Stalkerizing

“Sorry. I’ve had bad experiences giving my number to strangers before.”

“Ah!”

Understanding the implication, Sa-yoon let out a small exclamation. Just how many people had tried to get close to Sa Shin-jae?

Even without that comment, he could already guess. Sa-yoon, who welcomed those who came but never clung to those who left, had never really thought about it from that perspective.

“Sorry, was that too sudden?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. It must’ve been uncomfortable for you.”

Seeing the slightly defensive reaction, Sa-yoon coolly put away his phone.

It would’ve been nice if things had gone smoothly—exchange numbers in one go, have a meal together, maybe even grab a drink later—unraveling naturally like a loose thread. But life was never that easy.

Still, he didn’t feel bad about it.

For someone who looked like he’d just go along with anything, smiling here and there, the kid was surprisingly firm. Since he was the same age as his younger sibling, Sa-yoon had worried he might be easily swayed. But at least in this regard, it seemed unnecessary.

Besides, if Shin-jae had been any more accommodating, Sa-yoon wouldn’t have even had a chance to try. Though getting rejected still stung.

Pushing aside his unnecessary meddlesome thoughts, Sa-yoon smiled as if nothing had happened.

“Alright. It was nice meeting you. See you next time.”

It wasn’t like today was the only chance.

“Yes, I’ll be going now.”

Sa Shin-jae gave a slight bow before heading toward the group of fellow students gathered by the stage.

Sa-yoon openly watched his retreating figure. No wonder his clothes fit well—his broad shoulders and straight posture stood out. Did he do some kind of sport?

Just as he was idly entertaining such trivial thoughts, Sa Shin-jae suddenly turned around and looked in his direction.

Caught staring, Sa-yoon cleared his throat awkwardly.

Shin-jae bowed his head again. Oh, he had just wanted to say goodbye. What a polite kid—whoever raised him did a fine job.

Sa-yoon raised a hand and waved back.

“Sunbae! Did you have a good talk?”

Just then, Ha-rim, having finished her own business, returned.

“Not really.”

When Sa-yoon admitted he hadn’t even gotten to the main point, Ha-rim gave him a knowing look.

“So, Ha-rim, I have a favor to ask.”

Connections existed for moments like this.

***

“Ah, I’m sorry!”

“Ow!”

With the start of the new semester, the campus was packed. Sa-yoon, moving against the tide of students migrating like seasonal birds, collided with someone.

Of all things, he got hit by the corner of a thick textbook, and the pain was no joke. His face involuntarily twisted into a grimace, which made the other person suck in a breath.

“I’m so sorry, I’m really sorry!”

“It’s fine.”

The man, who had a rather small frame, kept bowing in apology. His exaggerated motions quickly drew the attention of people passing by.

“I said it’s really fine.”

“Y-yes!”

Only when Sa-yoon spoke in a firmer tone did the apologies stop. His speech was stiff, like someone fresh out of the military.

Has he just been discharged? Sa-yoon tilted his head in curiosity as he turned to leave.

“Um!”

“Yeah?”

It was the guy from earlier.

What now?

“Do… do you know how to get to the first floor?”

“Don’t use the central staircase. Go all the way down the hall and take the stairs there.”

“Ah! Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

Sa-yoon brushed off his sore arm and resumed walking, checking the classroom signs again.

“201… 203A….”

Did the architect forget how to count, or was he just a treasure hunt enthusiast? Classroom 202 wasn’t between 201 and 203 but in some completely unexpected location.

Turning the corner, he finally found room 202. It was mostly empty. If he had to guess, about a third of the students taking this class probably hadn’t arrived yet because they couldn’t find it.

The room was designed like a lecture hall, with tiered seating. From the doorway, the entire layout was visible at a glance.

Spotting the person he was looking for, Sa-yoon walked straight over.

“Oh? You’re taking this class too?”

A head of sandy-colored hair turned slowly.

“Seeing you again. Hey.”

Even a dog learns to recite poetry after three years at a Confucian academy. With practiced ease, Sa-yoon pretended the meeting was a coincidence and greeted him.

