unrequited love
This is what I thought. When you love someone, you naturally want to do anything for them. But the manager rejected every single one. He was like a concrete wall, a wall of iron, a wall of hatred. And only for me. It's the same now as it was seven years ago. He doesn't accept even a single chocolate.
He rejected chocolate because it was too sweet. He said he had a high genetic risk of diabetes, so he could only eat dark chocolate, and he didn't even like that. He hated Americano because it was bitter. Hmm~ That one? It tasted bad. Why are people so obsessed with Ah? Of course… He hated the milk tea that was always at the end of the table until 7 years ago because he was tired of it. He said the days of being immersed in sweetness were in the past. It tasted bad now. He said the Frappuccino was expensive and not that great. It was just okay, but they charged too much for it. And what else did he hate? Anyway, he hated them all.
"So, sir, do you happen to dislike office romances? Should I prepare for the appointment again?"
"Didn't you get hired?"
The manager's eyes widened slightly and he looked back intently. His eyes were so innocent and clear, as if he was genuinely curious. Oh, I almost got excited again. Big. He cleared his throat violently and continued speaking.
"No. I failed the hiring process. Honestly, I was more desperate for this job than the hiring exam. I came here to see you, sir."
"Such ogling is forbidden during working hours."
"Can I do it after it's over?"
“Do you see us after work?”
"No, then?"
"well."
“The manager is always cold. I always like the manager.”
"That's just how humans are. Most people aren't attracted to people who like them. That's why, Mr. Han Yeon-ju, don't love so recklessly."
If I were a romantic, our manager would be a philosopher. He would often spout out cryptic words whenever I threw him a topic worth pondering, whether it was love or anything else. He was a very cheerful and bright person. So, he was the epitome of an "in-crowd," someone who made friends with not only the second-year class but also most of the faculty and staff. However, he was sometimes a bit of a four-dimensional person. He had a terrible artistic temperament. His artistic philosophy... Whether it was low-level music or art, I was bad at classical and emotional things, and that was one of the obstacles that prevented me from getting along with the manager.
There was a time like this. It was a long time ago, the year I first arrived, when my feelings for the department head weren't what they are now. Director Jeong? I really liked him. It was after we became close that I decided to go to teachers' college. Just that. My life's role model, the best teacher, and a tiny bit of selfishness. - Just a little. I only thought, "Would it be nice to date Teacher Sumin?" - Even then, I was happy, and grateful to be assigned to the same second-year club. I asked him all sorts of questions and chatted with him constantly. When we became closer, it was the department head who first asked me out. "Do you want to go see an orchestra performance?" Foolish and naive, I flatly declined his offer, telling him I'd definitely fail if I went. What an idiot. Now, I would have instantly said yes to the orchestra, or even bungee jumping in China. I still regret that day, but even if I had changed my mind, I wouldn't have been asked out on a second date. That's always been my thing.
Anyway, leaving aside the gloomy days of the past.
"So if I don't like you, manager, then you'll like me?"
"I still like it."
Oh, that dry answer. Seriously… Seriously, I hate it. "Personally?" I tried to ask, but stopped myself. I'd asked him over a hundred times, and he'd repeat the exact same thing without missing a word. This wasn't an exaggeration, it was the truth. His tone and every word he said were so annoying that I kept regurgitating them until I had them memorized. It was clear he'd written them down on Post-it notes, memorized them when he got home, and always been ready to recite them. "I like you as a colleague, I like you as a student, I like you as a person. I like you because you're good at your job, and I like you because you're responsible. That's all I really like, Teacher Yeonju."
That's right. It wasn't that the manager hated me. We even went down to eat together. The manager used to have a group of teachers he always ate with, but one of them, who I was closest to, took parental leave, and another teacher neatly scribbled down a resignation letter and quit. Somehow, we ended up eating together. We liked each other (the difference was that I didn't just like him; I loved him), but we just weren't dating. It was because of Manager Jeong, who rejected my frequent confessions with ridiculous excuses.
As soon as the bell rang signaling the end of fourth period, I hurried up to the teacher's office. This was how young people struggled. "What, four periods three days a week? Oh, sir, did you know the food was really delicious today?" Still, in a good mood, I asked, brightly and childishly. It was no different from when I used to come to the teacher's office in my uniform.
"You know that stuff very well."
At the manager's words, I glanced around. "Wow, these people are scary. They're all gone, rushing to lunch, just a few minutes from the right end of the third floor to the left end of the fourth floor. Somehow, the manager's face looked relaxed. I kept nodding and speaking.
