Chapter Text
Every time Junghyeok allows Suyeong inside his house, he’s reminded why he regrets it.
The selective list of pastries she attempted to bribe him with lay on the low table before them. Too colourful in its arrangement and sickenly sweet—Junghyeok doesn't need to try to know. The visuals are enough. It's a buffet entirely for herself as they sit together on the large white sofa in the living room, Suyeong lounging like she owns this place. One hand occasionally reaches for a macaron or an éclair, the other is busy doodling into her worn notebook.
An eyesore. Junghyeok doesn’t know why he tolerates her to this extent; something about the passing years making him soft.
Junghyeok just tabbed out from an e-mail notification when Suyeong’s head pushes into his field of vision, insistent and annoying as always. From her fingers dangles a half-bitten croissant. Junghyeok's left eyebrow twitches. It’s Sunday, one day before the introductory courses start, and if she gets so much as a crumb on the sofa, he will personally see to it that she buys a new one.
Preferably a sofa that isn’t white.
Junghyeok pushes her head back. At the instantaneous insult thrown his way, he angles his phone so that she doesn't hog his personal space as much. Together, they skim through the lists of courses eligible for them to take this semester.
Suyeong nudges his shoulder. “You haven't registered for classes yet, right?”
Corporate Strategy, Management Theory and Practice, Human Resource Management. The course names blur together the further down he goes.
“I'm waiting for the electives list to update,” Junghyeok grunts.
“Perfect,” Suyeong chirps. She takes over the scrolling and taps onto one of the courses at the bottom of the list. “We’re taking a liberal arts class together.”
Advanced Literature (3 credits)
Professor Kim Dokja
Junghyeok skims over the rather short summary of the course and finds it as unremarkable as the professor’s name. Suyeong trying to drag him into a nonsense three credit filler today was not on his list.
“I’m in International Business,” he reminds her, pulling his phone away from her greedy little fingers. “Not Comparative Literature.”
Suyeong grabs a red-green macaroon on the table instead. She handles it like a laser pointer.
“You still need humanities credits. Our university requires at least 36 credits outside our major, remember? I know you’ve just been stacking econ and business courses like the textbook chaebol you are.”
Junghyeok remains silent, going over a mental list of courses he completed outside of his major.
Suyeong is faster than him. “I already checked. You’ve only taken Ethics & Society and one miserable writing seminar you abused for your papers. You need at least one from the Humanities & Arts category. Advanced Literature counts, even for Business majors,” she adds before he can argue.
She looks smug as she stuffs another éclair into her mouth. Junghyeok can tell from the entirely too glossy sheen of the chocolate glaze that it's not worth the price she bought it for.
Telling her would only earn him an indignant huff and an entire bag of those things next time they meet, though.
Junghyeok redirects his attention from the offending pastry back to his phone. He hits the refresh button once more. “And you suddenly care about literature because?”
A thing that binds them—two dead dreams. Publishing trashy novels is a passion she still not-so-secretly pursues under the guise of stress relief, but it’s not like Suyeong has even once cared about proper techniques and methods. It’s about refining the idea itself, she argued on several occasions, which really is just a fancy way of saying she uses other people’s content for her own stories.
Junghyeok might have cared if she was actually good at it. The quality of her works let her escape any accusations of plagiarism that threatened to take her to court in the past—not that many people actually tried pursuing a mostly anonymous author. Suyeong also knows this, because she sighs, long and drawn out and dramatic.
“Yu Sangah’s taking it.”
Junghyeok stares at her.
“I know, I know! I’m pathetic, so stop giving me that look. She has a completely different schedule than me this time around, okay? This is the only course I know she will take because she posted about it in her story. I don’t want Advanced Literature, Junghyeok. I need it. Do you understand?”
Junghyeok remains unimpressed. “You just want an excuse to stare at Sangah’s ass.”
“Well, excuse me, some of us are proactive about getting ass,” Suyeong hisses. Her scathing glare turns into something challenging as she raises her chin. “It’s Wednesday and Friday. Third period. Doesn’t overlap with Corporate Strategy or that seminar of whatever-business you’ll probably take, though your free period will have to tank for it.”
