Mistaken Min Deulle (4)
Right then, Uju-mong shifted back slightly and knocked something with his elbow.
"Ah."
The iced Americano he'd set down to drink. The transparent plastic cup teetered off the edge of the table.
Clack?
Splash!
It hit the floor, the lid popping open as ice and coffee sprayed everywhere.
"Shit, what the hell? It's all over my legs!"
"Sorry. I'll clean it up right now."
Uju-mong carefully pushed me aside and stood up immediately.
"I'll help too. I'm sorry, it's because I was clinging so close…"
"It's fine. You don't need to help. Just sit."
"No way. It's basically my fault it spilled, so of course I should help."
I hurried after him. Honestly, I couldn't care less about the coffee on the floor. Spilling coffee in a dream was no big deal anyway. But the reason I followed him was simple—I wanted to be alone with him.
I walked behind him as he headed toward the restroom, gazing at his back. Broad shoulders, straight spine. His silhouette always looked so reliable. I'd never hung off that back or gotten a piggyback ride, but it had to be warm and comfortable.
He opened the restroom door, revealing a spotlessly clean interior. Not a single stain on the white tile floor. The mirror above the sink gleamed, reflecting my face sharply. A faint air freshener scent tickled my nose. In one corner, a mop stood neatly propped up.
As expected from Oppa.
It showed just how meticulously he managed things on a daily basis. For a cafe restroom, it was excessively pristine. I loved that thorough side of him.
Uju-mong grabbed the mop and turned to leave. But I had no intention of letting him go just like that. I blocked the door.
"Deulle?"
"Oppa."
I stepped closer and threw my arms around him. The hand holding the mop hovered awkwardly in the air. His other hand flailed around, unsure where to land. It was so damn cute.
This was a guy who could easily lift me if he wanted. If he pinned me down and gripped my throat, I'd be helpless. Seeing someone like that flinch at my every move was utterly endearing.
"Can't we pick up where we left off earlier?"
"…Deulle. Let's clean up the drink first."
"No."
I squeezed tighter, arms locking around him. His body heat seeped through his clothes. Pressing my ear to his chest, I could almost hear his heartbeat. It felt a bit faster than usual.
"Worried about Unni?"
"…"
"It's fine. Forget that girl and let's just make each other feel good. Right?"
As I spoke, I grabbed his hand—the one not holding the mop. I slowly guided it up and placed it on my breast. His palm pressed against my bra. Broad and warm.
His fingers tensed. I could feel my soft flesh yielding even through my clothes. See? Even if his mouth said no, his instincts were honest. Yeah, he wants me too.
"…Deulle. We can't do this."
But his next move defied my expectations. He gently lifted his hand from my breast.
That's weird.
I tilted my head inwardly.
Normally, he'd be the one pouncing by now, all fired up.
In dreams, it was always like that. A little teasing from me, and his eyes would change, his rough hands pulling me in. Sometimes gentle, sometimes ripping my clothes off as he devoured me.
So why was he so lukewarm now?
Let's get more aggressive.
I slipped my hand into my pocket. The thing I'd grabbed this morning. My fingers touched a small box.
"Oppa, wanna use this here?"
His eyes widened. His gaze locked onto the condom box in my hand.
"I can't hold out until Sunday."
I figured he'd cave. This should be enough, right? He'd embraced me countless times in dreams.
But no.
His expression was far from aroused. Bewilderment. Or maybe worry. His brows furrowed slightly.
Was it because we're in the restroom? I didn't care where, as long as it was with him…
"Deulle."
He took the condom from my hand and pocketed it.
"You're acting weird today."
"…Huh?"
"You don't seem interested in studying."
His voice turned serious. No trace of playfulness.
"You're just messing around like this."
"…"
"In front of Ari too, and now. It's making me uncomfortable."
"…"
"It's not that I hate it…"
He paused, then continued.
"It's just… confusing. Why'd you change so suddenly? I don't get it."
I was speechless. No idea what to say. My mind went blank.
This wasn't the reaction I wanted. Way too realistic.
The dreams had been realistic too—vivid details, sharp sensations, his responses close to real life. But when it came to lewd stuff, there were no boundaries; it was always scorching hot. If I wanted it, he did too. If I approached, he'd accept. If I stripped, he'd strip. If I lay down, he'd climb on top.
But now…
"Let's go."
He picked up the mop again.
"I'll hold onto this."
