Textbook Research
Heeheeheehee...
The blind date continued even after we relocated to a café. Sehee, true to her age of thirty-four and her title as a dermatology clinic coordinator, skillfully led the conversation with polished rhetoric.
Whether our talk truly qualified as proper blind-date material, though, I still wasn’t sure.
“So both your adoptive parents have passed away, and your older brother handles the ancestral rites, right?”
“Uh… Sehee? Like I said earlier, my brother is dead too. And we don’t really do formal rites or anything—just visit the graves on the anniversary dates?”
“Anyway, that means no holiday cooking for you, right? And no annoying relatives to deal with either.”
“Well, I do have an aunt. Last Lunar New Year I went over to her place and freeloaded on the holiday food, but…”
“But your aunt still has to handle her husband’s family rites, so if you keep showing up every time it’ll just make her uncomfortable, won’t it? Perfect! On the holidays we can either go to my place or take a trip overseas.”
“I mean, yeah, but…”
Another point in my favor had just registered with Sehee. Unfortunately, that point was “orphaned later in life, so no holiday obligations.”
“Huh? But if you’re visiting graves, that means they were buried, right? Do you pay annual maintenance fees at some park cemetery?”
“No. Actually, we have a family burial mountain that’s been passed down for generations. Mom and Dad are buried together, and my brother is a little farther off in a quieter spot…”
“A family mountain?! How many hectares? Where is it, and what’s the price per pyeong?”
“H-hectares? It’s not even worth using that unit—just a tiny little hill. Completely isolated woodland, about five thousand pyeong. Official land value’s maybe ten thousand won a pyeong? Doubt anyone would even want to buy it.”
“Still, you inherited property, right? And even if it’s out on the edge of Gyeonggi Province, the development potential is endless, so you have to hang onto it. Never sell it!”
“…”
Was I crazy enough to casually sell a mountain with my entire family and ancestors buried in it? More importantly, why had the conversation been stuck on this topic the whole time?
Shouldn’t we be talking about our views on romance or first impressions of each other, building some kind of romantic atmosphere? Or had the standards for blind dates changed while I was off at sea?
“I knew I was right to trust President Hwang’s eye. Not only do you look respectable, you’ve got a solid sense for money too…”
“Uh… is that all? Maybe we could start talking about my other qualities now…”
I trailed off. Sehee had casually scooted closer and leaned against me.
Our arms rested on the table, shoulders touching. That much would have been fine, but her large, impressive bust folded heavily onto the tabletop and completely hijacked my gaze.
“I finally feel like I’ve met my match. Every guy I’ve dated so far looked good on paper but had zero substance. I’m not asking for anything huge. If we pool the cash I have now, the jeonse deposit, and the money I’ve saved, we could easily get into a forty-pyeong place in somewhere like Dongtan if we lower our sights a little.”
“D-Dongtan? How much have you saved, Sehee?”
“I’ve got about thirty million carefully socked away in savings.”
“…”
You said your annual salary was forty million, yet you’ve only got thirty million in the bank? We both started working right out of high school at twenty—where did all the money you earned go?
Apparently the deposit on the officetel she lived in was entirely borrowed. Every piece of clothing she wore was luxury brand, and her Instagram was packed with photos taken in Europe or Japan.
And she wanted me to commute from Dongtan all the way to Incheon? Forget that—weren’t we skipping about ten relationship stages right now?
“Sehee? Isn’t Dongtan a bit far? Even with good transit these days, commuting to your workplace every day wouldn’t be easy.”
“Commuting…? Once we’re married I plan to be a full-time housewife. In new towns, neighbors tend to look down on women who work.”
“You’re not going to work? You heard my salary, Sehee. Even with yearly negotiations, are you really sure we can live on that alone?”
“Looking at how you walked in and immediately became team leader, your skills are no joke—you’ll get promoted fast. And if things really get tight, you can always go back to the boats, right?”
“…”
She sure made returning to that hell sound easy. Sure, if I had a fox-like wife and rabbit-like kids going hungry, I’d grab a harpoon of my own free will.
But having future plans drawn up on the very first meeting was deeply uncomfortable. And more importantly—she hadn’t forgotten, had she?
That there was still “someone” who absolutely had to be included in those future plans—someone I still hadn’t mentioned?
“Haa… Sehee? There’s actually one thing I haven’t told you. I have Harin—”
“Let’s move somewhere else. We’re full, so how about skipping dinner and going straight for drinks? There’s a really nice wine bar nearby that some of my clients recommended.”
