Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 16

If someone were to ask me, “Hey Ji Yeonseo, what’s the most annoying school activity as the official outcast of Myungwon High?”

I’d take a deep breath and rattle off the answer without missing a beat. Group presentations. PE partners. Lab report teammates. Sports day. Field trips. Lunchtime. Break time. Basically, all of it.

But if I had to pick just one?

I’d just show them the paper I’m holding right now.

[2000 School Year Field Trip Information Sheet]
Location: Gyeongju
Dates: May 17th (Wed) – May 19th (Fri)

It instantly brought back memories of the retreat in my first year, which was basically a nightmare. Back then, I naively thought I’d make some friends on that kind of trip. That was 17-year-old Ji Yeonseo for you.

But now I’m 18. I’m not that girl anymore.

“Wow, field trips haven’t changed in decades… I went to Gyeongju back in my school days too,” my stepmom mumbled as she read the notice.

I was lying belly-down in the master bedroom, flipping through a comic book I’d rented, and sneaking glances at her.

Then, she asked cheerfully, “Should I get some hamburger sets for you and your classmates to eat on the train?”

“What are we, elementary school kids?” I scoffed without looking up. “They sell food on the train anyway. Plus, I’m not going.”

“What? Why not?!”

Still flipping pages, I answered as if it was no big deal, like it was just too much trouble to bother.

“I hate walking around in big groups, hate eating and sleeping with other people. And it’s not like we’re taking a car—we have to take the train to Gyeongju? What if I need to pee? Ugh, just thinking about it makes me want to pass out.”

“But it’s a once-in-a-lifetime school trip…”

“I already went on the retreat last year. That sucked too. The lodge was disgusting.”

My stepmom fell silent, probably remembering how I got sick during that trip. I sat up.

“I already marked an X on the consent form, so just sign it. If the school calls, just say you’re not letting me go, okay?”

She squinted at me like she was trying to read my mind. Then she muttered, “I’ve really raised you like a princess… should’ve made you rough it a little more…”

I raised my chin proudly like, That’s right, and she chuckled, signing the paper anyway.

So it was settled—my homeroom teacher called my mom, and my absence from the trip was officially confirmed.

***

While the first and second-year students gathered at Seoul Station, I went to school. Those of us not going on the trip had to attend supplementary classes.

With two full grades gone, the school felt strangely empty—but I actually liked it. With no sharp glances being thrown my way, I felt freer than ever.

Honestly, had I ever felt this relaxed in school before? My steps across the courtyard felt strangely light.

The non-participants were all grouped by grade into one classroom. For me, that meant the familiar classroom of Class 1.

I slid open the back door with a strangely upbeat mood—only to feel a few stares turn my way.

During the attendance check last time, I remembered hearing there were only seven second-year students not going, including me. One was suspended, another broke their leg—so only five of us were actually here.

“You didn’t go either?”

A boy sitting in the back, sketching in his notebook, called out to me. I recognized him.

As soon as I looked at him, his round, glasses-wearing face turned beet red, and he let out an awkward grunt. He quickly covered his notebook with his arm like I was about to steal his secrets.

Most of the kids here were in similar situations—either loners by choice or kids who weren’t exactly popular in school.

I was probably the biggest outcast of them all.

After briefly scanning the scattered students, I went and sat in my usual spot. Three whole days of just chilling in my usual seat, in a nearly empty school. No pressure, no stares. It felt like a stroke of luck.

I rested my chin on my hand and soaked in the sunlight pouring through the May windows. Then the door creaked open again.

Someone tall enough to almost bump into the doorframe walked in. The guy practically had the build of the classroom door itself.

Wearing his summer uniform like it was tailor-made, Cha Seokyung strode in with his long legs—and our eyes met instantly.

“I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”

I’d kept that promise. Every time we passed in the halls, I pretended not to see him. If we made accidental eye contact, I looked away immediately.

It happened more often than I expected, probably because we were in neighboring classes. I made the effort to avoid him. Seokyung didn’t seem to make any effort at all—like I wasn’t even there.

He’d just pass by as if I were invisible.

And in P.E., we still played badminton. I dropped the shuttlecock less often. Even if I did, he didn’t sigh or tell me to quit if I didn’t want to play—none of that attitude.

No annoyed sighs. No eye rolls. And definitely no conversation.

We’d become exactly like that expression he once read out loud. Ships that pass in the night. Just two people who happened to pass by each other, no more, no less.

But then I thought—why didn’t he go on the field trip?

Just yesterday, Lee Hojung had been bragging about her big plan to sneak into Seokyung’s room at night and play truth or dare.

Everyone was losing their minds over what to pack, what makeup to bring. The whole school had been buzzing since Monday.

Yet here he was, sitting just two seats in front of me.

From this angle, his huge back was blocking the board. Should I ask him to move?

Seriously, if you’re that tall, isn’t it common courtesy to sit in the back?

I couldn’t figure Seokyung out. Sometimes he was overly polite, and other times he didn’t care about the rules at all.

Just when I felt my old annoyance bubbling up again, the front door opened and the teacher walked in. I swallowed whatever I was going to say and pulled out my pencil case.

Classes were replaced with videos and self-study. No need to ask him to move—easy enough.

The teacher wrapped up by saying, “Just write a short reflection on the video by Monday,” and left.

At lunch, I went to the almost-empty snack bar, bought a strawberry milk, and read my book.

Even when I dozed off on my desk for a bit, I didn’t have to hear whispers with my name in them. My ears felt free.

It was a peaceful, near-perfect day… until the last period began.

“So… um…”

Our World Geography teacher, nicknamed “Mr. Boring,” was staring into the air, fishing for the right words.

He had a weird habit of drawing out transition words for ages. It made people want to scream.

“Field trips are not just for… goofing off. They are meant to broaden your… perspective, by placing you in new environments outside school…”

“……”

“So even if you have your reasons for not going on the trip… sitting in a classroom all day watching videos and self-studying… that lacks fairness.”

Uh-oh.

This teacher was known for pop quizzes and surprise notebook checks. He was unpredictable.

Please no…

“So! Here’s what we’ll do. Landmark project.”

“…….”

“Yes, yes… Every region has a landmark that represents it. Over the next three days—Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday—you’ll form groups and investigate at least three landmarks in Hampyeong. No online research. You have to actually go outside, take photos yourself, and submit them with your report. Due Monday.”

He raised three fingers.

“At least three landmarks.”

A collective groan swept through the room.

But no one—unlike kids like Lee Hojung or Kim Eunho—complained or asked to skip it. That’s just how outcasts are. Even if we hate it, we don’t raise a fuss.

Then came the calm, low voice from right in front of me.

“How are we forming groups?” Seokyung had asked.

The teacher scanned our small class.

“Just figure it out among yourselves.”

“……”

“Quickly.”

Apparently, even forming groups of five was too much effort for him. He waved his hand like he couldn’t be bothered.

I used to like World Geography. Suddenly, not so much.

Everyone hesitated awkwardly, unsure what to do. And then, Seokyung stood up, walked over in just a few long strides, pulled out the chair next to me, and sat down.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.