There was a difference between the way I had liked Han Junwoo and the way I liked Go Yohan.
Han Junwoo had wronged me.
And I had wronged Go Yohan.
Of course, Yohan got angry—I just hadn’t understood the way he showed it. That was why he was disappointed in me. That was why he came to hate me.
The common factor was my behavior.
Just like I had ignored Han Junwoo, I ignored Go Yohan.
Sometimes, I caught myself glancing at him without realizing it. But the moment I noticed, I would hurriedly, consciously, tear my gaze away. I didn’t want anyone to know I was paying attention to him. It was a matter of pride.
I had been abandoned—but I didn’t want to believe that I had been abandoned.
No, I abandoned him too. I agreed to this.
That false belief was what kept me going.
During the time when Go Yohan’s gaze never found me, I wondered why I had liked him in the first place.
First, he was good-looking. I cared a lot about faces.
Second, he was tall. I cared about build, too.
Third, he was rich—but so was I, so never mind. Scratch that.
Third—he studied a decent amount. But that was just a surprising trait, not a reason to fall for him. So scratch that too.
Third—he was kind to me.
Yeah. He had been kind to me.
And even after he learned my true nature, he had still been kind.
It took me five nights after realizing that before I finally started to regret what had happened at his house. Some nights, I was so ashamed of myself that I couldn’t sleep. The kind of shame that made me want to strangle myself to death.
Nights where I wished Kang Jun would just disappear. Die and be gone.
And then morning would come, and Kang Jun would still be here, indifferent as ever.
From then on, I stopped looking at Go Yohan—even consciously, I made sure not to. I forced myself. Over and over.
There were even days when I didn’t look at him once.
I was still hungry at lunch. The bread was still tasteless.
But the days passed, somehow.
Compared to what I found written on that desk in the science lab, they weren’t so bad.
“......”
<Deposed Queen Kang.>
<LMAOOOOOOOOO fucking loser.>
<Might go down in history, lol.>
The words had been scrawled onto a desk in the second row with a permanent marker.
I didn’t know when it had been written. I didn’t know who had written it. I didn’t even know for sure that the “Kang” in question was me.
But I knew.
Instinctively, I knew it was about me.
Until now, I had never cared when people insulted me.
Because I knew—really knew—that their hatred came from jealousy.
Their criticism was born from my success.
Of course, they hated the nerd who had never once fallen from the top rankings. Of course, they despised the brainiac who hung around kids at the top of the social ladder.
But this was different.
Just four characters—four strokes of ink—had captured my downfall perfectly.
More precisely, they had realized something.
The emperor they followed had abandoned me.
“...Pathetic little shits.”
I muttered, but my face was burning red with humiliation and rage.
The only saving grace was that the lights were off for the PowerPoint presentation.
If they had been on, everyone would have seen.
Everyone would have known I had been humiliated.
"All this over just a few days..."
People underestimated just how sensitive boys really were.
They pretended not to care, but no one was more attuned to others’ reactions than them.
And because admitting that they cared meant admitting their own weakness, they pretended not to notice.
Caring too much made you look desperate.
Not caring enough made you lose your “friends.”
It was clear they had already noticed that something had changed between me and Go Yohan.
My hands trembled as I covered up the words.
I pressed my palm against the desk, rubbing it forcefully.
The ink didn’t budge.
Still, I clenched my fist, covered the insult, held my head high, and swallowed down the bile rising in my throat.
"All this over just a few weeks..."
I forced my humiliation down through sheer stubbornness.
There was no time for this. I had to do something.
No—first, I had to erase this before anyone else saw it.
The heat beneath my eyes threatened to spill over, but I held it back with everything I had.
I bit down on my lip while no one was looking.
I almost turned my head toward Go Yohan.
Almost.
But I managed to resist that too.
And when class ended, I rushed to the infirmary, grabbed some alcohol, and ran back to the science lab—
Only to find that the words had already been smudged into a purple stain.
Someone had tried to erase them.
Panic hit first.
Then despair.
Someone had seen it.
Everyone would know I had fallen.
