Unexpected Discovery (2)
Yuchan's culinary skills were impressive even in Nayae's eyes. He deftly prepared the meat, searing it over the high flames of his modified gas stove. He sautéed the freshly bought mushrooms with onions, pureed them into a filling, wrapped it around the tenderloin, and encased the whole thing in bacon.
"It's like magic," Nayae said, peering in wonder at Yuchan's deft handiwork as she peeled potatoes for the soup. There was no better way to describe how simple vegetables and a hunk of meat were transforming before her eyes into something exquisite.
"Once you've peeled them all, could you put the potatoes in that boiling water? Cook them until they're completely soft, then mash them with the sieve."
"Yes. Is there anything else I can help with?"
"No, just relax now. It'll be done soon."
The beef Wellington, wrapped in pastry, needed to rest in the fridge for about thirty minutes before baking. A bit more time would have been ideal, but they couldn't wait any longer—not when hunger was gnawing at them right now. Yuchan wrapped the meat tightly in plastic wrap, stowed it in the fridge, and sidled up casually beside Nayae.
"You're peeling them so neatly."
"Th-thank you."
According to Dr. Edward T. Hall, physical distance plays a significant role in human interactions. The intimate distance he defined—15 to 45 centimeters between individuals—is close enough to feel each other's breath, a proximity that feels uncomfortable without a high degree of familiarity simply from the other's presence. Yuchan had noticed Nayae's unusual reactions each time he crossed that threshold under the pretense of ignorance. Unbeknownst to her, the sexual desire that had been steadily building inside her was on the verge of erupting, triggered by the various cues Yuchan had planted. Of course, oblivious to the full circumstances, Nayae was desperately trying to hide it, but even from this closeness alone, he could see her legs weakening beneath her. A gentle push, and she'd topple like a newborn fawn.
Her breathing grew slightly ragged. The fresh, youthful scent he'd inhaled every night clung thickly to his chest. Nayae barely managed to move her lips.
"Um, Teacher... you're too close..."
There was no real alarm in her voice. Though perplexed by her inexplicably aroused body, she trusted that Yuchan wouldn't try anything right now. If anything, it was mortifying to feel so lewd in front of an innocent teacher, as if she were the only one harboring filthy thoughts. Still, any closer would be unbearable. Even now, her heartbeat was surging uncontrollably, pounding away on its own.
"Oh, sorry. Let me know when you're done."
Yuchan stroked Nayae's hair and finished prepping the rest of the meal.
Seated across the table, Nayae gasped in admiration at the dishes Yuchan had laid out. She'd never seen food that looked this delicious outside a high-end restaurant. Flavor wasn't confined to taste and smell alone; plating—the visual appeal—transformed the experience entirely. Good presentation made everything taste better, as the saying went. Never center the main dish on the plate. Garnishes in odd numbers only. Avoid clutter. Following his own principles, Yuchan had arranged each plate like a work of art.
"Amazing. You get to eat like this every day, Teacher. Can I take a picture?"
"Of course. You helped, after all."
"I didn't do much."
Nayae clapped lightly and predictably pulled out her phone, snapping photos from various angles. It was only natural to want to capture such an elaborate spread. Proud of his handiwork, Yuchan waited until she finished before speaking.
"So, it seems like something's been weighing on you enough to seek me out privately, with no one around. What is it you want to tell me?"
"You make it sound suspicious."
Yuchan poured wine into Nayae's giggling glass and clinked it lightly against hers. Her expression had relaxed compared to earlier, but she still seemed unsure about broaching the topic. After some hesitation, her face darkened slightly.
"It was when my ex-boyfriend dragged me to that abandoned building."
Yuchan listened silently.
"He warned me to be careful."
"In what situation?"
"Wh-when he pinned me against the wall and tried to grope my chest... he whispered it. 'Be careful.'"
Recalling it alone made her uneasy, but Nayae forced out the words. If she'd truly suspected Yuchan of being dangerous, she never would have come here. Yet instinct told her something unknown was at play, something involving Yuchan. She couldn't imagine it was murder, of course.
"Nayae, I want you to know this wasn't your fault. No need for self-blame."
"I know. It was all his own doing. I've made peace with that part. But I was wondering if you might have any insight into what he meant by that."
"Nothing comes to mind. I don't know the details of the situation."
Yuchan clicked his tongue inwardly. He'd assumed the fool had followed instructions to the letter, but to pull such a pointless stunt... If he'd said more, Yuchan might not have caught on and gotten himself into trouble.
"Can I ask about a few more things?"
"Of course. Ask away."