Sa Shin-jae, who had been looking slightly surprised, soon broke into a bright smile.

“Hello, sunbae.”

“What sunbae? I’m not your department senior, and I’m not your club senior either. Just call me hyung.”

“Still, though.”

“Well, whatever. Call me whatever feels comfortable.”

As he had noticed before, the kid was a bit guarded. Had he been pestered by too many people?

A trace of sympathy flickered in Sa-yoon’s gaze.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Without waiting for an answer, he plopped down next to him. He wasn’t about to risk getting rejected again.

No way Shin-jae would actually tell him to get up after he was already seated, right?

“Did you have any trouble finding the classroom? This one’s famous for being hard to locate.”

Just like the guy he’d bumped into earlier who had asked for directions, this building was notorious for its confusing layout. Since the campus was built on a hill, there were a few buildings like this, but the liberal arts building was by far the worst offender.

The front entrance was on the first floor, but if you walked all the way down the hallway, you’d somehow end up on the basement level. And 203A, an inexplicably numbered classroom, was next to 201 instead of 202.

“I couldn’t even find the second floor at first.”

In some places, wandering upstairs only to take the central staircase down would land you back on the same floor.

Thanks to all this, Building C of the liberal arts department was infamous—a nightmare not just for freshmen but for anyone with a bad sense of direction.

“I had a class here last semester.”

Ah, that explained it. Sa-yoon, determined to play the role of a friendly senior, nodded understandingly.

“I didn’t know you were taking this class too, sunbae.”

“I didn’t take it in my first year.”

That wasn’t a lie. More accurately, he never needed to take it.

Back in my day, this wasn’t a mandatory course for graduation.

Six years ago, at least. Graduation requirements weren’t supposed to be as flexible as taffy, but they seemed to change every year, adding and removing required classes at random.

Of course, the revisions only applied to incoming freshmen, so technically, Sa-yoon didn’t need this course to graduate.

But he didn’t mention that. Some things were better left unsaid.

“How did you know this professor was a good one?”

A mandatory graduation course meant most students had to take it. That’s why Introduction to Logic had multiple sections, from A to K.

For classes like this, grading largely depended on the professor. The section they chose—E—was known to have a generous grader.

But freshmen usually wouldn’t know this kind of inside information. Most likely, a senior had tipped him off.

“Sunbae Myung-woo told me.”

“Im Myung-woo?”

The name that came out of Shin-jae’s mouth was the president of the theater club.

As someone well-connected, Sa-yoon knew Myung-woo, too. It felt like just yesterday that Myung-woo had borrowed old test papers from him.

The once overly sentimental junior had now become a responsible senior giving advice to freshmen.

Sa-yoon once again felt just how young the junior in front of him was.

“You must be well-liked.”

“Eh, not really. Myung-woo sunbae just takes good care of our batch.”

Then, Sa Shin-jae smiled faintly. This kid really smiled a lot.

Considering what had happened last time, he could have acted awkwardly, but instead, he was easygoing and cheerful. His personality matched his looks exactly. He must have dedicated himself to his country in a past life to be this blessed now.

The classroom wasn’t even half full yet, but the professor had already entered.

“Right, Shin-jae.”

“Huh?”

Sa-yoon spoke as he watched the elderly professor slowly descend the steps and step up to the podium.

“Alright, taking attendance now.”

“I don’t have anyone to eat with. Let’s get lunch after this.”

It wasn’t “Do you want to eat?”—it was “Let’s eat.”

Shin-jae, who had been focusing on the professor, nodded instinctively.

Sa-yoon smiled in satisfaction, successfully securing a lunch date with a well-timed sneak attack.

The reason a relic like him had come to a freshman-packed general education class was simple.

Casting someone isn’t easy.

His plan was straightforward—if you want to get close to someone, you have to see them often.

Just like Liu Bei made three visits to recruit Zhuge Liang, they say even the hardest tree falls if you strike it ten times.

That was exactly what he intended to do.