#02 Model Student, Nayae 1
“Really?”
“Yeah, I met him in person and sorted it out nicely. Now Nayae won't have to worry about anything.”
“How did you handle that guy...”
“I lied and said I have a famous lawyer in the family. I checked that the video was properly deleted, and talked him into it nice and smooth, so there won't be any calls. I did mention a new boyfriend, but that's fine, right?”
I'd dragged my exhausted, drooping body to the academy for morning self-study and called in Nayae from her seat. Looked like I'd need a nap in bed over lunch today. An all-nighter wasn't too bad on its own, but after that drive to Paju yesterday, I'd gotten less than four hours of sleep, and the fatigue was piling up.
“Ah...”
The murky turquoise salmon that had been sunken dull began to writhe bit by bit. Like watercolor paint mixed with fresh color, it started shifting to a bright blue. Blue generally meant happiness and relief. Trust and protection, too. Sure, a deeper saturation could signal profound depression, but not this time.
She'd been through hell lately—Nayae hunched her shoulders, bowed her head, and tears started to fall. I patted her back to calm her down, and she burst into sobs like a dam breaking.
“Thank you... really... If it weren't for you, Teacher...”
She clung to my shoulder, spilling out her pent-up emotions, which was a bit awkward. Fine if we were alone, but people kept popping into the counseling room. After soaking my shirt cuff with tears for a while, Nayae lifted her head and expressed her deep gratitude.
The smooth nude body from yesterday's video overlapped in my mind, stabbing my chest with thoroughly indecent thoughts. She kept crying tears of relief for a good long while before our eyes suddenly met.
“Teacher, if you checked the video... did you... see... that...?”
“Well...”
I trailed off ambiguously. Confirming the deletion meant I'd seen it, and she realized that. Her ears turned beet red, her expression twisting in complicated turmoil. One of my favorite looks.
I'd added that bit about confirming it half because I wanted to see this face. The other half was to reassure her. This moment, humiliation and shame piercing through her human symbol—it was pitiful enough to frame. Not pure yet, but someday it'd shine like a cut diamond.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to say it. Had no choice.”
“No, no. If it weren't for you, Teacher...”
I half-bowed in apology, and Nayae hurriedly stopped me. It was probably already shared with a bunch of random guys anyway—she swallowed the unspoken tail end. The mere thought made her shudder; she took a few deep breaths and returned to her calm tone.
“Even if I'd gone to the police, an officer would've seen it. Thank you so much. I have to repay you.”
“Don't worry, I didn't watch it closely. Just had to confirm he deleted it—no funny business. Made him wipe the cloud and backups too.”
“Yes, I know. Please forget what I said. I'm sorry. Thank you.”
Politely apologizing once more, Nayae wiped her tears with the tissue I handed her. She sat quietly, sniffling, then asked cautiously.
“Teacher, are you free tomorrow evening? I'd like to treat you to dinner at least.”
“No need. It was just what I had to do. How could I let a student buy me a meal?”
The academy required presence until 8 p.m. on weekdays, but weekends pushed it to 9 for student rest, and after dinner around 7, those who wanted could head home. Nayae was the diligent type who stayed until 10 even on weekends for study—probably planning to buy me Saturday dinner. For now, I played the teacher's pride and brushed it off. She harbored deep gratitude toward me; she'd insist at least three times.
“If you really want, I'll buy at a restaurant I know.”
“What? No. You helped me—I should pay.”
“That was just an adult doing his duty. Consider this a treat to forget it all and focus on studying. No pressure. But keep it secret from the others? My wallet can't take it.”
I fluttered my wallet playfully, and Nayae smiled for the first time since entering—bright and beaming. She bowed 90 degrees, carefully closed the door, and returned to her studies.
2. Saturday evening arrived, the one I'd been waiting for. In an academy buzzing with diligent students, I felt almost guilty lounging so leisurely all day. No consultation requests, and with Yujin skipping without notice, no one barging in. The only unwanted guest might've been Korean teacher Minjeong, but she was swamped today—no sign of her amid the barrage of questions.
I slipped a bookmark into my book and tidied up. Nothing much—just shelving the book I'd read during the idle hours. Stepping into the hall, there was Nayae by the elevator, glancing around restlessly. Her face lit up spotting me. But per our agreement, no obvious signs of going together—she took the elevator to the first floor, I to the basement where my car was parked.
I started the engine and pulled up to the entrance; Nayae descended the stairs to the lot, looking around warily as she approached.
“Feels like a spy movie. Do we really need to go this far?”
“Got the goods?”
I dropped my voice low in jest, and Nayae giggled softly. Her every movement, her voice—always cautious and polite. Seemed much more stable since yesterday; her turquoise Black Box had fully regained its color. She approached with a gentle smile and hopped into the passenger seat.
