“For real? I heard you rejected it last time.”
It had seemed like he had shelved the plan to quit after his conversation with Cha-heun a while back — but this morning he had come to find Kang I-hyeon early and handed in his withdrawal form.
“Apparently his midterm scores dropped, so he’s quitting.”
Midterm scores — that reminded Cha-heun of the unpleasant thing he had gone through today, but he pushed the thought aside. The scores had come out last Friday, he was told — if he was handing in the withdrawal form today after the weekend, he must have given it some thought.
“…But someone that good — do midterm scores really matter that much…? How much would your scores have to drop for it to be worth quitting over?”
“He’s ranked first in the second year. Apparently he also placed first nationally in the second-year March national mock exam.”
…Insane.
First nationally — didn’t that mean he was ranked first among all second-year high school students in the entire country?
Wait, the national mock exam doesn’t give rankings — so saying first place means…. A perfect score?
Cha-heun felt a chill run through him. He found it hard to believe a student like that actually existed.
Ah… I got two 9s. What am I going to do.
He was genuinely, sincerely grateful that Shin Chae-il hadn’t told him to bring home his report card. If he had brought it over, that golf club that had come out not long ago would probably be aimed at him this time.
Cha-heun set aside his guilt toward Shin Cha-heun and turned his attention back to the second-year student’s scores at the end of his gaze.
“Honestly, at that level, I can see why he’d quit. So what, did he come in second this time?”
“No. He’s first in midterms — but he got one question wrong. He used to get perfect scores every time.”
“…Truly a world I cannot comprehend…. And that’s enough of a reason to quit something he’s good enough at to represent the country.”
“Exactly. I got everything wrong except one chemistry question. The exact thing I saw right before I closed the book came up.”
Strange. Kang I-hyeon seemed somewhat regretful about the junior quitting, and yet also oddly indifferent. Cha-heun glanced at I-hyeon and replied casually.
“Kang I-hyeon, that’s incredible. I got three right.”
“Hey!”
I-hyeon’s outraged shout echoed through the second floor of the gymnasium at his friend’s betrayal. Cha-heun brushed it off lightly, left his red bean bread with I-hyeon for a moment, then got up and made his way from the second floor of the gymnasium down to the first.
There was something that weighed on him now that the junior had said he was quitting — he at least wanted to say something.
“So you’re really quitting after all?”
Cha-heun slipped over to the side of the boy who had nearly finished putting away his gear and was packing up his things and spoke to him. The boy shot him a sideways look and let his expression sour slightly.
“…….”
“You were incredibly good. Aren’t you at least a little sorry to leave it?”
“…It’s fine.”
“Hm?”
Cha-heun asked again because he hadn’t quite caught it — the boy spun sharply toward him and fixed him with a glare, irritation written plainly on his face. The look was so sharp that Cha-heun instinctively drew his shoulders in for a moment.
“Why do you keep sticking your nose into other people’s lives?”
The tone was flat, but the delivery was cold — and underneath the twisted expression, there was clearly anger.
Cha-heun, at that, involuntarily took a step back without meaning to.
“…….”
In that brief instant, the boy’s intensity eased.
After a moment of looking at each other, Cha-heun was the first to offer an awkward smile and an apology.
“Oh — sorry. I guess I interfered too much because I was the one who couldn’t let it go.”
“…….”
With even an apology thrown his way, the boy soon let out a sigh, then averted his gaze slightly and opened his mouth.
“…No. I lost my temper for no reason.”
“…Why?”
“…Because my scores dropped this time. You’d know what my family is like.”
“……?”
Cha-heun blinked at him as if to say he had no idea what he was talking about. The boy’s brow furrowed slightly.
“…You don’t know?”
“…Sorry, should I have?”
“…Wasn’t that the reason you spoke to me?”
“…Huh?”
The boy’s expression said he genuinely couldn’t believe Cha-heun didn’t know. Cha-heun thought about it briefly, then asked, watching the boy’s reaction carefully.
“Ah, if I should know…. Could you maybe tell me now? Is your father perhaps the president…?”
That would at least give him a reason to have approached him. Since Shin Cha-heun’s father Shin Chae-il was a prosecutor, having a president for a father seemed like a plausible enough reason to want to get close.
“…….”
The expression said no. Cha-heun moved on to the next candidate.
“…Speaker of the National Assembly? Chief Justice? …Prosecutor General?”
“…….”
“…I’m sorry, but that’s the limit of what I can think of — can’t you just tell me.”
When Cha-heun finally exhausted every word he knew and surrendered, the boy stared at him as if he had lost the ability to speak. A brief silence passed between them — and before long, the boy’s face colored faintly, as though watercolor had been brushed across it.
“…No. I was… mistaken.”
Cha-heun laughed awkwardly.
“I just… thought you’d regret it someday.”
“…Regret…?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what your family is like, but even if academics matter a great deal in your household…. I was afraid you’d regret it.”
From what he had heard from Kang I-hyeon — being top of the school and skilled enough to compete nationally was no small thing.
…But still, isn’t he ranked first?
A student who maintained that kind of rank in that kind of family — who still carved out time to pick up a sword despite how busy that must keep him — that had to mean there was something more than ordinary affection for it.
And staying until ten at night — that’s not the kind of dedication you’d put in for something you’re just going through the motions with.
