A Terrible Senior - Chapter 12

February 10, 2023

“Hello,” Sa-rang greeted softly.

“Hi,” Do-han replied as she inclined her head first. They found themselves standing at the crossroads where the paths diverged between the engineering and athletic departments. From here, Sa-rang would part ways with Yoon-jae and walk to the engineering building alongside Do-han.

She slipped the jacket off her shoulders and handed it back to Yoon-jae.

“Thanks for this. I’ll see you next week,” she said.

“Take care and rest up over the weekend,” Yoon-jae replied with a smile.

With their goodbyes said, they turned in opposite directions. Walking beside Do-han, Sa-rang felt a tension so thick it suffocated her. She had rehearsed how to act around him for days, telling herself to behave as if everything was normal. But now, with him at her side, she had no idea what to say.
Fortunately, it was Do-han who broke the silence.

“I heard you were sick,” he said, glancing at her.

Sa-rang stole a quick look at him. His face held the guilt of someone carrying a burden.

“It wasn’t because of you, Sunbae,” she said quickly, meaning to ease his mind. There was no need for him to feel guilty.
But he remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“I thought you might feel bad for rejecting me. You know how they say the one who strikes can’t sleep, but the one who’s struck sleeps well?”

“Then I guess that makes me the one who struck, and you really did suffer because of me.”

Caught off guard, Sa-rang pressed her lips together, regretting her words immediately. She should have kept quiet.
“It was just the weather that night. They say the flu is common in April. It wasn’t your fault,” she repeated firmly, hoping to reassure him.

Do-han stared at her intently, as though trying to read her mind.

“Why?” he asked after a pause.

The way he looked at her made her feel exposed, and she glanced away, overwhelmed by the familiar pounding of her heart. This was the time to let go, to give up and move on, but one look from him made it impossible.

“Why do you still call me ‘Sunbae’?” he pressed.

“Huh?”

“You called me oppa, remember?” he said, his tone softer now, almost teasing.

Her cheeks flushed red as she blinked, stunned. When she had confessed, the word “oppa” had come out naturally, closing the distance between them. But now, recalling it made her feel childish. Among seniors, calling someone “oppa” was normal, but with Do-han, it felt different. It felt too close.

She struggled to find a response but was spared when they reached the entrance to the engineering building, where their paths would finally diverge.

“I need to go this way. Goodbye, Sunbae,” she said hurriedly, using the moment to escape. Do-han watched her retreating figure until she disappeared.

Seeing her earlier, laughing with Yoon-jae, had set off a storm of emotions inside him. First, he had felt relieved to see her up and about. Then, a pang of jealousy had surged as she smiled at Yoon-jae. But the sight of another man’s jacket draped over her shoulders made something hot and uncontrollable rise in his chest.

It was ironic. He had told her to like someone else, encouraged it even, but now the reality of it made him feel raw and hollow. He was the one who had said Yoon-jae suited her, yet the sight of them together left him simmering with a rage he couldn’t justify.

For someone who had never allowed himself to truly care for anyone, it was baffling to feel this way. Each time he looked at her, a heat rose inside him that he couldn’t ignore.

He sighed, barely above a whisper. “Turns out I was the one struck after all.”

Somehow, she had found her way into his heart, knocking at a door he had no right to open. Yet he ached to turn the handle.

Ta-hoon and Do-han walked out of the lecture hall together after class.

“Let’s grab dinner. My treat,” Ta-hoon suggested.

“Maybe next time,” Do-han replied, still distracted and irritable after seeing Sa-rang wearing Yoon-jae’s jacket. Eating felt pointless. All he wanted was to lie down and forget.

“Your loss then. I’ll just buy dinner for Sa-rang instead,” Ta-hoon said, making a call to Ji-woo before Do-han interrupted.

“I’ll come too.”

“What?” Ta-hoon blinked, pausing mid-dial. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Wow, change of heart?” Ta-hoon teased, raising an eyebrow. He could never predict Do-han’s moods.

“Let’s go to that new place near campus. I heard they have great pasta.”

“Not there. Pick somewhere else,” Do-han said flatly.

“Why not? The place has a nice atmosphere.”

“Save it for when you go with Ji-woo.”

“What about that BBQ place next door?”

“Too noisy.”

