Acting and Misconception 1
Yuchan dragged himself to work, his body aching with bone-deep fatigue. His pounding head, deprived of sleep, got its usual fix from an energy drink. After the whirlwind of events in a single night, even five more years of age might have left him fused to the bed until noon. Even so, he'd dawdled too long—it was already 11 a.m.
Yujin, who had parted ways with Seohyun in the worst possible manner, hadn't shown up at the academy. Yuchan learned this from the director, who came barging into the counseling room.
"Yuchan-ah, I want to trust you, but what the hell is this? Even this morning, Yujin's mom called and raised hell. Come on, just keep it quiet for me, yeah? Big bro's begging you."
"Leave it to me. Sorry, I'll handle it."
"What the fuck did you do to make that busy CEO lady rush over here barefoot...?"
She'd come sprinting in first thing in the morning, and apparently got an earful like lightning from Yujin's mother. Sweating bullets, he pleaded with an aggrieved look. It wasn't unexpected. Having caught wind that Yujin might be in some secret fling with Yuchan, and with her daughter throwing a fit, Miyoung would peg Yuchan as the prime suspect.
"Anyway, I'm heading out first. If she calls later, handle it nicely."
This guy was clocking out after just an hour on the job. Probably off to roll in the sheets with some chick he'd picked up at a bar. Hiding his true thoughts, Yuchan saw him off with a warm smile and leaned back in his chair.
What a shame.
No matter how he turned it over, it was a damn shame. Yuchan fundamentally preferred young, inexperienced girls. The greener the sprout, the easier to dye in his colors—and they had that fresh tang. But someone like Miyoung was still within striking distance.
She looked no older than her early thirties, with sleek short hair that screamed urban sophistication—no trace of dowdiness. The epitome of a successful city woman. But targeting her came with barriers too high. Not your average housewife—she was the CEO of a famous jewelry firm, wielding power that could crush Yuchan in legal or social circles without breaking a sweat.
The difficulty and risk were worlds apart from reeling in clueless kids who tumbled into his pace and melted. With prey ripe for the taking everywhere, chasing high-risk game was just foolish.
In this situation, only one option came to Yuchan's mind.
Disposal.
He had everything prepped; killing her on the spot was feasible. Just like always, in a way that left no trace.
Knock knock.
The grim thoughts shattered at the knock. "Come in."
He straightened his slouched, weary posture and waited for the door to open. He'd guessed it was Nayae, but surprisingly, it was Minjeong—someone he hadn't seen in ages.
"Yuchan-ssi, are you busy?"
"Long time no see. Coffee?"
"Please."
With the weather warming, her outfit was lighter, but the signature yoga cardigan was unchanged. Lately, he hadn't caught sight of her at all. Her teachers' lounge and his tucked-away counseling room in the corner rarely crossed paths unless sought out. She'd drop by almost daily to vent before.
The sudden shift in behavior signaled a change in mood. Yuchan had kept a close eye, but sensing nothing off, he'd let it slide.
As Yuchan stared, Minjeong fanned herself nervously. "Why? Something on my face?"
To be precise, Yuchan wasn't eyeing her face—but her Black Box.
Nothing beat it for gauging someone's mind. As always, a hermit crab lounged peacefully at the center of her chest.
The difference this time?
Bubble bubble. The crab had hunkered down inside its shell, eyes barely peeking out.
Premature to call it the same as before.
Minjeong was wary of him. A blatant sign.
Seeing that, her absence from the counseling room suddenly didn't scan as mere busyness. No matter how packed the schedule, a sliver of time always opened up. She'd made it before.
This was bad.
Their last real contact? About two months back, when he'd driven her after she was late. No incidents. The abrupt change felt like a harbinger of crisis.
Yuchan inhaled the rich aroma from the coffee machine as he sorted his memories. But no matter how he racked his brain, Minjeong's shift made no sense.
Still, it was just a brief probe. For someone as cautious and guarded as her, it could stem from some trivial misunderstanding.
He set the coffee on the counseling sofa and sat across from her.
"Haven't seen you lately. Felt a bit slighted."
"Been swamped."
He eased in casually, crossing his legs. Keeping his gaze softly unfocused, he peered into her inner world.
"I'll enjoy it. Can't have you feeling slighted—I'll have to drop by more."
