A Terrible Senior - Chapter 11

February 6, 2023

Even amidst the burst of fireworks, Do-han heard her voice clearly.

“I like you.”

The clear sound of her confession echoed in his ears, making time come to a halt.

Though he’d been on the receiving end of countless confessions from women, this one felt unfamiliar, as though he was hearing it for the very first time. It felt like an arrow piercing his chest, transforming his heart into something soft and vulnerable. Pain and warmth washed over him at the same time.

It was a feeling he had never experienced before, foreign and unsettling. Had he let his guard down somehow? Had she noticed his feelings leaning toward her? Is that why she’d come to like him?

Do-han wondered if he had inadvertently given her false hope and silently chastised himself for it. One thing was clear: he could not accept this girl’s affection. Her innocence was something he did not deserve. It was a purity he dared not tarnish.

Being with her was comfortable and brought him joy, but he could not drag her into his tumultuous world for the sake of fleeting happiness. The conclusion was simple.

Do-han met Sa-rang’s earnest gaze and spoke slowly.

“I like someone else. Someone like Jung Yoon-jae. You two would suit each other.”

He could only imagine the struggle it took for her to confess, making his rejection feel almost like a sin. Still, there was no need for kindness in refusal. If he couldn’t accept her feelings, it was better to be the villain in her story.

Sa-rang had anticipated his rejection, but not like this.

Mentioning Yoon-jae felt cowardly.

“Just tell me you don’t like me.”

“I don’t dislike you. But I don’t like you either.”

“I heard you accept everyone’s confessions. Was that a lie?”

“It’s true.”

“Then why not mine…?”

“I don’t date freshmen.”

“Why?”

“You’re too soft-hearted. If we dated, you’d only end up hurt. There’s a reason they call me ‘cold-hearted.’ Besides, I might be your first boyfriend.”

“Would that bother you?”

“It’s a burden. Being the first boyfriend, the first relationship, the first kiss—it’s too much pressure when it’s someone’s first.”

Sa-rang’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She hadn’t wanted to appear naïve, but to him, she was just a child. She took a breath and met his eyes again.

“Then, if I date someone else and come back as a sophomore… will you accept my confession then?”

Her compromise rendered Do-han speechless. He hadn’t expected her to be so bold, so resilient. He’d been watching her nervously, wondering if she’d cry or feel shattered. But instead, she stood defiant.

That only made her more precious, more achingly unreachable. Desire surged through him—he wanted to be her first. The first to hold her hand, kiss her, claim her heart. But he pushed it down, stifled the reckless urge with practiced control.

“Still, it won’t be you.”

“Right. It won’t be me.”

His voice trembled, betraying the conflict within, though the surrounding noise masked it. At his final, definitive rejection, Sa-rang smiled faintly.

“I understand.”

With that, she turned her gaze back to the sky. Now that it was over, she felt oddly light, free to watch the fireworks without the weight in her chest.

They’re beautiful, she thought.

So dazzling.

She hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in him. But now, the shimmering display captured her attention.

Do-han, on the other hand, could no longer see the night sky. What shone brightest was the girl standing beside him, etched in his heart, outshining even the fireworks.

Sa-rang spent the entire weekend bedridden.

Whether it was from wearing thin clothes at the amusement park or braving the cold wind, she had caught a severe case of the flu. It had been ages since she felt this ill. She should have gone to the hospital on Saturday, but she assumed rest would suffice. By the next day, her body ached, burning with fever.
Unable to shake off the chills despite wrapping herself in blankets, she finally went to the emergency room with Ji-woo. The diagnosis? Influenza.

They were shocked to learn that catching the flu in April was even possible.

Back home, Sa-rang took the prescribed medication and fell into a restless sleep. She woke up several times, shivering from pain and cold, but managed to sleep more soundly once her fever started to subside.

Ji-woo, who had bought warm porridge, fed her small bites whenever she woke.

“You’re not going back to school until Thursday, you know.”
With a five-day quarantine for flu, she’d be confined to the house. Sa-rang, who had never missed a day of class before, had no choice but to skip several days.

“Yeah, the doctor said attendance would be excused with the medical report.”

“Who knew going on a date with Do-han oppa would end like this?”

“Right?”

Sa-rang only smiled weakly, withholding the part about her confession. She didn’t want Ji-woo to pity her, thinking she was sick from heartbreak. She had expected to be turned down, so she hadn’t been shocked.

It really didn’t hurt.

If anything, she felt relieved, as though a thorn that had been buried deep, pricking at every move, had finally been pulled free. Now, she wouldn’t have to silently suffer because of him.
The flu might’ve made it easy to misinterpret, but her illness had nothing to do with being rejected. That’s what Sa-rang told herself.

“I hope I don’t catch it,” Ji-woo said worriedly.

“Don’t worry about that. Just get better,” Ji-woo reassured her.

“Thanks for taking care of me. I owe you.”

“Don’t be silly. Now, sleep. I’ll turn off the lights.”

Ji-woo felt sympathy for Sa-rang, whose face looked more gaunt overnight. Living together had made it easier to care for her, something Ji-woo was grateful for. The trip to the emergency room had frightened her, making her think of their parents.
University life had been nothing but fun, but now she realized how secure she had been under her parents’ protection. It felt like she was growing up, little by little.

