My Perfectly Flawed (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 10

“……”

“……”

An icy silence lingered over the table, left starkly alone in the vast hall.

Unlike Yu In, whose expression kept shifting—surprised, frowning, then blank—the man maintained an unwavering smile, not a hint of disturbance in his demeanor.

“…Why?”

At her faint, almost lifeless voice, the man inhaled lightly and tilted his fingers on the table, pressing them firmly against his lips.

His deep, inscrutable eyes fixed steadily on Yu In, as if pondering what to say next.

Just as Yu In began to feel the intensity of his direct gaze burning even the back of her head, the man tugged at the corner of his mouth and chuckled softly.

“Well, that’s something for you to figure out, Ms. Yu In.”

“Me?”

“It’s your fault, so you should find out why.”

Caught completely off guard by this sudden blame, Yu In could only gape like a goldfish in a fishbowl.

It was yet another moment reinforcing what she’d known from the start—that he was truly unpredictable.

The conversation kept darting in every direction, and now he was blaming her out of nowhere—it felt like her already tangled thoughts were about to explode.

She barely regained her composure and was about to demand why it was her fault when the sound of a tray’s wheels rolling down the hallway made her snap her mouth shut again.

“If you have something to say, feel free.”

“…No, it’s nothing.”

Seeing Yu In reply sullenly and bite her lip tightly, the man let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

A staff member appeared with a tray, placing elegant plates of homemade cookies, dacquoise, and mille-feuille in front of them, along with steaming hot cups, before quietly retreating.

Yu In alternated her gaze between the mysterious drink before her and the cup across the table. His was coffee—but what was hers?

“It’s milk tea. Last time, you seemed like you didn’t really like coffee.”

She looked up at his low, amused voice and saw him nod toward the large, gold-rimmed plate.

Even without words, she thought she understood what he meant—something like, “Well? Don’t you like this either?”

“…Yeah. It’s nice.”

As Yu In nodded reluctantly, the man laughed heartily and pushed the plate toward her, urging her to eat more.

After that, the conversation lulled into a brief pause, and the hall fell utterly silent.

Only now did Yu In calm her previously restless mind, sipping the sweet tea that surprisingly suited her taste.

Just past halfway through her cup, the man spoke again.

“Ms. Yu In.”

“Yes.”

She set down her cup to answer.

Her eyes had been tracing his sharp, perfectly symmetrical features when they suddenly caught sight of his coffee—strangely untouched, exactly as it had been at the start.

Just as she wondered what he’d been doing instead of drinking it, his husky voice came across.

“When you say you dislike the industry, do you mean the entertainment industry specifically?”

“…More or less.”

“Tell me more.”

Though his tone was gentle, it didn’t soften the underlying command in his words.

His line of questioning had widened even further since last time—it felt like he was asking about the most random things—but he watched her with an earnest expression, clearly waiting for her answer.

After a brief pause, Yu In recalled his earlier claim about knowing her sister well and cautiously began to speak.

“In that world, the truth doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Hmm… That’s exactly why Nam Yu Jin doesn’t do variety shows.”

From her tangled, vague statement, he instantly pinpointed the core issue and concluded it effortlessly, then smiled as if nothing had happened.

Yu In was inwardly startled at how easily he’d struck the bullseye, but she tried not to show it, bringing her teacup to her lips instead.

She kept even more secret the slight admiration she felt—realizing his title as the youngest director wasn’t given for nothing.

“You seem to like that.”

“…Yeah. It’s delicious.”

Seemingly pleased by her honest reaction, the man smiled broadly enough to show his dimples and followed up with much easier questions than before.

He asked about her favorite food, color, and weather, then moved on to her various preferences. When she mentioned reading books or watching movies on holidays, his eyes brightened even further.

He told her he’d recently developed a strong interest in investing in film and drama productions—sharing stories about projects he’d tried investing in just for practice that ended up flopping, others that yielded unexpectedly large profits, and current dramas and films he was reviewing.

