Chapter 107: The Breakdown of Distance

Staring blankly at my screen at an emoticon that was frankly impossible to reply to, a great idea struck me. Well, write ‘great idea,’ read ‘mischievous idea.’

[ Na Eun-hyeok: That emoticon is pretty cute. ]

I typed out the response, copied the exact text face Chae Un-ha had just sent me, and fired it right back to him. While Chae Un-ha’s text response never came, I managed to extract a reaction from BlueberryWhisky with absolute ease. The moment that identical text face popped up in our game chat, Un-ha completely lost it, firing back a barrage of panicked curses.

“Are you insane? What the hell is that?!”

You’re the one who used it. Suppressing the urge to laugh, I replied with perfect nonchalance, “It’s an emoticon used by the guy I told you I’m interested in.”

He didn’t seem to have the slightest clue that the person in question was Chae Un-ha himself. His face turning pale, Un-ha muttered with a profoundly dejected expression, “……Don’t ever use that in front of me.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

What do you mean ‘just because’? You’re the one who wrote it, Un-ha-ya. Instead of voicing the thought aloud, I quietly observed Chae Un-ha’s ears. Even through Zelfia’s graphics, the deep crimson flushing up his neck and the outer rims of his ears was glaringly visible. Seeing him flush with embarrassment was actually a bit cute. And strangely, it felt like a sight I had witnessed somewhere before.

Up until that point, I didn’t think much of it.

Working on the group project with Chae Un-ha was just as seamless as running a party play with BlueberryWhisky. Fitting for a student at Hankuk University, Chae Un-ha was an incredibly diligent human being. He always prepared his assigned sections flawlessly without needing any oversight, and if he had time to spare, he would even skim through the portions assigned to me. Since I approached the work with the exact same meticulousness, our group project cruised along smoothly, as if our ship had suddenly grown wings.

Chae Un-ha’s outward attitude toward Na Eun-hyeok remained somewhat blunt—almost as if he were dealing with someone he absolutely despised looking at—but the small cakes or baked treats he brought along to the end of every single meeting loudly broadcasted what his true feelings actually were.

“This, it’s nothing major, just some baked goods.”

“Huh?”

“J-Just… since we’re in the same group, I wanted to say I look forward to working with you……”

His clumsy, faltering voice was amusing at first. Then it became pitiable, and eventually, it morphed into something quite cute. The baked treats Chae Un-ha bought for me suited my palate remarkably well, so I figured that might have been why I took a liking to them.

As more time passed, I actually found myself looking forward to our group project meetings.

While waiting for Chae Un-ha in the first-floor lounge of the Business Administration building, I would find myself anticipating exactly how awkward his expression would be and what kind of pastry he would slide over to me today. Lately, as if Chae Un-ha had grown a bit more comfortable around me, the hostile demeanor that made me feel like his sworn enemy had softened significantly. While it was nice that our conversations flowed more naturally, I felt a faint pang of regret seeing that hilariously awkward defense mechanism disappear. What would Chae Un-ha be like today? Would he be far more relaxed than usual? Or would he still awkwardly hand me a pastry?

As I was lost in these thoughts, a voice drifted down from the open staircase above.

“Could I get your number?”

The clear, ringing voice wasn’t particularly loud, yet it pierced straight into my ears. As if drawn by an invisible thread, I lifted my head to look up at the landing. There stood the now-entirely-familiar silhouette of Chae Un-ha. The girl standing before him was partially obstructed from view, but it was incredibly easy to deduce that she was asking for his number. After exchanging a brief few words, Chae Un-ha reached out in a daze and took the girl’s phone into his hand.

“Thank you. I’ll text you.”

The girl bowed politely, and Chae Un-ha offered a delayed bow of his own in return. There wasn’t a shred of hostility in the air; it was just a mildly awkward, ordinary exchange. I glared intensely at Chae Un-ha’s foolishly naive expression. If he hadn’t moved from the spot, I might have kept staring at him indefinitely. The moment Chae Un-ha began descending the stairs, I belatedly snapped my gaze back down, burying my eyes into my major textbook. I should have just picked up reading from the exact line I left off, but the black text seemed to completely fracture in my mind, scattering erratically across the page.

‘Could I get your number?’

The voice of that nameless, faceless girl relentlessly echoed in my head. Along with the image of Chae Un-ha innocently accepting her phone right in front of her. Every single detail of it.

I sensed someone approaching. A shadow fell over the table, but Na Eun-hyeok did not look up.

“I’m here.”

Hearing his voice, it was finally time to lift my head. Pressing his eyes shut, Na Eun-hyeok forcefully erased the scene on the staircase that was still playing out against the pages of his textbook. Much like his child-actor days when he had to burst into a radiant smile the exact moment the director yelled ‘Cut’ even if he had been sobbing seconds prior, he cleanly severed his true emotions from his outward expression. He pulled it off without an ounce of difficulty. The only thing he couldn’t comprehend was why he felt the desperate need to compartmentalize his emotions in the first place.

“You’re here?”

“Yeah.”

Though a smooth smile graced his lips, his mind was a chaotic mess. There was absolutely no rational reason to feel displeased, yet a heavy, suffocating knot felt tightly lodged somewhere deep inside his chest. When he looked down at the tips of Chae Un-ha’s fingers as the boy offered a box of cookies—mentioning he had bought them right outside the campus gates—that wave of displeasure intensified. It almost felt as if the object in Un-ha’s hands wasn’t a box of cookies, but rather the mobile phone of the girl who had just taken his number.

