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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Unintended First Skinship
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“Hey, you got a thing for Kang A-jin or what?”
The moment they stepped out of the cafeteria, Jong-min asked.
He’d been dying to bring it up the whole time they were eating.
“What’re you talking about?”
Jun-woo furrowed his brow, dismissing it as a weird question.
“You’ve been picking on Kang A-jin nonstop lately. But it kinda feels like there’s affection behind it.”
“Affection, my ass. You pick on someone you like?”
“Not me. But people express love in all sorts of ways, y’know.”
“…….”
Jun-woo ignored him, figuring it wasn’t worth responding, and walked ahead.
“See!! You can’t even say anything.”
Jong-min found his reaction intriguing and stuck close behind.
‘Look at him squirming.’
He was annoyed by Jong-min jumping to conclusions and making a fuss.
Jun-woo scowled darkly and said,
“You think I’m crazy? That I’d like her…….”
“Then what is it?”
“She’s just fun.”
“What is?”
“Her ugly faces.”
“Where?”
“…….”
Jun-woo headed into the classroom first, signaling not to follow.
“Totally suspicious.”
It just felt like an excuse.
The guy who always said girls were annoying and a hassle, teasing her just because her faces were funny?
Jong-min figured he needed to keep watching.
* * *
Cho-hee checked herself in the bathroom mirror before coming out.
The swelling on her face had finally gone down by lunchtime.
With her eyes clear again, her mood lifted a bit.
“What’s this?”
Back in the classroom, there was bread and milk on her desk.
And a note too.
[Cho-hee, don’t skip meals—make sure to eat this. From. Jong-min]
“Such a busybody.”
The one person she wanted attention from ignored her, while these randos kept butting in.
Cho-hee grabbed the bread in irritation.
She squeezed too hard, squishing the soft bread into an ugly mess.
She eyed the trash can.
If she tossed it in the classroom one, someone would definitely ask who threw out food.
So she headed to the recycling station at the end of the school flower bed.
Thanks to the picky environmental management teacher, the bins stood neatly aligned.
She opened the blue one for general waste and chucked in the bread and milk.
“Instead of wasting time on crap like this, do something about Park Jun-woo!!”
She glared at the discarded bread and milk like they were Jong-min and vented.
She’d hoped getting close to him would get her closer to Jun-woo.
But he’d just become an obstacle.
If he was in the way, tossing him out made sense.
Cho-hee slammed the lid shut with a bang, fuming.
* * *
Inside the Y University department office, the tiny two-pyeong TA room was crammed with students and total chaos.
“Kwang-hyun oppa, which school did you get assigned to?”
A cluster of female underclassmen swarmed Kwang-hyun at the computer, checking the department homepage.
They tried to catch his eye—making cute faces, brushing back their hair, even subtly bumping shoulders for some skinship.
But Kwang-hyun, overwhelmed by them, kept his eyes glued to the monitor and said,
“Me? Hmm…….”
“What? An all-boys? All-girls?”
“Co-ed.”
“Aw, damn……. Haha. Guess it’s not the same as mine then. I got a girls’ school…….”
One underclassman let her usual curse slip out in disappointment.
“Hey! How long you all planning to stay? Don’t you have major classes?”
The TA shooed them out for being too loud.
The underclassmen grumbled as they filed out of the office.
“Don’t come here.”
Once they were gone, the TA snapped at Kwang-hyun, who was left alone.
He treated him casually since they were department mates and friends.
“Why not?”
“You show up and it turns into a total madhouse.”
Kwang-hyun chuckled at the TA’s complaint.
“My fault?”
“Who else? You’ve got a phone—why come here to check?”
“Getting old, I guess. Big screens are better.”
Kwang-hyun grinned cheekily.
The TA just gave him a deadpan look at the joke.
“I’m telling the prof! You little punk.”
“Sorry. Bear with me.”
“So? You check it all?”
“Yeah.”
“Which school?”
“Hmm…….”
Kwang-hyun glanced back at the monitor.
Where was it again…….
A soft smile crept onto his lips.
* * *
Recycling duty rotated among the whole school.
Jun-woo was on it this week.
“Jun-woo, check the blue bin for mis-sorted trash, and you…….”
The environmental management teacher—looking like a strict dorm supervisor with her half-rim glasses—assigned roles to the five group members.
Following instructions, Jun-woo opened the lid on the general waste bin.
He pulled out non-burnable rubber and a recyclable can.
And a bread bag with the bread still inside.
“This…….”
A Post-it was stuck to it.
[Cho-hee, don’t skip meals—make sure to eat this. From. Jong-min]
His brow furrowed deeply.
Jun-woo checked the bag again.
Maybe she’d eaten a bit? But it wasn’t even opened.
He knew Cho-hee didn’t like Jong-min.
It was her choice to eat or toss it, but this felt excessive.
“Jun-woo, what’re you doing?”
The teacher asked as he stood there dazed.
He shoved the bread into his pocket and grabbed the tongs in a hurry.