Nayae began unpacking the doubts she'd harbored, the questions she'd buried unresolved inside her.
"When you first offered to help with my problem, you mentioned having a lawyer in the family, right?"
In Nayae's mind, the memory replayed.
"...A lawyer? What the hell?"
Kim Hyunwoo had looked utterly baffled, as if hearing it for the first time. Yet he'd spent enough time with her to know better. In that moment, he'd genuinely not understood. Then came his response:
"Y-yeah! Lawyer, whatever! You think I'm scared of that...? A few years in the slammer, and I'm out!"
At that point, Hyunwoo had turned feral, like a cornered beast. Too frightened then to notice, but replaying it endlessly had yielded one realization: Hyunwoo had lied. He'd never heard about any lawyer from Yuchan, yet he'd played along as if he knew.
"Right, so I thought that was the end of it. He even apologized and deleted the video from his phone. I figured he had some basic legal awareness after all. My mistake."
Yuchan grimaced apologetically, slicing into the medium-rare beef Wellington with care. Juices mingled with blood, pooling artfully on the plate.
And now the teacher is lying to me. Why?
A chill crept down Nayae's back. She told herself it was just overthinking, her anxiety amplifying shadows into monsters. Still, she dangled a bait, hoping desperately he wouldn't bite.
"Lucky for you. He's not the type to back down so easily. He's really violent, you know?"
"Is he? He took it well when I spoke politely."
"Maybe because his leg was hurt. Even so, you're in great shape—he wouldn't try fighting with a broken leg."
"Meaning he'd have come at me otherwise? Whew, that was close."
Yuchan wiped imaginary sweat from his brow with a grin. It was so disarmingly normal that Nayae felt a twinge of dissonance. Was the teacher always the type to lie so casually?
After Hyunwoo's threat, Nayae had created a fake account to stalk his SNS. Desperate for attention, he'd have posted immediately about a motorcycle crash or fight breaking his leg. But his near-daily Instagram updates had stopped abruptly after meeting Yuchan. And on the day they met, Hyunwoo's leg had been fine.
Yuchan hurt his leg.
A woman's intuition sharpened to a razor's edge. When Hyunwoo had met Yuchan again, he'd been afraid. No matter how he hid it, Nayae could see it—he'd never been good at masking emotions. Yuchan had subdued him with violence and kept it secret from her.
"You... be careful..."
Hyunwoo's warning etched itself into her heart with new meaning. He knew— as the victim, how could he not? He'd been warning her that Yuchan, whom she thought was her new boyfriend, was dangerous...
Clatter!
Lost in her spiraling thoughts, a burning thirst rising in her throat, Nayae reached for her wine—and knocked it over. Red spread across the white tablecloth.
"S-sorry!"
Nayae's shoulders trembled, agitation rippling outward. If Hyunwoo had known everything, why seek her out? Why threaten to drag her there? And why hint so vaguely instead of a clear warning?
In her dizzying mind, Hyunwoo—who might have answered—had climbed to the roof of that abandoned building, their last meeting place, and killed himself.
Or did he?
"I'll clean it up."
Nayae scrambled to stand, but Yuchan—still slicing meat without glancing at the mess—had frozen. Slowly, he lifted his head, meeting her eyes with an expression she'd never seen.
The perpetual relaxed smile was gone, his mouth slack and maskless. His unfocused gaze seemed to pierce right through her. Nayae couldn't tell what he was seeing.
Feigning composure, she thought only of escaping this place. And in his eyes, reflected vividly: orange and yellow. The Black Box's orange could signify vitality, satisfaction, cheer—but mixed with yellow, it simplified to one thing: warning. Caution. Danger.
"T-Teacher? Why won't you say anything...?"
With a clink, Yuchan set down his utensils. The antique silverware settled softly on the plate. The sudden silence bred fear. Nayae sensed it wasn't just about the spilled wine.
Yuchan's waxen, expressionless face twisted slowly. Deep hurt and regret seeped through the cracks. Of all the emotions she'd seen from him, this alone felt real. For some reason, it chilled her to the bone—like dark sap oozing from fractured wax.
"What a pity."
"...Pardon?"
Yuchan's sigh was deeper, his voice far lower and drier than usual.
"Truly... a pity."
Fingertips drumming the table, Yuchan lunged across it like a predator pouncing on prey.
"Gah!"
In one fluid motion, he clamped Nayae's small head between his armpit and forearm, squeezing her windpipe with his lower arm while compressing her carotid with his bicep—a guillotine choke, straight out of UFC for thwarting a takedown. Her slender neck yielded easily under the pressure, and like a marionette with cut strings, Nayae's body went limp.