“What do you want then?” Ta-hoon asked, growing suspicious of his friend’s odd pickiness.

“Galbitang,” Do-han answered simply.

“Galbitang? Why galbitang?”

“No reason.”

The truth was, he wanted Sa-rang to have something nourishing after being sick. Her pale face lingered in his mind, and feeding her something hearty felt like the least he could do. But now, treating her even as a senior felt strange. He couldn’t show too much care.

“Actually, you’re right,” Ta-hoon said, giving a thoughtful nod. “Galbitang sounds better for someone recovering. Pasta or BBQ wouldn’t suit Sa-rang right now.”

Ta-hoon dialed Ji-woo to confirm, and Do-han felt a sense of relief. At least this way, he could do something small for her without overstepping.

“Sa-rang, eat up,” Ta-hoon said as the server placed four steaming bowls of galbitang on their table.

“Thank you. I will,” Sa-rang replied, her eyes widening as she took a sip of the hot broth. The rich, hearty taste made her smile.

When Ta-hoon had invited her and Ji-woo out, she hadn’t expected this. The restaurant had a reputation for its galbitang, and despite the surprise, the warm soup already made her feel more energetic.

Ji-woo reached across the table, placing a piece of tender meat from her own bowl into Sa-rang’s.

“Eat more. You need to get your strength back.”

“This is plenty already.”

“Just eat it. You’ve lost weight since you got sick.”

She nodded, understanding that rest and a lack of appetite had taken a toll. She mixed her rice into the broth and ate, feeling a bit better with each bite. Watching her eat, Do-han finally picked up his spoon, satisfaction subtly easing his expression.
The meal was quiet until Ta-hoon looked up from his bowl and asked, “Sa-rang, want to go on a blind date?”

Sa-rang paused, mid-blow over her soup, her eyes darting instinctively to Do-han.

“A blind date?” she repeated.

“Yeah, didn’t you say you came to college to meet someone special?” Ta-hoon grinned.

Ji-woo stepped in, seeing her friend’s hesitation. “Who’s the date with?”

“A sophomore in the architecture department. He’s a great guy,” Ta-hoon replied, scrolling through his phone before showing them a photo.

Ji-woo’s eyes lit up as she leaned in to see. “Wow, he’s handsome. Looks nice too.”

“He is. Very good-natured. Right, Do-han?” Ta-hoon turned, seeking his confirmation. Reluctantly, Do-han nodded, keeping his face impassive despite the twist in his gut. Of course, Ta-hoon would choose the most promising candidate.

Ji-woo showed Sa-rang the photo, nudging her playfully. “Well? What do you think? It’s time to move on and meet someone.”

Sa-rang glanced at the image briefly before returning to her soup. “He looks nice.”

The casual response made Do-han tense, a cold sensation washing over him. His expression hardened as Ta-hoon beamed, satisfied.
But Sa-rang spoke again, softly but firmly. “But I already like someone.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

A heavy silence fell over the table.

Ta-hoon blinked in surprise at Sa-rang’s admission, Ji-woo’s eyes widened in shock as she remembered exactly who Sa-rang’s feelings were directed toward, and Do-han, hearing this second confession, felt his heart hammering in his chest.

“Really? Ji-woo, did you know?” Ta-hoon asked.

“Uh, no, I didn’t,” Ji-woo lied. She feigned ignorance, worried that admitting she knew would lead to more probing questions about the person’s identity. Despite trying to stay composed, her eyes wavered slightly.

Luckily, Ta-hoon didn’t notice and turned his attention back to Sa-rang.

“If you like someone, you should confess. Who knows, maybe he likes you too. If I hadn’t confessed to Ji-woo, I never would’ve known she felt the same,” Ta-hoon said earnestly.

Sa-rang offered a light laugh. “I did confess.”

Ji-woo’s jaw dropped. When? When had she managed to confess after being sick at home all week? A million questions bubbled up, but she had to stay silent. Fortunately, Ta-hoon asked what she couldn’t.

“Really? So, what happened? What did he say?”

“He told me to like someone else,” Sa-rang replied, stirring her soup as if she were discussing the weather.

