Chapter Text
The gymnasium buzzes with restless energy as the crowd awaits the start of the Opening Ceremony of this year’s Seoul National University Intramurals Week.
An outstretched arm bumps into the side of his face, knocking his glasses askew, but the noise of protest coming from his lips drowns in the cacophony of voices.
Ahn Jeong-won rounds on the person cramped next to him in the bleachers. But the owner of the offending arm, his friend Lee Ik-jun, was presently flapping his arms in the air, cramped space notwithstanding, like a homing signal for someone amidst the sea of red—the colors of the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy.
"Songhwa-ya! Over here!"
Thankfully, 18 years of living next door to each other had made Chae Song-hwa fully attuned to Ik-jun’s distinctive holler. As soon as her gaze falls on her two friends crowded next to other familiar faces from their department, a vibrant smile blooms across her face. They could make out the tip of the scrunchie holding her ponytail together while she pushed her way through the throng.
During their sophomore year, Song-hwa earned herself the nickname “Ghost”. Her small stature belied a fiercely independent learner who garnered top marks in the Department of Sociology. For all her intellectual prowess, she hardly spent her time burying her face in textbooks; on the contrary, she often went camping on weekends and volunteered to tutor her juniors who struggled with their academics. It was a mystery to the entire student body how she could manage to squeeze in so much time for everything with barely a single hair out of place.
But when the Ghost finally flops into the tiny space beside Ik-jun, her normally neat hair had turned into an unruly mess tumbled by the swell of limbs scrambling toward their seats before the start of the Opening Ceremony.
"Finally," Ik-jun breathes a sigh, half-relieved and half-exasperated, "What took you so long?" he demands. Instinctively, he reaches for the large knapsack slung around her petite frame before pushing his arms through the straps and securing it to his chest.
"Mianhae. They were serving lunch at the Student Council Office." Smiling with relish, Song-hwa adds, "Samgyupsal. It was delicious."
Every year, the Student Council hosted a special lunch for all the athletes and coaches from every college, along with the game officials.
At her response, Jeong-won shoots his friend a confused stare. "Hang on—how did you manage to get an invite? You’re not even playing in any of the games."
“Seok-hyeong,” she says simply, which elicits a scoff from the Philosophy major.
The injustice, however, is not lost on Ik-jun.
“Mwo?!” His indignant cry rings across the bleachers, making several startled heads turn their way.
Dropping his voice to a whisper, Ik-jun goes on fiercely, “Ya, you ditched Jeong-won and I for samgyupsal —?”
“And grilled kimchi,” Song-hwa deigns to add.
But it only served to rub salt on Ik-jun’s wounds.
“This cheapskate and I only had gimbap for lunch!”
“Ikjun-ah, are you a child? Why would you allow Jeong-won to tell you what to eat anyway?”
Despite the not-so-subtle jab aimed at his wise spending habits, Jeong-won wrestles with a fond smile that threatened to curl into his mouth. The bickering is familiar territory. One fateful night, he and two Business Administration first-years, Yang Seok-hyeong and Kim Jun-wan, slipped away from a hazing session at some seedy-looking bar, only to stumble into Ik-jun and Song-hwa who were also in hiding. A warm, steady friendship had been born in that cramped, stuffy supply closet where the five of them huddled together until the crack of dawn.
“How could Seok-hyeong do this to me? Me!” Ik-jun continues to gripe. “ I was the one who brought that silly bear out of hibernation and helped him volunteer for the Student Council in the first place.” He pouts, crossing his arms and glaring at Song-hwa. “He wouldn’t be Interim Head of the Finance Department if it weren’t for me.”
Song-hwa sticks her tongue out at him. "Aigoo. You are so petty. Obviously, Seokhyeongie likes me best.”
"When he and Shin-hye broke up, who was the one who stayed up until 3a.m. to drink with him? Me! Who had to take a major exam the next day while nursing a hangover? Me! Therefore, who should he like best?"
“Hmm… Me?”
“How could Seok-hyeong do this to me?” Ik-jun says again, dramatically clutching at his chest.
"Aigoo, nobody told you to let him drink up a storm. All Seok-hyeong really needed at that moment was a shoulder to cry on."
Shoulder to cry on, Ik-jun mouths with a sneer. He looked comically like a goldfish out of water.
Before their bickering could escalate any further, Jeong-won interrupts them loudly, "Songhwa-ya, have you seen Jun-wan?"
"I saw him down at the first-aid station with the rest of the Intramurals volunteers."