To help Sa-rang rest deeply, Ji-woo turned off the light. She stayed up a while longer, unable to sleep easily, but eventually, she drifted off. The next morning, she woke early and stepped outside, careful not to wake Sa-rang.

Today, she planned to bring something more substantial than porridge, so she set off to buy soybean sprout soup. Hoping to be back before Sa-rang stirred, Ji-woo hurried down the stairs but stopped abruptly when she saw Do-han standing outside the apartment building.

“Hello,” she greeted him politely. Do-han’s eyes shifted from her to the door she had just come through. In that instant, Ji-woo realized it was Monday. Do-han must be there, waiting for Sa-rang so they could head to class together.

“Sa-rang can’t go to school for a while,” she said.

“Why not?” His voice was taut, eyes narrowing slightly.

“She’s sick.”

Do-han’s eyes widened, his expression shifting subtly. Every Monday morning, Sa-rang’s call was as predictable as the sunrise, her bright voice a constant in his day. This morning, silence had filled the space where her call should have been, and he had chalked it up to her wounded pride. Now, knowing the truth, a shadow of guilt fell over him.

The thought of beginning his day without her had felt strangely hollow, as if a storm cloud had cast a dark shadow over him. Unable to brush off the feeling, he had found himself at her door, seeking even the faintest reassurance. But he hadn’t expected this.

He felt foolish now, believing her cheerful goodbye from their last meeting was genuine. Of course she was hurt—only an idiot would have thought otherwise. The fact that she was ill now felt like it was on him.

“How bad is it?” he asked, his voice strained.

“She’s got the flu. Doctor’s orders are that she stays home until Thursday.”

Regret pooled in his chest. He should have insisted on her going home sooner that night. The memory of her thin jacket under the cool night sky at the amusement park gnawed at him.

“Alright. I’ll be going then,” Ji-woo said, walking away. Do-han exhaled, long and heavy, lifting his gaze to the window of Sa-rang’s apartment on the second floor.

For a moment, he nearly bolted up the stairs. His hand hovered over his phone, but with a frustrated sigh, he dropped it to his side.

“What am I doing?” he muttered, the self-reproach sharp in his voice.

It was absurd. He had crushed her confession with ruthless honesty—now, what was this? Playing the concerned senior? He was disgusted with himself. With a bitter scoff, Do-han turned and walked away.

Sa-rang stepped into the lecture hall after a week away, her eyes sparkling. The isolation of the past week had been more suffocating than the flu itself. Even the droning voice of her professor sounded sweet and clear, like birdsong. Everything around her seemed sharper, livelier.

When her class ended, she walked outside, enjoying the cool air. As she made her way to her next lecture in the engineering building, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Sa-rang!”

Turning around, she saw Yoon-jae jogging toward her. He reached her side and stopped, catching his breath as he scanned her face with concern.

“Are you okay now?”

Ever since she missed their Understanding Chinese Characters class due to the flu, Yoon-jae had been worried. It showed in the tightness of his expression.

“Yes, I’m alright. I can go to class again starting today.”

Seeing Yoon-jae lifted her spirits. The past week had felt longer than it should have, despite having Ji-woo at home to keep her company. Without her, those five days would have been unbearably quiet.

Yoon-jae looked her over with a worried frown, then shrugged off his department jacket.

“You still look a bit pale. Here, put this on. It’s chilly in the shade.”

“No, I’m fine,” Sa-rang protested, but he ignored her, draping the jacket over her shoulders. She gave in, touched by the gesture.

“Thanks, but isn’t this too warm for April?” she asked, the large jacket feeling like a father’s coat—heavy, thick, and slightly comical on her frame.

“It is.”

“Then why wear it?”

“Because it looks cool.”

His straightforward answer made her laugh, and Yoon-jae chuckled along before explaining further.

“When I was in middle school, I was training for a swimming competition. One day, a college student came to visit our coach—it was his birthday, and the guy brought him a gift and snacks for the team. He looked so cool in his department jacket. I remember seeing it for the first time and thinking it was like an athlete’s badge of honor. I swore I’d train hard and get into college just so I could wear one.”

Sa-rang listened, a tinge of sadness mixed with admiration. He’d made it into the sports department, worn the jacket as he’d dreamed, but had to quit swimming because of an injury.

“It must have been hard to quit swimming,” she said softly.
“I cried a lot when I was younger,” he admitted, shifting the somber mood with a bright smile.

“But giving it up helped me realize things about myself I never knew.”

“Like what?”

“I’m actually smart.”

“What?”

“Otherwise, how else would I have gotten into this school?”
Sa-rang felt admiration stir in her. Yoon-jae’s ability to talk so lightly about something that must have been painful moved her. She wondered if he ever looked at the jacket and felt the sting of a lost dream, but it seemed he was stronger than she had realized. She respected him even more, and it lifted her spirits.

Compared to what he’d been through, a simple rejection was nothing. Feeling down over it seemed almost silly now. Maybe, like Yoon-jae, she could discover something about herself through this.

“You really are amazing, Jung Yoon-jae. You’re impressive,” she said, sincerity in her voice.

“Me?” he asked, eyes lighting up in surprise.

“No, I meant the jacket.”

“What?”

Yoon-jae’s face fell, mock annoyance twisting his features, making her laugh. But then her smile faltered when she spotted Do-han approaching from down the path.