Chapter 1: The Suspiciously Handsome Senior

Joo Han-gyeol has been discharged from the military.

The rumor didn’t make much of a splash. It wasn’t exactly surprising news. Joo Han-gyeol had once been a promising athlete, but he had never won an Olympic medal, and fencing wasn’t a popular sport in Korea to begin with. As a result, the only people on campus who paid much attention to his discharge were the fencing team’s coach and members, along with a handful of fencing enthusiasts. Still, Han-gyeol’s limited social circle didn’t end there. His discharge became a genuine topic of interest when he contacted his high school classmate and fellow club member, Won Un-jae. Before Han-gyeol enlisted in the Armed Forces Athletic Corps, Un-jae had also been his roommate, sharing a dorm room with him for the entire time. After hesitating for a moment, Han-gyeol called him. The phone rang.

Fortunately, Un-jae answered in a cheerful voice. He said he had just finished his part-time job and was on his way back to the dormitory. He seemed to have already readjusted to civilian life perfectly. In fact, most of the club members, including Un-jae, had completed their military service six months earlier. Han-gyeol was the only one who had enlisted six months late and, consequently, been discharged six months late due to a certain incident. Un-jae seemed a little hurt that Han-gyeol had only contacted him now.

– Why didn’t you call as soon as you got out? Everyone’s been asking when you’re coming back.

“I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”

– You call that an answer? Anyway, where are you staying now?

“At my aunt’s place. She keeps insisting I stay there. I’ll move back into the dorm once the semester starts.”

– All right, then let’s throw you a discharge party before that.

“A discharge party?”

As it turned out, the so-called party was a party in name only. It meant gathering at the same pork belly restaurant where the club always held its dinners and eating grilled pork belly while drinking soju. Nothing had changed at all. Han-gyeol agreed. Un-jae was even willing to go to the trouble of contacting everyone, so Han-gyeol had no reason to refuse. Only after the call ended did Han-gyeol remember the other reason he had contacted Un-jae. Unless someone else had already claimed his roommate, he had wanted to ask if they could share a room again next semester. He had forgotten to bring it up. Well, they would be seeing each other again soon, so he could ask then. Un-jae wasn’t a bad roommate. He had his flaws, of course, but it would be difficult to find anyone better than him.

The room where Han-gyeol lay was dark, with the lights off. Cold seeped up from the hard floor. Han-gyeol slowly opened his eyes. He picked up the sword lying on the floor, and its blade glimmered faintly in the darkness. No matter how many times he gripped it, his heart continued to beat unsteadily. He knew very well that it wasn’t excitement making his heart race. When he had first started, he had at least enjoyed it… Perhaps he really should have quit when he got injured.

‘Joo Han-gyeol! Hey, you! Your damn attitude is the problem. Do you even want to fence or not? You keep letting your mind wander, and that’s why you get injured! You little punk, don’t you want to win a medal?’

Han-gyeol wasn’t sure. He thought he had given the same answer back then, too. That only made the coach angrier. A torrent of harsh words followed, but there wasn’t much about them that was wrong. Joo Han-gyeol himself simply wasn’t capable of being anything more than what he was. ‘I’ll just quit fencing, then.’

The coach froze as though someone had pressed the pause button. He looked like a volcano about to erupt, its body trembling as it prepared to spew lava. Han-gyeol counted silently to himself.

Five, four, three, two, one…

The coach seemed to be unleashing every curse word he knew. Han-gyeol simply stood there and listened. ‘If only memories had an off switch, too.’ That was all he could think about. Then, suddenly, his aunt’s voice overlapped with the memory.

“Han-gyeol, are you asleep?”

“…No.”

“Your uncle’s home. Come out and have dinner. Jin-su says he has plans. Honestly, that boy acts like he’s so busy.”

Though her tone sounded mildly reproachful, her voice carried a deep affection for her eldest son, a successful businessman, along with an unwavering pride in him. Well, perhaps a son like Seo Jin-su deserved that kind of treatment.

“Yes, I’ll be right out.”

Han-gyeol managed to answer, forcing his voice out with difficulty. Her footsteps gradually faded into the distance. His aunt might have been disappointed that she wouldn’t get to see her son’s face, but Han-gyeol was relieved that Jin-su wasn’t coming. And he despised himself for feeling relieved.

Won Un-jae was predictable. He had claimed he would seriously consider the menu, but the name that eventually popped up in the group chat was the same old familiar restaurant: Our Fresh Pork Belly. It was the sort of place where, for some reason, they ended up ordering frozen pork belly more often than fresh. Han-gyeol was usually one of the first to arrive at appointments, but when he entered the restaurant, he was surprised to find that every club member was already there. Even Gyu-min, who was notorious for being late, had shown up. Apparently, everyone understood that this was a party to celebrate Han-gyeol’s discharge. Un-jae spotted him and waved. There was an empty seat in the middle. Han-gyeol instinctively knew it was his.

