Stalkerizing

Sa Shin-jae was, in hindsight, a pushover. It was something Sa-yoon realized after spending time at the troupe.

Contrary to his mild and easygoing appearance, he had a surprisingly picky side. The information Sa-yoon had gathered about him was as follows.

First, he rarely ate anything given to him by others.

Since the troupe often gathered for practice, there were plenty of occasions where they shared food and snacks, but unless he picked something up himself, Sa Shin-jae wouldn’t even touch it. If someone handed him something, he would take it out of politeness, only to discreetly put it down in the midst of the lively chatter. It was possible because everyone in the troupe had a naturally high level of energy.

When it came to shared food, he was even worse. He barely ate at all. He seemed to be quite the neat freak.

For Sa-yoon, who had no concept of personal drinks once alcohol was involved, it was intriguing. Was he just bad at refusing others? That must be exhausting.

Once he noticed this quirk, other details started catching his eye one after another.

He was particular about what he drank too. Even if he pretended otherwise, when he ended up with soda or coffee, his drinking pace visibly slowed. If given a choice, he always picked an electrolyte drink or plain water.

“Let’s each grab a drink before we start!”

And yet, in moments like this, Sa Shin-jae would always hang back and pick whatever was left at the end. Out of the five of them, he was always the last to choose.

“Senior, have one too.”

A plastic bag was suddenly thrust toward him. Sa-yoon looked down at the gaping opening.

Most of the drinks were fizzy sodas that burned the throat. There were a few cans of electrolyte drinks for the minority who preferred them, and then, as always, a couple of the dreaded milk tea drinks—punishment drinks that no one ever willingly chose but somehow always ended up in the bag.

Sa-yoon’s eyes flicked toward Sa Shin-jae. Unlike the others who had stepped forward at the mention of drinks, he was still standing a few steps away. If left alone, there was a 100% chance that he’d end up with the punishment drink. The guy was just too damn nice for his own good.

Clicking his tongue internally, Sa-yoon reached into the bag and grabbed one of the electrolyte drinks—the one with a blue background and white patterns. The coldness seeped into his palm, feeling refreshing.

As expected, by the time the bag had been passed around, the drink in Sa Shin-jae’s hand was that beige-colored milk tea. Without hesitation, Sa-yoon walked over to him.

“Shin-jae, wanna swap drinks with me?”

“…?”

“Now that I think about it, I kinda feel like drinking that one. Trade with me?”

“This…?”

“Yeah, I actually like that one.”

Sa Shin-jae glanced between the drink in his hand and Sa-yoon, his gaze tinged with faint suspicion. Sa-yoon met it with a light smile.

“Completely.”

Sa-yoon emphasized once more.

The suspicion was brief. Milk tea had a strong love-or-hate divide, but there were definitely a few die-hard fans of it.

“Alright, I’ll trade with you.”

At last, his junior handed over the drink with a gentle smile. The can was already lukewarm, probably from his naturally high body heat.

“Thanks.”

Not wanting to make him feel awkward, Sa-yoon quickly moved away.

Rejoining Ha-rim, he half-listened to the group’s conversation. After a while, he glanced back and saw Shin-jae drinking the electrolyte drink. A sense of satisfaction welled up inside him.

See? I knew you liked those.

Watching the movement of his throat as he swallowed, Sa-yoon unconsciously took a sip of the milk tea in his hand. It tasted fucking terrible.

Another day, something similar happened.

When Sa-yoon arrived at the clubroom, he was immediately greeted by a sweet aroma. The culprit was a mountain of cookies piled on the table. Apparently, it was a hobby of Myung-woo, the club president.

He could’ve sworn Myung-woo didn’t have this hobby a few years ago…

“A theater troupe overflowing with warmth and love, just like family?”

“Ah, hey! If you say ‘family-like’ nowadays, people just get freaked out and avoid it!”

Im Myung-woo, whose failed promotional video last semester had played a significant role in tanking recruitment, jumped in protest, a cookie halfway to his mouth.

“Not that kind of old-school cringe! We need to be trendy, like MZ style, sophisticated, hip! You get me?” he insisted, making yet another request.

“Uh…”

But no matter how he framed it, a mountain of homemade cookies screamed less “hip” and more “Christmas at a grandma’s house in America.”

Of course, every club had its own atmosphere, but theater troupes tended to be especially tight-knit. They spent so much time practicing together, running around looking for props and stage pieces, and suffering through all sorts of chaos.

Every video they’d made so far had been miles away from anything remotely “hip.” No matter how he looked at it, emphasizing their warm and lively atmosphere seemed like the better choice.

Even so… even so, Im Myung-woo, as club president, had other ideas.

“Got it, buddy? Anyway, just make it hip. I’m counting on you.”

Despite his gruff voice, his dialect made his request sound oddly endearing.

“Yeah, yeah.”

I’ll have to sit down and talk to him properly later. Half-dismissing the conversation, Sa-yoon joined in on the cookie tasting.

As they snacked and chatted before practice, Sa Shin-jae arrived right on cue.

“Hello.”

“Shin-jae! Come here, have some cookies, they’re fresh out of the oven!”

Fully embodying the spirit of a grandmother doting on a scrawny grandson, Myung-woo even gestured animatedly, practically dragging him over.