His eyes narrow. She planned this a little too well.
“Ask someone else.”
“Hyeonseong would fail the course immediately, and I won't even bother with the rest. You’re the only one crazy enough to manage workloads enough to send people who aren’t even employed yet into early retirement.” Suyeong jabs a finger into his chest, then drags it downwards, pulling the thin material of his shirt with it. “I don’t need emotional support. I need reliance and nerves as hard as these stupid abs. A cold shoulder that actually pays attention in class when I’m too busy figuring out how to talk to Sangah. Plus, you do actually need this course. What do you say, huh? Mr. Yu?”
The witch knows how much he detests that name. Junghyeok removes her hand once again, more forcefully this time, but Suyeong backs off all too easily. She offers nothing but a cheeky smile for her transgressions.
“C’mon, help a poor girl out! I've been your best friend for, what, ten years?”
Ten years too many, Junghyeok thinks. There must have been something wrong with the best friend distribution system back then—with how often they clash, Junghyeok always thought she was designated for someone other than him, and he only ended up having her by mistake. There hadn’t ever been a refund option, though, and Junghyeok’s choices were already lacking as they were.
They met each other at the annual charity gala once, and somehow stuck together ever since then.
Junghyeok sighs. Suyeong resorting to the best friend card means she’s more desperate than she likes to admit.
“I’ll use my connections to get you match tickets,” Suyeong continues to try and pursue him, a sly look in her eye.
Junghyeok pauses. Those are some big guns from the start. His standing as the heir to N'Gai Industries is enough to produce LCK and MSI tickets with a flick of his wrist, but World championship tickets—the good ones, at least, with backstage access—those, Junghyeok has to acquire through his father.
While Junghyeok very much prefers the transactional nature of their relationship, he does not want to give his father more leverage than is absolutely necessary.
Suyeong, on the other hand, is at least on speaking terms with her parents despite everything. Considering they’re both respectable figures in the entertainment world, it’d be quite easy for them to get the tickets instead.
“I want Worlds tickets,” Junghyeok says. “For each bracket stage, up until the finals. You can leave out play-ins.”
Suyeong sits a little more upright. “Worlds? Are you hearing yourself? You're just taking one course with me and you want Worlds tickets? How do you know if T1 is even going to make it?”
Junghyeok scoffs. They made it last year just fine. His finger hovers over the back button of the university's webpage, but Suyeong is quick to yank his hand away.
“Argh, fine! Have it your way, bastard. I get you Worlds tickets, you take Advanced Literature with me.”
A small, victorious smirk pulls the corner of Junghyeok's lips upwards. He agrees.
After Suyeong finishes eating all of the pastries herself, she’s somehow still hungry enough to pester Junghyeok to make dinner. While he’s rummaging through the kitchen, Suyeong skips through the TV channels on the couch, eventually settling for a deep sea documentary.
“Oh yeah,” Suyeong says. “I heard the professor is hot.”
Having just finished tying his apron, Junghyeok raises an eyebrow at her. “And that is relevant how?”
Suyeong shrugs. “Just an interesting tidbit of gossip I felt like sharing.”
When Junghyeok sits in the lecture hall a couple of days later, laptop and notes out and a pen spinning in his hand, the dislike for Advanced Literature simmers quietly just beneath his skin.
It’s nothing personal. Among other things, Suyeong just kept bothering him about the professor, promising the eye candy would at least make the course bearable. Junghyeok doesn’t even want to know what kind of information she got her hands on that made her so confident about that statement of hers.
He’s never been interested in someone like that. Sure, he found some people objectively attractive. He has a pair of functioning eyes he uses for something other than just studying, after all. Hell, Seolwha and him were a thing once. But it was fleeting, a shooting star in the sky that looked pretty and died just as fast as it came. He’d never really felt nor understood the desire to go out of his way and pursue someone, and the chances of it happening during a single class he didn't even want to take are basically in the negatives.
