A Boring Day
A few days after the movie date with Seoha — the first item on her holiday break itinerary.
It was midday, the sun hanging straight overhead.
As if someone had copy-pasted the morning's scenery, Yeoncheong was still one with her bed.
A pastry textbook lay face-down and open on the nightstand, and she lay sprawled across the mattress, fiddling with her smartphone.
Whether it was true or not, her father had said work was too busy for him to come home. Her situation was so unusual that it hadn't been shared with any of her relatives either, which meant that during this long holiday stretch, she had the whole quiet house to herself — not a single soul around to nag her.
It was the kind of setup kids her age, dragged from one relative's house to another every holiday, would envy...
“Haaah...”
Yet there was Yeoncheong, heaving a long sigh, boredom written all over her face.
I'm bored.
Time was the one thing she had in surplus. It was more than enough to tackle everything she'd been putting off — a trip to the salon she'd booked to trim her overgrown hair, a whole day lost to gaming, binge-watching hit dramas and variety shows deep into the night. She could try cooking something that looked delicious, give the house a proper cleaning.
And yet.
Gaming wasn't fun so much as it was a stress generator, and even sitting at her desk watching videos had its limits. Cooking and cleaning, by their very nature, weren't activities that could fill hours on end.
Even after burning through all that, roughly half her break still remained — and the holiday that was too long had turned, ironically, into her biggest problem.
No one I can even text...
It would've been nice to meet up with a friend, but with it being a family holiday, that wasn't easy either.
Back when she was a boy, hanging out had meant nothing more than "let's play a game together" — though somewhere along the way, without her quite noticing, that phrase had begun to take on a subtly different meaning.
Yeoncheong shoved her phone aside, rolled onto her back, and stared blankly at the ceiling. She, who until recently had discovered nothing but perks to living alone, was now learning its greatest drawback firsthand: loneliness, and the silence that came with it.
It was a fact she'd never noticed before, because her days at school were filled with the chatter of friends.
Maybe I'll go for a walk...
With so little to do, a thought she would never normally entertain drifted through her head.
Is there even anything to think about?
As established — time was the one thing she had in surplus.
Yeoncheong got up and flung open the closet. She jammed a cap onto her head, tucked her hair into a hoodie and a pair of long track pants, grabbed nothing but her phone, and headed straight out the door.
***
Perhaps because of the holiday, the streets were quieter than usual. The slowly cooling breeze offered a preview of the full autumn that would arrive once the long break ended.
Gazing up at a sky that seemed impossibly high, Yeoncheong walked at a leisurely pace.
I should probably buy some fall clothes...
Autumn and winter came around every year, but the Yeoncheong of the past and the Yeoncheong of today were two different people. She, who had never cared a whit about fashion, now found herself genuinely pondering what she ought to buy.
So she walked, eyes wandering over the sky, letting her feet carry her wherever — until she lowered her head and stopped short.
A familiar school gate, and beyond it, an even more familiar school building.
Yeoncheong, who had apparently walked herself to school out of pure habit, let out a small snort of laughter.
Come to think of it, there was hardly a better place for a walk. It was a good school, so the track was well maintained, and there was little chance of being deafened by traffic. Looking at the gate, which stood open even during the holiday, Yeoncheong recalled something her homeroom teacher had once said.
Right — he did mention some third-years come in to study on their own.
She briefly imagined that near-inevitable future of hers, then quickly shook her head. She refused to feel glum about a moment that hadn't even arrived yet.
Yeoncheong passed through the gate and stepped onto the red track. With the entire expansive track to herself, and seized by some inexplicable impulse, she suddenly kicked off the ground and ran.
How many laps did she run without stopping? When she finally slowed, she simply flopped onto her back and stared up at the sky. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath — and then, out of nowhere, she burst out laughing.
“Hahaha!”
Her own impulsive antics were apparently so absurd even to herself that she laughed for a good long while.
I wonder what Seoha's up to?
It had only been a few days since that happened, and the two of them usually walked the field together — so naturally, hers was the first friend's name that floated into Yeoncheong's newly calmed mind.
She'd turned it over in her head off and on since coming home, but never managed to reach any real conclusion. After that unpleasant incident, she still had genuine trouble dealing with boys her own age. Logically speaking, though, since she had originally been a boy, dating girls felt far less foreign than dating boys would have. Of course, she was a girl now, which raised the whole separate question of whether that was even okay...
No matter how long she talked herself in circles about identity, she just went round and round — in the end, what mattered most was her own heart.
And it was exactly there that her thoughts hit a wall, jammed like a car against a speed bump. There was such a thing as the suspension bridge effect, after all. She couldn't help but wonder whether that racing heartbeat back then had been nothing more than an illusion conjured by a suspenseful movie. If her own misreading and a hasty yes ended up hurting a friend, that would be unbearable — so Yeoncheong thought it through, cautiously and then cautiously again.
With one last heavy exhale, she squeezed her eyes shut and thunked her head back against the track.
“Whew... I don't know...”
From that day to this one — and this was all the thinking had gotten her.
