3. It Brushes Past, Just Barely

I was fiddling with the game console when the front door clicked, and I whipped around, startled.

Three in the morning. Yujeong, who had gone out that afternoon, seemed to be back.

"Oeh? Sunbae, you 'wake?!"

Her tongue was tangled. Unlike the light steps she took in the daytime, what came down the hall now was heavy and labored, and then something enormous dropped into the beanbag. When I looked, she had her face buried in it and had gone completely still.

I'd seen her maybe three times by now, enough to get used to the sight of her, but that didn't mean my body had stopped reacting. A thin wire of tension pulled tight. For all I knew she was the kind who turned mean when she drank, and I'd let my guard down. Fortunately she didn't move after that, so I let myself relax and turned back to the game.

"Sunbae, I said are you asleeep."

Just sleep quietly. Why. Why!

My heart cinched. I answered her anyway, obedient as a scolded child.

"Yeah, I'm not asleep. What."

"I had shome drinksh, y'know. Paaah."

I wanted to tell her that was a fine accomplishment and leave it there, but I kept my mouth shut and waited for her to pass out.

"Why won't you anshwer me!"

"So what do you want me to do about it!"

Yujeong jerked her head up off the beanbag and looked my way.

Lim Tae-hoon, you son of a bitch. Was the plan to liquor her up and dump her on me to sleep it off?

Just like that she welled up, shoved her face back into the beanbag, and started to bawl.

"Ssunbae's scary, why're you being like that!"

"Don't cry! They'll get the wrong idea next door! The walls here are thin."

They were thin enough that a loud voice sometimes carried through. Not quite slapdash construction, but nowhere near soundproof enough to feel safe behind.

"Then apologize to me!"

"For what?!"

She shot upright and started dragging the beanbag, hauling it toward the middle of the living room.

"Let me sleep in the middle! It's too cramped over there."

"You're the one who picked it—ugh. Hah... hup."

The moment I broke into a real cold sweat and started hauling for air, she flinched as if the alcohol had fled her all at once, and retreated with the beanbag all the way back to the hall.

"S-sunbae, I'm sorry. Wh-what do I do? Call an ambulance?"

I threw up a hand to stop her.

"No—hah. Enough! Don't go reporting this over nothing!"

Irritation climbed all the way to the top of my skull, but I wrestled it down with a hard-won truth: yell at a drunk and the only temper you waste is your own. To settle her, I cast the one calming spell I actually had in me, reaching out as far as my arm would go.

"Look. Nothing's happened yet, so just lie back down on the beanbag and sleep. We'll talk about tonight tomorrow, when your head's clear. All right?"

"Okaaay."

She drooped face-down over the beanbag, and only her backside rose up, aimed straight at me. The sight was indecent enough to start the cold sweat again, so I turned over and lay facing the other way. For a while all I heard was her breathing, quiet and even, and I let my eyes go back to the game I'd been playing.

"Sunbae, can I ask you something?"

A good stretch of time had passed before she spoke. I'd thought she was asleep. Her voice was calmer than before, as if some of the drink had burned off.

"What."

Having the game interrupted put a small crackle of rage under my skin, but I put on a face like I was listening nicely.

"Is Tae-hoon-sunbae a good person?"

"I mean, I think he's a decent guy. Why, is Tae-hoon giving you a hard time? Is that what's eating you?"

She didn't answer. There was only the rustle and shift of someone turning a worry over.

What was there to agonize about—did she like him? He was tall, decent-looking, easy and warm with people. He lived with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a curse in his mouth, sure, but he was all right. Freshman year the rest of our class had gathered around him, and he was the reason I'd gotten to know Jin-seok at all. I didn't think he'd meant any harm by that.

"I think Tae-hoon-sunbae likes me."

So it was the other way around.

"Hmm. Good for you, then. Why not go out with him? How do you feel about it."

Haah—okay. Just get past this. I'd only just cleared the climax of the stage. One more step and I was through.

And then Yujeong started crying again. This time it was miserably theatrical. Maybe the alcohol. I turned, startled, and all I could see was her backside bobbing. A chipmunk flopped across the beanbag.

"I don't know. Tae-hoon-sunbae really has been good to me. Thanks to him I went from a total outcast in my first year to getting recommended as department rep in my second, and I am grateful. I just can't accept how he feels. I'm sorry."

"Then turn him down."

She bolted upright and glared at me.

"Are all men like that?! Is it all or nothing with you?!"

Why was she taking it out on me? She was an uninvited guest in this apartment, and I could throw her out whenever I felt like it. I kept that card for a last resort and said something crueler instead. It wasn't only the game-over screen burning on the console that had me angry.

