Opportunity (5)
To Shin Na-young, who grew up in poverty, Han Yu-ra was a star in the night sky.
The simple fact that someone from an ordinary family could make a fortune. The fact that she could be recognized by those around her as a capable CEO. Just knowing there was a woman like that nearby was already a beacon of hope for Shin Na-young. Why? Wasn't it cool? The gaming industry was full of promise. Everyone knew people were hooked on mobile games. And they poured money into them. Most parents beamed with pride when their kids landed jobs at famous game companies. But to become the head of one at such a young age? To bask in the spotlight of investors? To some, she might've looked like a clueless rookie entrepreneur, but to Shin Na-young, she was an idol. She gave hope. The hope that someday, I could be like her.
But right now, Shin Na-young hated Han Yu-ra with a burning passion.
You heartless bitch?
Shin Na-young had grown up in a rough neighborhood. Memories brought back terror. To get to school, she had to cut through back alleys. Too early, and she'd find truant kids her age squatting, smoking cigarettes. Too late, and she'd witness school-uniformed bullies ganging up on some poor kid. She still had nightmares. Of a boy being dragged out at dawn for a "cigarette beating." Too weak to intervene, she'd bow her head and hurry past. That was the rule in her hood.
Growing up there, Shin Na-young did her best.
I've... lived my ass off. You know that?
She knew early on she had no gift for studying. Or that goddamn programming. Business? Never even dreamed of it. Didn't know about government grants or that anyone could apply. She scraped by on minimum wage. Hauled cargo. Dealt with asshole patients at a hospital desk job, then drowned her sorrows in soju with the unnie sisters. Highballs were too pricey for her.
In that life, Im Seong-u was her savior. Even when she had no dreams and filled out those fraudulent "Write Your Future Aspiration" papers with "Office Worker." When she realized she'd never be a scientist, president, artist, painter, or singer. When her homeroom teacher screamed her out of career counseling. Only one person. Im Seong-u took her life seriously.
Why'd you treat me like that?
Na-young wondered.
If you didn't love me.
"That chick turned down Yuseong's confession?"
"Who? Shin Na-young?"
"Yeah. Isn't that fucking insane?"
"Who the hell does she think she is...? Rejecting his confession? What a conceited bitch. Thinks a pretty face gets her anywhere?"
"Hey, her dad's disabled, right?"
"Pfft..."
Im Seong-u had been too kind. Maybe it wasn't kindness—maybe a mistake.
"Keep at it."
"Where are you dumb? Spatial awareness? Math skills? Logic? Those IQ tests mean jack."
"Good colleges don't guarantee a good life."
By raising her guardian angel's expectations too high, it was a mistake.
Why... treat me like that if your heart wasn't in it.
Maybe his kindness was cheap pity. Or just because she was pretty. Maybe he just wanted to fuck her once. Even if it stemmed from some trivial lust, it was fine. Shin Na-young was okay with that. As long as he stayed by her side, she'd take it. She prayed for it.
But then,
You stole Im Seong-u from me? How? How dare you?
Born into wealth, top education, four-year degree, smart enough to snag fat government grants, pulling in billions from investors—and now she's by Im Seong-u's side. She'd slept with him.
Why...
Shin Na-young ground her teeth.
Why steal everything from me?
The factory took her father's legs. Psychiatric meds (Prozac) stole her mother's smile. Her childhood was smeared with bloodstains, alleyway spit, and cigarette smoke.
Her "friends" lost their virginities in middle school. Met boyfriends in high school, got dumped like trash before college. Daytime local uni students, nighttime call girls. The smart ones knelt, filed nails for cash. The good students became clerks at small firms.
Im Seong-u was the only starlight she'd seen.
But why... why try to take even that?
If she lost that too, nothing would be left.
Han Yu-ra's got money, huge tits, red hair, talent, and that fucking four-year degree.
She couldn't hold back the rage.
Parents probably paid her full tuition, what, 40 million won? Nothing like my life—no shitty part-time gigs. Never faced alley thugs. But why. Why,
Shin Na-young felt pathetic.
If I were Im Seong-u.
Pathetically, she knew all too well. Living in poverty made her empathize desperately. It was an easy thought.
Of course he'd dump me and marry Han Yu-ra.
Good family, rich, pretty, big breasts. What did Shin Na-young have? Arms? Legs? Disabled dad and monthly rent studio? High school memories? Poverty pity points? What appeal was that to Im Seong-u?
...
Apartment kids and monthly renters were worlds apart from birth. Here, ownership was the order. Just facts.