Just as the track's chill began creeping through her clothes and into her body, Yeoncheong brushed the dirt off her back and head and pushed herself up.
And came face to face with dozens upon dozens of eyes staring at her.
They were in casual clothes, but something about the atmosphere said every last one of them was a third-year there for self-study. She'd heard it was voluntary, but with university entrance exams looming, there were quite a lot of them.
“Eh?”
A hollow sound slipped out of the flustered girl's mouth. And in the midst of all those seniors chuckling as if she were the cutest thing they'd seen all day, Yeoncheong spotted a familiar face.
Their eyes met, and Senior Seoyun gave her a friendly wave.
“Senpai? Since when—”
“Hmm... since you were running laps all by yourself out there?”
Seoyun's lips curled mischievously as she watched her junior scramble to her feet.
“Someone said there was a girl running laps around the field all alone. We figured someone had finally lost it, so we all came out to watch.”
Scratching her head, Seoyun flashed a grin and finished what she'd been saying.
“Didn't realize you were filming a youth drama out here, though.”
“No, I... that's not...”
The words wouldn't come. She'd assumed no one would be around to see — and now, far too late, the mortification came flooding in, her face turning steadily redder.
But the real problem was...
“Seoyun, who's that? One of our juniors?”
“Oh, you'd know her too. That junior's the one who turned the obstacle race at the sports festival into total chaos, remember?”
The other seniors had started asking Seoyun who Yeoncheong was. They had no idea how hard it was to sit at a desk studying while everyone else enjoyed a holiday. Of course they'd be curious about the identity of the junior who'd just handed them such a cute, refreshing bit of entertainment.
“Oh... that second-year?”
“Yep. Second-year, Class 1. Name's Yeoncheong...”
As Seoyun drawled out her name and class to the seniors gathered around—
“KYAAAAAH!!!”
Yeoncheong, unable to stand there a second longer, let out a shriek and bolted for the school gate.
***
BANG.
The door, flung with full force because no one was there to catch it, slammed shut, and the digital lock chimed as it engaged automatically.
“Hah... hahh...”
The moment she made it home, Yeoncheong crumpled to the floor. She'd sprinted at full speed once on the track, then sprinted again all the way home — her legs were jelly.
Halfway through kicking off her shoes, she flopped onto her back and began banging her head against the floor, thump, thump. It wouldn't be long now before a winner was declared in the battle of her skull versus the floor.
“AAAAAGH!”
Yeoncheong stopped headbutting the floor and let out a groan.
God. If I was going to brood over that, I could've done it comfortably at home.
All she'd done was go out for a walk because she was bored, and somehow she'd ended up advertising her existence to the entire third-year class. Unlike when she'd left, she now found herself praying the holiday would stretch on long enough for those seniors to write off today's events as a minor, forgettable episode.
But then, with a notification chime, a message from her senior came flying in.
What followed was a video of herself: sprawled on the track, laughing her head off for ages, then gazing up at the sky with an expression absolutely drowning in emotion. Unable to bring herself to watch it through to the end, Yeoncheong realized something with grim certainty.
She wouldn't be forgetting this anytime soon — and frankly, having it end at just this level was more than she deserved.
***
Somehow, the hours passed, and the end of another day arrived all the same. The manner of its passing hadn't exactly been what she'd intended...
But time heals all wounds, as they say. She ate a proper dinner, took a shower in warm water, and by the end of it felt considerably more settled.
She'd pushed the blanket aside to one side, and as always when she slept, her tracksuit was stuffed into the corner of the room.
Lying on her stomach on the plush bed — the one even the twins had complimented — Yeoncheong was fiddling with her smartphone. The person on the other end of her briskly tapping thumbs was Suyeon.
The moment the holiday began, her friend had headed down to the countryside, and now she was delightedly reporting that she'd finally be coming home tomorrow. Just skimming the messages pouring in about this and that, Yeoncheong could practically see her chattering away in excitement.
Having finished talking about herself, Suyeon had finally gotten curious about her friend's whereabouts.
At Suyeon's sharp observation, Yeoncheong's fingers raced across the screen, typing whatever came to mind.
It was her complete list of outings, dredged up from memory all the way back to the start of the holiday.
Yet even though the "read" marker popped up instantly, no reply came. Wondering if something was wrong, Yeoncheong tilted her head for a moment — and then the messages came flooding in.
"Desperate" was the only word for the barrage of texts from Suyeon.
There was no need to bring up that thing that had happened between her and Seoha — or so Yeoncheong judged. She explained that they'd eaten lunch, walked around a bit, watched a movie together, and parted ways. That was all.
As if she somehow knew better.
Suyeon pressed her relentlessly. But since it involved Seoha too, Yeoncheong kept her mouth shut to the very end.
A short while later, a brief message arrived from Suyeon, who seemed to have finally accepted it.
Yeoncheong hesitated for a beat, then typed back as if it were nothing.
Yeoncheong, waiting with an expression that plainly asked then why did you even ask?, froze solid at what came next.
And so Suyeon left behind an invitation that was less invitation than summons, along with a sticker of herself heading off to bed.