The guy the same age as him who wanted to go to a room café — at least he was cute, given his obvious wallet situation. But the older one who’d somehow dug up a budget motel in this day and age — five thousand won for a stay, with an actual one-star review claiming scabies mites had been found — was just repulsive and off-putting.
How do you even cut corners like that?
Beyond that, there was the one who seemed easy to talk to until it turned out he was in a cult. Then the gold-digger who’d approached him purely for his background. The two-timer. And the spectacular avoidants who would just vanish into thin air one day without warning.
Over four years, he’d met roughly twenty people, and not a single one was good-looking enough to feel any regret over.
“Hmm?”
Maybe one? The idol trainee he’d briefly dated in high school had been decent. Two years older than him, and with looks to match the title — he’d been fairly pretty.
Yong Cheonha had gone in with quite a bit of interest because of the face, and the atmosphere between them had been genuinely good. Aside from his tutoring teacher, this guy had been the one he’d progressed furthest with.
They’d held hands and smelled each other’s pheromones, after all.
But then one day a long, drawn-out message came saying he’d gotten a debut offer — and then nothing. Yong Cheonha only found out afterward that he’d been blocked, and he’d been quite annoyed about it.
Getting blocked was fine — but being blocked first was the part that got to him.
He’d only let himself think about it for a moment, but the wild and varied résumés of his past almost-relationships were enough to make his head spin. The sheer diversity of their unattractiveness dealt him emotional damage even as a distant memory.
Fortunately, a stranger’s voice from outside pulled Yong Cheonha back before he could sink any further into that swamp.
“Fresh, delicious, domestic, plums, plums, are here. So good, that two people eating, won’t even notice, if one of them, dies. Selling, plums, now.”
A fruit truck blasting at a decibel level that could genuinely be reported as noise pollution was crawling slowly past.
He’d snapped out of it thanks to that, so the noise didn’t bother him much — but the fruit stacked high on the truck did catch his eye. Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d dug out his wallet and bought a ton of plums.
Was he really into the fruit truck’s ad voice? Even he found it a little odd, but he wasn’t the type to scrimp on food, so the thought passed quickly.
He’d bought more than he could eat on his own, so he figured he’d have some for breakfast tomorrow and share the rest with the people around him.
For something bought off a fruit truck, the quality seemed remarkably good. Even without pressing his nose in close, a rich sweetness drifted out.
Sweet, with a faintly bitter green edge, and that fresh raw-fruit scent unique to ripe produce — he had no need for any diffuser.
His mood, which had been bottoming out until just a moment ago, began curving back upward.
“Ahh.”
Right. Coming back in after a smoke really does help you focus.
When you can’t concentrate — always check whether you’re running low on nicotine and tar.
Riding the peak of his concentration, Yong Cheonha buried himself in his major textbook through the night and kept going. He’d studied so relentlessly that he half-expected to receive an academic scholarship — and sure enough, the exams went pretty well.
And just like that, the semester ended — without so much as a fluttering almost-romance or any visible result. He’d burned through the first half of the year without once holding an alpha’s hand.
No, wait. It wasn’t over yet.
There was the saying — it’s not over until it’s over.
The end-of-semester party was still left, so he rushed home and got himself properly done up. He’d planned to drink, so he got a workout in ahead of time, and since his skin had taken a beating during exams, he squeezed in a nap too.
By the time he stepped out — clear-headed, with glowing skin, dressed in that perfect “effortlessly put-together” way — it was evening.
By now it would be buzzing with people, exactly how he liked it.
At the start of the semester the pickings had been slim, but who knew — maybe someone had blossomed after a few months of university life?
Even if it wasn’t someone from his own department, it was end-of-semester season, so students from other schools and other majors might have wandered nearby. There were plenty of variables.
He arrived at the chicken place where everyone was meeting, heart full of anticipation — only for the excitement to evaporate almost immediately.
Wasn’t an end-of-semester party supposed to draw the people who actually knew how to have a good time? Even accounting for low turnout and friend groups sticking together, wasn’t this a bit much?
Why is the crowd at this end-of-semester party like this? Guys. The hell, do you go to university to study? Do you actually come to university to study?
Preen a little. Have some fun. You smelly males.
He waited on the slim chance things would improve, but all that got added were a few obnoxious seniors who liked to drink — not a single shred of beauty was contributed to the room.
The freshmen from other departments weren’t anything special either. Were there really this few good-looking people at Hanguk University? Everyone else said their schools were crawling with attractive people. It was nothing short of devastating.
Was the gorgeous person he’d seen recently just too striking — making it impossible for any average arrangement of features to satisfy him anymore? That was probably part of it. He kept comparing everyone to the man he’d met in the club bathroom. Which probably made them all seem even less attractive by comparison.
At this rate, I’m going to be on my deathbed leaving a final statement that the man I met at the club was the greatest dopamine hit of my life.
The ones still stubbornly wearing their department jackets in the sweltering heat were a turn-off, and watching people lace every sentence with bravado was embarrassing just to witness.
