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Chapter 11
“…Why are you here?”
“Because I was invited. Didn’t I tell you I’ve got plenty of friends in Journalism?”
Jung Tae-heon leaned against the wall with a crooked smile. When he stepped aside as if to say after you, only then did Hae-joo notice Senior Hyun-woo seated on the sofa.
“Hae-joo, ignore him. Come sit here.”
Without sparing Tae-heon a glance, Hyun-woo tapped the seat beside him.
On the table in front of Hyun-woo lay a tablet PC.
Hae-joo cast a wary sideways look at Tae-heon, then scurried over to Hyun-woo’s side. She pulled an old, secondhand laptop out of her bag and began setting it up.
“I’ll show you the websites where you can find tutoring jobs. There’s also an anonymous group chat where notices go up, but you’ll need to verify your student enrollment with the admin first. It’s a little hard for freshmen since they’re not preferred…”
Hyun-woo patiently explained not only how to find tutoring jobs but also how to structure lessons. Perched with her overheated, heavy laptop on her lap, Hae-joo scribbled furiously in her notebook.
From across the table, she could feel the prickling weight of someone’s gaze. Yet, surprisingly, Tae-heon didn’t interfere.
Why is he even in our department’s society room? Why does Hyun-woo look so calm about it? …Do they know each other?
Just then, members of the student council entered. As if to prove Tae-heon’s claim, they recognized him first and greeted him warmly.
Hae-joo quickly stood to greet the newcomers.
“Hello, seniors. I’m Seo Hae-joo, first-year in Korea University’s Department of Journalism and Mass Communication.”
From the back, Bo-young spotted her and called out cheerfully,
“Oh? Hae-joo, you’re here! Did you have a good weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Our pretty little drinker. Let’s go out again soon, yeah?”
Bo-young twisted her wrist, miming a shot of soju.
Mundo-yoon, the society president, gave Hae-joo a brief nod before turning straight to Tae-heon. His father was a deputy director at ITBC, making his choice of major more straightforward than most.
From fragments of their conversation, it sounded like Tae-heon was discussing the department’s upcoming MT.
But why was an outsider talking MT business with the Journalism council?
“MT… resort… thanks…”
Distracted, Hae-joo stumbled over her notes. Hyun-woo sighed softly as he watched her flounder.
“The society room’s noisy today, isn’t it? We’ve got a meeting later, but someone suddenly barged in demanding to talk to the president.”
“He said he was invited, though?”
“A visit disguised as an invitation. He knows if he asks first, they won’t say no.”
Hyun-woo shot Tae-heon a look of distaste. Curious, Hae-joo whispered,
“Hyun-woo sunbae, you look pretty close with him… Do you know each other?”
“Middle school classmates. We got closer again once we both got into the same university.”
“Really…”
Hae-joo blinked in surprise.
It was hard to imagine the two as friends. Aside from being handsome, they couldn’t be more different. Hyun-woo gave off the tidy, professorial aura of a model student, while Tae-heon radiated flamboyance wherever he went.
Hyun-woo, nicknamed the Gentleman for his upright, diligent character, being close to someone surrounded by scandal and trouble? It didn’t add up.
“Why? Surprised?”
Hyun-woo seemed to read her thoughts. When she awkwardly nodded, he chuckled.
“I get that a lot. But Tae-heon’s not as reckless as the rumors say.”
Setting his tablet aside, Hyun-woo leaned forward.
“I think I’ve told you the essentials. You look like you’ll put in the effort, so the rest is luck. You also wanted to know about clubs useful for your résumé, right?”
“Yes.”
“Department clubs are best once you decide which field you want—journalism, broadcasting, advertising—whichever. They’ll help you build your portfolio.”
“My field of employment…”
Her voice trailed off with uncertainty.
She had chosen her major less from passion and more from pragmatism: the highest school she could get into with her scores, the safest route to a job, and a department that seemed less grueling than others.
While her peers already built portfolios aimed at careers as PDs, journalists, or advertisers, she drifted aimlessly without belonging anywhere.
“There’s also a central club—career development. Great for networking. A friend of mine runs it, so I joined too. If you’d like, you can come check it out. They do volunteer work and share job info.”
“That sounds amazing. Thank you so much, sunbae. Just let me know when you’re free, and I’ll treat you to a good meal.”
Hyun-woo sunbae really is the best.
She nodded eagerly, her heart full of gratitude. Hyun-woo glanced at his phone.
“A senior like me can’t be freeloading off freshmen. Just ask me anything from now on. You said your part-time shift starts at seven, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got a student council meeting now. If you’d like, when it’s over we can grab din—”
“I’m hungry.”
A low voice cut through his words.
Though unforced, it carried an odd weight that made everyone listen.
The room had gone quiet. The council members, mid-scroll on their phones, froze in place. Every gaze turned toward Tae-heon. His eyes burned into Hae-joo with unnerving persistence.
“Since I’m done here, why don’t we go grab dinner? There’s something I’d like to discuss with Seo Hae-joo too.”
His lips curled into a smile, but his gaze was scorching, sharp enough to sting.
“Student council meetings drag on forever. If you wait, this freshman will starve to death and be found a skeleton by the time it’s over.”
The president glanced between them, puzzled.
“What, you two know each other?”
“Same liberal arts class. Same group. She’s my partner this semester.”
“Ohh, so this is the lucky girl from the rumors? Hae-joo, make him treat you to something expensive. I’ll even recommend a top-notch wagyu omakase. Bleed him dry.”
Hae-joo instinctively looked to Hyun-woo for guidance. He smiled faintly and nodded.
“Well, well.”
Tae-heon raised a brow at the exchange. Standing, he leaned down toward her, close enough for his words to graze her ear.
“You owe me an explanation for that message you sent.”
Straightening, he mouthed a single word with deliberate clarity:
Car poor.
I’m doomed.
Her shoulders slumped as she muttered in a tiny, defeated voice, “I guess I do…”
