Thank Your Face for It

Lee Do-hee marched Woo Tae-kyung into a class that may or may not have actually been on her schedule, then settled in beside him as quietly as any student would. The professor's eyes met his, and no matter how he looked at it, the man clearly understood that Woo Tae-kyung was not a student — he opened his mouth to say as much, caught sight of Lee Do-hee's face, and decided to play dumb. The students stole glances, their gazes ping-ponging between Lee Do-hee and the stranger beside her, until the professor's rebuke sent them all facing forward again.

But even seated in the back row, Woo Tae-kyung could acutely feel that every nerve ending of the students in front of him was somehow straining backward. Strictly speaking, it wasn't him they were checking on. It was Lee Do-hee.

She sat there in the lecture hall without a single textbook, chin propped on her hand. Today she was at least wearing a white ruffled blouse with a neckline that dipped, paired with the same dark jeans as Woo Tae-kyung. She carried no bag whatsoever, just her phone laid carelessly on the desk.

Her gaze swept over whoever happened to be seated ahead of them, and then she sat through another hour of lecture as if waiting for someone. The class was a double period, and when the second hour rolled around, she gave up on pretending altogether and rose from her seat.

"Let's go."

Dragging Woo Tae-kyung by the arm, Lee Do-hee left the lecture hall without a trace of regret.

Then she strode shamelessly into another classroom in the middle of a different lecture and had to sit in the very back row again.

The pattern repeated itself: sitting there listlessly with no book, exactly like her, through a lecture whose subject he couldn't have named, then getting up again the moment her scouting expedition ended.

Even so, Woo Tae-kyung didn't bother asking.

"So you didn't take a leave of absence after all."

He murmured it after she came up empty yet again in her search for someone whose name he didn't know. Then she turned around to look at him, who had said nothing at all since they left the gates.

"Why don't you ask me what the hell we're doing? Why do you just follow me around without saying a word?"

"Lee Do-hee, why are you taking it out on me?"

"Because you're being quiet. The Woo Tae-kyung who would've already told me off is being quiet, and it's pissing me off."

"You're one to talk. You really think dressing like that makes you look like a student?"

Woo Tae-kyung shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. You bring me along and everyone turns to look anyway."

She said it brazenly, as though she really had found whoever she was looking for — or as though she'd been checking the face of every single person who glanced their way while parading him around. He couldn't even work up anger at her anymore. Right. This was a girl who treated confidence as her weapon, anywhere, in front of anyone.

Having understood that much about her, Woo Tae-kyung returned to silence.

"Let's check out the department lounge."

"You actually have a department?"

Every class they'd sat in on so far had been different, so the question came out skeptical.

"I'm a philosophy major."

"What?"

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. At the sound of philosophy coming from Lee Do-hee's lips, he honestly wondered whether the philosophy he knew — a man of shallow learning — was the same thing she meant. He had no idea what departments this school even offered, but if he had to guess the one least suited to Lee Do-hee, philosophy would have been it.

Then he thought of Chairman Lee's capital, and his head nodded on its own.

Word was Jang Hee-jo had donated an entire library just to enroll here. So the old man had simply stuffed her wherever graduation was guaranteed — the thought crossed his mind, and with an expression of perfect understanding, Woo Tae-kyung's mouth curled into a faint smirk.

"What's with that face? I got in through regular admission."

"Sure you did."

Clearly she had ridden Chairman Lee's coattails in through the regular admissions gate, loud and proud.

"Hey, Woo Tae-kyung."

"Impressive, really. Not one of the classes we sat through today had so much as the first letter of philosophy in it."

"Those were electives... Do you even know what an elective is?"

"Something you don't have?"

The students drifting through the corridor stole glances at the two of them bickering so lightly, and at his retort they burst into silent laughter. Even Lee Do-hee, at a loss for a comeback, bit down hard on her lips and laughed — bright, ringing, genuine.

"Woo Tae-kyung, want me to show you what having no class actually looks like?"

"If you haven't shown me by now, that'd be even more impressive."

For once, Woo Tae-kyung answered in earnest. She had drawn breath to fire back, looked at his face, and let it go — just this once. There was something hilarious, something almost delightful, about how in the span of a single day Woo Tae-kyung had developed a total, bottomless distrust of her.

And above all, whenever she looked at the scar carved into his face, her anger somehow melted away.

She could stare at it all night without tiring of it. She wanted to tell him to get lost already — she was sick of him, sick to death, sick of the sickness itself — and yet she only wanted to keep him around and watch. What did it feel like, living with a mark on your face that would never fade? She pitied him a little, the man who would spend his whole life under the sidelong stares of strangers, and a dozen other feelings tangled up with the pity.

