Worse Than Strangers (6)

Isn't it strange?

The exact moment I turned my head to take a sip of soju.

The exact moment Seoa, walking outside, happened to glance through the restaurant's glass window.

How could those two moments overlap like that?

It was too meticulously timed to call coincidence. As if the world itself had engineered this dramatic device, determined to force our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠story forward.

Through the transparent glass, her eyes met mine, and Seoa froze where she stood.

It was probably just a natural, meaningless reaction. She must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have found the moment strange too.

How could we run into each other exactly like this?

That was probably what she was thinking.

I watched her as the cold, bitter alcohol slid down my throat. And Seoa kept staring straight back at me.

It was a peculiar feeling.

Yes—somewhere in there, a peculiar feeling settled in.

It wasn't the heavy ache of sadness, nor the simple brightness of joy or excitement. Just something subtle I couldn't quite put into words.

I turned my head back to where it had been.

My brow furrowed. A sharp wave of alcohol scent rushed up through my nose.

So this was what soju tasted like. A taste that left you with feelings just as hard to name.

"How is it? Okay?"

"Huh…?"

"It's your first time drinking soju, right?"

"It's bitter. I don't really get why people drink this."

"Honestly, same. It doesn't taste that great."

The pork belly was already sizzling in its own fat, browning nicely on the grill. Whether from the heat of the pan or the soju starting to hit, a warm flush crept into my face.

"Minjae, there's something I've been wanting to ask you…"

"What is it?"

"Is it okay if I ask about that girl from before?"

"Huh…?"

My hand, mid-flip of a piece of pork, faltered for a second. I quickly found the rhythm again, trying not to let the panic show. My hands kept moving—but I wasn't sure my face was holding up nearly as well.

Of all the questions she could have asked, it had to be the one that put me most on the spot.

Of course Sebin would ask about Seoa. How cruel.

I'd wanted, somehow, to keep Seoa out of any conversation with her.

"An ex-girlfriend?"

"Ah—no, nothing like that. I've never even dated anyone."

"Really?"

Sebin covered her mouth with both hands, looking genuinely shocked. Was that really something to be that surprised about? The intensity of her reaction almost made it feel like she was teasing me.

"Are you making fun of me…?"

"No, no. Who's making fun of who? I've never had a boyfriend either."

That genuinely caught me off guard. I'd assumed Sebin would have plenty of dating experience—not in a bad way, in a good way. She was kind, a genuinely good person, and pretty on top of it. Not the type who'd ever lack for attention. Finding out she was a total romantic novice like me was unexpected.

As she said it, Sebin quietly picked up the soju bottle and filled the empty glass. Then she lifted it and held it out toward me.

Apparently the Seoa topic was going to slide past this naturally.

"Then here's to fellow singles—cheers!"

It felt a little early for another shot, but I didn't really know how these things worked. All I could do was follow Sebin's lead.

Hmm… it tasted a little different from the first one. Maybe everything hits hardest the first time. That initial impression had been nothing but bitter, but this time I caught a faint sweetness. Just a trace of it.

"I think it's about ready to eat now."

"Thank you! Let's dig in—!"

I set down the tongs and picked up a piece of pork belly. First bite had to be plain—no sauce, no wrapping, just the meat itself. And it was excellent.

Why did it taste this good?

I'd eaten pork belly plenty of times on family dinners out. It was the same meat as always. So why did it taste so much better today?

Across from me, Sebin was eating the pork with obvious enjoyment. Watching her savor something I'd grilled filled me with a quiet little pride.

And so time passed—drunk on pork belly, drunk on soju, drunk on the atmosphere itself. Before long, beads of condensation were sliding down the soju bottle. A sign that the evening had properly settled in.

"But… how long are you going to keep calling me Sebin-ssi?"

"Huh…? Th-then what should I call you?"

"Unnie… can't you just call me Sebin unnie?"

With faintly flushed cheeks, Sebin asked me to call her unnie. It wasn't actually that hard a request. She was older than me, after all. The only reason I hadn't been saying it was because I'd figured she needed to give permission first. It felt weird for the younger one to just start getting familiar on their own, right?

"Sebin…… u-unnie."

It hadn't seemed difficult, but once the stage was set, the word didn't come easily. Still, I couldn't ignore the way Sebin unnie was looking at me, her face full of anticipation. I gathered my courage and said it.