He had heard that this boy was the one who locked the gymnasium door at the end of the day and the one who opened it in the morning. They had even run into each other a few times after after-school study hall ended. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could do without genuinely loving it. That was what had weighed on him. It bothered him that someone who worked this hard was walking away.
And on top of that —
“Someday you might be able to brush it off as something that happened once, but it could also stay with you as something you never let go of. When I watch you hold a sword, you look genuinely happy.”
The expression on his face when he removed his helmet after a match and bowed — that still stayed with him clearly enough. That cold face of his, touched by a faint smile, full of an energy that was almost visible.
I loved judo too, and if that accident hadn’t happened, I would’ve kept going.
It had been unavoidable — but if he could have, he would have continued. Whatever the outcome, it had made him happy.
…Getting that far in his thoughts, Cha-heun caught himself and drew in a breath.
Oh damn, now that I think about it — someone who places first nationally is quitting to study, and here I am, of all people, sticking my nose in.
Only then did Cha-heun grasp the situation and moved hurriedly to wrap things up.
“…Oh — sorry. I went ahead and interfered again with someone who’s already made up their mind to quit.”
Embarrassed and flustered, Cha-heun scratched the back of his head and said whatever came out.
“Right, even if you set down the sword and do something else…. Still — the way you looked holding one was genuinely impressive, and nothing you’ve done up until now will have been for nothing.”
“…….”
“I’ve already seen firsthand how dedicated you are. …I’m sure you’ll do well at whatever you turn to. I guess I was just personally so impressed by your skills that I couldn’t help feeling sorry. Well — I, I just tried one last time to hold you back, you know. Yeah.”
Still smiling awkwardly, Cha-heun left behind an apology for having meddled and began to quietly take his leave.
“…My name isn’t ‘friend’ or ‘junior.'”
At that, a low and very composed voice came from behind him.
“Hm?”
“Ji Hye-han. That’s my name.”
“…Oh?”
In that moment, Shin Cha-heun couldn’t help but open his eyes wide and stare at the boy who had just called himself Ji Hye-han.
Because the true male lead of this 150-chapter manhwa — Ji Hye-han — was that boy.
…Huh? No, he’s — …oh.
Right, it had even been written that way in the spoiler comments. Given how the manhwa had already finished, the more recent comments were full of spoilers — and one of them had said that the male lead was a kid who used to be in the kendo club and then quit.
…But beyond that — how had he not recognized him from his looks alone?
Ah, right. In the original timeline, Ji Hye-han had short cropped bangs — a sporty cut. Right now his hair is down over his forehead.
…Ah.
Come to think of it, he was fairly certain Hye-han hadn’t been doing kendo by his third year. That was probably part of why he hadn’t placed him.
The Ji Hye-han of that time had been a remarkable student — ranked first in the school, scoring perfectly on national practice exams. In his third year, he served as student body president while personally carrying out disciplinary duties, setting an example for others.
…His first meeting with Seo Ha-ra was…. Right. On her first day as a transfer student, she was late to school and got caught by Ji Hye-han, who was finishing up disciplinary duty and heading in — she told him honestly that she’d gotten lost because the area was new to her, and only after that did Hye-han accept her explanation and walk her to class.
That was how they started — building goodwill from the very first moment — and although they were in different classes, their relationship became one of easy familiarity, the complete opposite of Baek Yu-gyeong.
Seo Ha-ra was a well-mannered girl by any measure, and she had acknowledged her mistake while promising to be more careful — and thanked him warmly for walking her to class. Ji Hye-han, whose character was so upright it left little room for flexibility, found himself drawn to a girl like that.
Thrown completely off by the unexpected turn of events, Cha-heun had been staring blankly — but he came back to himself and spoke in a flustered voice.
“…O-oh. Right, Hye-han…”
Since Ji Hye-han was being so formal, Cha-heun found himself strangely adding something that resembled formality in return.
…He had clearly responded — but the silence that followed stretched on regardless. Ji Hye-han’s grey eyes simply continued to bore steadily into Cha-heun.
…The silence was unwelcome. Cha-heun forced a smile and spoke in a casual tone.
“Wow, your name is really cool, though. Your parents must have put a lot of thought into it.”
“…Thank you. I was told my grandfather chose it.”
“Ji Hye-han — wow, how is a name that cool.”
Ji — a good meaning, and Hye-han — a cool sound. Wow, wow….
He had been talking to himself for a while. Unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, Cha-heun left behind a word of apology for all the rudeness today and was about to quietly slip away when —
“…Won’t you tell me your name, too?”
“Oh, me…. It’s Shin Cha-heun.”
“…I see.”
…A remarkably quiet reply.
How did Seo Ha-ra ever manage to hold a conversation with him.
The Seo Ha-ra of the manhwa had kept up something resembling an ongoing conversation with Ji Hye-han — and it was only now that Cha-heun felt just how remarkable the female lead truly was.
“…Your name, too —”
“Hm?”
“…Never mind.”
Hye-han, who had seemed about to say something and had started to open with it, quickly swallowed it back down and gave a short bow of his head. Then, after gathering his gear, he was the first to leave.
The slight hurry in his manner was, unlike everything Hye-han had shown until now, just a touch rushed.
…So what was the male lead’s family background again?
…Ah — it definitely wasn’t the president.
That lingering curiosity of Cha-heun’s — still not quite resolved — was left behind for another time.
