudden question.
“Do you ever contact Ki-cheol sunbae directly?”
Hoon turned to him with a puzzled look.
All team project matters were being handled through the group chat. The materials researched by Kim Yeo-jin and Park Ki-cheol were all shared there. That had been Jung-yoon’s idea.
He was playing the role of team leader pretty effectively. He reviewed everything shared, pointed out anything lacking, and requested edits when needed. Hoon didn’t have any complaints.
Even Park Ki-cheol, as annoying as he could be, was surprisingly compliant with Jung-yoon’s directions.
Hoon had guessed that Jung-yoon must’ve given Ki-cheol some kind of private warning when he skipped the team meeting. Otherwise, the infamous group project menace wouldn’t be cooperating as much as he was.
Watching that unfold, Hoon had to admit Jung-yoon was good with people.
Handling someone like Ki-cheol wasn’t easy—it took patience and charisma. Otherwise, you’d just end up getting ignored, exploited, or picked on.
So in the end, thanks to Jung-yoon serving as the bridge, there was never any need for Hoon to contact Park Ki-cheol separately. Nor did he want to.
“No. I didn’t.”
He answered coolly, but the questions kept coming.
“What about Yeo-jin?”
Now he was asking about Kim Yeo-jin.