Why?

Tearing his gaze away from the cookies, he stared intently at Chae Un-ha, deliberately forcing their eyes to meet. As he held his gaze with deliberate weight, watching Un-ha let out a panicked hiccup from pure discomfort felt intensely amusing. At the exact same time, a strange wave of relief washed over him.

Chae Un-ha likes me anyway.

Isn’t that right? Na Eun-hyeok whispered to himself once more. Chae Un-ha was exactly that kind of person. He was foolish enough to remain entirely oblivious to who I really was, and while he lacked the courage to openly broadcast his feelings, he subconsciously expressed his affection with every single fiber of his being. If you wanted to call it pure, it was pure; if you wanted to call it naive, it was naive. Either way, he was a person who fundamentally didn’t belong in Na Eun-hyeok’s world.

Just as he lightheartedly leaned back against his chair, completely reassured, Chae Un-ha’s phone vibrated.

[ Unknown: I’m the person who took your number earlier. ]

Before Chae Un-ha could even register the notification, Eun-hyeok’s eyes tracked the exact trajectory of the boy’s gaze. Sure enough, Un-ha was staring blankly at the text message illuminating his display. Na Eun-hyeok’s eyes locked back onto Chae Un-ha’s phone. Though the screen timed out and lost its light, the blank black glass continued to hold his attention prisoner. ‘I’m the person who took your number earlier.’ The message addressed to Chae Un-ha felt as though it were whispering something directly to Na Eun-hyeok himself. ‘Hello, Na Eun-hyeok-ssi. Have you had your fun?’

Though they hurriedly dove into the project at Chae Un-ha’s urging, he couldn’t focus on the material at all. The displeasure he had barely managed to suppress ballooned in size, pressing down heavily on his heart. He was vastly more consumed by how Chae Un-ha would reply to that text message than he was by the shifting dynamics of the foundry market based on TSMC’s new foundry location. Would he agree to meet up with her at least once, just like anyone else would? And would that single meeting inevitably pave the way for a second?

“Are you feeling sick?”

“Huh?”

He lifted his head at the sound of Chae Un-ha’s voice. It felt profoundly strange to see his own reflection captured inside those clear, light brown eyes. Chae Un-ha rarely initiated direct eye contact. Was this the literal first time? Completely oblivious to the fact that Eun-hyeok’s mind was miles away, Un-ha asked again, his voice laced with genuine worry.

“If you’re sick and can’t focus, we can just call it a day and rest. I’ll take care of compiling this assignment on my own.”

An awkward, yet entirely sincere tone. It had been an exceptionally long time since anyone had directed that type of pure concern toward him. Na Eun-hyeok’s parents were simply not the kind of people to pour out that type of care and affection, and showing any sign of weakness or vulnerability in front of others—including his own parents—was something Na Eun-hyeok strictly refused to do. I didn’t think I let it show at all, though. He stared blankly at Chae Un-ha.

“I’m fine. If anything, aren’t you the one who’s sick?”

Looking at the boy’s flushed face and the restless twitching of his fingertips, it was glaringly obvious what he was thinking. The sharp tension coiling through Eun-hyeok’s nerves dissolved in an instant. To drive the point home, he lifted his hand and pressed it gently against Chae Un-ha’s forehead. Exactly as anticipated, Chae Un-ha’s facial muscles completely melted, turning hopelessly soft and unraveled under his touch.

“Your face is burning up, Un-ha-ya.”

“Uh, I……”

“They say the flu is going around heavily these days. Be careful.”

Whether the flu was actually going around or not, he didn’t have a clue. Chae Un-ha seemed equally clueless, merely offering an awkward nod of agreement. Though the inexplicable displeasure had largely receded, a faint trace of irritation still lingered at the edge of his heart. After exchanging a few more meaningless pleasantries, he spoke up on a sudden impulse.

“Do you have lunch plans?”

He figured there was a solid chance he might get rejected this time. Chae Un-ha always seemed to have a set group of friends he ate meals with, and even outside of that, the boy would occasionally reject him at completely incomprehensible intervals. Even if the thick layer of awkwardness between them had largely dissipated, there were still a million other reasons they might not eat together.

“No.”

The only reason that response brought a faint spark of joy to his chest was strictly because of that.

They shared lunch several more times after that afternoon. It was unprecedented for Na Eun-hyeok to share meals with another person at such frequent intervals. Na Eun-hyeok himself didn’t even register the narrowing gap between them.

He simply rationalized that it was entertaining, so it was perfectly fine to play around a little longer. The way the boy went out of his way to clumsily show consideration for his position without even knowing his own place was merely audacious and cute. He deliberately parroted the exact same phrases he had spoken inside the game, using the exact same tone of voice. When on earth is he going to catch on? Un-ha’s total inability to connect the dots—failing to imagine even in his wildest dreams that they were the exact same person—was something he found both intensely satisfying and deeply frustrating all at once.

“By the way, Un-ha-ya. Did you ever find the answer to… ‘It’s darkest under the lamp’?”

Perhaps, deep down, a part of him had desperately wanted the boy to finally figure it out. But Na Eun-hyeok was completely blind to that side of himself.