So her feelings for Im Seong-u were twisted. Obsession was pain; love was obsession. She knew it.
With no other choice, she decided to hate Han Yu-ra.
You think you're all that, Han Yu-ra...?
Shin Na-young smirked bitterly in her mind.
Her hood had one rule: Girls who gave it up first always got dumped in the end. First meeting or not, didn't matter. They ended up tossed like used rags.
Staring at the yellow tulips, that's what she thought.
Sorry... I'm too ugly inside, right? Seong-u. What if you knew this side of me.
A vibrant field of yellow tulips. She couldn't recall their meaning. Never had time for trivia in her life.
Seong-u... if you don't love me.
Shin Na-young prayed.
Dump me as cruelly as possible. Me...
If there was tragedy in her past, wishes weren't always positive.
Reject me.
That was her desperate prayer.
......
The setting sun scorched Shin Na-young's silhouette. Like an orange halo enveloped her.
Kirrrk—the kids' voices echoed as they headed home. The city was peaceful. Bushes grown to my waist trimmed into neat cubes. Tiles around the apartment park held antique patterns.
Shin Na-young spoke.
"Am I lacking as your lover?"
Those words left too deep a scar to respond easily. No, you're not lacking at all. I'd repeated it in my mind thousands of times, but saying it aloud was hard.
I didn't think you were lacking. But you did. A disease I couldn't cure. Even if I loved you, cherished you most. The weight was hers to bear.
You have no flaws, Na-young.
Shin Na-young didn't earn much. Less talent in coding. No 40-million-won degree, no shot at big companies. Desperate programmers with diplomas were everywhere.
Part of her hard-earned cash went to her disabled dad. But that wasn't love's measure. Not for two people in love.
So I said it.
"No."
I infused my voice with conviction. So her who'd always looked at me, my decade-long friend, wouldn't hurt even a little.
"You're not lacking at all."
She couldn't continue. No tears, but her dark eyes pierced mine. I swear she could feel my heartbeat.
Shin Na-young stepped closer, one foot at a time.
"I," she said.
"love you."
Downtown baby. Her pitch-black gaze fixed on me. Her small lips sang like a sunset lark.
"Do you love me?"
My heart pounded like it was sick.
"I don't know."
"...I see."
"Sorry."
"I'm sorry."
Shin Na-young didn't cry. Just slapped my hand with a bright smile. Like it was natural for friends. Then she chattered on.
"Confession was too sudden, right? Should've spent more time together first. What can I say—I thought it'd just work out."
"..."
"I mean, we've been friends since high school. No. If you'd been interested, you'd have confessed. But you didn't? Haha. Means no interest. Yeah, yeah. Sorry."
Shin Na-young babbled nonstop. Trying to look like her hyper, sunny self. But I saw clearly. The tears pooling under her eyes.
"But that's kinda harsh, Seong-u. Dump me cruelly at least. From my side, it's too, too... this is... so hard."
Shin Na-young finally broke.
"From CEO Han's view... do I look like a thief? Or worrying about the CEO makes me look stupid to you? Your mom hates me too?"
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize!"
Shin Na-young yelled. Park-goers stared. We were intruders in their peaceful routine.
Sorry.
Hurting her felt criminal. Loving two women at once was impossible. Especially in the same office.
I'm selfish to the end.
I knew she liked me. But did I love her? I knew Han Yu-ra liked me. But how much of my love-hate for her was love? No clue.
I'm a thug.
A thug who couldn't decide for others without knowing his own heart. No consideration. Just praying for easy, good times. Delaying their pain.
"What's with Han Yu-ra? Do you love her?"
Her words pierced my ears. I approached her. And cruelly...
I hugged Shin Na-young. Hard.
Her small body slipped into my arms.
"No."
"...Hic, uhk... hnggh..."
Shin Na-young buried her face in my chest and sobbed. Why do the women I hold always cry in my arms? Probably my selfishness and past pains.
My chest thumped wildly. I almost wanted to die.
Lacking? Nah.
I was the lacking one. A year in that estrogen hell made trusting people hard. No dating for me. Now with power, I wanted wild private life. Didn't I deserve it?
"Give me a year."
"..."
"Made bank, wanna live my way."
Irresponsible words. Shin Na-young nodded in my arms. Her nod hurt me.
She said,
"...Seong-u."
"Yeah?"
"If I ask for a kiss, you'll get mad?"
She asked again. Now about friendship.
"We can't even be friends anymore?"
And I was human trash.
"No..."
No one initiated—our lips met. Shin Na-young was poor; I was selfish. And her lips were soft.