Junghyeok leans back in his seat, buries his nose into the worn collar of his black hoodie. Inhales the faint scent of fabric softener still clinging to it.
The lecture hall is on the smaller side. There’s a distinctive lack of a podium, replaced by a big table instead that curves slightly inwards. Like most buildings in Seoul Star University, the walls of the room are painted a pure white with the occasional artwork or picture hung up, though the countless lights littering the ceiling aren’t as bright as in the other facilities. A silver lining to this class, he supposes. He won't need as many eye-drops.
Next to him, Suyeong is furiously typing away at her mac. Junghyeok checks the clock over the entrance. 7:51AM. The door opens, two more students trickle in and settle down somewhere around the middle, near Junghyeok.
His eyes scan the rows around him. He spots one or two familiar faces, the kind you’d remember from encountering them in the hallway often enough. Only a few people are seated away from the others. Most stick together in groups, their voices hushed and heads close to one another.
It's not hard to guess who they're talking about, with the fleeting glances they cast towards the door. No one actually has any solid information on their professor, which just caused baseless rumours to make their rounds. The source of Junghyeok's headache, really. Mafia background, accusations of nepotism, unsolicited favours, there are even theories of a past idol career. By sheer volume of repetition, Junghyeok’s annoyance has morphed into a passive, bitter certainty that he will neither like this class, nor this new professor.
It’s why Junghyeok is mildly surprised when a man of average height walks into the lecture hall exactly five minutes past eight, his white trench coat following non-existent traces of wind.
He's late.
He’s also carrying two cups of coffee in one hand, a worn suitcase in the other. Neat strands of dark hair bounce softly with every stride of his long legs, falling into a face partially obscured by thin, silver frames that do little to hide the deep circles beneath his eyes. His black dress shirt is tucked into matching slacks, buttoned up all the way to the top to reveal only glimpses of a slim, unblemished throat.
The class quietens. Junghyeok swallows. When the professor starts unpacking his suitcase without as much as a word or a glance into their direction, Suyeong leans closer to him.
“See, isn’t he hot?” Unlike the other students, she doesn't bother hiding the way she's clinically undressing the new professor with her eyes. “Well, not really my type, but definitely yours.”
Junghyeok expected a conventionally attractive professor at best. Not the wistful, doomed love interest in a drama whose actor has a history of modelling.
“… he's wearing white,” Junghyeok growls, tearing his eyes away from the blank look on their professor’s face to focus on the more important things.
And that's the biggest issue, really. Because the trench coat he is wearing, out of all the existing colours, is white, and it reminds Junghyeok of one too many unpleasant things.
Who the fuck wears a white coat, really? There's a reason why Junghyeok dresses mostly in black, and it's not because he's stuck in what Suyeong likes referring to as his angsty teenager phase. If all of his other clothes are black, why not his coat, too?
Professor Kim Dokja, Professor Kim writes onto the large whiteboard.
It's been a while since someone introduced themselves like this. Writing their name down and all. Junghyeok reads the neat hangeul several times, takes note of how the bottom stroke of ㄱ slightly curves towards the left.
“Good morning," Professor Kim says. He turns around, the stupid white collar of his coat shifting with the movement. He takes one of the two coffee cups he brought along with him and—Junghyeok blinks—downs it in one go. “I'm pleased to see we have exceeded the minimum requirement to hold this class. I know literature is not the easiest nor the most popular subject, but I will do my best to keep you from dropping out early—if you have the skills required to keep up with me, of course."
Professor Kim sends a tired but charming smile into the round, the kind that has at least five girls giggling and ducking their heads. Junghyeok's pretty sure he even sees a guy shyly hiding behind his laptop screen.
“If you haven't already seen it, I sent everyone an e-mail this morning. In the file attached is everything you need for this class—excluding the syllabus. We will go over that in person today. If you have any questions, please wait until after I've finished speaking. I dislike repeating myself.”
The professor's eyes sweep over the crowd of attending students. It’s detached, perfunctory, but Junghyeok notices the peculiar sharpness of his gaze that doesn't quite match the sheer amount of tiredness he exudes. He's assessing everyone, Junghyeok realises. Taking them apart and categorising newfound information within a split second, all while looking like he needs a whole month's worth of sleep injected directly into his system.