Sehee clearly had no intention of listening. She was already hurriedly gathering her things, and dropping “I have a high-school daughter” into that moment felt awkward.
I followed her out, drained. And as petty as I knew it was, a slightly snobbish thought flickered through my mind.
A wine bar… so I’m the one who has to pay there too?
When we stepped out of the café the sun was already starting to set. It wasn’t quite noon, but it was still ridiculously early to start drinking.
Heeheehee…
But Sehee was smiling so happily that turning her down would kill the mood instantly. On the surface, the blind-date atmosphere was perfect.
The first impression had been disastrous, yet within a few hours Sehee had already accepted me as marriage material. Right now she was openly linking arms and leaning against me in the middle of a busy street—I should have felt like I owned the world.
The reason one corner of my heart still felt heavy was simple: she was looking at me as a set of “conditions,” not as a person.
Because her attitude had only changed after she checked my bank balance. Compared to real rich people the amount was pocket change, but to Sehee it was probably just the right figure for compromising with reality.
She had definitely met men with better conditions than mine. But no matter how well she maintained herself, she was already thirty-four.
Younger men would only get harder to find. For a solid marriage promise she needed someone older, yet any older man with specs that matched hers would already be off the market.
And then I appeared. Just an ordinary guy making thirty million a year at some mid-sized shipping company, but the billion won in tangible and intangible assets I’d carefully saved while working the boats had caught her eye.
And though I hated to admit it, Saiyan Syndrome had played its part too. Youth was everything—compared to other guys in their thirties whose bellies were starting to poke out and whose hairlines were receding, I held the high ground.
So what did I feel right now? What emotion did I actually have toward Sehee, who was openly preaching marriage plans?
Honestly, she was out of my league. When would a woman like this ever charge at me so aggressively again in my life? But still…
“Um… I’m off tomorrow. So I might get a little drunk tonight?”
“…?”
Inside the elevator heading up to the wine bar, Sehee left that meaningful remark. A familiar glint flickered in her half-lidded eyes.
I had seen eyes like that before. The gambler’s look Victor used to get right before he dropped a killer bluff at the poker table when we were catching shrimp under Mr. Shrimp.
Was I supposed to brace myself tonight? But I couldn’t. I still hadn’t even opened my mouth about Harin.
More importantly, I hadn’t even confessed my feelings to Ms. Eunju yet. If I ended up doing “this position” or “that position” with Sehee, it would be an enormous betrayal toward her…
“Excuse me, could I see some ID?”
“…?”
The moment we stepped into the wine bar we ran into an unexpected situation. A man who looked like the manager suddenly demanded to check identification.
“Oh my… it’s been ages since this happened to me. Do I look that young today?”
Sehee’s mouth stretched ear to ear as she started digging for her wallet. But for some reason an invisible red alert started blaring and my chest tightened.
“Ah… I only need to check your companion.”
“What?”
And of course… it was the inevitable rite of passage unique to Saiyan Syndrome.
The problem was that it instantly deflated Sehee’s sky-high mood.
“W-what do you mean by that?”
“I’m truly sorry. It’s store policy, so there’s nothing I can do. You there, sir? Could I see your ID?”
“Uh… sure.”
The atmosphere collapsed in an instant. I reached for my wallet, but Sehee snatched my hand away with a sharp yank.
“We’re leaving.”
“Huh? But this was the place you were recommended…”
“I said we’re leaving!”
Sehee dragged me by the arm with all her strength without looking back. Goddammit, why another ID check here of all places?
We didn’t even take the elevator—we stomped straight down the stairs and out of the building. Sehee’s shoulders heaved like a time bomb that would explode if a single hair was touched.
“Sehee…? Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay right now?”
She spun around with a cold expression. The manager had been the one checking IDs—why was she mad at me?
“This isn’t going to work after all.”
“What isn’t?”
“Honestly, I knew President Hwang was straight-up lying to me, but I still tried to make it work somehow. But no. I’m going home now.”
“Y-you’re just leaving? I do look a little younger than other people, so this kind of thing happens sometimes. But after a few times you kind of get used to—”
“It’s not ‘a little’! Honestly I’ve been feeling people staring at us weirdly the whole time. Looking young is one thing, but this is way too much, isn’t it? Right now they might still see me as an older sister, but in a few years they’ll just think I’m some crazy bitch playing around with a kid!”
“What are you… I’ll age too, Sehee! You think this face is going to last forever?”