"Hey, that's because the teacher hasn't attended the 4th period class. 80% of what the kids talk about is the lunch. Especially when it's as delicious as it was today."
"Don't go into it. I was the youngest in the ethics department when I taught you. It was tough, wasn't it?"
The manager smiled mischievously. He had a habit of squinting his eyes and smiling cutely when he smiled like that. It had been a while since I'd seen such a playful look in his eyes.
"Oh my... totally. I'm so hungry right now, I think I'm going to die. Seriously."
"I have to go buy Yeonju."
Wow. This is crazy. My heart is pounding. Today, my heart rate has soared again. Is it okay for every single line to be this perfect? At this rate, we could probably make a romantic comedy, right? Something fresh, exciting, romantic, and fateful. I can confidently say that in both your life and our bright future, there will never be a more enduring and profound bond than this.
Sometimes, this was why our relationship couldn't work out. The reason why Han Yeon-ju never confessed seriously, no matter how often she brushed it off with playful confessions. It was the pretty color of the sky, with its depth. Even if she seemed to be falling for it or struggling, she preferred everything to be shallow. If love was too deep, she'd quickly fall in and have trouble breathing, so she'd usually just dabble in shallow waters. If you were to roughly catch up with the manager, it would be like this. A profound reflection on love. As for Han Yeon-ju, it was simply... because she didn't want to lose him. That was all for a lighthearted reason.
"Teacher, am I available today? If I'm not available, can I take your spot?"
The manager didn't respond. I hate him so much. What's so good about a manager like that?
"Maybe so?"
Oh, I'm so happy, I'm going crazy. I'm so happy. What do I like? Do I really have to name just one thing? I liked everything about him from head to toe. The horn-rimmed glasses he sometimes wore with his casual look were crazy good, and the stray hairs that would stick out from his tightly tied hair on hot summer days were also incredibly good. I liked the strangely indirect way he spoke when he didn't want to show his happiness or displeasure (it happened just now), and I also loved the cute handwriting he used when he wrote on the blackboard with chalk. Can you really like someone this much? But you can't help it when you really like someone.
"Let's go see a movie together, then."
"What fun things are you doing these days?"
"Teacher, your face is funny."
"I told you not to make any jokes during work hours, Professor Han Yeon-ju."
"Do you call sincerity a joke these days? I didn't know that~ Well... If there's nothing fun to do, why don't you just go drink?"
"Hey, I can't go with a hangover for two days."
"That's why I'm tempting you to drink on Friday. Because I know you best."
Anyway, I can't help it. This is the manager's true feelings. If I didn't know, I just knew. I didn't hear it, but I read it. And so, the manager's dinner, with the white flag fluttering, was swiftly taken over by me.
*
"You're going to go for round 2, right?"
There was a reason for the childish tone and uncertain question. Second round and all… My mind was already spinning. I should have avoided four glasses of wine at a restaurant. My tolerance wasn't that low, but even though our manager would wave off alcohol, he'd down it with a clear head once it was in his mouth. Watching the sound of the manager pouring his fourth glass, keeping pace with him, I had a gut feeling. I stopped him. As expected, I shouldn't have acted so rashly. Regret washed over me, and I rebuked myself, leaning gently on the manager's shoulder as he sat next to me.
"If I take you to another bar right now, it's practically a crime. Do you understand?"
"Then do you want to go to my house?"
"What are you trying to say?"
“I think so. Could you please just let it go…?”
I knew my pronunciation was awkward, and I knew my constant, snickering was downright unsophisticated. I didn't want to show myself this way. Ultimately, the destination on the navigation system, prompted by the driver, was my house. That didn't mean the manager had succumbed to this ridiculous temptation; he was simply seeing me off. I thought I'd cause trouble if I didn't drop you off.
… … Damn. That was clearly his intention. So it was the manager's favor, and he chose to carry me home himself rather than let me stagger and walk on my own and end up in trouble. That was all. But maybe it would have been better to just abandon me on the street. Even if I couldn't get home in a daze, even if I had to sleep on the streets, that would have been better. Wouldn't he have just returned home quietly and without causing any trouble?
It wasn't just me who had an accident that night. It was 'us'.
*
We didn't contact each other all weekend. When I opened my eyes in broad daylight on Saturday, the manager was already well past his departure time, and I wandered around the neighborhood alone, drinking hangover soup. Even as I ate a handful of rice mixed with sundae soup and sprinkled salt, my mind kept wandering. Were the manager's eyes that pretty? Was his voice that good? And... ... No. I just thought about him all day. Even on Saturday, when the work started at 4 o'clock, and even on Sunday, I thought about him all day long.
