Was She a Mad Dog, Bom? (3)

Jin Ju-yeong could only sit there, dumbfounded. He'd thought his foul-tempered little sister might have grown up a little after losing her friend—but if anything, her personality seemed to have gotten worse.

She was smiling, yet the malice hidden behind that smile crawled up his optic nerves and left his whole body tingling.

A smiling murderer. She might be wearing that smile like a mask. Maybe she was only smiling so her guard-down opponent would hurt that much more when she struck.

"Ah. Come to think of it…"

Jin Gyeo-wool, who had been happily tearing into her toast, suddenly stopped mid-feast and locked her gaze on Jin Ju-yeong. At that bone-chilling look from his crazy—no, his little sister—Ju-yeong began to freeze solid.

"We're siblings, right? And that lady is our mom?"

What the hell kind of nonsense is this.

Ju-yeong doubted his own ears.

But at the same time, he grasped the intent hidden behind those words.

Beep. Jin Gyeo-wool Translator, activate.

We're siblings, right? = If you say no, I'll make you bald.

And that lady is our mom? = Mom is someone else, but I don't want to talk to our mom, so if you say no, I'll make you bald.

Ju-yeong did not want every precious hair on his head ripped out until he was a cue ball.

But suddenly, a bald-version remix of some teacher's Despacito started blaring inside his skull.

"Y-yeah! Yeah yeah. Mom… sh-she's like our mom. Yeah!"

At any rate, he managed to give the kind of answer she wanted. Ju-yeong exhaled in relief and waited for Gyeo-wool's next words.

"I see. Got it."

He'd braced for impact in case she blew up—but Gyeo-wool just casually went back to demolishing her toast.

Purely in terms of physical specs, Ju-yeong had a good fifteen centimeters on Gyeo-wool. He was stronger, and his sheer bulk could overwhelm her.

And yet there was exactly one reason he never laid a hand on her.

Once Jin Gyeo-wool sank her teeth into prey, she never let go. When her physical specs weren't enough and she took a hit, she always found another way to get revenge.

After fighting her in the past, Ju-yeong would wake up every morning with a fistful of hair missing. No matter how hard he tried to settle things with violence and force, Gyeo-wool's revenge never stopped.

In the end, it was Ju-yeong—who did not want to go bald—who apologized first, and only then did her cruel vengeance cease.

School was the same story. Last year, Jin Gyeo-wool had been a brand-new high school freshman.

Freshmen showed off their presence and connections, formed groups, and cemented their own status by excluding or looking down on kids who didn't make the cut.

For Gyeo-wool, her only friend was Lee Bom, who'd entered the same school with her. Even her hobby was completely off the normal-girl track—the online game League of Council.

Fitting into an ordinary group of girls was obviously impossible, so she naturally fell through the cracks among the cliques.

And then it happened.

The kids in her class quietly ignored Gyeo-wool, who was just trying to get through school in peace. Pretty but invisible. That was Jin Gyeo-wool.

Then one of the popular kids ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forgot an assignment. To cover her own mistake, she dug through Gyeo-wool's bag while she was away and stole the homework.

And what happened next? The moment Gyeo-wool got back to the classroom, she tore the whole place apart. Some kids complained about what she was doing, but she ignored them and ransacked every single student's belongings.

And finally she found her assignment in the thief's bag. She promptly hurled the girl's desk, chair, and bag straight out the window. And that wasn't all—she lunged at her and grabbed a fistful of hair without a second thought.

Students seeing this side of Gyeo-wool for the first time were stunned. Of course they were. Until then, Lee Bom had always been at her side, keeping that absolute-bastard streak in check—but the second Bom ended up in a different class, Gyeo-wool went completely off the rails.

Just as the grip strength she'd honed since childhood ripping out Ju-yeong's hair was about to separate the thief's scalp from her skull, a male student jumped in to break it up.

But Gyeo-wool, eyes rolled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back in pure rage, needed to take it out on someone—anyone—and the innocent boy's hair became the sacrifice.

The homeroom teacher and the student affairs teacher rushed in and the incident was more or less wrapped up, but the boy's hair had already crossed a river of no return.

Gyeo-wool's mother heard the news and flew into Korea on the next available flight. She finally forced Gyeo-wool—who had been standing there refusing to bow—to lower her head.

Rumors flew that hundreds of thousands, even millions, changed hands in settlement money.

The important part was that afterward, not only the thief but not a single student in the class ever touched Jin Gyeo-wool again.

And then September. Lee Bom died.

Gyeo-wool moved her seat all the way to the back of the classroom. And with dead eyes that seemed to have lost interest in everything, she just stared blankly out the window.

One time a teacher who'd come to school after a fight with his wife took issue with Gyeo-wool's attitude in class. This time Gyeo-wool hurled her own desk and chair out the window. Then she said this to the teacher before walking out of the classroom:

When she said those words, Gyeo-wool was perched so precariously on the windowsill it looked like she might jump at any second.

Because of that incident, the teacher in question quit teaching and left the school. The shock had been severe, and the psychological trauma lingered.

And so Jin Gyeo-wool rose to become Hwasong High's number one untouchable crazy bitch.

October, November, December. Time drifted by aimlessly, but Gyeo-wool did nothing at all—simply letting those dead, empty days flow past alongside the friend who had gone first.

And that same girl was wearing a bright, sunny smile? Impossible. It only looked like she'd either completely lost her mind, or it was a signal that she was about to do something even worse.

What the hell is she thinking now…

Whether she was going pro gamer or YouTuber, her private life had to be airtight. That was why, when they signed the NewTube management contract, he'd begged her over and over not to cause any incidents if she could help it.

But Jin Gyeo-wool, that girl, simply did not listen.

