Campus Log - Chapter 26

Ryu Eun-seok, wearing a light-green vest over his clothes, looked back toward the tent where cheers were bursting out. Our eyes met squarely. He seemed to be checking whether I was staying put.

After gazing this way for a moment, Ryu Eun-seok turned his head away. The whistle blew with a sharp peep.

This year’s sports festival was unusually charged with competitiveness.

Since last year, a fierce debate had been raging over whether the College of Business should have its name changed. On the school community boards, posts arguing that it ought to be renamed the College of Economics and Trade were going up day after day.

The Department of Business Administration dismissed the idea outright, insisting it made no sense—they had long been the most favored and representative department under the name “College of Business.” The Department of Economics countered that they, as the ones conducting true academic research, deserved to be at the forefront. Even the Department of International Trade, which had been gaining popularity in recent admissions cycles, threw its hat into the ring.

That was why everyone on the court, where the basketball flew back and forth without rest, had fire in their eyes.

Among them, Ryu Eun-seok’s skill stood out unequivocally.

To begin with, there was the physical advantage he’d bragged about—being twenty-six centimeters taller than me. In his bony, knuckle-defined hands, the basketball stuck as if magnetized. Despite his door-sized build, he moved more quickly than the smaller players, and as adept as he was at passing the ball at just the right moments, he also knew exactly where he needed to be himself.

“Ryu Eun-seok! Ryu Eun-seok!”

And considering the one-sided cheers pouring down on him, it was inevitable that he would put on a show.

It felt like I’d wandered into the audience section of an idol singer’s concert.

I found myself curious about how that group—including Park Tae-hyun—was reacting.

They weren’t staying inside the tent. They were gathered beneath a thick-trunked tree at the back, smoking cigarettes. The frowns on the men’s faces were fixed on the basketball game. Since they were standing in the shade, the reason for their scowls clearly wasn’t the sunlight.

“Kyaaah!”

At the burst of cheers around me, I snapped my head forward. Ryu Eun-seok had just scored; he was grinning broadly as he exchanged high-fives with the other players.

Ryu Eun-seok, standing among people, looked unmistakably full of life. As if he were wearing clothes tailored perfectly to him, his whole face brimmed with joy and ease.

If that was the case, wouldn’t it be better for him to look for other friends instead of forcing himself to learn how to get by alone? Friends who could roughly understand his tightened financial situation, yet still have the consideration to pretend not to notice, out of respect for his pride.

While I was mulling over who might make a good new friend for Ryu Eun-seok, I stopped short and twisted my face.

Why was I scouting potential friends for someone else? Who was the one without a single friend here? Was my meddling really this excessive? Even his own mother probably wouldn’t go this far. My pity for him was starting to cross the line.

Is it really just sympathy?

A doubtful question peeked its head out from somewhere deep inside me. A mocking voice rose up, sneering that I was paying far too much attention to Ryu Eun-seok—asking whether I’d started to think of him as someone close to me.

What, because it feels like you’ve gotten closer to Ryu Eun-seok, you want to look after him in every little way?

The self-mocking me and the denying me collided. It was fiercer than the basketball game between the Department of Business Administration and the Department of Economics.

It was a fierce battle.

Ryu Eun-seok, who had just taken his position again, suddenly turned to look toward the tent. I had been clapping mechanically, but I shrank my neck like someone who’d done something wrong. When my eyes met Ryu Eun-seok’s again, my tense knee jerked upward.

That movement sent the ion drink the underclassman had given Ryu Eun-seok tumbling down. I bent over and picked up the bottle.

Only then did Ryu Eun-seok’s belongings, left on the seat beside me, belatedly come into view.

Idiot.

I could have just put it down here, but I’d been clutching it with both hands the whole time. As if one bottle of ion drink given by a junior meant anything.

The actual owner had scattered his phone, car keys—everything expensive—without a care, while I’d been holding onto a lukewarming plastic bottle for him.

I tossed the ion drink onto Ryu Eun-seok’s seat and lifted my head.

Ryu Eun-seok bounced the heavy ball with both hands, then suddenly picked up speed and cut through the defenders. His crouched body stretched long, like a person waking from a deep stretch, and once again the ball passed cleanly through the net.

I pretended not to notice the stirring in my chest. Instead, I forced myself to focus on how irritated I felt at having played the role of a dumb locker.

I didn’t want to be happy seeing Ryu Eun-seok play well. It was a desperate struggle to protect my pride. I didn’t want to hand over control of my emotions to him.

I found it strange that Ryu Eun-seok was more afraid of rumors spreading than of the fact that his family had fallen on hard times—but honestly, I wasn’t any different.