“The other kids would be so jealous. Talk of favoritism would be a headache.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
I glanced at her profile as she nodded in agreement. No sign she'd caught on to my plans from here. CCTV aside, I didn't want to leave any room for suspicion among students or teachers. But she buckled up innocently excited, oblivious. Her cheeks, slightly pressed under her glasses, looked soft and plump like a baby's. Her ponytail tied low to chest-level gave a serene vibe. Hidden behind the intellectual image, she had a seriously cute face. Worth collecting.
I took her to a high-end Korean restaurant on the outskirts of Ilsan. The slightly extravagant budget wasn't just for her. With students flocking to our academy from everywhere, not just Ilsan, I needed a classy room setup to dodge prying eyes.
“Build up your strength today. I'm buying.”
Passing the hanok gate, crossing the garden path lined with stone lanterns and pines—Nayae's mouth hung open the whole way, unable to close. Rare for a student to hit a place this upscale, unless they were a spoiled rich kid like Yujin.
“You don't have to splurge like this... There's even a pond outside...”
Worry and awe mixed in her dazed mutter, words tumbling out of order. Probably equating Korean restaurants with ponds and gardens to insanely expensive in her head. Like in movies or dramas, right?
“No worries. I'm just concerned a diligent student like you suffered over something so unseemly. It's all settled now—cover it with good memories. You said you liked Korean food last time, right?”
“I meant, like, sundubu jjigae or doenjang jjigae...”
Nayae trailed off awkwardly.
“It's a friend's place, so no big deal. Relax and come on in.”
“Thank you so much. Solving that and now dinner too...”
“First time I've helped someone like this—I'm thrilled. Guess this is why people become teachers.”
I flashed a fake smile, and Nayae's eyes welled up with emotion. No need to thank me early; I'd collect my reward fully later.
Reservation meant the basics were set. Wet towel for hands, then the starter: sliced roasted jujube chips. I ate thinking kids might hate it, but Nayae tasted one, lit up, and picked at them one by one. Then abalone porridge with hanwoo beef, raw flounder sashimi—a feast of fine dishes unfolded.
Each course arrived, and Nayae fussed with her phone, snapping shots until satisfied.
“Eat before it gets cold.”
“I have to take pics!”
She photographed with earnest zeal, so I paced my meal to hers. Starting reserved, she'd fully dropped her guard in my friendly vibe, eyes sparkling for the next dish.
“This course is grilled hanwoo sirloin.”
I ordered liquor from the server. Fitting the 300,000-won-for-two spot, not cheap soju but refined traditional clear liquor from aged cheongju. The clear bottle packed 40% ABV, so out came ceramic cups and ice.
“You're drinking? The bottle's gorgeous. Can I try some?”
“Normally I'd say no, but I'll allow it today. Tomorrow's weekend—you can sleep in.”
“Hehe, guess no swimming tomorrow.”
“Expensive stuff. When else you gonna have it?”
In any other restaurant, she'd never touch booze—afraid of even a tiny slip while drunk. But in this new place, savoring food she'd never dared, Nayae was buzzing. Like tourists abroad doing uncharacteristic things on vacation. Another reason I'd picked this upscale spot.
“To Nayae's huge exam success...”
“Cheers!”
Politely cradling the glass with both hands, Nayae downed the harsh liquor in one go after toasting. The refined taste and aroma, with subtle fruit notes chasing the burn, banished boredom.
“Mmm~ Way smoother than regular soju... but still bitter.”
One-shotting it wrinkled her face like she'd eaten something nasty. She shook her head with a weird “bleh” noise, cheeks already flushing from the booze. Just one drink did that. Liquor bill would be lighter than expected.
“Oops, your parents won't say anything?”
“Oh, I live alone in an officetel separate from them. It's just a two-room, though.”
“Phew, scared me for a sec. If parents complained about me giving booze to a student, the director would chew me out.”
I already knew. Her profile noted living near the academy. Pre-registration interviews collected addresses and numbers; I'd secretly copied a few interesting ones for the counseling room files. Otherwise, I wouldn't approach so boldly.
“So we're drinking hard today?”
“Yes! Just enough not to mess up tomorrow.”
Too much for her, so I had the waiter bring plum syrup and soda, mixing a cocktail. It masked the bitterness fine, but felt too drink-like, so after one, she went straight again. She loved the sweet domestic-style cocktail, though.
Gulping glasses nonstop while devouring courses, Nayae soon wobbled woozily. Fresh into adulthood, unaware of her limit—classic early-20s.
I left her dozing against the wall and slipped to the bathroom, snorting a line of coke rolled in a bill for any contingencies. I'd told her I'd call a designated driver, but no. A drunk-looking young woman with a grown man? Suspicious as hell. Better minimize stares.
Squatting by the toilet looked sloppy, but nothing beat it for staying sharp after drinking. It'd also sharpen numb lower-body senses for heavy boozing and sex later. My mood brightened, consciousness piercing the alcohol fog clearly.
Paid the bill first, then fetched her.
“Teaa...cher... I'm not... drunk yet...”
I supported her limp, staggering body to the car. Now the fun could begin.