There was no need to confirm the handwritingâs owner. It had to be Lee Sa-young. Who else would address Cha Uijae as âyouâ in such a formal way? Uijae rolled his eyes.
âNow that I think about itâ¦.â
Lately, that bastard had stopped calling him hyung and started using you instead. Uijae ran his fingertips over the letters in the notebook. Obviously, there was no warmth to be felt from the ink, but still. He muttered awkwardly.
ââ¦Your handwritingâs pretty neat.â
He had expected it to be as unreadable as Nam Woo-jinâs, but surprisingly, it wasnât. Maybe Jeong Bin had even taught him how to write properly. Absurd thoughts crossed his mind as he rummaged through the messy desk for a pen. He was about to write a response in the notebook but hesitated.
ââ¦If I write in here, will it really get delivered?â
If it didnât, heâd just end up looking like a lunatic writing messages in Nam Woo-jinâs research notebook. Then again, Lee Sa-young couldnât have been certain that Uijae would see his message either. It was a shot in the dark. So, couldnât Uijae take a shot too?
Uijae stared at Sa-youngâs neat handwriting for a moment. Then, he unfolded one of the crumpled sheets of paper scattered around the lab and, of all things, started practicing his handwriting.
Watching.
He compared his sloppy scrawl next to the neatly written text in the notebook. Compared to Sa-youngâs writing, his own looked like a pair of squirming worms.
ââ¦â¦â
Unacceptable!
Uijae took a deep breath and tried to write as neatly as possible. W-a-t-c-h-iâ
Snap!n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
The pen cracked in half. All he had done was grip it a little tighter, yet it broke right at the double consonant, which somehow made it even more frustrating. He stared at the snapped pen in disbelief before shoving it into his pocket. Sorry, Nam Woo-jin.
Undeterred, he searched the lab for another pen and carefully wrote the letters again.
W-a-t-c-h-iâ
Crack!
Snap!
After breaking three pens in a row, Uijae finally realized the truth.