"This is fun. I almost got bored of you for a second there, so be grateful for your face. Just looking at it is entertaining enough that I don't want to let you go."

Lee Do-hee said it with a smile.

Woo Tae-kyung's brow creased. It wasn't an insult — delivered in that honeyed voice, she genuinely meant nothing more than that he should be grateful for his own face. He really, truly could not figure out what the hell her taste was. Woo Tae-kyung raked a hand roughly across the wound on his cheek.

Every time Lee Do-hee dredged his scar back up like this, that spot somehow started to itch.

When he scratched at it, as if her words had gotten under his skin, Lee Do-hee's face lit up like a child's at a festival.

She beamed with the unbearable glee of a brat who found it endlessly amusing that Woo Tae-kyung actually paid attention to what she said — enough to worry at the wound itself.

"I've been in a shit mood all day at this school, and now I feel better. Thanks to you."

Small mercies, I guess.

Woo Tae-kyung muttered to himself.

"There's a restaurant by the back gate where people line up if you get there by lunchtime. Let's go there."

It wasn't even noon yet. Once again, Lee Do-hee was hauling him off to eat.

Her eyes, which had been burning all morning at the sight of her own grudge, suddenly sparkling with delight, she looped her arm through his with practiced ease. When the weight of her chest pressed blatantly against his arm, he tried to pull free, but she clung tighter, like he might vanish if she let go.

If he raised his arm, Lee Do-hee came right up with it.

"Lee Do-hee."

"Behave yourself at school. We're just walking arm in arm, that's all. Don't shake me off."

Clutching his arm like a lifeline, holding on with all her strength, Lee Do-hee drained every last ounce of fight out of him.

"Fine, now loosen up. Your face is bright red."

Looking vaguely puzzled at that, she loosened her grip — slowly, ever so slowly. Woo Tae-kyung, watching her like a hawk for his chance to slip free, matched her pace, easing out bit by cautious bit. It was only early autumn, but the sun still blazed hot, and with Lee Do-hee hanging off him on top of that, he felt hotter still.

"Ooh~ Are you two dating?"

They had just come out past Haemu Hall when Woo Tae-kyung, without meaning to, pictured exactly one person who would be here at this hour. Sure enough — there was Jang Hee-jo, sprawled on a bench with his legs spread wide, slouching like he owned the place, rolling a sugar-free candy around in his mouth.

The man, who'd been wearing sunglasses, deliberately slid them down to the tip of his nose and whistled from the shade.

"Damn. I told you to be careful, and one single day later — Woo Tae-kyung's life is officially fucked."

Clap, clap. Jang Hee-jo kept up a slow, unhurried round of applause until every passing pair of eyes swung their way.

"We're not."

Lee Do-hee didn't bother denying it, and Woo Tae-kyung, with her dangling off one arm like a baby koala, delivered the denial — which even he had to admit convinced absolutely no one.

"Lee Do-hee, how the hell did you collar our blockhead Woo like this? Did you buy him clothes too?"

Jang Hee-jo tilted his head at a crooked angle, sneering, eyeing the black jeans that Woo Tae-kyung would never have spent a won of his own money on, and laughing with real venom.

"Our? Jang Hee-jo, you and Woo Tae-kyung aren't 'we' anymore. Me and Woo Tae-kyung are 'we' now."

Lee Do-hee smiled sweetly and flicked him away like lint. For an instant, Jang Hee-jo's gaze darted to Woo Tae-kyung — a look that said how did this happen, you traitor — then vanished as he pushed his sunglasses back up.

"Woo Tae-kyung, that girl has actually killed a man before. Watch yourself."

Jang Hee-jo said it like a warning, no longer sparing Lee Do-hee a glance.

To Woo Tae-kyung — who on every possible count had done far more illegal things and been far closer to actual human deaths than Lee Do-hee ever had — it just sounded funny. Sitting in on a squabble between two brats like this felt like a waste of his time, so he simply shifted his weight and started walking, Lee Do-hee still hooked to his side.

"If you already sold the dog, it's someone else's dog. Mind your own business."

At the words that brushed past him like a blade, Jang Hee-jo burst out laughing. Lee Do-hee, uncharacteristically silent, kept pace with Woo Tae-kyung's strides, quick and light.

"You just told Jang Hee-jo I'm yours, didn't you? Hmm? Out of your own mouth."

"...I'd really rather you just left me alone."

"Did you see Jang Hee-jo's face?"

"I heard the tsk-tsking about how fucked you are."

Woo Tae-kyung answered flatly, eyes fixed straight ahead. The back-gate restaurant she mentioned he already knew. There wasn't a building on this campus, nor a path out the back gate, that he didn't have mapped.

"If I let you go, would you go back to Jang Hee-jo?"

"No."