ULOD 01

Chapter 1

*”Hobby is exercise, swims in the morning at least twice a week, often goes running, prefers reading over movies, the most recent book he read was Philip Roth’s Sabbath’s Theater, uses a 4-year-old iPhone, belongs to the Business Administration student council’s PR department.”*

This is about the extent of what Shin Yeon-jae knows about Lee Do-han’s preferences.

Oh, and also: he likes women with short hair.

“Please cut it short. To about chin length.”

At the hair salon she’d dashed into right before class, the hairdresser looked surprised.
That was understandable. It’s rare for a woman to ask to have her waist-length hair cut off without even showing a single styling photo.
No, she might have looked like a crazy woman.

In fact, Yeon-jae was crazy.
Crazy about Lee Do-han.

As for him, he was a well-known figure in the business school; everyone knew him.
It was impossible not to.

Height of 184 cm. A clean, handsome face. Broad shoulders. A gentle personality. Black hair covering his forehead.
Among ordinary college students, he was a being who shone as if living on a different plane of existence.

In a generation where wireless earphones were common, he always insisted on using wired earphones. He would wear only one earpiece, the other dangling down, and his earphone cord was never, ever tangled.

He always carried the same backpack. Today was no different.
Do-han took off his backpack from his shoulder and pulled out his major textbook. A male classmate who always secured the seat next to Do-han asked him,

“When did you buy that?”
“Hmm. Maybe when I entered high school?”

Yeon-jae quickly pulled out her notebook.
She found the entry that said “Backpack bought in college” and drew a single line through the word “college,” then added a few characters.

“College. High school.”

“You really use things for a long time. Didn’t you say the phone you’re using now is 4 years old?”
“If it isn’t broken, why not just keep using it?”

She started a new line and added one more.

“Uses things for a long time.”

As expected. It perfectly suited his prudent aura.
The notebook where she’d collected information on Do-han had already filled over half a page.

Suddenly, Yeon-jae became curious.
Does he even know I exist now?

A few days ago, right around the time the professor was about to enter the lecture hall.
The same classmate who always sat next to Do-han asked him that day.
It wasn’t loud enough to shake the room, but it was definitely loud enough for Yeon-jae, sitting three rows back, to hear.

“Hey, Do-han. You know that girl with glasses sitting in the very back row? The one always staring at you?”
“Yeah?”
“She doesn’t look like she’s in our major. You think she’s taking business classes just to see you?”
“No way.”

Saying that, Do-han let out a light laugh.
Unlike his short reply, no more than five syllables, his expression seemed to say he didn’t know how to react, and his attitude suggested he wanted to end the conversation at an appropriate point.

But the classmate persistently added one more remark.

“She’s like a stalker. Creepy.”

‘I can look if I want. It’s not like I’m looking at you!’

…is what Yeon-jae thought in her head, but since she was indeed secretly watching Do-han, her conscience was pricked for a moment.
But she got over it in one second.

‘If you’re that weak-hearted, you couldn’t do something like this in the first place.’

From the beginning of the year, Yeon-jae had meticulously considered which classes Do-han would take, and then carefully selected four classes targeted at 3rd and 4th-year business students (his double major) to register for.

The class she was in now, <Digital Marketing Strategy>, was her favorite among them. Because it was the only one of the four she actually took with Do-han.
…That’s right. Only one out of four was a hit.

‘My luck really is nonexistent.’

Thanks to that, the other three lectures Do-han didn’t attend became useless appendages for the semester.

Today, Do-han arrived 5 minutes before class, as usual. So Yeon-jae always made sure to get to the lecture hall at least 10 minutes early.
And she always sat in the very back row. Since Do-han usually sat around the middle, the back row was the perfect spot to observe him from a slight elevation.

Meanwhile, Do-han’s business school classmate, Kwak Seong-hyeon (a name she never wanted to know but learned involuntarily through observation), always arrived just 1-2 minutes before class, cutting it close.
He’d throw his bag down and collapse on his desk to catch his breath—that was his routine. But on the rare days he arrived early, he’d look around the room before even opening his textbook, searching for Yeon-jae.
And he’d always throw out one irritating remark. Like today.

“Whoa, the stalker cut her hair.”

Crazy bastard. It’s not like I cut it for you to see.

Do-han, who usually showed little reaction, turned around today.
Yeon-jae reflexively lowered her head. Her thick glasses slid down her nose.
Quickly propping her textbook up to half-hide her face, Yeon-jae silently waited for Do-han to look away.

Soon, Do-han turned back around. And said quietly,

“Seong-hyeon.”
A smirk was plastered on Kwak Seong-hyeon face, firmly believing he had Do-han’s agreement.
“You’re noisy. Shut up.”

The atmosphere instantly froze.
It was only five syllables.
But those five syllables alone sealed Kwak Seong-hyeon mouth shut as if it had been stitched.

Throughout it all, Yeon-jae was silent.
But her heart raced as if it would explode. Not just her earlobes, but even the prominent bones on the back of her hands flushed hot.