He patted his pocket—where my condom now sat. His tone was cool and firm, like no more talking was needed.
"Ah, yeah…"
That was all I could muster. My voice sank weakly.
…
I followed him out with the mop in hand. As we passed the hallway toward the cafe, he stopped abruptly. I saw his shoulders twitch.
"Ari…"
His voice calling her name sounded flustered, unlike usual.
"A photo, huh."
Her voice followed, sharp and icy. Flat, but brimming with anger anyone could sense without seeing her face. The air turned frigid.
I rounded the corner to stand beside him. She'd closed her laptop. In her hand was a smartphone. My smartphone.
The one I'd left on the table unlocked in the rush after the coffee spill, still open to the naughty photos I'd been showing him.
She was staring right at it.
"Hey, what the hell! Why are you snooping through someone else's phone?!"
I rushed toward her, dropping what I held. I stepped through the coffee-soaked floor to snatch it back. The squelch underfoot barely registered.
"Min Deulle! Stay right there!"
Unni barked. Loud enough to drown out the cafe's music. Even my aggressive charge halted at that voice. My feet froze.
"Uju-mong."
She turned to him, eyes cold.
"What did I ask you? To tutor my sister. So what the hell are you teaching her right now?"
"…"
He stood silent, grip tightening on the mop. My heart plummeted.
His restroom reaction meshed perfectly with hers now.
"Don't blame Oppa! I started it! He didn't do anything…!"
"You should've told her not to!"
She cut me off.
"Don't take these! Don't send them! That's what you should've said!"
"Eek…!"
"Uju-mong. Am I wrong?"
"Ha…"
He let out a short sigh. Its meaning eluded me, spiking my anxiety.
It'll… it'll be fine. This is just a dream. My real self is lying in a hospital bed. In reality, I just won't take those photos. Or manage my phone better.
I steeled myself, clenching my fists until my nails dug into my palms. What was I even scared of? Things could fall apart here—it'd all vanish when I woke up.
"Unni, what makes you think you can keep raising your voice like that?"
"What?"
Her eyes narrowed, creases deepening between her brows.
"I'm an adult now. What I do with my body is my business."
"That's only for things society and morals accept. This? No."
She thrust the phone screen toward me.
"You take pics like this, send them to Uju-mong, and that's your excuse?"
The screen showed my most explicit photo—legs spread wide, fingers parting my folds, gazing up at the camera with a sultry look.
"Wh-what's wrong with it?!"
I wouldn't back down.
"If we're both okay with it, who cares?"
"What if they leak?!"
Her voice rose higher.
"Once it's online, you can't erase it! It'll haunt you forever!"
"I don't care!"
I shouted back. Our voices echoed through the cafe.
"As long as Oppa likes it! I don't care!"
"…"
She faltered at my words. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her lips trembled.
I seized the moment and yanked the phone away.
"Get your head straight, Unni."
"…"
"Why snoop through someone else's phone? Was that right?"
"…"
"You have a boyfriend, but you flirt with Oppa too? You like him too, don't you? That's why you're brazenly trying to two-time, right!?"
Pent-up words poured out. Her brow twitched.
"Adjusting church days! Saying you're drinking but timing it for our late-night walks, asking him to pick you up! Last night, faking drunk to kiss him!"
"…"
"Who are you to judge? Worry about yourself."
She let out a ridiculous scoff, shaking her head in pity before turning to him.
"Uju-mong. You've totally ruined her."
"…"
"No, it's my fault for asking you."
"Hey! Stop blaming Oppa!"
"You don't need to tutor Min Deulle anymore."
She declared it firmly.
"I'll tell Jangmi-unni and Mom and find another way."
"Who decided that?"
I stepped forward, refusing to yield.
"You think I'm still a kid? That I do whatever you or Mom say?"
"If you're not financially independent, you're the same as a high schooler or a twenty-year-old."
"Try telling Unni and Mom."
I stared her down, unblinking.
"I'll run away."
"…"
"I'll work part-time and crash at Oppa's place. And tell your boyfriend everything you've done with Oppa."
She shook her head.
"See? Spouting crap like this—how's she supposed to take care of herself?"
"You acted childish first!"
"What? Say it again."
"Wh-what! Was I wrong?!"
Ding-a-ling—
The bell rang then. The door opened—a customer entering.
We both shut up at the sound.
"…Welcome."
He set the mop aside and went to greet them. His voice was the only soft echo in the cafe.