I am not a Yandere chapter 144

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One tree among many in the mountains, one milliliter in the ocean—those three simple words were only a fraction of the overwhelming surge in his chest.

His heart pounded, almost as if it were malfunctioning.

He had often imagined what he might say, how he would look, the words and expressions he would choose when he finally confessed.

But now, with the moment at hand, his mind went blank.

In the end, Seonwoo discarded his rehearsed lines, choosing instead to express his true feelings.

“You may not have realized, but I’ve admired and loved you for a very long time.”

“…”

“Whenever I see you, my heart races. It’s like my insides are bubbling over, and my fingers tremble with excitement.”

“…”

“There are places I want to take you—places you’ve never been, beyond the amusement park. So, please…”

Reaching out, Seonwoo gingerly took the tip of Yeongdeok’s middle finger, holding it with a gentle touch that seemed uncertain whether to cling or to release.

With eyes glistening, he implored softly.

“Please don’t reject my confession.”

Yeongdeok stared at Seonwoo, his gaze void, entirely mismatched with the look of longing and sorrow in Seonwoo’s tearful eyes and voice that seemed ready to break.

Could it be that Baek Seonwoo, too, had now stepped off the path of the original story?

Though he couldn’t fathom why either Seo Jihoon or Baek Seonwoo had come to feel anything for him, this outcome was surely the result of Yeongdeok abandoning them one by one, in pursuit of revenge against PetitRorang.

It must be…yet, even though he had already disrupted the novel’s main storyline, an empty feeling gnawed at him.

Why did he feel not the least bit relieved, but only more stifled inside?

A strange dizziness crept over Yeongdeok.

“…Take your time and think about it.”

Yeongdeok’s response was stiff, his tone dry, as if he were addressing a challenger rather than someone confessing their feelings to him.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer.”

Seonwoo, on the verge of tears, couldn’t say much more as Yeongdeok made to leave.

He offered words of reluctant release, yet his fingers tightened, still grasping Yeongdeok’s.

Only when Yeongdeok stepped forward did Seonwoo’s fingers finally slip away.

Leaving Seonwoo’s hospital room, Yeongdeok walked slowly down the hallway.

Outside, the thick summer air blanketed his skin, while the blinding light poured down, nearly obstructing his view.

Squinting under the blazing sun, Yeongdeok felt a suffocating sensation, as though something he’d never experienced before was gripping his chest. Surely, it wasn’t just the stifling summer air.

When he first came back, Yeongdeok had thought of nothing but revenge, never considering anything else.

But over time, all kinds of other emotions had sprouted within him, pulling him back, making him look over his shoulder.

He no longer even knew what he truly wanted.

He halted, rooted to the spot, breathing in the faint scent of grass under the weight of summer.

ꔚ

Even on the subway and bus ride home, Yeongdeok found himself immersed in thought.

His use of public transportation had also been all part of his plot for revenge against PetitRorang.

Every one of Yeongdeok’s bizarre behaviors had inevitably led back to the loathsome writer, PetitRorang.

All for him, and nothing else.

When Yeongdeok got off the bus, he made his way to a nearby park.

After buying an electrolyte drink from a vending machine and sitting down on a bench, he watched the students playing basketball, sweat pouring as they gave it their all.

Sitting here, deliberating on things this deeply was unlike him.

Letting someone occupy his thoughts like this was unlike him, either.

But even what he thought was “unlike him” was starting to feel confusing.

Sipping the drink that tasted like energy, he watched the students playing basketball, and unbidden, that familiar person came to mind.

The one who was always there whenever his mind felt muddled.

Maybe it was time to face him again.

It had already been days since he last saw him, stuck in the hospital the way he’d been.

Yeongdeok hesitated briefly before typing out a message on his phone, then returned his attention to the game.

“Pass it here!”

“Block him, block him!”

By the time the first set ended and the second one started, the man Yeongdeok had called finally arrived, jogging over from a distance until he came to a stop beside him.

“You’re here.”

“…Why did you call me?”

“Take a seat first.”

Yeongdeok patted the spot beside him, and Jihoon sat as instructed.

Even after calling Jihoon, Yeongdeok kept his eyes fixed on the basketball game, seemingly unaffected.

Jihoon tried to focus on the game, too, but he couldn’t help stealing glances at Yeongdeok, watching his every small movement—each blink, each tap of his fingers.

Jihoon waited quietly, not rushing him, as if hoping Yeongdeok would start speaking when he was ready.

The once-clear blue sky gradually blushed with evening hues, and the students gathered their things, announcing that it was time to go home.

Finally, Yeongdeok broke the silence.

“First off, I don’t like Lee Eungyeol.”

“What?”

“It was a one-sided thing, and my feelings for him are already sorted out.”

Hearing this, Jihoon was struck by a realization—he’d been fooling himself into believing something he’d never actually confirmed with Yeongdeok.

“…Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Yeongdeok didn’t reprimand Jihoon for his misunderstanding.

It would be like scolding himself. With a deep breath, Yeongdeok began again.

“I’ve read so many novels.”

“Novels?”

Expecting a reply to his confession, Jihoon was baffled by the abrupt mention of novels but kept listening.

“They say that love is the feeling you have for someone you want to treasure, to miss when they’re not around, and to feel pain when they cry.”

“So?”

“I’ve never felt that for you. Nor have I ever had the desire to possess or monopolize you.”

As Jihoon slowly realized what Yeongdeok was saying, he felt his chest tighten painfully.

Even though he’d braced himself for rejection, it still hurt profoundly.

“I see.”

Jihoon’s calm response took Yeongdeok by surprise.

That restrained expression seemed even more poignant than if Jihoon had openly wept.

It looked like he was holding back a flood of emotions.

“I’m certain I don’t have those feelings for you, yet I couldn’t bring myself to outright reject you.”

“Why? Afraid we couldn’t stay friends?”

The reason Yeongdeok hadn’t rejected Jihoon with a clear-cut answer wasn’t some noble or pure intent.

He feared that outright rejection would push Jihoon back onto the path of the original storyline he’d just managed to stray from, and he wanted to hold onto him somehow.

His initial interest in befriending Jihoon had been purely for the purpose of revenge.

And yet now…now, he found he didn’t want to use Jihoon’s feelings that way.

He didn’t know why.

Was it just a gut feeling?

“Seojihoon, did you know?”

“Know what?”

“I only approached you at first because I needed you for my revenge.”

“Revenge?”

Jihoon’s question ended on a high note, tinged with confusion.

Yeongdeok let out a bitter laugh and continued.

“Even now, I keep evaluating your usefulness to me. Even at the very moment you confessed to me, that’s what was on my mind.”

“…”

“Yet you still like me?”

Yeongdeok, after spilling out his thoughts, finally realized how irrational he had become.

In fact, he hadn’t been rational for a long time.

Just when he’d reached a point where he was no longer in control, Jihoon looked him straight in the eye and spoke firmly.

“I’ve been the closest to you all this time, yet there’s still so much I don’t understand about you. I don’t know who you’re seeking revenge against, or why you needed me, but…”

“…”

“But…my feelings remain unchanged. I even like your selfish, arrogant side.”

Jihoon offered a faint smile.

Yeongdeok found himself strangely moved by that response.

Was this guy really a fool?

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