Since that day, he found himself looking into the mirror more often. Lim Haeyul constantly checked his appearance. Glancing at his reflection in passing shop windows was nothing compared to this. Now, he even carried a mirror in his bag.
Of course, no matter how many times he looked, his face remained as plain as ever. Even though he knew Cha Jae-woo had no reason to lie, it still felt like he had been deceived somehow.
It was as if someone had poured poison over the flower field in his mind; in just a few days, all the blossoms had withered. Haeyul kept staring into the mirror, desperately trying to convince himself that Cha Jae-woo’s words had been false.
It was an utterly pointless thing to do. Worse yet, it must have looked strange to those around him.
“Um, Haeyul-oppa, are you… maybe dating someone these days?”
“Huh?”
“No, it’s just… you seem like you are.”
It was only when a freshman, someone he had barely ever spoken to, approached him that he realized he had been using his phone as a mirror again.
A face that didn’t change no matter how much he looked—he could almost hear someone asking what the hell he was staring at so intently. Though, of course, the freshman said nothing of the sort.
“Haha, no. I just thought I had something on my face.”
He awkwardly waved his hand and shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“Really? Hmm… I don’t see anything.”
“Oh, thanks.”
The kind freshman stared at his face for a moment and then smiled. Haeyul nodded back with a polite smile.
‘By the way… what was her name again?’
He racked his fuzzy memory but couldn’t recall it. Since Kim Geon-ung was close with most of the department members, Haeyul had only exchanged brief greetings with many of them. Naturally, he hadn’t bothered to memorize their names.
He didn’t have a good memory to begin with, and since he mostly hung out with the rowdier crowd, he never felt the need to pay attention to anyone else.
“Um, I’m Lee Eun-ah. Just in case… you didn’t remember.”
Fortunately, before the silence stretched too long, she introduced herself. At the same time, he remembered—she had greeted him once before, mentioning her name. Kim Geon-ung had been next to her at the time, blushing furiously, and Haeyul had thought, ‘Wow, her standards must be really low.’
“Right. I remember now.”
“Really?”
“Well… I kind of forgot for a second.”
He could’ve just said yes, but his damn honest mouth blurted out the truth. The air between them turned a little awkward, and he laughed clumsily. Lee Eun-ah smiled in much the same way.
“Were you taking this class?”
“Yes. I’ve always been sitting here.”
“Ah, I see.”
The atmosphere grew subtly strange again.
Understandably so—it was the seat right in front of him. Only now did the memories come flooding back: every time, he had seen her chatting away with Kim Geon-ung, who always plopped down next to him. His memory sure worked selectively fast sometimes.
“Sorry. I have a pretty bad memory.”
“No, it’s fine! Honestly, we’ve never really talked one-on-one before. It makes sense you wouldn’t remember. Plus, I’m sure there are tons of people like me.”
“Uh… yeah, that’s true.”
Even though he was a second-year, having already served in the military meant most of the female students were younger than him. And with so many freshmen entering their department every year, there were countless faces he only greeted in passing.
Frankly, the fact that Kim Geon-ung remembered everyone’s names and faces was almost impressive. Haeyul appreciated Lee Eun-ah’s understanding—especially since Kim Geon-ung’s constant nagging about memorizing everyone’s names had always gotten on his nerves.
“But… it looks like Geon-ung-oppa is running late today.”
“Yeah. Not like it’s the first time.”
“Oh, I think he mentioned yesterday he was going out drinking.”
“I see.”
Lim Haeyul let out a hollow laugh. Yesterday, he had been so busy Guiding that he had collapsed into bed the moment he got home, yet Kim Geon-ung had been off drinking without a care. Hearing about it secondhand left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Of course, it wasn’t as if Geon-ung had any obligation to tell him. And even if he had, Haeyul wouldn’t have joined anyway.
He wasn’t dissatisfied with his life. It was just that lately, seeing Cha Jae-woo’s face had been making him uncomfortable, which left him in a sour mood.
Just as Cha Jae-woo had said, Guide Association President Jang hadn’t bothered showing up, citing reasonable grounds that Cha Jae-woo’s excuses were flimsy. Haeyul had thought at the time, Of course it’s ridiculous, feeling like even Jang himself couldn’t believe the nonsense he was spouting.
And that wasn’t all.
‘No wonder. I thought it was too good to be true.’
Even Kim Sol, who had called him just a day after the incident, had reacted the same way.
Somehow, what Cha Jae-woo had said had spread far and wide, and even though Haeyul had never mentioned it, Kim Sol already knew—and appeared to believe it without question.
