Campus Log - Chapter 9

[May 8, 9:02 AM Dad

May 8, 8:49 AM Mom

May 7, 2:18 PM Professor Lee Jung-hak

May 7, 11:01 AM Business Department Office

May 7, 9:30 AM Mom]

Ryu Eun-seok, who had been examining who I had called with a serious expression, returned to the main screen.

“Instagram?”

Ah, that’s a bit… A college student running a private account with zero followers and zero following. Even I had to admit that looked pretty sinister.

But since I’d already skipped class to come here, I might as well go all the way. Without hesitation, I showed him my account that only had an ID.

“I made it because it was inconvenient when searching for nice restaurants. I don’t really use this stuff much.”

It was the first lie I’d told in front of Ryu Eun-seok. I couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that I’d made it because I was curious to see how perfectly he pretended to live his life.

“I’ve never broken the promise I made with you.”

Ryu Eun-seok seemed to decide there was nothing more to pick on and handed my phone back. As if to mock his coming to confront me, my mobile world was transparently empty.

“You could’ve deleted all the incriminating records before coming here.”

Maybe Ryu Eun-seok prided himself on having pointed out a sharp possibility.

“Or you might not have used your phone at all—you could’ve met someone in person and talked.”

But Ryu Eun-seok’s imagination was too limited. He had no idea that something like “meeting someone to talk” simply didn’t exist for me. It was a fundamental difference from birth, and it would take a lifetime to make him understand.

“I told you, if you don’t believe me, you’re the only one losing out.”

So, the answer I had for him remained consistent.

“If you don’t believe me, go check somewhere else.”

I turned away without hesitation. From the perspective of someone who hadn’t done anything wrong, I’d done my best. If Ryu Eun-seok wanted to get angry, he’d have to find evidence of me blabbing with his own hands.

“Hey.”

I ignored Ryu Eun-seok’s call and walked past. Being late was better than being absent, so I thought I should head back to the classroom now.

“Hong Sang-hee.”

Ryu Eun-seok finally caught up and blocked my path.

“It’s really not you, is it.”

I don’t even know how many times we’ve gone around in circles with this refrain. Perhaps noticing the irritated annoyance rising on my face, Ryu Eun-seok hurriedly added,

“I believe you.”

This was a bit unexpected. I thought he’d keep pushing stubbornly, but Ryu Eun-seok surprisingly showed signs of backing down easily.

“Just let it be a lie.”

“It’s not a lie, I said.”

I was starting to feel exhausted. Having a long one-on-one conversation like this requires paying attention to so much—it’s easy to get tired. The other person’s expression, gestures, the direction of their gaze, the pitch of their voice—I was acutely on edge about all of it.

Honestly, giving a prepared presentation in front of a hundred students was much easier.

“You really…”

I looked closely to see if the corners of Ryu Eun-seok’s eyes were turning red. It was because I could feel a dampness in his faltering voice. It seemed the lingering impression from when he was sobbing last time was still strong.

“Really…”

The man repeated the same words like a broken robot.

“If you’re lying, I’ll sue you.”

The threat that finally came out was absurd. It was more childish than an elementary school kid threatening, “I’m going to tell my mom.”

“Actually, I’ll sue you for defamation based on truth.”

Even he himself didn’t seem to think it was a mature stance—Ryu Eun-seok’s lips pressed into a straight line right away.

Still, the fact that he specified “based on truth” rather than falsehood suggested he at least had a shred of conscience left.

“Do whatever you want.”

Now I really wanted to get back to class. I turned my body to avoid Ryu Eun-seok blocking my path. As I created distance without even grazing him, I could feel his gaze fixed on me.

Consciously adjusting my stride, I couldn’t resist my curiosity and glanced back. As expected, Ryu Eun-seok was staring straight at me.

He still seemed to have no intention of going to class—just standing there blankly in the same spot. Surrounded by suspicion on all sides, he looked as if he didn’t know where to start or what to do, just standing there empty-handed.

He looked exactly like a child who’d lost his mom at an amusement park.

For some reason, that sight seemed a bit… pitiful.