As soon as Han-gyeol sat down, Un-jae jokingly announced that they had saved the seat for the guest of honor. He found himself surrounded by familiar faces. They were all fellow club members. He exchanged casual greetings with them. Then he folded up the shirt he had been wearing and tucked it inside his chair to keep it from absorbing the smell. He could put up with the smell of alcohol, but he didn’t want to return to his aunt’s house reeking of grilled meat. Do-hyeon, sitting across from him, laughed and remarked that Han-gyeol was still as fussy about keeping clean as ever. It was something he had heard often enough that he had no comeback.

“So, how does it feel to be discharged? Still nice to be back, right?”

“It’s… fine.”

“Well, I guess. I heard you keep training and competing even when you’re in the Armed Forces Athletic Corps.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Joo Han-gyeol won a medal this time, didn’t he? I saw it in the news. Some kind of world fencing competition, right?”

“The Asian Championships.”

While answering their questions, Han-gyeol placed pork belly on the grill. Un-jae immediately snatched the tongs away, protesting that the guest of honor shouldn’t be the one cooking. Han-gyeol didn’t particularly care, but he obediently handed them over. Un-jae placed another slice of pork belly on the edge of the grill. Sizzle. The heat slowly thawed the frozen meat.

“Oh, one more person’s coming later. That’s okay, right? I thought it’d be good for you to get acquainted with him beforehand.”

“Who?”

“Hyung An Ik-su. He joined the club last semester. That guy’s hilarious. You should get to know him, too.”

“Ik-su?”

“Yeah. An. Ik. Su.”

Un-jae enunciated each syllable clearly. It was a little unusual. Since Un-jae was calling him hyung, the man was probably older than him in terms of university seniority. It wasn’t common for someone who wasn’t a freshman to join a club this late in their college career. Unless it was a professional association or academic society that could help with employment, there was little reason for an upperclassman to join a club like Popular Entertainment Research, which clearly offered no benefits for the future. This An Ik-su sounded like someone with far too much free time on his hands.

In fact, the club, Joyboard, struggled to recruit new members every semester because it seemed suspicious and pointless. They could usually manage to attract one or two relatively carefree freshmen, though most of them left within a year. But upperclassmen were far too busy to waste their time on something like this. Un-jae had once told Han-gyeol that someone had even criticized him while he was recruiting new members.

“Wow, you guys really don’t seem to do anything. You don’t even take gaming seriously, do you?”

Still, that person’s assumption wasn’t entirely wrong. Joyboard fully respected its members’ individual interests. Although the club claimed to focus on studying games, there was no requirement to actually like games to join. Han-gyeol himself had little interest in them. If Un-jae hadn’t persuaded him by saying it looked fun and asking him to join together, he would never have set foot in the club. In short, Joyboard was a place where young people who didn’t want to work too hard at life gathered to waste their youth together. An Ik-su was probably the same sort of person. Though he was getting to the age when there wasn’t much youth left to waste…

“Oh, hyung’s here! Hyung!”

Un-jae sprang to his feet and waved as he cut the meat, which had turned a delicious golden-brown. Han-gyeol, whose curiosity had been piqued a little, put down the chopsticks he had been using to pick at the apple salad and looked up. A tall man wearing a short-sleeved shirt and jeans was approaching their table. He waved back cheerfully.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re lucky, hyung. You arrived just in time for the meat to finish cooking. Sit over there.”

The man sat diagonally across from Han-gyeol. ‘So that’s An Ik-su…’

Han-gyeol was a little taken aback. Even though he knew it was rude, he couldn’t help staring at the man. The reason was simple: the man looked so utterly unlike someone named An Ik-su. Of course, that might have been a prejudice on his part, but either way, the combination was genuinely strange.

“Hyung, remember how you said this place was good last time?”

“Of course I remember. But who’s this?”

The man’s gaze slowly shifted toward Han-gyeol. Unlike Han-gyeol, who stiffened at the arrival of a stranger, the man wore a gentle smile. And his eyes were a mysterious shade of blue. ‘Yes, blue.’

Un-jae blinked a few times, then gave the man a sly grin as he introduced Han-gyeol.

“This is Joo Han-gyeol, the fencer who was discharged recently. I’ve already told him about you, hyung.”

“Oh, so you’re Joo Han-gyeol. Hello, Han-gyeol. I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

“…Yes, nice to meet you. And you can speak casually to me.”

Han-gyeol shook the hand the man offered him. It was surprisingly firm, with a few calluses. It didn’t match his refined appearance. There was something else Han-gyeol noticed, too: the man’s Korean pronunciation was flawless. A few questions came to mind, but he kept them to himself. Han-gyeol had devoted nearly half his life to sports, but he knew better than to make assumptions about someone’s background or nationality. He had even received similar training before participating in international competitions.

“Then I’ll speak casually, Han-gyeol.”

The man switched to informal speech as though he had been waiting for permission. Then he smiled brightly, his eyes crinkling. He was so handsome that Han-gyeol almost felt as if the atmosphere around them had changed in that instant. That was another strange thing about him. ‘Had someone like this really been at our university all this time?’

Han-gyeol generally paid little attention to other people, but a face like that would have left a clear impression on him even if they had merely passed each other in the hallway. At the very least, he should have overheard club members gossiping about some handsome guy in one of the university departments…

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