"That's right, Minjae."

Oh…

Something about it felt good. All she'd done was say my name in that soft voice, and a warmth resonated through my chest—like a single droplet falling onto the still surface of a lake. That kind of ripple filled me up.

After that, we drank what was left in a faintly strange, drifting atmosphere. Was this the power of alcohol? Was this the kind of mood that drinking created? It was a peculiar feeling, the way even the smallest stimulus could set your emotions swaying so easily. And maybe because of that, I felt like my sensibilities had grown richer somehow.

I'd thought that if Seoa never drank with me, I'd never get the chance to drink with anyone at all.

But here I was, drinking.

I was living this ordinary moment without her.

It was strange. That saying about how you never know where life will take you—it really was true.

From now on, when I looked back on memories of drinking, it would be Sebin unnie who came to mind first, not Seoa. It felt like the first scene had formed in my brain where someone other than Seoa stood in the background.

That was today.

In the end, I still didn't get any work done—but even accounting for that, today had been a good day. Something in me decided it was. Today had made me think of it as a good day.

The next day.

Seoa didn't show up to class.

And even though she was the one who hadn't come to school, her friends kept glancing at me and whispering among themselves. I had no idea why. Maybe they thought that, like before, I might know the reason. But I didn't anymore. We weren't that kind of close.

Even so—even though we weren't that kind of close—seeing that she hadn't come to school left me a little concerned. If someone asked whether I was still hung up on her like a fool, I'd want to defend myself and say this was a perfectly natural feeling. And it wasn't like I was dwelling on it heavily. Just a simple curiosity that settled into my head: Why didn't she come to school?

And I found out the reason when I got home.

Today I'd decided I was actually going to get the work done that I'd been putting off, so I skipped the club and headed home early. I steeled myself, sat down in front of the computer—and my phone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rang.

I'd drifted apart from Seoa, so there shouldn't have been anyone left who could make this phone that noisy. Who could it be? Maybe Sebin unnie? Come to think of it, I hadn't told her I was skipping club today. It could be her calling because of that.

But the caller ID on my clunky phone screen showed Seoa's mother.

I picked up. Her mother probably had no idea that Seoa and I had ended up like this.

I considered politely declining—but that felt too petty, so I just said I would.

After Seoa's father passed away, her mother had been working alone. Taking time off probably wasn't easy for her. I understood the situation, and I understood why I was the only acquaintance of Seoa's she could reach. Back when Seoa used to get sick, I was always the one who went over and bought her medicine. Her mother would know that.

So I had no choice but to say yes. I couldn't sink so low as to act petty even with her mother. She didn't know anything. And no matter how badly things had ended between us, ignoring someone you knew was sick just didn't sit right. That was a matter of basic humanity and decency.

I had to believe this was the right thing to do. So I moved forward, listing those justifications to myself.

I headed to the pharmacy near my place first. But there was a problem: I had no idea what was wrong with her. A cold? An upset stomach? Without knowing the symptoms, I couldn't just pick a medicine.

Ugh. This was awkward.

So I just bought a bit of everything. Cold medicine, stomach medicine, two different kinds of fever reducers. An anti-inflammatory painkiller ought to cover most things, I figured. By the time I'd piled it all up and paid, it had gotten surprisingly expensive.

If even this doesn't have the right medicine, that's just your fate. Deal with it.

Carrying the bulging bag of medicine, I headed to Seoa's place.

I was nervous. Nervous that some unexpected twist might spring up out of nowhere. The world had always been like that, hadn't it? Looking back on how we'd gotten this far, there had been plenty of dramatic staging.

But contrary to my worries, things unfolded ordinarily enough.

Beyond this iron door, Seoa would be there. What kind of reaction would she have if I showed up right now holding a bag of medicine?

I stood in front of the front door, staring blankly, thinking those thoughts. I even considered just punching in the passcode I still knew and walking in to hand it over. But that felt completely wrong for what we were to each other now.

Stop it. What are you even imagining?

So… I just hung the medicine bag on the doorknob and left.

I'd done everything I needed to do by coming this far. Her mother could handle the rest. Just in case, I should text her mother that I'd left the medicine on the doorknob. It would be a shame if I'd gone to the trouble of buying it only for it to sit there undiscovered.

Yeah. This wasn't lingering attachment, and it wasn't pity.

Just… doing the decent thing, as a person.