After class started, the tension between Do-han and Seong-hyeon eased. Seong-hyeon acted friendly toward Do-han as if nothing had happened.

“Lee Do-han, you eating cafeteria food for lunch today?”
“Sorry. I have plans.”

Today again, Do-han refused Seong-hyeon lunch offer.
Yeon-jae couldn’t understand why Do-han kept Seong-hyeon around, but after observing for two or three months, she finally realized.
Seong-hyeon isn’t Do-han’s friend. He’s just one of the people trying hard to get close to Do-han.

In this class, there’s only one person who could be called Do-han’s friend.
No, in the entire school, just one.

Creak.

The door opened behind her.
A man was entering the lecture hall, holding just a single unbound course reader, no backpack.
It was about 15 minutes after class had started.
The room was dead silent except for the sounds of note-taking, other small noises, and the professor’s voice.

Cutting through the awkward silence, the man finally found an empty seat in a corner and sat down. The professor stopped writing on the board.
And precisely looked at where the man had sat.

“Kang Hyeon-o

Kang Hyeon-o.
The man who always came in later than the professor, the only student in this class whose name the professor not only remembered but brought up during lectures.
“For a student to be late halfway through the semester?”
For a very inglorious reason.

Usually, three late arrivals count as one absence. Even Yeon-jae, indifferent to everyone except Do-han, was concerned about his attendance record.
Given his frequency of tardiness, it was hard to believe he hadn’t yet reached the threshold for an F. Maybe he was attending lectures without even realizing he’d already failed.

“Sorry.”
The man bowed his head slightly out of courtesy. Despite his words, he didn’t seem particularly sorry.

Since it wasn’t a one-time thing, the professor, seeming a bit exasperated, let it go without further comment. Once the lecture resumed, the man actually focused quite intently on the class.

After observing that much, Yeon-jae’s gaze returned to Do-han.

When class ended, students filling the lecture hall one by one folded their textbooks and packed them into their bags.
Do-han did the same, and so did Kwak Seong-hyeon, the leech clinging to him as if he wanted to be his Siamese twin.

Only Kang Hyeon-o, without a bag, just holding his loose reader in his hand and a pen in his back pocket, stood up and approached Do-han.

“Hey, Lee Do-han.”
Do-han turned to look at Hyeon-o, his face brightening.

“If you’re going to be late like this every time, why did you even bother moving near the school in the first place?”
Do-han retorted, his tone blunt despite his welcoming expression.

Hyeon-o was the only person Do-han used such a casual tone with.
It was a side of Do-han, who usually kept everyone at a polite distance, that he rarely showed, so Yeon-jae’s senses sharpened.

“Did you eat?”
“No, not yet.”
“How about some sundae soup?”
“Sounds good.”
“There’s a new place that opened in front of the back gate. Let’s go.”

Kang Hyeon-o was one of the key people related to Lee Do-han, and was noted in Yeon-jae’s notebook.
A sharp but handsome face. An attitude as unruly as if some nerve in his brain was twisted. A slick, nonchalant aura.
Because of his cool demeanor, sometimes just looking at him could be intimidating, making you wonder if he was glaring at you.

He was in the same business school department as Do-han, and from snippets of conversation Yeon-jae had overheard, he seemed quite smart.
Once, Do-han had said to Hyeon-o,

“You get the results you want by putting in only one-tenth the effort others do.”

Even to Yeon-jae, he seemed to live life quite easily.
The professor, who never seemed genuinely angry despite his constant lateness – he even sometimes joked with him and asked him to come to office hours!

He seemed like an open book to others, but at crucial moments, he became hard to read.
Just like now.
Kwak Seong-hyeon, who had been glued to Do-han’s side, subtly took notice of Hyeon-o arrival and quickly disappeared.

And all of these traits made him perfectly suited to be Do-han’s friend.
Yeon-jae quite liked the picture of Hyeon-o standing next to Do-han.

Pretending to pack her things while eavesdropping on Do-han and Hyeon-o conversation, Yeon-jae suddenly remembered she had a major class in the Humanities Building, a 10-minute walk from the Business Building, and hurriedly got up.
She vowed to never again schedule consecutive classes with a business school class next semester.

She’d been taking classes with Do-han for quite a while now, so it was about time to set her next goal.
Walking towards the Humanities Building, Yeon-jae decided.
Next goal: do a group project together.
She had checked the syllabus beforehand, and there was a group project. Judging by Do-han’s personality, he would surely participate diligently.
If that happened, having a direct conversation with Do-han wouldn’t be a complete fantasy.

Thinking these thoughts, walking with her head down, Yeon-jae absentmindedly reached into her jacket pocket and realized her hand grasped nothing.
Yeon-jae stopped dead in her tracks.

My notebook!

She frantically retraced her steps like Hansel and Gretel picking up breadcrumbs, but the notebook was nowhere to be seen.
Yeonjae’s face gradually turned pale, like someone who’d been punched in the solar plexus.

She was screwed.