When Professor Kim's eyes pass Junghyeok without lingering even once, the idle spinning of his pen stops.
Professor Kim begins walking with slow, measured steps. The clicking of his soles against the polished floor is more prominent now within the apprehensive silence stretching throughout the lecture hall.
“This is an advanced course, but I will begin the first lesson as if this is your first time taking literature in general. We will just be reading a bunch of materials today—and, naturally, for most of the semester. Some prose, fiction, lyrics and narrative poetry, contemporary plays, and also drama plays. Are any of you familiar with Oedipus the king?”
Several heads nod. Professor Kim looks vaguely pleased. “Good, we will start with that. I want you to familiarise yourself with critical and analytical thinking regardless of what you read. Later on, I will also include non-fictional texts—biology, science, whatever may fit with our current subject.”
His voice is deeper than expected, gentle but not necessarily soft. There's subtle authority in the way he addresses everyone without directly acknowledging them.
In front of his desk once more, Professor Kim sits down and crosses one leg over the other. Junghyeok's frown deepens—so he's that kind of professor. It’s not Junghyeok’s fault when his eyes inadvertently follow the line of Professor Kim’s legs. His socks must be on the shorter side as they expose pale ankles, thin enough that Junghyeok could probably wrap a hand around them.
The grip on his pen tightens.
“Each class, we will have a short test regarding the text you read in the previous lesson. Those won't be graded, but it’s an efficient way for you to memorise the material. There will also be weekly assignments. Not all of them will be graded and I will announce those who are in advance. For grading, I'll be using the point system since it's easier to nuance. Final assignments will most likely be a term paper based on a piece of fiction or non-fiction you choose, but I'm still weighing my options. Any questions so far?”
Professor Kim nods towards a student at the very back. “Do we still have to print our papers? In my last courses, we could always just send the files.”
“You can hand them in via e-mail, but I will print them out regardless for grading. That's just a personal preference of mine.” Professor Kim adjusts his glasses, just a hint of bashfulness present in the flutter of his eyelashes, “I might be a little old fashioned like that.”
Three rows in front of him, Yu Sangah raises her arm.
“Will the deadline for our term paper be towards the end of the semester, or are we able to extend it into the semester break?”
Professor Kim ponders the question for a few seconds. “Preferably towards the end of the semester. If you have trouble managing your workload, you can let me know in advance and we will work on adjusting the deadline within a reasonable margin. The semester break is supposed to be your break, after all, even if the competitive nature of Seoul Star University rarely allows it.”
Professor Kim’s comment is met with a few dry chuckles. Suyeong raises her hand next, probably to capitalise on her crush just having asked a question.
When Professor Kim gestures towards her, she leans forward with a cheeky grin. “Is there a way to get extra credit?”
Professor Kim chuckles like he's heard the question a dozen times already. The tilt of his head is equally playful as he uncrosses, then crosses his legs again. Junghyeok quickly drags his eyes away.
“Unfortunately not. Credits are capped at three for completing the course, assuming I won't fail you. The weekly assignments are mandatory, though I promise I'm not as strict with grading as Professor Kyrgios is.”
A sigh of relief goes through the lecture hall. Junghyeok scoffs—no student should trust a professor's word, especially when they go out of their way to say it. Professor Kim especially looks like someone who's well versed in walking the thin line between truths and lies; amusement at the expense of his students.
A guy with bleached hair asks the next question before Professor Kim acknowledges him. Junghyeok recognises him as Kim Namwun. They've talked a handful of times, and he wonders what a hotblooded Engineering student is doing in a literature course.
“Are you really a prof? Sorry, but,” Namwun leans back in his chair with a grin suggesting he's not sorry at all, “you just look really young. That's all.”
Professor Kim's smile this time around doesn't neatly slot into all the ones he wore previously. It's a little too wide to be polite, too cheerful to be honest. Everyone can feel the subtle shift in atmosphere as Professor Kim leans forward, propping his chin on his hand to scrutinise the student in the last row better.
