Opening Assembly (5)
Thanks to the sudden appearance of that bold freshman Jeong Ain—who had zero regard for the room and simply beat me down with pure facts—I managed to escape the assembly unscathed.
“...”
But was “unscathed” even the right word here? In the end, I’d only confirmed that my hypothesis was true.
As long as this pheromone never stopped secreting, I was going to spend the rest of my life alone. I’d just keep sparking chaos with people, then waste more time cleaning up the mess.
“Sunbae!”
“...?”
There was, however, one person willing to join me in that waste of time. Gyeoul came running, out of breath, and skidded to a stop in front of me.
“What’s wrong, Gyeoul? I already transferred the club dues.”
“Hah… hah… No! That’s not why I came. I mean… please don’t take what Ain said too much to heart.”
“...?”
She’d come flying over, lashes fluttering, just to say that? She hadn’t even thought to fix her windblown hair.
“Look… I don’t know how you’ll take this, but I’m not bothered. Sure, I’m a little disappointed on a personal level, but that has nothing to do with Ain. That’s just how I am.”
“She’s still young. That’s all it is. Honestly, ever since OT I’ve felt like she was walking a pretty thin line, and it made me uneasy. And of all people, she had to do it to you, sunbae…”
“I’m seriously fine, so stop worrying. And don’t go lecturing Ain over nothing and mess up your friendship either.”
“But still…”
Gyeoul lifted her head, looking every bit as offended as if the insult had been aimed at her. A naturally kind-looking girl going completely straight-faced like that? Yeah, the effect landed hard.
“...”
And then the conversation just… stopped. If we were done talking, we should have gone our separate ways, but my eyes snagged on the crossbody bag hanging from her shoulder.
“You even packed your stuff and came out?”
“I just… wanted to head home myself.”
“Weren’t you supposed to stay until after the second round?”
“Even if I stayed, I don’t think I’d enjoy it. Honestly my body hasn’t been feeling great—I only wanted to eat and leave—but I forced myself to stick around the whole time.”
That faintly listless color in her face wasn’t just my imagination. While the other officers made a big show of nothing, she’d been the one quietly handling every last detail and wearing herself down for it.
“Then let’s go. Can’t waste an excuse this good.”
Kwak Dongbin had probably already spread word about what happened back there, so “I went after him” was a perfectly usable alibi. Gyeoul’s lips curled up just a little, like she’d been waiting for me to say it.
“Alright…”
Clack, clack…
And so the two of us walked side by side toward the subway station. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t even the direction of my place.
But Gyeoul had felt nothing but loneliness in that crowd. She’d even slipped out under the pretext of comforting me. The least I could do was go with her as far as the station.
“Sunbae, your house isn’t this way, is it? If it’s the bowling alley, then—”
“Figured I’d walk a bit and sober up. Having someone to talk to makes it better.”
There still wasn’t any real reason to walk her all the way, so I threw out a decent cover. The weight seemed to leave her shoulders; her expression eased.
“Sunbae… I’m not sure if I should ask this, but…”
“Ask me anything.”
“I know Unnie Aeri is super close with Unnie Jiyeon. But earlier it didn’t look like she was that close with you.”
“We are close. You know Aeri doesn’t bare her claws at just anyone, right? We’re so close she can say whatever she wants. Think of it as a different kind of closeness from the one she has with Jiyeon.”
“Still… openly putting you down in front of the juniors felt a little… I was surprised. I wondered if that was really the Aeri I know.”
“What you do with your peers and what you do with juniors are different. You’ll act differently in front of the first-years this year too, won’t you?”
“That… does sound right. Looking back, last year I probably said a lot of things without thinking. I wouldn’t have been in any position to scold Ain either.”
She said that, but Gyeoul had almost certainly been mature enough even last year. Classic modern-day noble young lady, through and through.
“And… don’t take what Sujeong says too seriously either. Lately her teasing’s gotten way out of hand.”
“I know. Freshman year I was in the exact same victim seat as you. The main culprit was usually Jiyeon, though.”
“Really? Unnie kept trying to set you up with other girls?”
“In her own way she probably thought she was rescuing lonely me. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.”
