Fairy Tale Book Maniac
The back of the classroom held a bookshelf filled with books students had donated and others borrowed from the library. The outdated fairy tale books felt boring to the lower-grade elementary kids. Biographies of great figures or comics that summarized the stories were far more popular. But I always sat in the last row and read the borrowed fairy tales until I had memorized every line. Whenever a new one appeared on the shelf, I was the first to snatch it, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Eun-dam’s reading fairy tales again?”
“There are way more fun things than that.”
Once the new semester settled, the dynamic between me and Cha Jun-jae completely flipped. Second grade, third grade, fourth grade… With every year that passed, he climbed to the peak while I slid further down the slope. I ended up in the same class as him through every single grade of elementary school. In first grade he conquered our class, in second grade the entire year level, and by the time he shot up in height during the higher grades, he had become the most popular kid in the whole school.
I had been the bright new star at the start of first grade, but then I grew plump and round. My nicknames were Flower Pig and Calf Pig. Without the attention, my princess complex healed on its own. Only the version I had inherited from my mother lingered, barely alive.
The school life I had dreamed of was instead realized by Cha Jun-jae, who now towered like a lamppost. Back then I both hated him and admired him. I was learning—painfully, overwhelmingly—that I wasn’t anyone special. The boy who had erased every trace of his early first-grade self was kind and gentle to everyone. Even I had to admit it was impressive. Unlike me, who only bothered being nice to people I was close to, Cha Jun-jae’s naive yet disarmingly sweet personality made no distinctions. He was kind even to the outcasts in our class.
“Eun-dam.”
And this was when the deception began. Whenever an elementary-school Cha Jun-jae was asked who his best friend was, he always named me.
“After academy, want to go here with me? I got a coupon as a gift.”
I started truly disliking Swimming Aunt right around upper elementary school. Every time I signed up for a new academy, she acted like it was some major event and made me take her along. Being the center of everyone’s popularity was exhausting. Especially for a chubby girl stuck in that awkward, in-between spot in the class. A girl whose only real joy was popping chocolates and candies into her mouth.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to go too! Me too!”
Five kids who had only started paying attention to me during break time began throwing words around like a battle while staring at the family restaurant coupon that was trending back then. I want to go. Let’s go together. I’ll pay for whatever I eat. The comments from kids I wasn’t close to—kids I wanted to be close to but who kept rejecting me—made my head spin. Scared, I clutched the fairy tale book tighter. Then Cha Jun-jae, who was naturally oblivious, spoke up the moment the chatter died down.
“Sorry. We’re going after academy.”
All I remember is being dragged around with Cha Jun-jae against my will. I have even fewer memories of ever making him happy. Yet he kept using the childhood-friend shield to share every part of my daily life. If it wasn’t because he wanted to steal my luck, my friends, and everything I had, it made no sense.
“Well, I guess Eun-dam probably needs that coupon. It is an all-you-can-eat buffet.”
“Doesn’t she eat like ten plates?”
Their unprotected malice hurt. At that age, even a frown from a friend your own age could wound you. When Cha Jun-jae wasn’t around, I could be confident, a little selfish, and warm to the people I liked. But the moment he appeared, I turned into a punching bag on the sidewalk. All the personal mantras I used to boost my confidence deflated like popped balloons. I had never once encountered anyone who hated me. Standing next to Cha Jun-jae made me feel like an ugly, shriveled balloon—everyone’s favorite target. Was I really that worthless? Was I someone who deserved to be trampled and mocked like this?
Everyone except me and Cha Jun-jae was laughing. They were kids who defended well and attacked even better. With an adult’s thicker skin, I could understand it. Of course it would look like jealousy that Cha Jun-jae only made plans with other kids.
But did they care about the wounds of a growing girl who had only just reached double digits?
“I don’t get why you talk to her like that.”
“Huh?”
“To Eun-dam. Why do you say things that way?”
They say the sister-in-law who interferes is more hated than the mother-in-law who hits. I hated Cha Jun-jae more than the other kids—he didn’t fix anything, just shielded me and made their resentment grow. I didn’t even hate the kids who apologized to him; I had never expected anything from them in the first place.
Cha Jun-jae had risen to the position of hero protecting the weak. I wasn’t the villain, wasn’t the victim, just a mediocre extra who wandered into his episodes. The role of “lacking childhood friend” was locked in for the next several years. I hated every single person who looked at Song Eun-dam however they pleased.
When the cave-like flashback finally ended, my running pace had slowed dramatically. Jogging a full lap around the island early every morning had become my routine. Even back in Korea, I never skipped a morning workout at the gym near my place. After turning twenty, I didn’t let chocolate or candy touch my lips.
When sweat finally dripped from my chin, I turned my head. Like yesterday, the regular restaurant was already preparing for breakfast. Just seeing the fox painted on their signboard calmed my pounding heart.
Eun-dam, why do you like fairy tale books so much?
I could never answer my few friends when they asked. I would say it was because they ended in happy endings, the classic cliché, but there was actually a far more personal reason.
“Eun-dam!”
The staff member clearing tables recognized me and waved. They were busily brushing sand off the tables for the tourists who had gathered to watch the sunrise. The employee who had memorized our daily encounters now waved like it was the most natural thing in the world. I lifted my hand and gave him a bright smile in return.
Peace settled over my heart as I briskly passed the fox sign. The foxes in fairy tales rarely had good endings. They schemed with their clever little heads and paid the exact price of their greed. I was a fairy tale maniac who passionately rewound only the scenes where the fox received its punishment.
It was already mortifying enough to live as the pathetic student who kept losing to him. I had no desire to become the villain who hated and tormented him on top of that. No matter how hard he tried to be good to me, if I barked at him and pushed back, the only bad person would be me. Strictly speaking, he had done nothing objectively wrong. The problem was that everything I wanted kept getting pulled toward him like iron filings to a magnet. That was why I took vicarious satisfaction from the pain the fox suffered in those stories. It was a sweet revenge only I understood—because it reminded me of a certain someone who resembled a fox.
I turned onto the path that led toward Koran Villa and gradually slowed my pace. Breathing hard, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and flapped it to cool down. Thinking about all the beer I had drunk last night, I couldn’t afford not to run. I needed to burn those calories.
It was shocking to realize I had woken up in bed after blacking out on the sofa. I was too scared to ask who had moved me. I had used the excuse of jogging at dawn to slip out, but it was probably more accurate to say I had fled to avoid Cha Jun-jae, who kept asking where my accommodation was.
What are you going to do even if you know where I’m staying?
I wiped my sweat with the handkerchief I had brought. My plan was to ride the bicycle parked outside the resort back to my room.
“Nice outfit.”
“You look even better. Are you a celebrity?”
“Something like that.”
“Can you give me your SNS ID?”
But who was that man whose mere presence sent a chill down everyone’s spine? Cha Jun-jae was smiling that clear, innocent smile while talking to the resort staff. He sat perched on the bicycle seat as if he had predicted my escape route. I froze mid-sweat wipe and glanced behind me. Could I just run all the way back to my room? But a fox’s senses and eyesight were far too sharp.
“Eun-dam.”
Cha Jun-jae, looking freshly washed and neat, stood up. Caught by the tail, I slowly turned my head and forced a smile onto my face.
Right. It wasn’t as if I had only faced this guy once or twice.
The sky was unusually clear today, without a single cloud. It couldn’t possibly be a worse omen. I wished rain would pour down and soak the fox to the bone.
“Ah! You’re up early.”
Fine. If he was bringing out the big guns, I had a plan of my own.
With a bright smile, I waved back at him.
Today is your memorial service.