Caught off guard, Shin-jae ended up holding a palm-sized cookie in both hands, his expression soft with a faint smile.

But he never actually took a bite.

Completely oblivious to this subtle rejection, Im Myung-woo continued to gesture enthusiastically.

“Try it, try it! I loaded these with chocolate chips. You can’t buy cookies like this anywhere!”

Just as the president had said, the cookies were generously packed with chocolate chips and incredibly sweet. But… that guy doesn’t seem to like sweet things much. Or food that’s been touched by others.

Strangely enough, it seemed that Sa-yoon was the only one in the room aware of that.

At first, he couldn’t understand how no one else had noticed. But after watching for a while, he realized it was because of Sa Shin-jae’s naturally gentle smile.

With a face like that, and since he never outright refused anything, people just assumed he was fine with everything. It was an expectation shaped entirely by his appearance.

All eyes were now on the newest participant, eagerly waiting for his reaction. Sa Shin-jae maintained his perfectly drawn-on smile as he finally lowered his gaze to the cookie. His movements were slow as he attempted to break the large, round cookie in half.

Sa-yoon caught the subtle hesitation mixed into that motion.

That was why—he suddenly let out a loud, dramatic cry, clutching his cheek.

“Ow!”

The exaggerated motion immediately drew everyone’s attention.

“I bit into something super hard. Felt like a rock.”

“Huh? That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Spit it out, let’s see.”

The table turned into a flurry of activity as people grabbed tissues, fetched water, and crowded around.

Sneaking a glance, Sa-yoon noticed that Shin-jae had taken advantage of the distraction to discreetly place the cookie back onto the plate. And yet, his act of looking startled and concerned was flawless.

Even in this chaotic moment, Sa-yoon found himself genuinely impressed.

Straightening his back, he slowly removed his hand from his cheek.

“Maybe it was a chocolate chip? …It’s gone now.”

He mumbled absentmindedly, and the collective worry that had spread across everyone’s faces gradually faded like a gradient.

“Senior, I never knew you were such a—”

“A drama queen,” Ha-rim finished bluntly, arms full of crumpled tissues, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Right? At first, I thought Sa-yoon senior was some terrifying guy…”

“Hiya? Well, he does look cold, so people misunderstand him a lot.”

“Wait, Myung-woo senior, what is ‘Hiya’ anyway? I’ve been meaning to ask. Did Sa-yoon senior change his name or something?”

“Eh?”

At that, Im Myung-woo’s expression twisted into something hard to describe.

“What the hell are you talking about? It just means ‘hyung’ (older brother).”

“…Hiya does?”

“Not ‘Hiya,’ you idiot. ‘Hiya.’ It’s a dialect.”

Hearing such a bizarre misunderstanding, Myung-woo let out a loud “Hah!” But what followed made Sa-yoon even more dumbfounded.

“I seriously thought it was weird. Like, it was obviously directed at Sa-yoon senior, but I just couldn’t figure out why.”

“I thought it was because he looked like that celebrity, Hiya.”

Hiya was a member of a recently active idol group. Everyone’s eyes immediately turned toward the speaker, most of them radiating pure skepticism.

“No way. No way. But look—he’s got pale skin, sharp eyes, and kinda has the same vibe as this photoshoot, doesn’t he?”

The speaker quickly pulled out their phone and held it up for everyone to see. The screen displayed a close-up of an idol with a strikingly cold and sharp appearance.

“Ohhh…”

“Wow, yeah, this one’s got the vibe!”

“Now that I look at it like this, I kinda see it?”

“Nah, Hiya looks more like an ice pick than a person.”

Come to think of it, even Sa-yoon had to admit the overall image was somewhat similar. Still, calling someone an inanimate object as a lookalike?

“Hey. Did you seriously just compare a person to an ice pick?”

“Ah! That hurts, Hiya!”

Sa-yoon lightly smacked Myung-woo’s forearm, not hard enough to actually hurt. Knowing that his easygoing senior wouldn’t take offense, Myung-woo exaggerated his reaction and laughed.

“I think Senior looks like a cat! A really elegant-looking one!”

“Oh, yeah! I was thinking the same thing!”

“What?”

Myung-woo’s face twisted like he had just heard the most ridiculous thing ever.

“You guys told me I look like a bear, but Hiya gets to be a cat?”

“Guys, no matter how much you flatter me, you’re not getting anything out of it.”

Calling a guy like him a cat? That was some serious exaggeration. Still, it was impressive how well they played the social game. Sa-yoon let out a small, amused chuckle.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sa Shin-jae.

He was absentmindedly intertwining his pale, slender fingers, gently fidgeting with them.

With the conversation now focused on Sa-yoon’s supposedly mismatched appearance and personality, Shin-jae’s cookie dilemma had completely slipped from everyone’s minds.

Yeah, you’re welcome.

Feeling pleased that his little plan had worked, a satisfied smile crept onto Sa-yoon’s lips. Without anyone noticing, he winked playfully in Shin-jae’s direction.

His own image might have taken a slight hit, but today, he had successfully built a little more goodwill. Everything was going smoothly, like a ship sailing effortlessly across calm waters.