The Fake Girlfriend of Jerk Librarian

The clock on the far wall ticked over another minute. It had been one full hour since So Eun first started her futile circling of the history section’s high bookshelves. The initial determination in her step had dissolved into a sluggish shuffle, and now a dull ache had settled deep in her calves. Defeated, she leaned against the solid oak of a shelf, the wood cool against her back. She didn’t care who saw the dramatic pout on her lips. Let them stare. Her mission was all that mattered, and it was failing spectacularly.

A sigh escaped her, stirring a fine layer of dust on a nearby leather-bound volume. She was never lucky when it came to finding books. The library seemed to shift and change just to spite her, hiding the very texts she needed most. She watched a student a few aisles over effortlessly pluck a book from a high shelf, and a fresh wave of frustration washed over her. Why was it so easy for everyone else?

"I'm so tired," she muttered to the silent, judging books. Her voice was a tiny sound swallowed by the immense quiet of the place. She pulled the crumpled sticky note from her jeans pocket, its edges soft and worn from being handled. “A Comprehensive Analysis of Post-War Korean Cinema,” by Professor Kim Min-Jae. She’d checked the title a hundred times. It was supposed to be here. Logic stated it had to be here. But the library, it seemed, operated outside the bounds of logic.

She pushed off the shelf for one last, half-hearted attempt, running her finger along the spines. Nothing. Just as she was about to surrender, the soft squeak of wheels on linoleum caught her ear.

A man was walking towards her, pushing a heavy cart overflowing with a teetering mountain of returned books. He was tall, with broad shoulders that strained slightly against the simple fabric of his black librarian’s vest. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his features were sharp and focused—handsome in a severe, unwelcoming way. His eyes were fixed on the books, his long fingers already checking their codes with practiced efficiency. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her existence. He was a man entirely consumed by his task.

A spark of hope flickered in her chest. Help had arrived on wheels.

She waited for him to get closer, her heart doing a nervous little tap dance against her ribs. "Um, excuse me..." she asked, her voice sounding too loud and too small all at once.

He finished sliding a thick tome onto a shelf before he turned. His movement was slow, deliberate. His gaze finally lifted and swept over her, from her worn sneakers to her frustrated face. There was no curiosity in his eyes, no offer of assistance. Only a cool, impersonal indifference that felt like a physical chill.

"May I ask you a favor?" So Eun continued, layering every ounce of friendly charm she could muster into her smile.

He didn’t reply. His expression remained a calm, unreadable mask. It was as if she’d spoken a language he didn’t understand.

"Um, here!" she insisted, stepping forward and thrusting the sticky note toward him like a official document. "I've been looking for this book for hours, but I can't find it. Please, you have to help me!"

The man’s eyes dropped to the note. He read it. For a glorious second, So Eun thought she’d broken through. But then, without a word, he turned back to his cart and quietly continued slotting books into their places.

The dismissal was so absolute, so cold, it took her breath away. Irritation, hot and sharp, pricked at her skin. "Excuse me? Maybe you don't understand Korean? I'm just asking for a simple favor!" Her voice tightened, losing its friendly edge.

He didn’t pause his work. "Others seem capable of finding their books by themselves," he said. His voice was a deep, low rumble that should have been warm but was instead as cool as his demeanor.

The words were a slap. "I know that!" she shot back, her volume rising a fraction. "But I already told you! I’ve searched for an hour! Is it really so hard for you to just help me? You work here!"

Finally, he stilled. He picked up a book from his cart, examining its spine as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He still avoided her eyes. "It is not my job to find books for patrons," he stated, his tone flat and final. "My job is to care for the books themselves. There is a difference."

"It has to be right around this bookshelf!" she argued, her desperation mounting. "You could find it in two seconds while you're tidying up! You’re right here!"

This time, he turned his head fully. He stared at her, his dark eyes blank and unblinking, as if she were a bizarre anomaly he couldn't quite categorize. The look was so dismissive, so utterly devoid of empathy, that her own frustration welled up, hot and immediate behind her eyes. She couldn’t help it; the dam broke.

"Please," she whispered, letting her voice crack perfectly. A single, practiced tear traced a path down her cheek. "You don't understand. I really need this book. My life is at stake because of it! If I can't find it, I'll fail my assignment. I'll be expelled from the faculty. I work a part-time job every night just to afford my dorm room... I can't quit! This is my dream! Please, you have to help me!"

She let her shoulders shake with a silent sob, peeking up at him through her lashes to gauge his reaction.

The librarian’s response was a faint, cynical twist of his lips. A smile, but one devoid of any warmth or sympathy. It was a smile of pure, undiluted mockery. He looked utterly unmoved, even amused, by her performance.

"Your acting is bad," he said, his tone dry and matter-of-fact.

The words sliced through her, sharper than any criticism from her professors. "What?" she gasped, all pretense of crying vanishing in an instant. Real, hot anger flooded her veins. Her pride, her very identity as an acting student, was mortally wounded. Their eyes locked in a fierce battle, and in that moment, she finally saw the small, silver name pin on his vest.

Lee Hyuk Soo.

"Yah! Lee Hyuk Soo-ssi!" Her voice erupted, shattering the sacred library silence. "I'm from the acting department! How dare you say my acting is bad? What would a librarian know about acting??"