“Yeah… that makes sense. Back then you were…”
Han Gyeoul’s words suddenly grew sparse. In the middle of that silence we reached the station, and our short walk together came to an end.
“...”
It was time to go our separate ways for real. Yet neither of us moved. We just stood there staring blankly.
“Ah—why do you think Ain said something like that?”
Gyeoul had desperately dug up one more topic. Hadn’t we already covered this?
“She probably just thinks she answered honestly. You know the type—people who believe as long as you follow the rules, anything goes. It wasn’t malice. She’s used to being adored, so she figures even that is part of her charm.”
I didn’t hold the slightest grudge against Jeong Ain. If anything, I could almost call her a benefactor for personally confirming the hypothesis I’d only ever suspected.
“No… I think I understand the principle behind why she said it. What I don’t understand is the meaning of the words themselves.”
“The meaning… that I have zero charm? She just said it like it is. I’m the textbook example of an unpopular guy.”
“Really? I don’t think that at all…”
“To be precise, it’s because of the pheromone.”
“Huh?”
The sudden word made Gyeoul’s eyes go wide. But this one thing I could say with certainty.
“Animals can’t use language, so they communicate by releasing pheromones. When musk deer hit mating season they release musk to attract partners—and apparently humans find that smell pretty foul. Whether humans even release pheromones is still debated, but maybe what I put out is something like that musk.”
“Isn’t that a little too self-deprecating? You don’t smell like that at all, sunbae. If anything you smell really sweet…”
“Of course there’s no actual smell. I was talking about the atmosphere a person gives off. You know the type—people who come to college trying to reinvent themselves but still can’t hide that particular ‘freshman stink.’”
“That doesn’t sound like you either… But wasn’t musk supposed to smell really good? I don’t know much about it, but I think I’ve heard that somewhere.”
“You’re right. Musk itself is a strong odor, but dilute and blend it and it turns into something humans actually like. The scent we call musk is made from that exact stuff.”
“Ah! There are perfume names like that. You know a lot about this, sunbae.”
Well, when you spend enough time researching yourself, you end up a pheromone expert by default. And the fact that the right blend can make it smell good made it identical to musk.
“But… that musk. In the end, other deer still find it appealing, right?”
“Obviously. ‘Foul odor’ is just a human definition. Maybe the deer that reeks the strongest is actually the most attractive one.”
“Then… don’t you think there’s another deer out there somewhere? One who could take your pheromone not as zero charm, but as real charm.”
“...”
I thought so too. More accurately, I desperately wanted to believe it.
Someone who, even if they never stood above me, could accept the pheromone I secreted exactly as it was.
Someone born to be my biological match.
Without even that, my life would be too bleak, wouldn’t it? Without thinking I turned my head—and accidentally locked eyes with Gyeoul.
Baaang…
Something felt different. She always used to avoid my gaze, but now she held it without a trace of rejection.
Those eyes were pure affection, not a single drop of malice in them. Maybe that was why I kept drinking the kimchi soup before the rice even arrived.
Maybe the other half of the musk deer I’d been looking for… was Han Gyeoul.
“Oh—phone.”
“Huh?”
I pulled out a phone that wasn’t even vibrating and stepped away, then put on a very convincing act of talking to someone.
“Yes, boss. Right now? I’ve had a bit to drink, though… Uh… if you’re fine with me like this, I’ll come.”
“...?”
I turned back to Gyeoul, who was wearing a completely lost expression. The lies had poured out of me without any real planning.
“My company’s CEO. Whenever a good scene pops into his head he always calls me over to ask what I think. He wants me at the office right now.”
“The office… Gasan? Then you have to take the train too, sunbae.”
“Yeah.”
I’d have to get off midway, but at least I’d just bought myself company for half of her journey. Maybe that was why.
A smile she couldn’t hide was hovering around her lower face. The contagiousness of that smile was so strong it soon pulled at the corners of her eyes too, completing a flawless, perfect smile.
Rattle, rattle…
We boarded the train. It was an awkward hour, so there were almost no passengers and plenty of empty seats.
Naturally we sat side by side. Gyeoul, knees pressed neatly together and crossbody bag resting on her lap, looked especially stiff.
