The guy towering over him glared like he wanted to kill someone, and the emotion behind his stare was nothing short of explosive. Park Woo-jun looked at Lee Han-seo, who was practically radiating resentment, and desperately wanted to come up with something—anything—to say. But the situation had come so out of nowhere that even with ten mouths, he couldn’t say a single word.
More accurately, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t say anything. He couldn’t.
If you lined up everyone Park Woo-jun had ever dated, it might not be long enough to rival a rollercoaster queue, but it would definitely wrap around the merry-go-round at least once.
“Ah. So I was your first love. But you did make a ‘heart’ with Ah-young?”
Is this a joke? Are you actually kidding me right now? Lee Han-seo muttered bitterly. Park Woo-jun just kept apologizing, bowing his head like a man about to be executed, repeating that it was all in the past, and that Han-seo was the only one who mattered now.
What had started as a joke—calling him “sweet potato”—turned out to be all too real. Just how frustrating could one person be? Ugh, so annoying! Lee Han-seo shouted and dropped to the floor, clawing at his own hair in frustration.
“I—I’m sorry, Han-seo… I really am.”
He hadn’t lied. Park Woo-jun’s first love really was Han-seo. It just hadn’t been his first relationship.
Even now, Woo-jun was hopelessly dense. But before Han-seo picked him up off the emotional curb, he’d been the absolute worst—closer to a raw, tasteless sweet potato no one could possibly want.
He was tall and handsome, which made his extreme introversion and lack of social skills easier to overlook. There was always someone asking him out, but because he was too timid and couldn’t say no, he ended up dating everyone who confessed.
“Park Woo-jun. You’re hot. Want to go out with me?”
“Woo-jun, I’ve liked you for a long time…”
“You remember me, right? We’re in the same club. Let’s date. It’s fate.”
“Sunbae, it was love at first sight. Please go out with me.”
Time and time again, Woo-jun panicked, hesitated, and failed to say no—accidentally becoming someone’s boyfriend before he even realized it.
This kind of thing happened three or four times a week like clockwork. And most of the people he dated didn’t even know his phone number by the time they broke up.
People were drawn to his face, confessed on a whim, then vanished just as fast with comments like: “I knew he was quiet, but not that quiet,” “Yeah, he’s good-looking, but wow, what a bore,” or “That was a mistake. Shouldn’t have asked him out.”
Rumors that he’d been dumped by someone he didn’t even realize he was dating were practically routine. He’d be eating lunch when someone would casually say, “Hey, you and that girl from Class 3 broke up, huh?” and little Woo-jun would just nod and go, Oh… I guess we broke up.
Seo Ah-young was probably just another name on that long list.
He’d always known that the more people he accidentally dated, the more pathetic he looked. But it never really bothered him. He was used to being overlooked, unloved.
That’s why he never once regretted the past—not even once—especially now that he had something so overwhelmingly good in the present.
“You… you absolute… IDIOT…!”
“Han-seo!”
Lee Han-seo was crying.
“Why are you crying? Please don’t cry, okay? I was wrong. It’s all my fault, Han-seo. I messed up.”
Just three stupid syllables—Seo. Ah. Young.—were enough to break him. Humiliated, furious, Han-seo sat down right there and cried like a heartbroken kid.
And if those messy, ugly tears were on Han-seo’s face, then to Park Woo-jun, it felt like the entire world had come crashing down.
“Shit… Who even is Seo Ah-young, huh? Is she pretty? Is that why you dated her? This is so fucking annoying. I hate this. I hate it.”
If Han-seo was already breaking down over just one person, what would he do if he found out there were basically a truckload more?
Woo-jun quickly shoved that terrifying thought out of his head. Instead, he dropped to the ground and pulled Han-seo—still fuming, clutching his head, breathing hard—into his arms.
Han-seo clenched his fists and started pounding on Woo-jun’s back and shoulders.
He was clearly trying to hurt him, but unfortunately, it didn’t work. Obviously. Park Woo-jun was an Esper. Han-seo was a Guide. And every time those fluffy little fists hit his back, they released soft waves of Guiding energy. Even blind rage ended up being a blessing for Woo-jun.
