KMH – Chapter 15

Come to think of it, there’d been signs even before.

On the day the results of the placement exam—taken right after entrance—were posted, Jugyeong stared at the board for an unusually long time, even though she’d taken first place without contest.

So Seju leaned his back against the outer frame of the bulletin board—green felt stretched tight over it—and watched her. He didn’t know why she was doing that, but chances to look at that precious face for so long weren’t exactly common.

Then Jugyeong suddenly asked,

“Are you not curious?”

“About what?”

“Your scores.”

He’d never once, in his life, been curious about that sort of thing. Snickering as he tossed a glance at the board, Seju put on a theatrically shocked face.

If you were going to stick the ‘11th-ranked student in the entire school right next to 1st place’, you should’ve warned me or something….

The corners of his mouth twitched as he pulled out his phone and snapped a photo.

Ha Jugyeong. Cheon Seju.

Back then, he thought—vaguely—that the two names looked good side by side.

Whether Jugyeong was being “decent” and gentle, or bristling so hard he couldn’t even speak to her, there was one thing that never changed.

Grades.

Whether the gap between Seju and the average was big or small—

For Jugyeong, grades always came first. And Seju decided that was why, the moment he stood in front of her, he shrank into a pathetic idiot over the stupidest things. Because he was a second priority. Somewhere deep down, he knew it.

Seju realized the strange change in their relationship late—slowly, painstakingly. And by the end, he could say it without much effort:

Yeah. She really did ignore me on purpose. She was the one who cut me out. Because grades mattered more than I did.

But no matter how he chewed on it, being some “supporting character” didn’t suit him. If he was going to be something in Jugyeong’s life, he’d rather be the villain.

Something filthy and awful and hateful—something she could never pry out of her head, something she couldn’t forget.

Instead of falling into despair, Seju built a wall between them, as if to prove that Jugyeong wasn’t the only one who could push someone away.

To prove it to whom?

He didn’t even know.

He just couldn’t stop.

And yet Seju often betrayed his own resolve.

Around the time he took second place in the midterms of senior year’s first semester, closing the distance right behind Jugyeong—

He couldn’t stand not knowing where she was and what she was doing. It wasn’t even a coherent thought—just I’m going to lose it—and then he found himself standing stiffly in the middle of the study hall.

Right beside Jugyeong.

It was impulsive enough to shock even him, so Seju sat down first.

But it felt like bugs were crawling under his skin.

Jugyeong’s scent was everywhere.

And Jugyeong didn’t even pretend to look his way.

The second a thought like ‘Her hair’s gotten long’ crossed his mind, something inside him turned unbearable.

Because it made him grind his teeth—wondering what else he’d missed during the time they’d been distant.

The only thing that soothed him at all was the fact that Jugyeong still wore a hair clip.

Seju liked that.

When she clipped it right above her ear, her face was more visible.

Swamped by anxious relief, Seju bounced his leg restlessly. He shook so much that the vice president sitting across from him—at one of those study desks with overhead storage—actually stood up a little and shot him a glance.

Seju glared back ‘What are you looking at?’, then covered his nose and mouth. Shampoo, perfume—whatever it was, Jugyeong’s scent made his head go fuzzy too fast. Trying to distract himself, he leaned his chair back.

The study hall probably hadn’t been aired out in ages. The air he drew in was heavy and stale. Balancing on just two chair legs like a rocking chair, he wet his lips—

And then, out of nowhere, heat surged up through him.

Fuck, why does she smell this good….

And right then, like a lie, his eyes met Jugyeong’s.

“Seju.”

When was the last time…?

The last time Jugyeong had said his name.

He couldn’t tell if this was a dream or real. They’d spent so long hurling barbed words at each other that—

His reaction was slow.

But Jugyeong, in that flat, familiar voice, asked,

“Is your portfolio prep going well?”

In an instant, strength flooded Seju’s hand.

Jugyeong remembered. Even now. At seventeen, he’d offhandedly said he wanted to go to an art school in New York.

His heart lurched hard. Lowering the chair legs slowly back to the floor, Seju swallowed dryly and answered with as little force as he could manage.

“…Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah….”

“That’s good.”

Jugyeong gave a small smile.

He knew immediately it was fake.