“The day I ran into you, I was meeting with a film director.”

“Oh… that drunk guy?”

“No, he was the assistant director. After seeing how he treated you, I ended up scrapping the investment.”

He brushed it off with a light laugh, but Yu In instantly felt uneasy.

Was he really making such major decisions so easily, even though she hadn’t done anything to harm him?

Just as suspicion about his decision-making style began to grow, he pressed a piece of dacquoise into her hand and started talking about a script recently offered to her sister.

The haze that had been gently brushing against her mind slowly lifted. Their ordinary yet easy back-and-forth exchange lasted until the tall windows opposite the fireplace were completely filled with deep crimson sunset hues.

“Want to have dinner together?”

“No.”

As they stepped out of the hall together, Yu In immediately rejected his offer.

He frowned slightly, seemingly displeased, but as Yu In shrugged her slumped shoulders and walked down the stairs, the tension in her posture easing, he soon chuckled softly and matched her pace.

His sedan, heading toward her home, got stuck in evening rush hour traffic and took longer than usual.

Listening to the low hum of the radio, occasionally aware of his glances, and letting the golden sunset wash over her—Yu In realized the silence between them in the car wasn’t as awkward or uncomfortable as she’d expected. She found herself staring out the window even more than necessary.

When they finally arrived at her house after a long drive, just before she got out of the car, he called her name—“Ms. Yu In”—and she turned.

“Get home safely. See you again sometime.”

Yu In nearly asked why they’d need to meet again—but stopped herself.

Based on today’s experience, she knew he’d likely respond with, “That’s something for you to think about, Ms. Yu In.”

As if reading her mind just from her expression, he gave her a knowing smile. Yu In simply nodded silently toward him and stepped out of the car.

Only after she got home and collapsed fully exhausted onto her bed did she finally realize something.

“Oh… right.”

She’d never asked him what he actually wanted.

****

As always, exams arrived without waiting.

After several rains just before midterms, the cherry blossoms that had once dyed the campus pink had all fallen, replaced by fresh green leaves.

Though the warmth of spring had grown even deeper, with the pink gone, it felt as if spring itself had vanished too.

Passing by the central library, Yu In fleetingly thought it was a shame—she’d never seen cherry bloss blossoms during her three-plus years at university.

And she also recalled the figure who’d seemed to claim that spot beneath the trees as his own.

“…Did he say he was getting familiar with the route?”

That was his answer when she asked why he was there. But why would he say something like that—what reason could he possibly have to return to the university campus again?

Bracing against the breeze, Yu In resumed walking after a brief pause.

The reason Yu In could now so naturally pull the man out from the corner of her mind was clear.

It all started the day after their lengthy conversation and parting—when his messages began arriving.

At first, they were perfectly ordinary greetings, mentioning the weather and wishing her a good day. She’d ignored them for a few days, assuming he didn’t expect replies—until one sentence made her impulsively respond:

[There’s rain expected this afternoon, so don’t forget your umbrella. It’s a shame—natural phenomena can’t be stopped.]

He must’ve remembered her saying she disliked rainy days, but the oddly poetic afterthought that followed both startled and amused her.

After that single reply, his messages grew more frequent—and eventually escalated to sending a photo of a white-furred puppy taken on what looked like a film set, with the note: “This looks just like you, Ms. Yu In.”

It wasn’t until much later that she started wondering, “Is this really okay?”

“Yu In! Over here!”

While her mind buzzed with tangled thoughts, her feet had automatically carried her to the campus cafeteria—the usual meeting spot for the three of them.

Today, Jae Hee sat not in their regular seats but on a wider, plush sofa, calling out to Yu In as she entered.

As Yu In approached, Ji Han took her bag and tapped the seat beside him.

“Why are you sitting here today?”

“Han Jae Hee said she wanted to sprawl out after drinking last night.”

Ji Han scoffed, giving Jae Hee a look of disbelief.

