Ch.1616. You’re Clueless

I believe in the idea that school studies don’t require talent.

While understanding with your brain would be the best option, if you don’t understand something, you can just memorize everything and be done with it.

Does simple memorization really require talent? The answer is probably “no.” Memorization is effort. I can say this with such certainty because of my own experience.

I got sidetracked for a moment, but what I’m trying to say is that school grades are the result of how much effort you put in.

If you’ve tried your absolute hardest but still aren’t getting good grades, it’s likely that your efforts are misdirected. After all, don’t they say that in life, direction is more important than speed?

Strictly speaking, that statement is incorrect too. Speed already includes direction. The correct term would be velocity, not speed.

“Siwoo, I’m bored.”

My train of thought was interrupted as I glanced at Hwa Nabi, who couldn’t wait any longer before complaining.

Her face showed absolutely no sign of effort—just the look of someone dying of boredom.

“I’ll play with you after you memorize all of that.”

“That’s so mean.”

What’s really mean is Nabi’s concentration. What kind of student can’t sit still for even ten minutes? I ignored her complaint and turned another page in my book.

It takes me about 2 minutes to scan a page of a paper book. I had just turned the fifth page when Nabi said she was bored, which means her concentration span is exactly ten minutes.

“Siwoo.”

It might be repetitive, but I have to say it again. Her concentration is seriously concerning. How did she even get into Chungha Highschool with such poor learning abilities? It’s truly baffling. I’m starting to suspect she might have bought her way in.

I sighed deeply and closed my book. With her constantly talking to me, it’s impossible to focus.

“What?”

“Finally looking at me now, aren’t you?”

Nabi, who was slumped over the dining table we were using as a desk, made this strange comment while looking at me. Given the hour, it was already completely dark outside the living room window. With the dark backdrop behind her, her words seemed to create an oddly atmospheric moment.

“Where did you learn to talk like that?”

“That’s strange. The book clearly said men would fall head over heels for this.”

Looking at you, I really might drop dead soon—from frustration, that is. I swallowed those thoughts and got up from my seat to approach the table.

“You’ve memorized everything and that’s why you’re chatting, right?”

“No, not yet.”

“How much time have I given you?”

It’s been at least thirty minutes. That’s far too much time for memorizing a simple formula. I grabbed the workbook that Nabi had been using as a pillow.

“Recite it.”

“Recite what?”

“What do you think?”

If she was genuinely asking, I was ready to give her a forehead flick.

Nabi carefully gauged my expression before opening her mouth, looking into the distance.

“…My three sizes?”

“…”

What would I even do with that information? I closed my eyes involuntarily. I don’t have high blood pressure, but I could feel tension building at the back of my head.

“You don’t really want to study, do you?”

I pulled over another chair and asked seriously. I wasn’t trying to criticize her—it was just my genuine curiosity.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink, right? Or maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up at all. She asked me to help her study, but if this is how it’s going to be, it’s difficult for me too.

“Well, it’s not like I have absolutely no interest…”

She seemed embarrassed, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with her fingers.

“Not absolutely no interest,” huh? That’s as vague as saying “anything” when someone asks what you want to eat.

Saying something is “not not there” also means it’s “not there.”

“Nabi, look me in the eye and answer.”

“……”

“I’m not going to scold you. Just look at me.”

After my second attempt, Nabi hesitantly met my gaze.

Blink, blink.

Her large eyes blinked as she looked at me. We stared at each other in silence.

“…”

It might be an obvious observation, but I realized just how large Nabi’s eyes really are. People often describe such eyes as being “as large as lakes.”

If I kept staring like this, I might get the illusion of being pulled into those eyes.

…I shouldn’t be doing this. I finally snapped back to reality when I noticed confusion appearing in Nabi’s gaze.

“Ahem, I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? Chungha Highschool holds back students with poor grades.”

“…Weren’t you just saying that to scare me?”

At this point, shouldn’t she start believing it? Feeling suddenly stuffy, I unbuttoned my shirt sleeve and rolled it up slightly.

“Nabi, think about it. What would I gain from scaring you?”

“Well… that’s true.”

“Right, as long as you understand.”

I sighed softly and continued.

“You’re not planning to stay in high school forever, are you? You need to graduate, right?”

After saying it, I realized I sounded like a teacher trying to reason with a problem student. But Nabi didn’t seem to mind. She met my gaze directly.

“Yes.”

“But at this rate, you won’t even be promoted to the next grade, let alone graduate.”

In the original storyline, there’s actually an episode where the protagonist almost gets held back due to poor grades. So my words weren’t an exaggeration at all.

But that character is the protagonist, so it doesn’t apply to them. They’ll receive the world’s protection and get help from the heroine who’s supposedly good at studying, so they’ll be fine. But Nabi isn’t in that position.

If left alone, she would become the first case of someone suffering real consequences from what was just a character setting. And this is separate from my issue of successfully completing first year and moving beyond the original storyline.

I can simply stop seeing the protagonist after the graduation ceremony.

But with Nabi, our families are already connected. She’s not someone I can avoid just because I want to.

If you asked whether I have feelings for her, that’s not it either.

I just don’t like the situation I’ve been put in, but I don’t particularly dislike her.

“Sigh…”

In truth, Nabi doesn’t really need to stress about studying. Her family is wealthy anyway. What’s the big deal about not being good at studying? But failing a grade is different. Two failures mean automatic expulsion. The implications of that should be obvious.