For some reason, it felt like every joint in his body iced over. His expression wouldn’t cooperate. When he stared at her with stiffened eyes, Jugyeong tilted her head.

“Then don’t ruin the study atmosphere. Can you move?”

“…….”

“These are all kids preparing for early admissions.”

And unbelievably—

Seju felt… wronged.

He didn’t know why.

All he did was pour that nameless ache into grit and obsession.

He wanted Jugyeong to lose sleep. Wanted her to think about him every day and wonder, ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Wanted her to wish they’d go back—back to when there were no unknowns between them, when it was natural that they were always beside each other.

That was all he wanted, so he cut down his sleep and his meals. Every day, he sat at his desk until it was time for school, and sat at his desk until it was time to go home.

If you’re not going to smile at me, then don’t ignore me either.

Being ignored by Jugyeong was worse than dying.

And finally, in the finals of the senior year’s first semester, Seju stole first place from her.

He drifted near the board where the score sheets were posted, without any real purpose.

When Jugyeong showed up late and looked at him like she was cursing him from the bottom of her heart—

Seju did feel a thrill. The taste of victory he’d been starving for.

But it lasted only a blink.

Because the fact that they hadn’t talked in so long—because Jugyeong’s face felt unfamiliar—suddenly turned dizzying and far away.

What have I… been doing this whole time?

Not long after, a family dinner was set. Once Seju learned Jugyeong would be there too, he couldn’t sleep. For nearly two weeks, he spent the nights wide-eyed.

Something between them had crossed a threshold. And it didn’t feel like he could undo it.

He didn’t want to just stand there like an idiot and let go—but he also couldn’t see a way to go back to how it used to be.

So the fact that he’d even get to eat with Jugyeong felt like a stroke of luck he couldn’t waste.

Sure, his parents would be there, and Jugyeong’s maternal grandfather, and her mother—but still.

The meeting place was the luxury hotel restaurant in Hyogwang, famous for Peking duck and Buddha Jumps Over the Wall.

Arriving on time with his parents, Seju let them go in first.

Then he loitered at the entrance like an idiot.

Before long, a familiar sedan with a familiar plate curved around the fountain at the driveway and stopped.

Jugyeong got out of the back seat in her school uniform.

Seju practically sprinted into the lobby and took position in front of the elevators—

Like he hadn’t been waiting for her at all. Like they’d just happened to arrive at the same time.

As two elevators went up and came back down, he smoothed his face and fixed his clothes over and over. For some reason, his breathing was shallow, and his cheeks were burning—

And he hated Jugyeong for it.

She was so hateful and unfair and infuriating, and yet—

Part of him wanted to apologize, without thinking.

For what, exactly, even Seju didn’t know.

Then, loafers clacked against the marble and stopped right beside him.

Seju immediately locked his eyes on the floor indicator. Thoughts ran wild.

She won’t just walk past me with me standing right here… right?

If Jugyeong ignored him again, he’d be so pissed he’d probably pass out.

And if that happened, he wasn’t planning to take it lying down.

But Jugyeong’s scent kept eroding his “firm resolve.” Soft, warm, faint. No matter how he held his breath, it tickled the inside of his lungs.

Instinctively, he flicked his eyes sideways—caught sight of her white hand first.

That wasn’t enough.

He wanted to see more.

But he couldn’t bring himself to actually look.

And then—

Ding.

The elevator doors opened.

Jugyeong stepped inside first.

“…….”

“…….”

Facing her by accident, Seju slowly closed his eyes and opened them again.

Other than a faint recognition—’So you were there’—there was nothing he could read on Jugyeong’s face.

And then the doors slid shut right in front of him.

Seju exhaled the breath he’d been holding—

And the doors opened again.

Jugyeong stood there, a finger still on the button she’d pressed.

“Are you getting on or not?”

After his Adam’s apple rose and fell once, Seju answered in a low, rough voice.

“…I am.”

Behind Jugyeong, Seju clenched and unclenched his tingling fingers.

Because if they stood side by side, he knew he’d turn into a moron again—unable to stop staring at her profile.

The numbers on the panel changed.

1, 2, 3….

Seju stared at them like his life depended on it.

“Congrats.”

Seju jolted and snapped his eyes to the round crown of her head.

“On taking first place.”