“That saekki volunteered this year?” Jeong-won says disbelievingly.
“Well, it’s a great place to meet girls,” Ik-jun smirks. “You should give it a try, Andrea. Do you know everyone calls you ‘the Buddha’?”
“I’m Catholic,” the Buddha deadpans. Rolling his eyes, he continues, “Besides, I keep telling you guys—I’m not interested in dating. Not if I’m going to enter a seminary as soon as I graduate.”
“Jeongwon-ah, you’ve been saying that since we were freshmen. You’re not actually going through with it, are you?”
“Actually—”
But just then, a commotion rattled the entrance of the SNU gymnasium. A girl clad in a bright yellow shirt and a headpiece bursts through, shoving the gates open in her haste. The crowd parts like the Dead Sea as she rushes inside. Then, chest heaving, she pauses at a spot several seats below where Jeong-won, Song-hwa and Ik-jun were sitting. Eyes flashing wildly, she appeared to be searching the sea of students for someone in particular. Upon closer inspection, her eyes glistened with a pool of panicked tears.
Ik-jun stares worriedly at the Student Council President’s frazzled appearance. "Aigoo. Chu Min-ha looks like hell..." He sighs.
Song-hwa shakes her head. "I would be too if I were her. The Head of the Council’s Sports Commission resigned at the very last minute. She had to juggle organizing Intramurals Week along with her responsibilities as Student Council President. On top of our senior year at that. Aigoo. She must be burned out.”
She glances upward, and surveys the cavernous hall. Above their heads, large, multi-colored banners bearing the different emblems of all the university’s colleges hung from the ceiling. Brightly colored streamers festooned the banisters. Big, golden letters that spelled out “Happy Intramurals Week!” brought to life the wide, open stage fronting the atrium.
In the spirit of Intramurals Week, all the students in attendance were dressed according to the color of their respective colleges. Red for the Social Sciences and Philosophy. Yellow for Business Administration. Maroon for Engineering. Blue for Humanities. And several others that formed the SNU student body.
“Min-ha’s done a fantastic job though.” Song-hwa’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Everything looks so grand and exciting!” And even though she won’t be playing in any of the games, she feels the thrill coursing through her veins.
Yet the lavish decorations paled in comparison to the scene that suddenly unfolded before them.
A familiar, bear-like figure was jogging towards the distraught Min-ha. By the time he arrives at her side, her eyes look capable of killing him on the spot. Any other man would have withered under Min-ha’s murderous demeanor, but not Yang Seok-hyeong. Unfazed, Seok-hyeong waves his mobile phone in her face. Whatever it showed appeared to have calmed the turbulent waters because the frazzled expression on Min-ha’s face instantly melted into a look of utter relief.
Catching Seok-hyeong and their nosy spectators off guard, she flings her arms around his neck and embraces him with the enthusiasm of one who has completely forgotten that a world existed outside of this embrace.
The bizarre exchange causes Ik-jun and Jeong-won’s jaws to promptly fall to the floor.
In a flash, however, Min-ha seems to have recovered from her momentary lapse in sanity, and breaks away from the dazed Seok-hyeong. Blushing profusely, she scurries toward the backstage area. Meanwhile, Seok-hyeong regains his senses and darts in the opposite direction.
“Oh, Gyeoulie! Wasseo? ”
All at once, the measly gimbap Jeong-won munched on for lunch rises to his throat. He ducks his head quickly, hoping no one would notice the way his shoulders tensed and the color flooding his cheeks. His palms begin to sweat, and he hastily shoves them in the front pockets of his jacket.
With a force disproportionate to her size, Song-hwa pulls Ik-jun by the sleeve of his sweater. In a voice that allowed no room for argument, she instructs Jeong-won to scoot over and make some space for Jang Gyeo-ul—a Political Science major, like Ik-jun, but with none of his friend’s warmth.
The new arrival gives the three of them a curt nod in greeting. With minimal effort owing to her slender frame, Gyeo-ul wedges between Song-hwa and Jeong-won. The sudden proximity is an instant assault on his senses. A bolt of electricity seems to spark from the accidental brush of her fingers against his. All of a sudden, the temperature in the gymnasium spikes several degrees higher. He finds it difficult to breathe without the maddening citrus scent of her shampoo ensnaring his consciousness.