He grew more frantic, trying to scrape together whatever scraps of memory he could. Han-seo would want details—everything from A to Z. So he had to remember.
Seo Ah-young… Seo Ah-young… Not a super common name. Amusement park… high school… amusement park… high school…
“Ah!”
He remembered. She’d been on the student disciplinary committee with him. Each class had to appoint someone, but most students avoided the role because it didn’t help with college apps and just ate up their study time. If you were in the student council, at least it showed up on your record. But this? Who cared about being on some disciplinary committee? It was laughable—something you’d expect from middle school.
The students didn’t give a damn, but for homeroom teachers, it was a fire on their doorstep. While other teachers scrambled to convince even one student to take the job, Woo-jun’s teacher stood out for how chill he was.
“Woo-jun can do it for our class.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll do it? Thanks. You have no idea how much I rely on you.”
“Wait, teacher, that’s not what I meant—”
“Hm? Did you want to say something?”
“……”
“Woo-jun?”
“…I’ll… do my best…”
“Great, thanks!”
And just like that—no different from how he’d become someone’s boyfriend before—Park Woo-jun found himself on the student disciplinary committee. Of all things, their school had recently been named a “Model Institution for Violence Prevention,” which meant they got flooded with budget funds. But instead of planning meaningful programs, the teacher in charge decided it was easier to just take the committee to the amusement park. Repeatedly. For “morale-building.”
That scribble on the wall—yeah, it was definitely from Seo Ah-young. The memory was finally coming back. He hadn’t even remembered her face, but somehow, deep down, he’d known the name on the wall was tied to him. It must’ve been buried in his subconscious all this time.
Woo-jun threw himself at Han-seo’s feet, apologizing profusely. He rambled on and on, explaining how they were just on the same committee, how he couldn’t say no when she confessed, how it wasn’t a real relationship. They never even dated. Within a week, she met some guy at cram school and dumped him. It was all just a blur, and he never even liked her to begin with.
He gave the full drama arc—introduction, rising action, climax, downfall, and resolution—like he was pitching a tragic high school miniseries.
“You seriously think that helps? Are you for real—”
Are you a complete idiot? Or just a walking doormat? Han-seo looked like he was about to grab him by the collar and shake him senseless—but then just… froze.
“I—I’m sorry, Han-seo. I know I’m stupid. I know I’m hopeless. That’s why…”
Yeah. A pushover. That was the only word for it. This idiot was the kind of guy who’d take a slap and grin, ‘Wanna hit the other cheek too? Our Han-seo’s hands are so tiny and cute,’ like it was the most romantic thing in the world.
“……”
“H-Han-seo… please…”
“…Forget it. I’m not even gonna respond to that.”
With an exasperated sigh, Han-seo swatted away Woo-jun—who was on the verge of tears again—and stood up, marching off in a huff. The spot they were in was fairly secluded, but not totally empty, and now that his emotions were settling, he started to feel the weight of the stares around them.
He walked for a while, not bothering to look back—until he realized he wasn’t being followed. Turning around, he saw Park Woo-jun still standing frozen in place, chewing at his thumbnail and muttering to himself like a lost puppy.
Seriously? I thought I broke that habit ages ago… Han-seo bit back a sigh and turned around, stretching out his hand.
“Come on.”
“…!”
Those slumped shoulders perked right up—and damn it all, it was ridiculously cute. People always said it was over once you started finding someone cute. And if that was true, then Lee Han-seo’s life had ended five years ago.
“Get moving. If you don’t come now, I’m leaving you behind!”
“C-Coming! I’m coming right now!”
Even with his face still streaked in tears, Park Woo-jun ran over with a bright smile, timidly reaching out—not for Han-seo’s hand, but for the very edge of his sleeve. With those giant hands of his, he could barely manage even that.
Shit. What the hell. This is unfairly cute… Han-seo smacked himself in the forehead. He must’ve seriously lost his mind. Having this ridiculous sweet potato cling to him day in and day out made it impossible to think straight—but still, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.
His hands kept reaching out. His heart kept chasing. This was why sweet potatoes were timeless classics across all ages and cultures.