According to the doctor, until fifty. Of course by then Sehee would be a middle-aged ajumma who’d tasted all the bitter and sweet of the world, so the gap would never close.
No… it might even widen?
“I’m going home. Please tell President Hwang that we had some differences of opinion and it didn’t work out.”
“S-Sehee?”
But clack-clack! Sehee dashed straight across the crosswalk and was gone. Left alone, I just stared blankly at her retreating back.
What the hell was this? One minute it was holidays this and Dongtan that, and now her inferiority complex tanks the whole thing?
No. The truth was Sehee had never liked me from the start.
Saiyan Syndrome had merely been the spark that lit the fuse. I myself had fallen far short of her standards.
To be precise—not as a “person,” but as a set of “conditions.”
I trudged back to the neighborhood on foot, feeling like I didn’t even deserve to take public transit. The blind date that had been arranged at the cost of nearly destroying my relationship with Harin had ended in a disaster beyond imagination.
Of course I hadn’t expected it to succeed right away. But every reason Sehee rejected me stabbed straight into my sore spots, so the damage was no joke.
Cheonji High School
Somehow I ended up in front of the school. It was on the way home, sure, but there were plenty of other routes—did I really need to come this way?
Maybe my subconscious had naturally pulled me here. Outside I was defined by all sorts of conditions, but inside these walls it was enough to simply be “Ban Chulgyu, Harin’s cousin-brother with the nickname Timo from A Team.”
Shake-shake…
What the hell was I thinking? The high-school-boy cosplay was nothing more than a double life I’d started to strengthen the father-daughter bond.
It wasn’t even a real identity. Just because innocent kids who hadn’t been tainted by the world treated me warmly didn’t mean I could actually become that person.
Just go home. If I sat on the sofa with a gloomy face sighing heavily, Harin’s mood would improve a little too.
Then never accept another blind date again. Focus only on Harin and rebuild the father-daughter friendship once more…
Crash…
Then I heard the sound of the world collapsing somewhere. When I turned my head I saw someone at the school’s main gate looking flustered after dropping several thick books on the ground.
Not a student in uniform. Then again, it was Sunday, so civilian clothes weren’t strange.
But wait—if it was Sunday, why come to school…
“Ugh…”
Sure enough, not a student. And also not someone I could just walk past.
“Ms. Eunju?”
Clack-clack! I immediately ran over and picked up the books that had fallen. The title Theories of Korean Language Education particularly caught my eye.
“Ah… why are you at school on a Sunday…”
“I was just passing by. What about you, Teacher? Coming to school on a Sunday to do textbook research?”
“T-textbook research? That’s right! I was doing textbook research!”
“…?”
Why did she look so flustered? Ms. Eunju’s pupils were trembling left and right, and even her breathing sounded unstable.
Of course, even that looked so charming that my gloomy mood seemed to clear up in an instant.
“It’s the weekend—why not just do it at home?”
“Home? Sigh… but if I go home… A-ah, no! You’re a student and I’m a teacher!”
“Uh… that doesn’t really fit the current situation, does it?”
“I-is that so? But it still feels weird, right? For a teacher to say she can’t concentrate at home is a bit…”
“Everyone’s like that. When you see a bed right in front of you, the first instinct is to lie down and start playing short videos. It’s basic human nature—nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Is… that so?”
So she wanted to do textbook research but couldn’t concentrate at home, which was why she’d come to school. Sitting alone in an empty teachers’ office would clear the head, I supposed.
“Thanks for picking up the books. You can give them back now.”
“They look really heavy—can you carry them by yourself? Where are you headed, Teacher?”
“Me? I’m going home…”
“Do you live nearby?”
“Yeah. My original home is in the countryside, so I’m living alone here.”
“Really? Then let me carry the books to your place for you.”
“Really? Then thank you so mu— A-ah, no! You’re a student and I’m a teacher! Asking a student to carry books for me would be…”
“We’re human beings before we’re teacher and student, right? If you saw your old teacher struggling on the street, would you just walk past because of that teacher-student relationship?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Then it’s fine, right? They look way too heavy, so I just want to carry them for you.”
“Then… will you?”
Ms. Eunju smiled primly and handed me the books. Honestly, sometimes I wondered how she ever became a teacher.
The weight of the stack in my arms felt solid and heavy. Thinking of that delicate body carrying all this to school already made my eyes want to water.
It was okay now that I was here. The worst weekend—abandoned by both Harin and Sehee.
But if I could just find out where Ms. Eunju lived, it felt like that would more than make up for every single loss.