CPT 8

Episode 8

Unlike the girl who read the title in awe, Yuha felt her head spin.

What did I just hear?

“Green curry for you.”

Just then, the waiter arrived with steaming Thai green curry and rice.
It looked delicious — but all Yuha could feel was a lump in her stomach.

As she poked at a piece of chicken with her fork, she seriously considered running straight back to the dorm and warning the boy downstairs.

…But who am I to do that?
Do I even have the right to interfere?

It was “The Night of Madness,” after all.
Skipping it would basically be announcing that she didn’t want to get along with her classmates.
And in PPE — Politics, Philosophy, and Economics — connections were everything.

Conclusion: Geoffrey Hester had no escape route.

At this point, all she could do was hope that boy’s liver was made of steel.

“Oh my God! Geoffrey Hester just commented!”

“On the poll post? How did he even find it?!”

“No idea! But the comment is insane—listen to this.”

Yuha tried to block them out. She really did.
But in the end, curiosity won.

The brown-haired girl began to read aloud:

“‘No one. Reason’s simple. I prefer eating to being eaten.’”

“Kyaa! That psycho!”

Wow. He really said that.

Yuha nearly choked on her rice.

Somewhere she’d heard that British people believed the best way to deal with an unfair situation was to respond with elegant sarcasm—
to make people laugh instead of losing dignity.

In that sense, Geoffrey Hester was a perfect Englishman.

“…Guess I really am Korean.”

That was what Yuha found herself thinking as she trudged up the dorm stairs after her late lunch.

If it were her, she would’ve just reported the post—
even if people called her “no fun.”

At the landing on the second floor, she stopped briefly and opened her SNS app.
The poll wasn’t on her feed.

“If it were, I would’ve reported it right away…”

She sighed and slipped her phone into her back pocket.
Then—

The sound of a door opening nearby froze her in place.

She turned, and there he was.

Geoffrey Hester, standing below her, looking straight up.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

In the soft, late-afternoon light, he looked almost otherworldly.
Hair shimmering faintly gold, eyes a calm, cold gray.

When their eyes met, that gray stirred, faintly but unmistakably.
And that was all.

No other reaction.

Clutching her phone, Yuha pretended composure she didn’t feel.
The silence between them stretched, thick and still.

“…Tonight’s going to be rough for you.”

She was the first to speak.

“Good luck. I mean it.”

And Jeffrey Hester — in a response that was somehow both surprising and predictable — said:

“Am I not a bother to you?”

“…”

That wasn’t what she’d meant at all.
But explaining that felt… unnecessary.

After a brief internal debate, she gave up on clarifying.
She was worried for him, yes — but she still didn’t want to get involved.

So instead, she shrugged lightly and walked up toward the third floor.

Jeffrey Hester stayed where he was, eyes quietly following her.

And honestly—

It was… a little uncomfortable.

He really does shake people up just by looking at them, she thought later.

Was this what they meant by the danger of a handsome man?

Sipping a weird mix of vodka and cola, Yuha contemplated it seriously.

Yes, maybe she was overthinking his gaze.
But no — definitely not.
It was the vodka’s fault.

Totally the vodka.

“Alright, line up in three rows, people! We’re doing a Boat Race!”

The booming voice snapped her back to reality.

They were in one of the West Dorm rooms,
shared by a chemistry sophomore and a statistics sophomore—Rashid, of course.
The place was big enough for fifty people, and it was full to bursting.

Now, students from Chemistry, Psychology, and Statistics were all living up to the name of the night: “Madness.”

“On your feet, kids! We didn’t raise you weak!”

The sprawled bodies on the floor began to stir like worms.

Yuha raised her hand.

“We don’t have a multiple of three.”

“You’re in Statistics, right? Your college parents must be proud!”

“They are.”

Rashid, sitting next to her, smiled.

“Damn, where are Annie and Victor?!”

A chemistry sophomore nearby groaned, massaging his temples.
A boy getting up answered him casually:

“They ran off holding hands.”

“Did they bring condoms?”

As if on cue, the door burst open.
The missing couple returned, glowing with pride.

Cheers, whistles, and wolf howls erupted around them.

Yuha made a deliberate effort not to notice the hickey on the girl’s neck.

“Hey! What’d you do to my college sister?!”

“You came back way too fast!”

“So did you actually do it?”

“Look at that hickey! Are you official now?”

The drunk freshmen surrounded the returning duo, giggling and squealing.

The only ones not joining were the sober second-years—and Yuha.

“Gyaaa!”

“My eyes!”

“Whoa! Go do that somewhere else!”

The couple was clearly committed to stealing the spotlight.
Their passionate kiss drew another loud round of cheers,
and soon a dozen phones were out recording the scene.

Gen Z, honestly.

Watching with mild disinterest, Yuha placed her strange drink on the console.

Rashid, munching on carrots and hummus, offered her one.
She accepted.

“So, Eve—how’s married life?”

“…What?”

“College marriage, I mean.”

Ah. That threw her off for a second.

She was supposed to “marry” another freshman too—
just as Rashid had “married” Daisy.

Eventually, sure…

“Not yet.”

“Better hurry. Over half the batch already did it.
By tonight, it’ll be over 90%.”

“…Really.”

So that’s why they called it “The Night of Madness.”
Because everyone went around pretending to get married?

She was mulling over that when Rashid said casually:

“By the way, Daisy was wondering if you secretly married Gentleman Geoffrey.”

“…What?”

Yuha almost spat out the carrot she was chewing.