Namwun's clearly a little caught off guard, but doesn't back off just yet.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Professor Kim says, his voice lowered to a slow drawl that has Junghyeok shifting in his seat. “I finished my PhD around three years ago. If you know what to look for—and I doubt you will—you can even find some of my papers online. I’m also, ah…” Professor Kim trails off, slow-blinks like a cat who just woke from a nap. “36 years old. Maybe? Probably.”
Suyeong chokes on a laugh.
“Ah, no, it’s April, isn't it? 2025. Then I should be 37, pardon me.”
All of Junghyeok’s previously accumulated irritation surges back with visceral force. Is Professor Kim for real? Doesn't he know his own age?
No matter that, there's no way that guy is actually 37 years old. Not with that attitude, not with that face. Junghyeok’s eyesight is good enough to spot unwanted smudges of make-up from the last row, and even he can’t make a single wrinkle out on Professor Kim’s face. It vaguely reminds him of his father, who's pushing mid 40 and still gets regular offers for modelling jobs despite strictly managing the executive side of his company.
Junghyeok can feel the way his pen bends dangerously beneath his grip, but he couldn’t care less. Professor Kim answers more questions, oblivious to the frustration brewing inside Junghyeok.
Who does Professor Kim think he is, walking into the class with two cups of coffee and way too much confidence, claiming to be a professor when he only gets his age right on the second try? Smiling like he knows all the answers, likes he’s got them all figured out? Claiming to be merciful when, ultimately, he will turn out like every other professor, solely caring about a paycheck that isn't even worth bragging about at the end of each month?
“Junghyeok!” Suyeong quietly hisses.
The brute force of her knobby elbow digging into his ribs is enough to pull him from his inner ramblings.
Everyone in the lecture hall is staring at him—including Professor Kim. Junghyeok’s eyes track his surroundings quickly, landing on his pen in the middle of the hallway.
Snapped in two. Murder in broad daylight. How wonderful.
He didn’t even notice—he must have broken it in the awkward timeframe where Professor Kim was waiting for another question to come up, the resulting sound much louder than usual.
Professor Kim is still looking at him, clearly expecting a reaction. Or an answer. Junghyeok stares back, entirely unapologetic. Surely Professor Kim doesn't expect him to get up and pick up his broken pen.
Something in Professor Kim’s face twitches. He’s got thin, pink lips—a pout would probably look good on him. Natural. Realising he’s getting sidetracked by what should have been an utterly plain face again, Junghyeok digs his fingers into his thigh. Hard. He hopes it bruises, to remind him of his own foolishness.
“Everything alright?”
Professor Kim's voice is laced with concern, but Junghyeok knows better. He meets Professor Kim’s gaze head-on. Contrary to what Junghyeok is used to, though, Professor Kim doesn’t shrink away, and merely returns Junghyeok’s glare with a near imperceptible raise of a single, fine eyebrow.
Seconds tick by. Someone coughs into their hand, followed by a sneeze from the other side of the room. The longer Junghyeok glares, the larger Professor’s Kim smile grows, like he can’t help but find Junghyeok’s reaction amusing.
A wave of uncertainty washes over Junghyeok. People always avert their eyes quickly when making eye-contact with him—something about a natural glare, Suyeong once told him.
Unwilling to waste more time on this petty display of power, Junghyeok is the first to break away. In his periphery, Professor Kim tilts his head, more curious than confused, but swiftly proceeds with the lecture like nothing happened.
Suyeong snickers, loud enough to earn a few pointed looks from other students.
“You’re so easy,” She whispers to him.
Junghyeok pointedly ignores her and reaches for a new pen. It's not a defeat if he backed off willingly.
“We’ll do a roll call now,” Professor Kim announces. "Please let me know your major and how you’d like to be addressed. If there’s anything else you want to share with the class, now is your last chance to do so.”
Suyeong's head meets her desk with a dull thud. Junghyeok moves her cup of coffee away before she can throw it off the table with her flailing arm movements.