Haeyul hadn’t been able to tell Kim Sol the truth, so he just laughed it off. Still, it felt oddly strange that Kim Sol had so easily accepted it.
That was why he kept looking into mirrors. Hoping that eventually, he, too, would come to believe it. Of course, no matter how many times he stared, his face remained unchanged.
“Hey, Eun-ah.”
“Yes?”
“What do you think I look like?”
“…Sorry?”
Truthfully, it should’ve ended with everyone else believing it. There was no need to drag it out or overthink. But human emotions didn’t flow so neatly.
What he wanted to hear wasn’t that Cha Jae-woo had been right, but rather that everyone had just been fooled by sheer luck. Otherwise, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to ignore the hope that kept bubbling up inside him. If he allowed himself to believe that Cha Jae-woo genuinely saw him that way, he was afraid his mind would turn back into a blooming garden again.
And he couldn’t let that happen. A man had to have some self-respect.
It was ridiculous enough that he had already decided his feelings were fake, yet still secretly wished that Cha Jae-woo might feel something for him. His heart was racing ahead of him, making him desperately curious about how he appeared in Cha Jae-woo’s eyes. Wishing—if only faintly—to be seen favorably.
“Ah, um…”
“Never mind. It’s okay.”
Haeyul quickly waved his hand at Lee Eun-ah. Even if he asked, there was no way she would answer honestly—especially since they weren’t even close.
“You’re… handsome, though?”
Hearing her hesitant compliment, Haeyul smiled, realizing he had essentially pressured her into giving the answer he wanted.
“It’s fine. I know I’m not handsome. I was just asking.”
“No, I really think so.”
“Thanks. It’s the first time I’ve heard anyone say that, so it feels nice.”
And it was true—no one had ever said anything like that to him before.
“Sorry.”
He tried to reason it away, telling himself that his looks were just so average that no one had ever bothered to comment. But Lee Eun-ah unnecessarily apologized, as if confirming his suspicions.
‘Should’ve just stopped at the compliment.’
While a bit disappointed, he understood, and he nodded, intending to leave it at that.
“Actually, oppa, how should I say this… you really have a beautiful face.”
“…Huh?”
“Ah, Geon-ung oppa told me not to say you’re pretty because you hate it.”
“Eh?”
“We talk about it a lot among our classmates, you know. About how oppa is so pretty that standing next to you makes us feel inferior.”
‘What the hell is she talking about?’
“Your features are really delicate, and your face is small, and your skin’s super nice and fair. Honestly, I’ve been curious about what skincare products you use…”
“…”
“No, wait—that’s not what I meant to say. Sorry! I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but you asked about your looks, so I just started rambling…”
“…”
“But I do think you’re handsome, too! You’re pretty, but you also have this kind of handsome charm, yes…”
Flustered and blushing bright red, Lee Eun-ah finally trailed off. She had already said everything she could possibly say, but Haeyul was left wondering if she was really talking about him. He had never once heard—or even imagined—such words directed at himself.
“Eun-ah, hey! What’s Tto-yul done now?”
At that moment, Kim Geon-ung strode into the lecture hall, speaking up casually. Seeing Eun-ah flailing helplessly as she looked between him and Haeyul must’ve seemed odd to him. Meanwhile, Haeyul was too lost in his own thoughts, replaying Eun-ah’s words over and over.
“Huh? Oh, no! Nothing happened!”
“Then why’s your face so red?”
“It’s just… I think I messed up. Haeyul-oppa, I’m really sorry.”
“…Huh? Ah, no, no. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”
It was a beat late, but Lim Haeyul waved off Lee Eun-ah’s apology.
He couldn’t understand why she kept apologizing. Forget the unheard-of compliments—why was she acting so apologetic?
‘Oh, right. Didn’t Kim Geon-ung say I didn’t like being called pretty?’
Naturally, his gaze shifted toward Kim Geon-ung, who was glancing back and forth between him and Eun-ah as if demanding an explanation.
“Kim Geon-ung.”
“What?”
“I—”
He was about to flat-out ask if he had ever said he hated being called pretty, but his mouth snapped shut. Eun-ah’s face was still flushed bright red, and if he mentioned it was her who said so, it felt like it would only make things worse.
“…Never mind.”
“Why’d you stop mid-sentence?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“What do you mean, later? What were you two talking about, huh?”
Despite Haeyul trying to be considerate, Kim Geon-ung’s obliviousness kicked in full force as he pressed for answers. Clicking his tongue, Haeyul shook his head in exasperation. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to say this much.
“I asked what I look like, objectively speaking.”
