Campus Log - Chapter 6

“Friends, yeah. Well, there might not be any. But what does that have to do with me now?”

Ryu Eun-seok, who likely had followers attached to him since birth, hadn’t even considered the principle that the fewer friends you have, the better secrets are kept.

“I told you. So, I don’t have anyone to talk to either.”

Ryu Eun-seok only blinked his damp eyelids. As I looked up at his utterly clueless face, regret washed over me.

Damn it, I shouldn’t have added that. I boldly told him not to worry, but it just ended up giving away my personal information.

This should be enough. I shook off the faint lingering guilt and stood up. Just dealing with someone who was fundamentally different from the start was draining enough.

“Hey.”

I had taken a few steps away from the acacia tree when a quiet call came from behind me.

“Your name is Hong Sang-hee, right?”

My shoulders jerked up in surprise. I never expected Ryu Eun-seok to know my name.

Glancing back, Ryu Eun-seok was still standing by the acacia tree. The shadow cast by the white flowers covered half of his face.

“Keep the promise.”

The man’s brief request was uttered with so little force it sounded faint. For some reason, it seemed like he was nervous.

It seemed like he was afraid I might blackmail him using his circumstances as leverage. As if I had the time for that.

I gave one more nod and headed into the dorm. The breeze, carrying the scent of acacia flowers, gently tickled the back of my head.

***

I reinstalled the Instagram app after a long time.

The account I had created back when I’d just started university—tagging along with classmates I’d only met a few times, pretending we were the closest of friends—was already deleted and gone.

As soon as I made a new private account with zero followers and zero following, I searched for the name “Ryu Eun-seok.” A familiar profile picture appeared at the top of the results. The man had taken a photo of himself reflected in a mirror using an old, outdated digital camera.

In a Story set to disappear in 24 hours, a picture of a man’s feet wearing running shoes was posted. It seemed like he was going for a run late at night.

They say everything leaves a record, and someone might see it, but he didn’t seem to mind much. How many people were secretly checking Ryu Eun-seok’s account like I was? He probably spent his whole day checking the flood of DMs anyway.

The reason I suddenly took an interest in Ryu Eun-seok was purely due to petty curiosity.

I wanted to know how much the man, who had been dripping with vulnerability in the dim shade mingled with the soft scent of acacia flowers and the faint smell of cigarettes, pretended to be perfectly fine on social media.

No matter how generously I judged myself, I was sinister. If Ryu Eun-seok found out, he’d have every right to point fingers and call me pathetic.

But what could I do about my curiosity?

Even if my intentions were shabby, in the end, it was just about browsing a few photos. It wasn’t like I was doing anything particularly bad, right?

I didn’t break my promise to Ryu Eun-seok by spreading rumors among classmates in the same department, nor did I blabber indiscreetly to my roommate, starting with, “Oh, you know someone I know…”

I kept it all spinning busily inside my head, without uttering a single word out loud, so I’d say I kept my loyalty.

I was scrolling through sentimental photos one by one while eating breakfast in the dorm cafeteria when the owner of the account happened to appear in the dorm cafeteria wearing athletic wear.

Ryu Eun-seok, yawning as he picked up a tray, seemed to sense my gaze and glanced in my direction.

A look of clear discomfort flashed across the man’s face.

Trying to shift my gaze naturally to avoid making him uncomfortable, he abruptly turned his head away first. Ryu Eun-seok carelessly grabbed two pieces of toast and walked to a corner seat. He clearly seemed to be in a hurry.

I understood the awkwardness. But being treated like a contagious virus just for looking at someone made a prickly feeling creep up.

I closed the Instagram app and stood up. As I walked toward the exit, a sharp gaze seemed to follow my back.