“Weekly assignment,” she groans, grabbing her hair, “and tests at the beginning of each class. I can't believe it. Did you see Sangah? She looked so happy. Should I just propose to her with a bunch of assignments or what?”
Junghyeok checks his phone for today’s timetable. In comparison to his other courses, he finds the workload quite manageable.
Professor Kim, on the other hand, is an entirely different issue.
“This is your own fault,” he reminds her.
“Shut it.”
Stuffing his belongings into his bag, Junghyeok’s eyes idly dart towards the front. Professor Kim is packing up like the rest of them—he's got a phone in his hands, all of his attention glued to the screen while his other hand grabs everything it needs. Empty coffee cups, laptop, notes and books. These are practised movements, no grabbing blindly or twice.
Junghyeok blinks to make sure it’s still the same professor that entered the lecture hall. Gone is the solemn, poised aura Professor Kim maintained—he looks just like any other student now. Tired, overworked and a little lost like he doesn't quite belong. The other cup of coffee is empty, too. Junghyeok didn't see him drink it.
“See something you like?” Suyeong teases.
Junghyeok chooses not to answer, but all it does is make her cackle. Professor Kim is already out of the door by the time he’s standing in front of Suyeong’s desk, bag slung over his shoulder and hands in his pockets to convey fraying impatience.
“I don't think I've ever seen you stare this hard at someone before,” Suyeong muses, looking up at him through dark eyelashes. She's deliberately taking her time now, and Junghyeok seriously contemplates just leaving her stuff here and dragging her out of the seat. She'd only miss her notebook, anyway. “Well, Faker maybe, but that's usually from across the screen, or when you coincidentally met him at Lolpark that one time after T1’s match. It was really cute, you know, when you tried approaching him and got all—oi, don't leave me behind!”
Suyeong catches up to him in the hallway half a minute later, huffing. They walk towards the exit together.
“Rude. What's your next course?”
Her backpack is half open. He tsks and closes it with a rough tug on her two zippers.
“Case studies in corporate strategy,” Junghyeok flatly says.
“Spanish,” Suyeong answers when he slightly tilts his head. “Languages are on the other side of the campus, so I will see your grumpy little mug later.”
“You’re taking Spanish classes?” The moment those words leave his mouth, the reason why walks past them into the same direction, seemingly in a hurry.
Suyeong’s neck automatically extends to stare after Sangah.
“She is so fine. God. I take back everything I said. If it weren’t for Professor Kim asking for more information in our roll call, I wouldn't have known she has another elective I can take this semester.”
“I thought this was your only class with her.”
“It was,” Suyeong says, fanning herself. “Until five minutes ago. I just haven't signed up for Spanish yet.”
Junghyeok deadpans. “The deadline was yesterday.”
“That’s why I dug out some dirt on the professor and administration, just in case something like this would happen. And—voilà!”
“Can’t you ask like a normal person?”
“I could, but that wouldn't count as blackmail.”
Junghyeok realises he is arguing in the wrong direction and drops the topic. Apart from the moral and legal validity of this, he doesn’t know how she’s able to take all these random courses while still getting everything required for her Finance major done.
There might be some black magic involved. Junghyeok wouldn’t put it past her.
“I'll drop out of Advanced Literature, then.”
Suyeong gasps, like the notion alone is enough to offend her. “Why would you?”
“You have another course with her,” Junghyeok points out.
And If that's the case, there's no need for him to continue. Less work. Less having to deal with the new professor who—Junghyeok already knows—is going to be a massive thorn in his side for the rest of the semester.
“I do, but that doesn't change the fact that we both made a deal. Remember: no Advanced Literature, no Worlds tickets. Or do you wanna knock on your dad's door and ask for an early christmas present?”
Junghyeok scowls. “You’re insufferable.” He pushes her towards the door, unsatisfied to only see her stumble a little.
Suyeong catches herself quickly enough. “Pot calls the kettle back!” She shouts from outside, sticking her tongue out at him.
Junghyeok ignores her texts for the rest of the day.