And just as I was being swallowed by the horror of it, a voice called out.
It was Chemistry.
He looked at me with pitying eyes.
"That? Shin Jaehyun wiped it off for you. Go thank him."
His gaze was full of sympathy.
And in that moment, I knew.
I was ruined.
****
The first time I had ever seen the name Shin Jaehyun was on the ranking sheet in the hallway.
School-wide Rank 31.
If Chemistry hadn’t told me his name, I would have never been able to guess who he was.
After that incident, I spent three days watching him.
Looking back, Shin Jaehyun was the first “mid-tier” kid I had ever observed of my own accord.
I wanted to know everything.
How he had seen the writing.
Why he had erased it.
Was it kindness? Pity? A sense of justice?
Had he told anyone about it?
Had he spread the rumor—consciously or unconsciously?
I had to know.
Even though the graffiti had probably been there for a while.
Even though it was obvious that a lot of people had already seen it.
I fixated on Shin Jaehyun’s name.
Because he was the only witness I had found.
And what I eventually learned about him... was unexpected.
If I’m being honest, he was so obnoxiously wholesome that it pissed me off.
Apparently, he had lived in America until middle school.
Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.
A textbook “outdoorsy” type.
Easygoing, never stuck with any particular group, never got involved in drama—but never got ostracized either.
A few guys who hung around him described him like this:
Shin Jaehyun.
A walking ball of positivity.
An L.A. man.
Some Americanized idiot who sometimes sucked at both Korean and English.
His life motto was basically “Things will work out somehow.”
A quiet guy, but one you could trust.
That was how they saw him.
Ironically, the teachers didn’t think much of him.
Not in a bad way—just in an unremarkable way.
I got that answer firsthand when I casually asked my homeroom teacher about him while picking up some printouts.
"Jaehyun? He’s a good kid. Sometimes forgets his homework, though."
Other teachers’ reactions were just as bland.
"Shin Jaehyun’s in Class 1?"
"Yes, our class."
"Oh, really?"
They trusted me too much.
After I had cemented myself as the top student, their trust in me had only grown.
Talkative teachers casually threw out their evaluations of Jaehyun in front of me.
Not that it was anything negative—otherwise, they wouldn’t have said it so freely.
Then, my homeroom teacher suddenly asked, as if curious,
"But why do you ask?"
I smoothly adjusted the printouts in my hands.
"He just seems... nice."
"A good kid," she said, this time with genuine sincerity.
"He's as kind as you."
Hearing that, I felt a bit relieved. My thoughts finally settled.
There wouldn’t be any rumors.
After that, I spoke to Shin Jaehyun just once.
I caught him during a chaotic moment between classes, slipping into the crowd as I approached.
I only said one thing.
"Thanks."
It wasn’t really gratitude.
It was more of a plea—Don’t tell anyone. Don’t say a word about my humiliation.
You’re a good person. You won’t betray me. You’re mature.
That was what I was hoping for.
Shin Jaehyun, who had been staring off at the sky while walking, suddenly turned to me, confused.
"For what?"
His face was blank, genuinely clueless.
At that moment, I didn’t answer. Too many eyes.
Jaehyun had asked a question, but he never got the answer.
Instead, he simply gave me a puzzled smile before turning away, as if thinking, What a strange guy.
And at that moment, I finally understood why I had never heard anything bad about him.
I mentally revised his record.
Shin Jaehyun. Better than I thought.
"Ah!"
Pain shot through my back, making me yelp.
"What the—?"
I rubbed the stinging spot with my left hand and spun around.
But there was no one there.
I instinctively glanced down.
At my feet, a small rubber ball lay still.
I snapped my head up again, scanning the hallway.
But there was nothing.
****
My position was shaky, but my pride was intact.
I must have been born with a naturally strong sense of pride.
My upbringing had only reinforced it, shaping me into who I was now.
But sometimes, too much pride chipped away at my self-esteem.
Mostly in front of the mirror.
"If I had just grown five more centimeters."
Then I would’ve at least hit 180.
My small frame and thinner-than-average bones were my biggest insecurities.