“…What kind of question is that?”
“What do you think?”
He repeated the same question he had asked Eun-ah, and sure enough, Geon-ung’s face immediately twisted in displeasure. Just as Haeyul had expected.
“Handsome, right?”
“…Tto-yul. Did you hit your head?”
“So I’m just plain-looking?”
Geon-ung clamped his mouth shut. Haeyul could feel Eun-ah glancing nervously between them.
‘Do we look like we’re fighting?’
That wasn’t it at all, Haeyul thought, scratching his chin.
Finally, Kim Geon-ung spoke.
“Objectively? Or subjectively?”
Rather than answering, he threw back a question. Finding that ridiculous, Haeyul swept his gaze up and down his friend. Geon-ung just shrugged nonchalantly.
“Come on, man. If I asked you whether I’m handsome, what would you say?”
“I’d say you look like shit.”
“See? That’s pure subjectivity, right, Eun-ah?”
“Uh? …Y-yes, yes.”
Poor Eun-ah, getting dragged into their weird banter, nodded hurriedly.
Only then did Haeyul understand Geon-ung’s earlier question. Fair enough—objectively speaking, Geon-ung was decently good-looking. Nodding slightly, Haeyul said,
“Objectively. Super objectively. Like, from the perspective of a total stranger.”
“Pretty decent.”
Geon-ung answered without hesitation, as if he had been waiting for the chance.
“…Ugh.”
The wave of nausea that hit Haeyul was, of course, unintentional.
“You told me to answer, and now you’re acting like you’re about to puke? What the hell, man.”
Geon-ung scowled, baffled. Meanwhile, Haeyul shuddered, goosebumps rising on his arms.
‘Still, if even Geon-ung thinks that… why have I never heard it before? Maybe no one ever said anything because they figured I wouldn’t take it as a compliment? Well… they’re probably right.’
If Cha Jae-woo hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t have been this flustered. If it had been Geon-ung calling him pretty, he might’ve decked him on the spot.
‘Is that why Geon-ung never said it to me? But wait, did I ever seriously tell him not to?’
“Hey. Seriously though. Ugh. Whatever. Did I ever tell you not to say stuff like that to me?”
His memory was so fuzzy that he blurted the question without worrying about putting Eun-ah on the spot. Luckily, Geon-ung didn’t seem interested in tracing the source of the conversation.
“Yeah, back in the day.”
A short, curt answer. But when exactly?
“When?”
“You don’t remember?”
“If I remembered, would I be asking?”
“Why wouldn’t you—nah, forget it. What do I expect from you anyway?”
“What’s with that attitude?”
Geon-ung sighed and shook his head, like it wasn’t even worth explaining. Haeyul stared at him in disbelief. Now he was really curious—he felt like shaking Geon-ung until he coughed up an answer.
“…”
But the petty argument was cut short. The entire building they were in suddenly shook hard enough to be noticeable, and a heavy silence fell over the startled students.
“…What the hell? Is that… an earthquake?”
Starting with Kim Geon-ung, panicked voices echoed from all around. People were flustered, unsure how to react to a situation they were experiencing for the first time.
But then, everyone instinctively hunched down again. Another tremor, sharper and heavier than before, reverberated chillingly beneath their feet.
“It must be an earthquake.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
If it really was an earthquake, staying inside the building was dangerous. Their bodies, frozen stiff by the rare, terrifying force of nature, finally kicked into motion.
At the same time, many people, having regained their senses, started sprinting toward the exits. Meanwhile, the intervals between the tremors were growing shorter and shorter.
“Hyun-soo! Snap out of it!”
“The building’s shaking! Get up! Huh? We have to go! We have to get out!”
“Jung Hyun-soo! Hyun-soo!”
“Let’s try to carry him—hurry! He’s not going to wake up!”
“Hyun-soo…!”
Terror gripped the crowd like a vice. Haeyul, pushing forward with Lee Eun-ah, Kim Geon-ung, and the others to get out of the lecture hall, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.
His gaze was pulled to the far end of the lecture hall—where a girl, collapsed and unmoving, lay surrounded by her panicked friends stomping in place, unsure what to do. She didn’t even flinch, as if she were in pain or had lost consciousness.
Haeyul found himself unable to take another step.
Moments later, the entire seven-story building lurched violently.
“Lim Haeyul! What the hell are you doing! Run!”
Kim Geon-ung’s voice rang out, sharp and urgent.
“…Wait. Just wait a second.”
But Haeyul couldn’t leave. As if drawn by an invisible force, his steps turned—not toward the exit, but toward the unconscious girl.