“Where do the rubber ones go?”
“Red bag.”
“Okay.”
The crinkling plastic rustled sadly with his steps toward the waste bags.
* * *
“No matter how you look at it, our gym uniforms are way too tacky, right?”
“It’s not military training—why the camo green!!”
Some said Seowon High School’s gym uniform designer must’ve been ex-military or a military fashion fanatic.
Strangers even asked if kids were wearing their discharged uncle’s clothes.
As students filed into the auditorium, it gradually filled with green.
Some bounced in happily—no studying!—while others dragged their feet, annoyed at PE cutting into study time.
“There’s Jun-woo.”
Girls clustered together whispered when he appeared.
“How’s he make even those tacky gym clothes look cool?”
“Right? Look at that build. Perfect nine-head proportions, for real.”
“Yeah. Unlike you—you’re all ass!”
“What, you little bitch!!”
“Even as a soldier uncle, our Jun-woo would look hot.”
“Soldier? I’d rock the rubber shoes.”
“Nah, you already look like rubber shoes.”
“What, you little bitch?”
The kids’ chatter echoed noisily through the auditorium.
“Alright, alright! Attention.”
The PE teacher’s voice finally quieted the racket.
Today was CPR training day.
The teacher demonstrated on a mat with a dummy.
“Place your palms on the sternum and thrust your weight in quickly—two reps at a time. Questions?”
“Teacher, but even if you help, they call it sexual harassment these days.”
“What if we get sued for messing up?”
Valid points—the teacher smiled kindly.
“Heard of the Good Samaritan? When everyone ignores a neighbor in need, he not only treats the injured but pays for it too. What if it’s your family—or you—who needs help, and everyone turns away? What if you lose someone you love, or your own precious life?”
The kids had no comeback.
“Yeah. With all the crazy stuff these days, it’s understandable to worry. But CPR triples survival chances—it’s crucial first aid. That’s why I think this class beats English or math. It’s why I pulled you from precious study time.”
The students nodded solemnly, gaining big insights.
A-jin was totally absorbed, pressing her clasped hands to her own chest like she was practicing.
Jun-woo watched her.
A smile tugged at his lips, unnoticed.
She was hilarious and kinda cute.
“One, two, three—close enough. Pair up guy-girl, two per team for practice.”
The teacher roughly paired nearby boys and girls.
‘Stay here and I’ll end up with Park Jun-woo.’
A-jin eyed the approaching teacher, calculating. This way, she might pair with Jun-woo.
Desperate to avoid him, she backed away.
“Hey! Where you going?”
“Huh?”
“Come here.”
But her escape attempt just drew more attention, landing her with Jun-woo anyway.
‘Why him again!’
Jun-woo brought the mat and dummy, setting them down.
A-jin hung back awkwardly, a step away.
“You first?”
“Huh? No, you go.”
Jun-woo got it and practiced just like the teacher showed.
The teacher, checking postures, passed by with a satisfied nod—smart kids get it quick.
“Your turn.”
He called to A-jin, who hovered shyly.
“Okay.”
At his cue, she knelt and clasped her hands.
Worried the dummy might feel pain, she barely pressed.
“What’re you doing? Press down.”
“Okay. But won’t it hurt if I go too hard?”
“It will. Ribs break sometimes in real CPR.”
Her eyes went wide in shock.
“Really?”
“Yeah, but pussyfooting like that? This guy’d be dead already.”
“Hey! Don’t say it so brutally.”
“Then do it right.”
A-jin swallowed hard, clasped again, and pressed the dummy’s chest.
Too hard— it sank in with a thud.
“Eek! Too much?”
Her hands shook; he looked exasperated.
He shoved the dummy aside and lay flat on the mat.
“Put your hands up.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Pretend I’m the dummy. I’ll show you how it feels on a real person.”
“Hey! No way.”
‘How do I put my hands on a guy’s chest?’
A-jin blushed in embarrassment.
Jun-woo took her hands, clasped them, and placed them on his chest.
“Hey!”
Who does this much?
Her flustered cheeks burned redder.
“Interlock and press.”
To get it over with, she timidly pressed his chest.
“What’re you doing?”
“It’s a real person—I can’t go hard. What if you get hurt!”
“You won’t. Do it.”
Eyes squeezed shut, she pressed with some force.
“Hey! You messing around?”
Worried she’d hurt him from his irritated tone,
“Huh? Did it hurt?”
“Like this!”
Frustrated, he grabbed her hands and slammed them hard onto his chest.
The pull yanked her forward, toppling onto him.
Their faces inches apart—noses nearly touching.
Lips almost brushed.
A-jin’s flushed face went beet red; his started turning too.
He stared into her eyes, frozen.
She sprang up in mortification, flailing cluelessly.
“Who’s doing romance here?”
The teacher joked; friends whooped and teased. A-jin ducked her head in shame.
Jun-woo pretended nothing happened, stood, and packed the gear.