“So what kind of company do you work at, sunbae?”
“An ad agency. Too random?”
“It is, a little. Completely unrelated to your major… Were you always interested in advertising?”
“Not really. I just wanted to do something unusual while making money, and somehow I ended up working there.”
That was a lie. I’d applied because it was far from campus and staffed almost entirely by men. I’d gotten lucky and passed.
“Then do you actually help make the ads?”
“As if. I just do odd jobs, clean the bathroom sometimes. Most of the time I spend searching trends and gathering data.”
“Can you tell me the company name?”
“Abby Paramugson.”
“Huh? What language is that?”
“Korean, I think? The boss has weird taste. He just slapped a name on it and never bothered changing it.”
“It is pretty unique, like you said. Let me see… Abby Paramugson…”
Gyeoul seemed genuinely curious about where I worked. She pulled out her phone and started searching—then her eyes went round.
“Oh… I know this ad. It went mega-viral as a Shorts meme.”
“I shouldn’t say this myself, but it’s probably the most watched place in the industry right now. The kind that takes down big corporate agencies that win on quality—with pure ideas alone.”
“That’s incredible. And they hired you, sunbae. If he’s calling you in the middle of the night just to ask about ideas, maybe you’ve got serious talent.”
As if. The whole call had been a lie so I could stay with her a little longer.
“Maybe the boss just needs a normal person’s perspective. Like you said, most people who see ads are ordinary audiences.”
“What do you mean by that…”
“He’s a total genius. Graduated from some no-name college, got into a big agency, then quit on his own. Started the company with nothing and now he stands shoulder-to-shoulder with those guys. But he’s got that artistic streak, so every now and then he starts doubting his own eye.”
That part was true. Shin Duhyeong’s aesthetic sense lived so high in the stratosphere that a gap with the public was inevitable.
So he asked for my opinion more often than you’d expect. A genius trying to measure the mediocrity of ordinary people.
“I see… But you never know, right? If you keep working hard, sunbae, you might make it big in that field too.”
“Doubt it. It’s a talent-only field. Like I said, the boss who never even majored in it sits at the top above people from top advertising programs. The kind of copy that moves people’s hearts can only be written by people like him.”
“Isn’t that the same for you? Not from a top school, not even a major?”
“...”
Subtly logical. Of course, just because I fit the same category didn’t mean I was the same type as the boss.
“There are plenty of people like that. What about you, Gyeoul? Any career plans?”
“I don’t really know. Watching Unnie Jiyeon prepare for law school makes it pretty clear our major doesn’t have the brightest prospects.”
“Still, you must have some vague dream for your life.”
“I’ve lived such a boring life that I don’t really have one. Just… get a normal job, live a normal life, build a normal family… that kind of thing.”
“I think that’s a pretty unique dream. Especially in this day and age.”
If you could achieve even that, you’d be living a life no one needed to envy. That was just how absurdly hot the Hellfire Peninsula burned.
“What about you, sunbae? Do you have any life values or anything?”
“Same as you. Living ordinarily. Making ordinary friends, trying ordinary dating. Living ordinarily and then dying ordinarily.”
“...?”
A look of genuine confusion rose on Gyeoul’s face. Because nothing I’d just listed had anything to do with being a Voluntary Outsider.
But for me it was the ideal. Meeting someone someday who wasn’t affected by the pheromone, and finally letting out a long breath of relief.
Rattle, rattle…
The train kept moving. Without either of us deciding to, we both fell silent and simply sat there.
That didn’t mean we were doing nothing. I had no idea what Gyeoul was up to, but I was running every one of my five senses harder than I ever had.
Hard enough that I could feel her body heat through the faint brush of fabric. How long had it been since my heart pounded like it wanted to burst?
“Sunbae?”
“Hm? You can ask me anything.”
“No, it’s… didn’t we already pass Gasan?”
“...”
I’d been so lost in sensation I’d completely forgotten the destination.
Or maybe… just like the instinct that made me lie earlier, this time too I’d simply followed an immediate impulse.
The impulse that said I wanted to keep riding with her all the way to Bupyeong.