Minjeong flashed white teeth in a bright smile, but Yuchan felt an unexpected twinge. Her hermit crab still hid tight. Yet her crisp tone and friendly grin showed no deviation from the norm.
It all being an act made sense now—why he hadn't clocked it sooner. She wasn't just adept at work; masking her facade was her forte too.
"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable? If it's a misunderstanding, let's clear it up."
Like him, people didn't bare it all. Most hid their true hearts in black envelopes, playing coy. Better to strike the core.
Until the envelope burst and spilled its secrets.
Despite the wariness, her sudden visit meant she wanted something.
"...No, of course not. Just really busy lately. The students keep hounding me..."
Even to his direct prod, Minjeong replied smoothly. Save for a two-second lag before speaking.
At the same instant, navy blue foam churned around the hermit crab burrowing deeper.
Agitation? No... anxiety?
Needed more probing.
He'd draw out recent events to trace the root of her guard. So many guilty spots lately, it was hard to pinpoint. A first.
"Glad to hear. Should've come by myself. But I've got my hands full with Yujin too."
He slipped in Yujin's name. With Miyoung's rampage at the academy, Minjeong surely knew. Technically adults dating—no need for tinted glasses. But if she held moral standards seeing it as teacher-student scandal, she might take offense.
Minjeong latched on quicker and more dramatically—rudely, even—than expected.
"You really have nothing going on with Yujin... right?"
"Haha, yeah, it's been ages since I dated, but I'm not after academy kids. Was that it?"
"Oh, no! Just kidding, kidding~"
Her eyes stayed deadly serious, belying the "joke." Frankly, it irked him. Whenever Minjeong struggled at work, Yuchan stepped up first. He'd never dreamed the trust he'd built would waver on mere rumors.
Yuchan toyed with the edge of his fancy coffee cup. Amid the displeasure, one phrase grated.
Mere rumors?
His instincts sharpened like a predator's. He held his breath unwittingly.
What if her attitude hadn't budged on petty gossip? What if she'd glimpsed something deeper, murkier?
Yuchan watched her sniff the coffee delicately.
That time he'd driven her. Her offhand remark resurfaced.
"Nice. I don't know perfumes, but my nose is sharp. Could even guess your breakfast today, Yuchan-ssi."
"Chicken breast, salad. Eggs... maybe. Hmm... what's this scent?"
She'd nailed his meal by smell alone. Laughed it off later, but it took her ages to continue.
He remembered precisely.
"How'd you guess my meal? You see me packing chicken and salad for the gym and academy—total guess, right?"
Just a guess? That day, he'd confined Nayae at home for training. Her scent should've clung thick. And Nayae had skipped academy that day—locked in his place.
He'd zeroed in fast. Unexpected twist.
If Minjeong truly had drug-dog senses, she'd connect frequent Nayae's scent on him. One student absent, her smell on the teacher. Might pass as Yuchan fooling around with a kid—moral lapse. His earnest image with her would crumble.
But scent alone couldn't imply rape or confinement.
Small mercy.
"Anyway..."
As Yuchan pivoted for think-time, Minjeong threw a curve.
"Yuchan-ssi, free for dinner tonight?"
He swallowed his words, scrutinizing her Black Box anew. The hermit crab hunkered deeper than before—even its antennae retreating into the shell.
Wariness intensified, yet she proposed dinner. Didn't add up.
Here to grill him on the student fling? She wasn't the gossip type. Still, as a teacher with pride, she might want to call it out.
Speculation.
"Of course. What's the occasion?"
"Just catching up over a meal. I've been busy too."
Unease prickled. Her smile, so natural before, now rang false. Far from her usual warmth.
Precisely: left corner of her mouth didn't lift.
Fake smile.
Perfect false smiles needed mirror practice—like Yuchan's. Issue: when she'd started faking it?
He rifled memories like a mind map. Replayed her expressions from last spring to now, like contrasting footage.
Some blurred like old film, but he recalled her face from first meeting onward.
That genuine smile, beaming pride in the viewer? Absent since February 7th.
February 7th. The day a corpse sat in Yuchan's chair.
Also the day Minjeong took leave.
Sometimes coincidences wove sly patterns.
He chuckled.
"Haha."
"Why are you laughing?"
"Nothing."
Not yet, anyway. Not certain.
They set a vague time. Yuchan saw Minjeong off with a smile to the end.