Heart racing wildly in its ribcage, Jeong-won wonders if he is having an allergic reaction. With a jolt, he realizes this is the closest he has ever gotten to Jang Gyeo-ul. He does not have an inkling as to why and how his body could react so drastically and so frighteningly to the feel of her arm pressed against his own. Certainly in the three years that they’ve shared the same campus, their paths intersecting once or twice, none of them have spoken more than ten sentences to each other.
Ik-jun and Song-hwa, praise the Lord, seem oblivious to the Buddha’s inner turmoil.
“Gyeoul-ah, are you going to the victory party later tonight?”
Gyeo-ul’s brows furrow at Ik-jun’s question. “Victory party? I wasn’t aware we’d already won anything.”
Ik-jun winks conspiratorially. “We all have our little victories, chinggu-ya . And they deserve to be celebrated.”
Jeong-won must have imagined it, but he could have sworn he detected the subtlest of smiles breaking through her icy facade.
However, there is no trace of mirth in Gyeo-ul’s voice when she politely replies, “ Mianhae . I have to work on a paper with Jeongwon-ssi for our Ethics class.”
Jeong-won fights a traitorous blush at the mischievous smirk that curled across Ik-jun’s lips. Just as he was about to deliver a teasing comment that would have embarrassed Jeong-won to the depths of hell, Song-hwa swoops in with a quick, “That’s awful, Gyeoul-ah. Having to work during Intrams week, I mean.”
God bless you, Chae Song-hwa. Jeong-won makes a mental note to pray extra hard for her. And buy her some coffee. Maybe put in a croissant or two.
Thankfully, the exchange roused no suspicion in Gyeo-ul. Shrugging nonchalantly, she says, “It’s a great opportunity, actually. The library will be quiet.”
An empty, quiet library is the last thing Jeong-won needs. But none of them have to know that. Especially Jang Gyeo-ul. What he needs is a consultation with an allergologist.
“I’m so glad I didn’t take Ethics as an elective,” Ik-jun is saying. “I hear Professor Kwon only passes 40% of the class.”
Gyeo-ul nods morosely. “We have to write about an ethical issue for our paper, which is worth 60% of our final grade. And whichever pair gets the highest mark will be exempted from the final exam. I’m hoping Jeongwon-ssi and I get top marks.”
“What ethical issue are you guys writing about?”
But before her lips could form a reply, a hush fell across the gymnasium.
Then, a trumpet sounded, and a girl emerged from the entrance. Her dainty frame was clad in a maroon sports jersey bearing the lion emblem of the College of Engineering. One slender arm carried a long torch, the top of which blazed with fire. As the atrium became filled with Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger”, the ceremonial torch bearer kicked off towards the metal cauldron lying in wait at the front of the atrium.
“Iksunnie!” Excitedly, Ik-jun bounces on the balls of his feet. Amidst the blaring music, he engulfs Song-hwa in his arms, bellowing, “That’s my sister, Lee Ik-sun!”
Ignoring the peculiar skipping of her heart, Song-hwa’s face splits into a grin. When Ik-jun releases her, her body feels cold at the loss of contact. Strange. She was wearing her favorite SNU jacket today, the one she’d stolen from an unwitting Ik-jun’s closet. Was she suddenly going down with a fever?
Blissfully oblivious and beaming with unconcealed pride, her childhood friend began to announce to everyone who cared to listen that this year’s ceremonial torch bearer, his beloved sister Lee Ik-sun, was the youngest ever in SNU history.
Finally, Ik-sun holds the torch to the metal cauldron. Several seconds later, bright, yellow flames spread across the mouth of the cauldron, tendrils of gray smoke lifting into the air.
While the flames blazed, loud, raucous music permeated the charged atmosphere of the gymnasium. Thunderous applause erupted from the multi-colored sea of students on the bleachers.
A triumphant Ik-sun punches her fist in the air. Over at the first-aid station, the corners of Kim Jun-wan’s mouth curls into an amused smile. From this distance, there is no way for anyone to hear the fluttering in his chest.
But even with proximity, there is no way for anyone to notice the subtle flex of Jeong-won’s fingers not long after Gyeo-ul, driven by the roar of the crowd, suddenly fastened her hands with his. A split second later, the horror of what she’d done washes over, and she quickly lets go of him.
Even with proximity, there is no way for anyone to notice the light in Ik-jun’s eyes when he glances at his best friend, who was singing their college chant in that loud, adorably off-key voice of hers.
From the podium, Chancellor Ju Jeon declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, I now declare the 2019 SNU Intramural Games officially open! Let the games begin! ”