There’s already a bad culture of looking down on people without college degrees, let alone someone who couldn’t even finish high school. The judgment would be predictable—they’d barely be treated as a person.

It’s an extreme exaggeration, almost delusional. But it’s not entirely baseless either. One should always prepare for the worst.

Having thought that far, I looked at Nabi. She was waiting for me to speak, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Do you want to transfer schools instead?”

I asked out of genuine concern. There’s nothing more exhausting than forcing someone to study when they don’t want to, and I felt bad about pushing her because of me.

Chungha Highschool is the only strange school that expels students based on grades, so she wouldn’t have to worry about grades at another school.

“No, I don’t want that.”

But Nabi suddenly became serious at my question. I blinked in surprise but kept my composure.

“Why?”

“Are you asking because you really don’t know, or are you pretending not to know?”

Nabi spoke as if I was deliberately testing her. But I genuinely couldn’t see the issue. From any angle, transferring seemed like a win-win situation.

I asked because I sincerely thought so.

“I don’t know.”

Clunk. Nabi pulled her chair closer and stared directly into my eyes.

The distance between us was quite close—close enough that we could touch each other’s cheeks if we reached out.

Maintaining that distance, Nabi looked at me and then frowned.

“Those aren’t the eyes of someone lying. Wait, so you really don’t know why I asked? What kind of person are you…”

It sounds like she’s calling me clueless. I doubt anyone listening to this conversation could infer what she means.

As I was thinking this, Nabi looked at me with disbelief.

“Siwoo. Do people often tell you that you’re oblivious?”

I’ve always been told “Wow, you’re really perceptive.” If anything, I’ve been called sharp, never oblivious.

“People usually tell me I’m perceptive.”

“Really? That seems impossible.”

“No, it’s true. My friends called me perceptive and nicknamed me ‘nunsae.'”

Hearing my explanation, Nabi gaped at me as if she’d seen something unbelievable.

“T-that’s not a compliment!”

“It’s not an insult either, is it?”

“Siwoo, do you not know what ‘nunsae’ means?”

“What does it mean?”

Based on how it sounds, I’m guessing it’s slang for “perceptive bastard” or something similar. When I shared this opinion, Nabi covered her face with her right hand.

“Oh my goodness… You’re not joking with me, are you? If this is a joke, please tell me now. I’m ready to laugh.”

“…It’s not a joke?”

Nabi, who had stood up at some point, sat back down in the chair across from me. Her face showed a very determined resolve.

“Siwoo. Don’t worry. You have me.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Even if everyone else speaks badly of you, I’ll always be on your side. What’s the point of having a fiancée? I guess this is why people get engaged.”

I don’t think that’s it.

The words rose to my throat, but I swallowed them back. The atmosphere was too serious to interject. She was so earnest that I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“But I’m not that bad, am I?”

I asked, hoping against hope. But Nabi nodded very seriously.

“Yes, you are.”

“…Huh?”

“I haven’t been observing you for long, so I can’t say much else. But I can say this with certainty: yes, Siwoo, you are seriously oblivious.”

“…”

How oblivious could I possibly be? I asked the question thinking that way, but I never expected such an answer. I suddenly felt a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I’m sorry if that sounded offensive. I apologize. But I felt it needed to be addressed.”

Is she giving me medicine after making me sick?

“…So you think you can just hit someone and then apologize, and everything’s fine?”

“My goodness, when did I hit you?”

Just now, just now. You hit me with facts.

It’s not just physical blows that count as hitting someone. The fact that it was my fiancée, Nabi, who criticized me for being oblivious made the mental wound much deeper.

With slight exaggeration, it felt like my soul had taken a hit.

“Siwoo, you’re not sulking, are you?”

“Me? Sulking? Ha! What are you talking about? I’m completely fine.”

“Maybe tuck in that protruding lip before saying that, Siwoo.”

This girl. Now she’s making me out to be petty. I was so taken aback that I confronted her.

“No, I’m not sulking. Do I look sulky just because of your thoughtless comment about me being oblivious? What do you take me for?”

“Ah, yes, Siwoo. Are you hungry by any chance?”

“I’m not—”

I was about to retort “I’m not hungry,” but at that moment, my stomach rumbled.

*Growl*

It was too loud to pretend I wasn’t hungry.

“…I’m not exactly hungry, but I might be a little bit, yeah.”

Nabi snickered as I awkwardly avoided her gaze.

“Alright. Then I should show you what I can do.”

“What are you planning?”

“What do you think?”

Why does this conversation feel familiar? Thinking it was just my imagination, I asked without much thought.

“What is it? Surely you’re not planning to cook.”

“Correct.”

I just guessed randomly, but why is it actually true? Hiding my surprise, I asked:

“Nabi, you know how to cook?”

“Know how? I’m excellent at cooking. Even my teacher praises me a lot.”

“Your homeroom teacher said that?”

“No, my cooking class teacher.”

Isn’t that just the kind of lip service they give to everyone? Like a golf caddy saying “Nice shot, boss.”

Seeing my skeptical look, Nabi smiled confidently.

“Just wait. I’ll surprise you.”

With those words, she went to the kitchen and put on an apron. Her back view exuded tremendous confidence.

“Hmm hmm, hmm hmm hmm~”

She even hums a tune as she prepares the ingredients, clearly enjoying cooking. She looks the part, at least. I wonder what the source of that confidence is. I suddenly became curious.

“Siwoo, is there anything you particularly like?”

“I’m fine with anything.”

“Got it. Then I’ll prepare something myself.”

…I guess I’ll find out soon enough.