How was it that somehow the freshmen were less attractive than the masked part-timer working at the chicken— wait……
He wasn’t just saying that. The part-timer was genuinely good-looking.
He could feel it from the back. Just from the silhouette alone, the attractiveness hit hard.
All he was wearing was a plain black t-shirt and jeans, but the lines of his body showing through the fabric drew the eye naturally.
The line from the small of his back down to his hips was like a sculpture carved by a genius artist. This was the kind of moment that phrase “a different species entirely” was made for — he was simply in a league of his own.
Even people who were completely drunk kept spacing out and staring at him. An objectively beautiful person, beyond any bias — that was exactly what someone like this meant. Someone who stole people’s gazes.
It was more of a side view close to his back, so only his profile was visible, but his face looked small and delicate, and his hair seemed soft.
The sight of the white nape of his neck beneath his short, slightly wavy hair made Yong Cheonha’s heart jump. He couldn’t help but think of the alpha he’d met at the club.
The man who had trembled vulnerably in his arms, leaking sweet pheromones.
His heart was pounding with anticipation, but Yong Cheonha didn’t let himself get his hopes up. The higher the expectation, the greater the fall.
The part-timer’s face was half-covered by a mask. The small head was clear enough, but there was no telling what trap might be lurking beneath the mask.
He prayed desperately and ordered another beer. The guy came over quickly to serve it, and instinct was already speaking.
This is beauty without flaw. True beauty. A fierce certainty that the face beneath the mask is just as handsome.
There was no way this person could be ugly.
In the midst of the packed end-of-semester university district — in a chicken place crammed with drunk college students whose volume had risen with the alcohol — it felt as if the place had transformed into a cathedral.
Sacred, beautiful, reverent, ascetic, sublime — all of those things.
Was this the kind of shock people felt when they met someone truly one of a kind? It felt as if time had stopped. As though only the two of them existed in the entire world.
“Your beer.”
The spell shattered, and he was pulled back to reality.
Right. He’d ordered beer. He had ordered beer. Yes.
His voice was quite low — hoarse, maybe from a sore throat — but it was a smooth, deep tone. The resonant, mellow bass made every hair on his body stand on end.
He’d wanted to say something natural and casual, but the place was so busy that the guy just handed over the beer and hurried off to another table.
Damn…… He’s that devoted to his work too? With a face like that, a body like that — and he’s diligent on top of it?
Ugh, I’m running low on nicotine.
He wanted him so badly it was giving him a headache.
He had no more interest in his classmates or the seniors who’d just joined. They were all just here to drink anyway — what earth-shattering conversation could the class president or the student council possibly be having?
Yong Cheonha fixed his sights solely on the part-timer and kept placing extra orders. But it was always a different staff member who came to serve him.
That was the problem with a busy place. There were too many part-timers working at once! Hah!
The silver lining was that Yong Cheonha could hold his liquor. I’ll keep drinking until he comes. Let’s see who gives up first. With that resolve, he kept steadily drinking.
By that point, the others at his table had either passed out face-down on it, gone to the bathroom and never returned, or fled to other tables to escape Yong Cheonha. Before he knew it, he was the only one still sitting upright.
Ding-dong. The call bell was ringing for the sixth time already. There were over twenty empty beer bottles on the table. Some senior whose name he didn’t know had been staring at Yong Cheonha’s table with a look of sheer disbelief, then without so much as asking, shoved his phone forward and took a photo.
The senior muttered something in admiration, and not long after, a photo of Yong Cheonha sitting bolt upright alone amidst a sea of empty beer bottles appeared in a group chat.
That senior must have either graduated from Hanguk University without ever learning that portrait rights existed, or thought it was perfectly fine to treat a junior this way.
He was right at that threshold — the alcohol creeping in, his temper just about to surface — when the part-timer he’d been waiting for finally came over, carrying beer.
“Should I clear these bottles for you?”
“Yes! I’d really appreciate that.”
The part-timer moved closer to collect the bottles. Just having an attractive person nearby was enough to cool the rage that had been on the verge of flaring up.
This is why you need to be around pretty people. Listen up, everyone. If you want to live long, you need to have beautiful people in your life.
Each time the part-timer picked up a beer bottle, the muscles in his forearms flexed and the veins across the back of his hand stood out.
See that? You all need to find someone with both a good face and a healthy body. Even if someone’s beautiful on the outside but a little rotten on the inside — endure it. Because there are far more people in the world who are rotten both inside and out.
And look at this. In this grease-soaked chicken place, there’s a person giving off this fresh, sweet scent. A little rotten inside? If anything, even their rot would smell sweet.
Up close, the fragrant young man’s features didn’t fully reveal themselves. His eyes had been hard to see beneath his bangs, but now that he was near, Yong Cheonha could see them quite well.
His eyes carried layers of exhaustion — and because of that, he looked as if he were on the verge of tears.
On his tired face, the long lashes weren’t the slightest bit overwhelming — they were desperately, perfectly fitting. Pretty. And in tremendous harmony with the rest of his face.
That kind of face…… I’ve definitely seen it somewhere before……