"Anyway… just—please don't cause any incidents. Just don't."

"…?"

With the last bite of toast stuffed in her mouth, her cheeks puffed out round. Gyeo-wool tilted her head and blinked.

Back in her room, Jin Gyeo-wool stood in front of the mirror with satisfaction.

"Wool-ah. No problems at all!"

Her hair was still wrapped up in the towel the housekeeper had put on her.

"Wool-ah?"

But there was no sign of Hon Gyeo-wool. Ever since she'd vanished yesterday, Hon Gyeo-wool hadn't appeared again.

"Where did this kid go…"

Handing over her body and telling him to do as he pleased was one thing. Agreeing to that ridiculous request about wanting to touch her chest was another.

Hon Gyeo-wool really was strangely lacking in any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠will to live.

Normally, if someone stole your body like this, you'd try every possible way to take it back. But Gyeo-wool had tried once, failed, and immediately backed off.

What's wrong with her…

She'd said she was in a cold war with her mother, but that didn't really seem to be the case. If it truly were, there wouldn't be anyone looking after Gyeo-wool or cleaning her room for her.

Gyeo-wool decided to write it all off as a delusion unique to Hon Gyeo-wool going through a late puberty.

"Anyway… so there's no problem at home."

Which meant there was only one thing left to do from here on out.

Training. Conditioning. Effort!

To become the pro gamer that Hon Gyeo-wool had also agreed to, Jin Gyeo-wool turned on the computer and logged into League of Council.

She kept playing LoC straight through until evening, and the soul erosion rate climbed by about 0.12%.

Still, she didn't feel any major change.

Gyeo-wool studied her match history with a thoughtful expression.

"It's easy… somehow it's just easy."

Even in normals, you tended to get matched with people around your own rank.

Before she'd queued up again earlier, she'd checked Gyeo-wool's account tier—Platinum.

Bae Do-hyun, who'd climbed to Diamond on pure brain, and Hon Gyeo-wool, who'd climbed to Platinum on pure mechanics, had become one. Of course it was easy.

Objectively speaking, Jin Gyeo-wool's projected ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tier right now sat somewhere between Diamond and Master.

At this point I could probably start running ranked.

Every so often Gyeo-wool went back to the mirror and called for Hon Gyeo-wool, but there was never an answer. She asked if it was okay to queue ranked—still no answer.

Same as before: silence meant yes. For someone as optimistic as Bae Do-hyun, that kind of thinking came naturally.

"Master, huh… I've never hit that before."

At the thought that she might finally break through a wall she'd never managed to climb, beads of sweat began to form on Gyeo-wool's hands.

It was a power she'd gotten by pure luck—but luck was a skill too. Bae Do-hyun decided to treat becoming Jin Gyeo-wool as the reward he'd barely scraped together after six years of grinding.

— Choco!

"?"

Just as Gyeo-wool was moving the mouse to queue the next game, a KakaoTalk notification popped up.

Careless girl. There wasn't even a password on the app.

She'd talked like Lee Bom was her only friend, and sure enough, Gyeo-wool's chat history was spotless.

Whether she'd left every other room or not, aside from the person who'd just messaged and her chat with Lee Bom, there was nothing.

She must've really loved Bom.

It started to take shape in Gyeo-wool's mind—Hon Gyeo-wool, after losing Bom, drowning helplessly in grief, scrolling through their old chats over and over.

Gyeo-wool's chest ached for no good reason, and she felt a kinship with the girl who'd crawled all the way to the edge of despair with nowhere left to lean.

The part about wanting to die hadn't been a lie Bae Do-hyun made up just to persuade Hon Gyeo-wool.

After a long sigh, Gyeo-wool slowly moved the mouse and clicked the newly appeared chat room.

A profile picture that looked just like the brother she'd met at the table earlier greeted her.

Whether he was her older or younger brother, she couldn't say for sure. By Bae Do-hyun's standards he looked younger than himself, but roughly the same age as Gyeo-wool.

So just like at the table, Gyeo-wool fired back in casual speech without the slightest hesitation.

Bae Do-hyun had streamed before, so he knew broadcasting software and recording setups cold. He'd even run a NewTube channel with roughly the same subscriber count as Gyeo-wool's, and carved out time he didn't have to edit the videos himself.

Hon Gyeo-wool had not. For her, streaming and everything else was just whatever Ju-yeong told her to do.

So when she suddenly started spitting out pro-streamer jargon, of course Ju-yeong panicked.

But no matter how much she pretended to know what she was doing, at the end of the day Jin Gyeo-wool was still Jin Gyeo-wool. Ju-yeong was certain that sooner or later she'd snap and call for him in a foul mood.

So he started groveling, saying he'd just come grab the files himself as long as she recorded.

"Don't know if he's the older or younger one, but he's ridiculously nice."

Weren't siblings usually at each other's throats? Between this and the table earlier, it seemed like a pretty harmonious household.

Gyeo-wool thought back to young Bae Do-hyun's dinner tables—full of fighting, raw insults, and a foul atmosphere.

Compared to that, the environment Jin Gyeo-wool lived in now was heaven.

Feeling a warmth settle in her chest, Gyeo-wool sent Ju-yeong a thank-you.

And of all things, those two little carets tacked onto the end of the word jabbed straight into Ju-yeong's trauma.

Suddenly the door across the hall flew open, pounding footsteps rushed closer, and Gyeo-wool's door burst wide.

"I-I'll turn the recording on for you! You don't know how anyway."

"Uh. Huh?"

"Here, you just… do this… and… done. Play your game! Call me again when you're finished! I'm going?"

In a flash Ju-yeong launched the program, mashed a few buttons, and vanished. Gyeo-wool muttered after him as he fled back to his room.

"What's his deal?"