Heads turned. Someone across the room shushed her loudly.

Hyuk Soo moved with startling speed. In one fluid motion, he stepped forward and covered her mouth with his hand, cutting off her tirade. So Eun froze, her eyes wide with shock. He was standing right in front of her, so close she could see the faint stubble along his jawline and smell the clean, subtle scent of old paper and soap on his skin.

She jerked back, pushing his hand away. "Yah! Are you crazy—!"

He clamped his hand over her mouth again, his grip firm. "You're the one who is crazy," he hissed, his voice a low, urgent whisper that vibrated through her. "This is a library. Lower your voice."

His proximity and his sharp tone finally cut through her rage. She followed his gaze and looked around. Every single person in the vicinity was staring at her, their expressions a mixture of annoyance and outright glare. Heat flooded her cheeks, burning with a humiliation so intense she wanted to disappear into the floor. She offered a quick, deep, apologetic bow to the room, her face burning.

Hyuk Soo held her gaze for a second longer, a silent warning in his eyes, before he dropped his hand. He turned slightly, reached up to a shelf almost directly above her head—a shelf she had passed a dozen times—and plucked a thick, blue-bound book from its place. He held it out to her without a word.

So Eun took it automatically, her fingers numb.

"Pabo," he said quietly, the word not much more than a breath. Then he turned, took the handle of his cart, and walked away, the squeak of the wheels the only sound in the now deathly quiet aisle.

She looked down. In her hands was “A Comprehensive Analysis of Post-War Korean Cinema,” by Professor Kim Min-Jae. The very book. It had been right there. The entire time.

A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her. She clutched the book to her chest like a lifeline, then shot a furious glare at Hyuk Soo’s wide, retreating back. He never once looked back.

She whispered to herself, her voice trembling with a mix of relief and fury, "Mwoya? He knew where it was the whole time and didn't tell me? What the heck?! Crazy, cruel man!!" She turned and stared at the empty spot on the shelf, a monument to her own blindness. "I'm not stupid," she comforted herself, tracing the indent where the book had been. "Just spectacularly unlucky." Remembering his final, insulting whisper, she muttered the word again, letting it taste bitter on her tongue: "Jerk."

The next step was the self-service checkout. She trudged towards the bank of computer terminals near the library's entrance, her victory feeling hollow. The modern PC looked nothing like the ones she was used to. It was all sleek monitor, with no keyboard or mouse in sight.

Right, she remembered. Touch screen. ‘Develop independence,’ they said.

To borrow the book, she needed to log into her student account. She tapped the screen where the login fields were. Nothing happened. She tapped harder. Still nothing. She waved a hand over the screen, hoping to trigger a sensor. Confusion twisted her features. Where was the on-screen keyboard?

Her eyes darted around, searching for anyone who might help, but the other students were absorbed in their own work, headphones on, worlds away. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him. Hyuk Soo had finished with his cart and was walking toward the main desk, which meant he had to pass right by her.

Seeing him approach, she immediately stiffened. She pouted, lifted her chin, and turned her face away, pretending to be utterly fascinated by a poster about library fines. She would rather wrestle with this machine for another hour than ask that ice block for help.

Hoping the keyboard would magically appear, she poked the screen again. And again. Nothing. She tried swiping from the bottom. From the top. From the sides. The screen remained stubbornly, blankly useless.

Hyuk Soo saw her struggle. A faint, amused smile touched his lips. Struggling with everything today, aren’t we? he thought, not without a certain cold satisfaction. He changed his course and walked directly toward her terminal.

So Eun braced herself for another insult, but he didn’t speak. He simply reached past her, his arm brushing lightly against her shoulder. He tapped a nearly invisible icon in the bottom right corner of the screen. Instantly, a digital keyboard shimmered into view.

He withdrew his hand and looked down at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. "You can do anything by yourself, can't you?" he asked, his voice dripping with cynical mockery.

So Eun rolled her eyes so hard she saw her own brain. "Get lost," she snapped, her face burning again.

He gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Don't worry. I won't stay any longer with a stupid one."

And with that final blow, he walked away, leaving her fuming at the terminal. The second he was far enough away, she kicked out at the empty air behind her, imagining it was his shin. She wanted to punch that stupidly handsome, arrogant face of his. He was the most annoying person she had ever met.

As she finally scanned her book and stormed out of the library, she sent a silent, desperate prayer out into the universe: if she ever had to come back here for another assignment, please, please don't let her bump into Lee Hyuk Soo again.

Three days later, the book finished and her assignment successfully submitted, So Eun found herself walking back into the library. The book felt heavy in her bag, a reminder of the frustrating ordeal. She marched straight towards the return counter, the place she was supposed to hand the book over. She was determined to be in and out in thirty seconds.

But her plan evaporated the moment she saw who was sitting behind the counter. It was the same person she had been hoping to avoid. The jerk. Lee Hyuk Soo.

He was lounging back in his administrative chair, looking completely at ease. He was immersed in reading a large, glossy book, one long leg crossed over the other. And he was wearing glasses—thin, black-framed ones that made his sharp features look even more defined and, she hated to admit, incredibly handsome.

So Eun felt an immediate pout form on her lips. Of course it had to be him. She slowly approached the counter, placing the book down on the smooth surface