Even my mother acknowledged it.
She always tried to push herbal medicine on me, poking at my complex every time.
"Drink it. Drink it all in one go. Just five more kilos, okay? You’d look so much better."
I let myself be convinced.
Swallowed the vile, gag-inducing herbal concoctions.
But my body just wasn’t the type to gain weight.
And unfortunately, being small meant being easier to disregard.
That was why I clung to academics, appearance, and social connections.
In order to survive the hierarchy, I had to play the cards I had.
Luckily, I had always been in the upper tier of every group.
So I thought I had a safety net.
Just because things had ended with Go Yohan didn’t mean my entire social life had crumbled.
Lately, I had been actively striking up conversations with people.
As a result, outside of lunch, I could still chat with classmates and cram school acquaintances.
Annoyingly, that included Oh Yeonjun.
"Yo, Kang Jun!"
But among all these subtle changes in my social standing, there was one particular shift.
A barely perceptible shift.
A slight but undeniable attempt to push me down.
"Did you finish the homework? Can I take a look? Sorry, I totally forgot today."
Oh Yeonjun was starting to get on my nerves.
And today was the final straw.
Fifth period.
The classroom was loud with complaints about the upcoming performance assessment.
Most of them were grumbling.
"Why the hell are they making seniors do this? Just replace it with a test score."
"Shut up, dude, no way. A test would be even worse. I have no idea what to pick for my topic."
"I’ll just have my mom do it for me."
"Jesus, you’re hopeless."
Then, two people turned to me.
Park Haon, ranked ninth in the school, and Im Yoonki, ranked twenty-first.
"Hey, Kang Jun, have you picked a topic yet?"
These two were the ones I had been working the hardest to get close to lately.
Finally, it was paying off.
Feeling slightly elated, I answered.
"Not yet. I was thinking of asking my cram school teacher."
"Which teacher? When are you gonna ask?"
Before I could answer, Yeonjun, who had been listening from afar, suddenly barged into the conversation.
And of course, he had to say something unpleasant.
"Yo, Kang Jun! Let’s go ask together later. I’ll help you out. I mean, your arm’s messed up, so writing’s gotta be tough, right? No problem, yeah?"
"......."
I almost scowled right in his face.
When the hell did we get close enough for that?
If there was anyone I didn’t want to get buddy-buddy with, it was Yeonjun.
Every time I saw him, my stomach twisted with irritation.
He made my insides burn with jealousy.
I didn’t even want to engage. So I just tossed out a vague response.
"Yeah. Sure. Let’s ask together."
"Alright. Later then... Oh, right."
I knew what was coming.
Every time he said "right," he was about to pick a fight.
"But your arm, though. If it’s taking three months to heal, doesn’t that mean it’s broken, not just cracked?"
"It’s not."
"No way, dude. My brother broke his toe, and it took exactly three months."
"Oh."
What the fuck is his problem?
Why is he like this?
The irritation sat heavy in my chest.
I couldn’t just agree.
If I admitted it, he’d never shut up about it.
He’d keep bringing it up, stubbornly forcing his version of the truth down my throat.
Yeonjun was the type who had to be right.
And I was never going to give him that satisfaction.
I was a petty person.
"Yeonjun, maybe you just misremembered?" I said smoothly. "I don’t think that’s the case."
"It is, though. My brother literally said so. You’re the one who’s wrong."
"Come on, don’t you think I’d know my own body better?"
I kept my tone even.
"Three months... That’s just what the doctor said. They told me to take it easy for three months."
"You think you're smarter than a doctor?"
That sarcasm finally shut Oh Yeonjun up. His smug mouth clamped shut, and the satisfaction of seeing it happen was worth it.
"Whatever, then... Ah, right. What I was saying before."
I barely had a second to enjoy my victory before he started up again.
"After class, we’re meeting at the academy. You have to come with me, got it? Don’t even think about sneaking off alone."
Then, without warning, he shoved my shoulder.
If my arm had been fine, I could’ve braced myself.
But one of my arms was useless.
Shit. Fuck. Not like this.