Then, she handed Yu In a coffee she’d already ordered. Yu In muttered “Thanks,” sucked on the straw for a sip, and asked,

“Aren’t your exams still going today?”

“Yeah. I thought she wouldn’t even show up for her exam today.”

At Ji Han’s words, Jae Hee scrunched up her playful face, laughed, and practically flopped back onto the sofa.

“No, I clearly had an exam, but they made such a fuss about not skipping the team dinner…”

“So you had to get completely smashed? If you knew it was that kind of gathering, you shouldn’t have gone. Are you even sober right now?”

“Ugh, Yu In! Shut that nagging mouth of hers for me.”

“It’d be great if you fail and end up stuck in summer school.”

At Ji Han’s cold-hearted jab, Jae Hee erupted with an unheard-of string of curses—prompting Yu In to finally step in and mediate.

“Alright, that’s enough. Exams are over—why are you two fighting?”

Though they often grumbled and bickered, they always stopped quickly when someone intervened. After glaring at each other briefly, Jae Hee flopped fully onto her back, while Ji Han clicked her tongue and looked away.

Yu In, who had seen them countless times shift instantly from this to inseparable closeness, smiled and picked up her vibrating phone from the table.

Seeing a message notification, she tapped the screen to open the app.

The sender was Director Do Gi Yeon.

[Ms. Yu In, good job getting through your exams this week.]

Had he asked about her exam schedule yesterday just to send this message?

Yu In fidgeted with her fingers, debating whether to reply—when Ji Han, who had crept up silently, suddenly asked,

“Who’s that?”

“Huh? No one.”

Startled, Yu In immediately turned off the screen, hiding everything—but Ji Han didn’t look away, her brows furrowed deeply.

“What are you hiding? That’s suspicious.”

“What am I hiding? It’s Nam Yu In.”

Even Jae Hee, who had been lying down, sat up abruptly to join in. They were always perfectly in sync when it came to making Yu In uncomfortable.

Yu In pretended not to understand and sucked on her straw, but Jae Hee’s expectant, wide-eyed stare made her uneasy.

Finally, Yu In sighed and set down her coffee.

“It’s just the department group chat. Looks like they’re starting festival prep now that midterms are over.”

“Oh. I thought it was something else.”

What she told her friends wasn’t a lie—it’s just that the department chat had been checked earlier, and she simply didn’t feel like mentioning the man who’d been contacting her recently.

“Already our last festival, huh?” Jae Hee mumbled, quickly losing interest and flopping back onto the sofa—but Ji Han, seated beside Yu In with her finely lined face, still watched her quietly, unable to shake off her suspicion.

“What is it?”

Ji Han said nothing, her expression unreadable. Instead, she raised her pale hand and gently stroked Yu In’s hair.

Her friend’s touch was always warm—comforting and familiar.

It was so ordinary and natural that, without even realizing it, Yu In remembered the cool touch of someone else’s skin.

Ah, again. Pushing the unwelcome image away, Yu In also brushed aside Ji Han’s arm.

“Ji Han, what day did you say the restaurant reservation is?”

“Next Wednesday.”

Nodding in understanding, Yu In averted her eyes—and didn’t see the arm slowly retracting or the fist clenching tightly at its side.

In a slightly subdued voice, Ji Han spoke again.

“You have a free period that day, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll pick you up in front of your place for dinner.”

Yu In was about to say it wasn’t necessary when she called out to their other friend instead: “What about Jae Hee?”

Jae Hee, who had been staring at the ceiling with a pained expression, lifted her head and grinned.

“Of course I’m coming! I’m drinking wine, too. Let’s fleece Yoon Ji Han properly for once!”

As Yu In laughed, listening to Jae Hee scold Ji Han to pick her up too so she wouldn’t be left out, she glanced toward her phone tucked into the sofa corner.

Ji Han’s eyes, which had been focused on Jae Hee just a moment before, immediately turned toward Yu In.

And for the rest of their time there, Ji Han’s light eyes remained fixed on Yu In’s face—watching her as if hesitating over something unspoken.