The table went silent again. The bluntness of the man’s rejection left them speechless. If they felt bad, how much worse had it been for Sa-rang to hear it firsthand? Even Ji-woo couldn’t find words to comfort her friend and cast a brief, resentful glance at Do-han before looking back at Sa-rang.

“Is that why you got sick?” Ji-woo asked quietly.

“No,” Sa-rang said, shaking her head.

“Don’t lie,” Ji-woo pressed. “It’s obvious.”

“I’m serious. The flu has nothing to do with that,” Sa-rang insisted, even as Ji-woo’s heart clenched in frustration. She’d seen this coming, had tried to stop it. Yet here was Sa-rang, enduring heartbreak because of that cold, unyielding Do-han. It made her angry.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Ji-woo said, trying to sound upbeat. “Forget about him and go on that blind date. Like he said, find someone else.”

Sa-rang chuckled softly. “Maybe I should.”

“Exactly! Ta-hoon, call that guy right now,” Ji-woo urged.
“Really? You’re going to do it, Sa-rang?” Ta-hoon asked, phone in hand, ready to call at her word.

Sa-rang’s eyes flicked briefly to Do-han, who was staring at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. She turned to Ta-hoon and said, “Yes. Let’s do it.”

Ji-woo beamed, praising Sa-rang for making the right choice, and Ta-hoon began dialing, looking pleased. Sa-rang returned to her meal as if nothing had happened, but Do-han couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Had her feelings for him disappeared with her confession? Was she really ready to move on, as if he were nothing more than a chapter closed? He’d told her to look elsewhere, yet the ease with which she agreed left a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt the ridiculous urge to question her, demand why she’d confessed if she could give up so quickly.

Now he had to grapple with the jealousy that surged up, first for Jung Yoon-jae and now for a complete stranger. He felt pathetic.

“Is Monday okay?” Ta-hoon asked, breaking Do-han’s thoughts.
Sa-rang nodded. “Yes.”

“Then let’s set it for 5 p.m. on Monday,” Ta-hoon confirmed, and Sa-rang agreed.

Everyone at the table seemed pleased, except Do-han, who scowled, feeling the weight of his discontent settle in. The frustration burned all weekend, lingering like a wound he couldn’t tend.

Rain fell throughout the weekend. Sa-rang, wary of catching another cold so soon after her flu, stayed home. By Monday morning, she was restless, eager to be outside. The weather had cleared, and a bright spring day awaited her.

“Oh! I need to make a morning call,” she remembered suddenly. She’d missed one day last week due to her illness, but she didn’t want to break her routine, even after being rejected. She didn’t want her life to change just because of that moment.
She dialed Do-han’s number, but it was turned off.

Puzzled, she decided to try again after showering. With her hair still damp, she redialed and frowned when she found his phone still off.

“It’s still off?” she muttered, worry gnawing at her. She kept calling while dressing and applying light makeup, but the result was the same.

Was he sick?

Hesitating only a moment longer, Sa-rang decided to go to him. It was better to know than to keep worrying. She walked to Do-han’s one-room apartment and climbed the stairs to the third floor. At his door, she paused. Was this too much? Was she overstepping?

Doubt crowded her mind, paralyzing her finger just before she could press the doorbell. But then she thought about what it would be like if he were truly unwell, alone with no one to check on him. The memory of her own trip to the emergency room with Ji-woo pushed her to act.

With trembling hands, she pressed the bell.

When no response came, she rang it again, holding her breath. This time, the door opened with a snap.

“What is it?” Do-han’s groggy, irritated voice met her ears, eyes squinting against the morning light. He looked at her, sleep still clinging to his features, and his expression shifted from annoyance to surprise.

Sa-rang, equally startled by his abrupt appearance, took an involuntary step back.

“Your phone is off,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“…So you came here to wake me up?” he asked, baffled.

“Yes.”

“What time is it, anyway?” He rubbed his eyes, sighing.

“It’s after 8 a.m. You need to get ready if you don’t want to be late.”

“I’m not going,” he said abruptly and turned away, heading back inside.

“Wait, what?” Sa-rang reached out, stopping the door before it could close.

Peeking inside, she saw him already lying back on his bed, blanket pulled over his head. She stood there, stunned, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The effort she had made to come all the way here seemed wasted, but more than that, she still didn’t know if he was sick. Resolving to find out, she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a soft click that made her heart jump.