On my way to work, I plucked a flower branch. The manager in my head was from the ethics department. Could I really do something like this? Anyway, that's what I did. He probably wouldn't hate me too much, would he? It was the first time. I was a kid who couldn't even kill an ant. Really childishly, like something I used to do with my elementary school friends, I plucked off a petal and muttered softly. I pretended to know, I didn't. I did, I didn't... I gave the second flower a different meaning and did something else stupid. We're dating, we're not dating. We're dating, we're not dating... .
The only reason I came to work this early was because of the manager. There were so many things I wanted to ask and say right away, my mouth itching, and I couldn't hold it in. Things too embarrassing to text. Things too embarrassing to talk about on the phone. I arrived early, glanced at the manager's desk, and after a while, I cautiously pulled a chair toward him in the staff room, where we were alone.
"Boss, are we dating?"
"Who said that?"
"No? Does this mean we won't date?"
"yes."
"why?"
"Why is that why?"
"Did you have a bad night's sleep on Friday?"
The manager's eyes widened like a rabbit's. I realized anew how he could make such an expression. Whether he was surprised or happy, the manager was always the type of person who didn't show it on his face. Most of the time, he suppressed his anger with a heavy air, preferring to calmly state the facts. It had been years since I'd seen his emotions so clearly visible on his face. "There's a lot I don't know about you, manager. We have a long way to go," he thought. His once-round eyes quickly returned to their usual state. He spoke very calmly, didn't quibble awkwardly, and answered questions without a hitch.
"Stop chatting during work hours and go do your work. I see you even applied for overtime. Don't you have a lot of work to do today?"
"……Yes. That's right. I'm incredibly busy today. Take care. Then."
Not dating? Even like this? I couldn't read the inside of that calm, usual face. Was Friday night really an accident, Manager? I wanted to add another question, but I barely held back thanks to Mr. Choi, who happened to be in a good mood at the time. No matter what, "Go and do your work"?! If I could focus on work like this, I could be a Buddhist. Why would I be trapped in this world? Does that make sense? Really? Are you really just going to brush it off without a shred of emotion or regret? Are you trying to pretend not to know or what? My head was in a mess all day.
With only a week left before the exam, and having finished all my coursework, self-study was the only option left. In that silence, instead of reading a book, I simply stared blankly at the clock. I watched the second hand tick by, waiting for lunch. I wasn't sure if the principal would be eating lunch with me again, but I eagerly awaited the bell. I walked downstairs, walking slower than usual, to the teachers' office, which, as usual, was deserted, and the principal was alone.
"Are you here?"
"I don't feel like eating much today."
I was just copying the manager. He was so childishly sarcastic and sarcastically evasive that he didn't even notice. Who would have thought he could respond properly?
"You're not saying you won't eat it, are you?"
"Yes. Let's go. To eat."
Is this really the case? The manager didn't bring up Friday. No, there wasn't much to talk about. I was usually the one who started talking first, but since I was quiet, the atmosphere wasn't noisy. The topics the manager occasionally brought up were all trivial. He asked about work-related things, and... ... That's all. Anyway, those are the kinds of things I don't really remember. My mind was so full of other thoughts that, honestly, I didn't even listen properly to what he was saying. Whether he knew it or not, the manager had a really easygoing expression.
By the way, I didn't realize it when we were walking side by side, but sitting facing each other like this was driving me crazy. I couldn't even breathe properly, and I was so busy covering my red and blue ears that I didn't even know if the food was going in my nose or mouth. If the manager raised his head and spoke to me, my already flushed face felt like it would explode. I had a vague memory of our lovemaking on Friday night (I'm not sure if the word love is the right one, but it's too vulgar to call it lovemaking). My heart raced just looking at his face. This was really fucked up. I was so relieved that for the first time, the manager wasn't yelling at me, and I swallowed my food little by little. Even then, I had been absentmindedly spacing out, so I just vaguely stayed in my seat and got up when the manager got up.
The manager was still brazen. I wondered if he knew how troubled I was. Did he really not like me even a little? All the worries I'd been putting off came crashing down on me all at once, making it difficult to handle. What if... what if Friday night was a mistake? What if the manager apologized? What would I do? Not only did I feel a sense of loss, I didn't think I'd ever have the courage to look at him again. So, these were the worries I'd been putting off all this time. I brought my thumbnail up to my mouth but stopped just before I could bite it. Oh, it was you who snapped at me to break this habit. Don't you know how dirty your hands are? Seriously, me. So, what was all that loving worry for? Did I only look good as a student?