Falling backward, crashing to the ground like an idiot—nothing could be more humiliating.
Yeonjun must’ve been enjoying this.
He never dared to pull this shit when I was with Go Yohan, but now that he saw an opportunity, he was crawling out of the woodwork. Climbing up.
And now, he wanted to humiliate me?
Fucking bastard.
"......."
But it was too late.
My left hand fumbled uselessly for the desk.
And just as I resigned myself to eating the floor—
A chair screeched violently against the floor.
Was that my chair?
Had I really been pushed that hard?
Shit.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that at least I wouldn’t go down in a pathetic heap.
"Please, please, please—"
"...Huh?"
But I never hit the ground.
By some miracle, I had stopped falling.
Someone had caught me—awkwardly, but firmly.
Large hands pressed against my back, holding me steady.
"Be careful."
I pushed myself upright, turning to see who it was.
"...Oh."
Surprisingly, it was Shin Jaehyun.
I stared at him in confusion before muttering,
"...Thanks."
"Don’t mention it."
Jaehyun, completely unfazed, walked away into the crowd.
Behind me, someone spoke up in a voice filled with some mix of amusement and disbelief.
Park Haon.
"Doesn’t he move kinda like an American?"
"Oh, Shin Jaehyun? Yeah, he reeks of Yankee energy no matter what he does."
Yeonjun, hearing this, immediately over-exaggerated his reaction.
He even mimicked Jaehyun’s voice, putting on a stupid nasal tone.
"Don’t mention it."
But look at this asshole—he shoved me, and he’s still not apologizing?
Anger surged up.
I straightened up and stared at him.
"Yeonjun."
"Huh?"
"I almost fell just now."
"Oh, uh... Oh yeah! My bad, dude. I’ll be more careful. But seriously, that guy’s such a Yankee, right?"
What a shameless fucking deflection.
He barely even tried to hide it.
And now he was mocking Jaehyun’s lips, pursing his own in a ridiculous imitation.
But before I could say anything, Haon cut in.
"Hey, stop it. Jaehyun’s a good guy."
"Yeah, there aren’t many like him. Sure, he’s kinda slow on the uptake, but still."
I frowned slightly.
"You two know him well?"
At my sudden question, Im Yoonki gestured between himself and Haon.
"We were in the same class last year."
"Really?"
"Oh, you didn’t know? Makes sense, I guess. He does have kind of a weak presence."
"He doesn’t talk much, yeah. But weirdly enough, he’s got a lot of friends. It’s kind of fascinating."
Haon and Yoonki had good chemistry—almost like best friends.
The kind of duo that made it hard for others to join in.
And apparently, Yeonjun was feeling left out.
So, being the shameless bastard he was, he turned to me instead.
"Anyway, Jun, are we meeting before or after class?"
He was still clinging to this?
Suppressing my irritation, I answered flatly,
"After."
"Okay! Then let’s go after class."
"Yeonjun, can’t you handle this on your own?"
Yoonki, grinning good-naturedly, playfully chastised him.
I liked Yoonki’s comment, obviously.
No clue why he was siding with me, but I wasn’t complaining.
Yeonjun, on the other hand, was complaining.
"No way! I have to get good grades! I wanna get into college through early admissions!"
"Man, must be nice to have that luxury. Didn’t you run for student council president? That should be good for your application, right?"
"Oh yeah, you did, huh?"
"Huh. That actually counts for something?"
Yeonjun made a weird face, suddenly looking sheepish.
"Well... Yeah, I guess it’s something."
"It definitely is. Not just anyone can run for student council. You need a teacher’s recommendation too."
Haon and Yoonki, being so generous, stoked his fragile little ego.
I disagreed.
It wasn’t even that impressive.
Just running for student council?
Big deal.
But judging by his expression, Yeonjun was thrilled.
Guess he was one of those people who just ate up compliments, no matter how shallow.
"Nice! Man, talking to you guys makes everything feel clearer. You top-rankers are something else. Anyway, I’m off! See you later, Jun!"
"Bye!"
"See ya."
Good fucking riddance.