"Then why—no, I'm not going to generalize about women. Why do you want to keep things in that vague in-between? Be honest. You don't want to be the bad guy, and you know everything you've gotten out of him disappears the second you refuse. Does an arrangement like that look kind to you? It's worse. All that's left in it is false hope, or a calculation."

"When did I ever—! Haah."

Something in it must have landed, because she couldn't answer the rest. She folded her arms and sat on the beanbag, staring off at nothing.

I knew it wasn't a thing you could split cleanly in two. Even so, looking at women the way I looked at them now, all I could see was someone stewing for her own sake. She should have taken this to a better counselor. While we were at it, I hoped I wouldn't have to see her starting tomorrow. My feelings were hurt. Then I might actually clear this game.

"Sunbae."

What a pain.

"Yes."

"You're just gonna live your whole life like that, never even meeting a woman, aren't you. I heard it from Tae-hoon-sunbae. That's why you collapsed, right?"

She glared at me and spat it out, wounded and venomous. It was the truth, so I didn't bother answering.

"Brain-dead bastard! Can't even hold a woman, and you still run your mouth like you're not some dickless loser!"

That one landed harder than I expected. I told myself it was just the alcohol cooking her temper past the boiling point, but the small-animal image had apparently learned how to get well and truly angry. Strangely, it cooled my head. I let out a long breath and pushed myself up off the bed, meaning to settle her down.

"Let's both calm down for a second. I think I went too far."

But Yujeong got up off the beanbag and came toward me in long, hard strides.

"What do you even know about what I'm going through, talking like that? Every time I say it's a misunderstanding, it all gets turned into my fault! Jang Woojin, what the hell do you know?!"

I get that you've got your own grievances. This is crossing a line, Yujeong.

The closer she came, the more my vision pitched and my stomach turned over. Furious, Na Yujeong walked right up in front of me, whether I was staggering or not.

"Do I look like some vixen to you too, swishing my tail around? You don't know a damn thing about how I feel, you son of a bitch. Prove it. Prove you actually know how to hold a woman, if you think that gives you the right to talk."

Her eyes have gone. Completely gone, this girl. In the blurring of my sight she suddenly shoved her pants down. Thighs as white as her face came into view, and with them a pair of red lace panties.

"Yujeong, please. I was wrong—urk."

Her anger showed no sign of breaking. A ring started up in my ears. I wished I would just pass out already. And then, over the top of her, that night laid itself down: Byeol-ha with her lower half bare, Jin-seok's semen smeared up over her ass, wailing that it was all a misunderstanding. That revolting shape.

The world in front of me went black, then burned red as if it had caught fire, and my stomach started to pump.

"Urk—huek."

A wet rattle, and thick, clinging vomit pattered down across the bed. With that feeling, with that exact sensation, the strength ran out of my whole body. Dizzy, I pitched forward and planted my face in my own vomit.

Through the slosh in my ears I saw it spatter across Yujeong's white thighs.

Just pass out. Please. It hurts too much.

"Aaaah! Sunbae, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are you okay? I'm sorry!"

As if the filthy scene had reprogrammed her on the spot, she was back in her usual voice, stamping her feet. Even that reminded me of that bitch. Annoyingly, the blackout protocol only seemed to kick in once the image had finished burning itself into my head.

"Sunbae!"

Her voice went thick and faint, the way it had sounded the day she first knocked on my door.

I dreamed it all the way through to that scream, and then my eyes opened.

The shock from dawn must have bled into the dream. Pathetic.

"Sunbae..."

The little animal was still curled up asleep on the beanbag. No—not an animal. A beast. What she'd done to me last night, drunk, had been beastly. I was never going to have to look at her again.

"Hey. Na Yujeong."

Only then did I notice it. The smell of vomit that should have been coming off my whole body wasn't there.

"Hey, Na Yujeong. Get up."

She'd known it was her fault and scrubbed the evidence away. She'd even changed my underwear.

At my call she barely got her eyes open, and the second she saw me the tears spilled.

"Sunbae. You're awake? Waaah, sunbae, I'm sorry."

Ha. A truly filthy, underhanded little creature. She started crying the moment our eyes met, and I missed the opening to tear into her. Her sobs hitched and hiccuped; her eyes were hollowed out and red. On top of that she was in nothing but athletic underwear. Her clothes must have gotten soaked while she was cleaning me up.

I was annoyed, and still my heart went soft, because I was, unfortunately, still a man. Even so, stay any longer with this girl and I was going to end up at a funeral. I needed to throw her out, fast.

I got up off the bed, set my hands on my hips, and was just about to let the anger out—

Beep. Beep. Beep-beep. Beep. Tiriri—

The lock opened, and Tae-hoon came in. A rolling suitcase trailed from his hand.

A man in nothing but his underwear, and a woman in her underwear crying: the single finest combination for a catastrophic misunderstanding.