Just posing the problems was enough to clear my head, but the manager next to me was so irritating with every gesture that I felt doubly exhausted. My stomach, like a ghost, started growling, and I quickly pulled up a chair and hid. I should have eaten properly earlier. With a sinking regret, I checked the time on the bottom right corner, and it was already past 6 o'clock. I was determined to finish before 7 o'clock today, but I failed.
It was none other than the manager who shattered the mental fortitude I'd barely mustered to regain my composure. A rustle sounded next to me, and he abruptly left me, miserable and distraught. "I guess the ethics department is done with the exams. You must be so stressed out." I'd planned to give him a sarcastic remark if the office had been empty, but in the bustling, chaotic atmosphere, there was no one to attract attention. It would have been a shame to see him off, and I was also resentful and distraught. Putting all these reasons aside (let's say), I was so busy that I just ignored the manager's light footsteps.
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The Enter key couldn't have been more refreshing. I had just retaken the physics midterm exam twice, so I had to be extremely careful with this process. I read and reread until my eyes were completely drained, but distracting thoughts kept creeping in, and I ended up reading the same sentence twenty times. I squeezed artificial tears into my dry eyes and finally turned off the computer. Eight o'clock was approaching. Ah... I'm starving. I wish the exam would end soon. This is the only thing that's different from when I was a student. I tossed my thoughts of the principal far away and filled the gap with various thoughts, putting on my coat. I was still sneaking out of the crowded teacher's office, mulling over dinner delivery, when the phone call came at a truly unbelievable time.
I stood there, clutching my phone, agonizing over it for a while. Should I accept it or not? I didn't have the courage to listen to a blunt rejection or an apology for my mistake. Even if I knew I'd hear it anyway, I wanted to put it off as long as I could.
"Are you upset? What are you thinking, standing there and not answering the phone?"
"Huh? Yes?"
Crazy. Surprise. The moment I turned around, my eyes met those of my own, and my eyes wandered everywhere. Oh, I'm going crazy. You're so damn pretty again. Why on a day like this? You're so damn pretty.
“Oh, but didn’t the manager get off work? Why…?”
"Have you had dinner?"
"Huh? No. Not yet. No, but…."
"Then let's go eat dinner. Can I suggest going to Teacher Yeonju's house?"
What the hell was going on? I just didn't understand anything. The manager, who I thought was off work, was right here. And… Huh? Home? He was slow to respond. The manager didn't respond, but smiled. Just so pretty. Just as fresh as someone filled with summer. No, that's not it. Should we get in the car and talk? Manager.
"Did Teacher Yeonju bring the tea?"
"Me? Yes."
"Then let's go with that. I didn't bring my car."
*
It was I who broke the long silence. Normally, the silence wasn't so bad, but today, I couldn't bear even a second of it, so I felt like I had to say something. When I saw his face, tears were on the verge of overflowing. Inside, I'd already been through dozens of agonys. I calculated every conceivable scenario, anticipating the manager's response to my confession. Inwardly, I imagined tens of thousands of scenarios within those predictions, searching for the most mature reaction I could muster.
"Was Friday a mistake for you, sir?"
"What was it to you?"
"An excuse to confess."
Only after I'd reflexively said that did I realize I'd fallen for the manager's pun again. I was the one who asked first. It was even funnier to stop myself after I'd already said something, so I just continued.
"I really like that teacher. ……I'm not a good romantic partner, am I? If you say it was just a mistake, I'll just accept it as such. Let's just pretend we don't know and live like nothing happened. No one will know anyway."
"No. I've been waiting. You confess."
"yes?"
Even though I had anticipated at least a hundred different responses and calculated the responses, an awkward pause came out at the words that completely escaped my painstaking calculations.
"I waited. Until you confessed."
I just rolled my eyes. Then what have I confessed all this time? What was that?! I told her I liked her dozens of times a day, and asked her out on a date at least once a week without fail. I even asked her out sometimes, and if someone caught my eye, I'd shoot her a jealous glare. Our manager wasn't the type to miss that. The completely absurd answer made my head spin. The sound of the tautness was so loud that he might have even heard it, but I couldn't stop agonizing over it.
"It's your first time. Confessing to me while looking at me with such worried and anxious eyes. When will you become an adult? I've been waiting for that."