The Ramen Effect
I desperately held back my laughter. A strong premonition warned me that if I laughed right now, Dayoung's obedience score would drop sharply.
“Do you like ramen that much? No matter what, how can anyone eat nothing but ramen for ten whole years?”
“Ah… well… these days there are so many varieties, and the flavor changes dramatically depending on how you cook it. Even the same ramen can be completely different with a few tweaks. The amount of water and the heat level are crucial too. Those tiny differences create huge changes in the world of ramen, so you can’t let your guard down when boiling it, you know? It’s like the butterfly effect—except it’s the ramen effect.”
I had managed to hold in the laughter, but I couldn’t resist teasing her one more time. Surprisingly, Dayoung countered better than expected. I could have dismantled her argument and kept poking at her, but I respected her desperate effort and let it go. I was addicted to corrective education, yet I wanted to show mercy to my believers.
“Dayoung, is your place close?”
“Yeah, it’s just a short walk from here.”
After closing the café, Dayoung had given me her home address. When I checked, it was only fifteen minutes away, so dropping her off was no trouble at all. We headed toward the underground parking lot, chatting nonstop like a sweet couple. If you tallied the actual speaking time, though, it was ninety percent Dayoung and ten percent me. All I offered were occasional “Ah~” or “I see~” sounds, yet the talk machine showed no signs of stopping.
In the short time it took to reach the parking garage—at most ten minutes—I learned the entire life story of the human being named Seo Dayoung.
“So you’ve dreamed of becoming an idol since you were a kid, dropped out of high school, moved to Seoul alone to train, but things haven’t gone well so you’re still a trainee. And you work the evening shift at a café on top of that.”
“Yes. Wow. Oppa, how are you so good at summarizing? When I talk, a million other stories keep popping into my head and it just keeps stretching out forever. That’s why the friends I practice with tease me for being a way-too-much talker. Honestly, I don’t think I am. When I was in LA…”
The stream continued. The stories flowed like water without end. Most of it was filler. Yet there was a strange magnetism that made it impossible to tune out. I couldn’t simply let it go in one ear and out the other.
This is exhausting… My energy was being siphoned away. Having her chatter cutely beside me meant I couldn’t even scold her, which somehow made it even more irritating. I was seriously considering brainwashing her into speaking only half as much once she became a proper believer.
“Huuuuuuh~!!!! Is this your car, oppa? No way! This is that one! The Lamborghini! The raging bull! The crazy expensive one! Whoa! I knew it the moment you pulled out that check—you’re seriously loaded… Amazing!! So cool!”
“Uh… yeah, I guess so…”
“Can I take pictures? I want to brag to my trainee friends. Please? Oppa? Can I? I’ve never even seen a car like this before—am I really about to ride in it? Kyaa~! I feel like I’ve become rich. I’m so excited right now.”
“Uh… sure, go ahead.”
“Awesome, awesome. Thank you so much! You’re the best, oppa! So cool. You were already handsome, but knowing you’re rich makes you even more handsome. I’ll take some shots, so wait just a second!”
Click. Click.
It was a relief to let her take photos. At least her mouth stayed shut while she was snapping them.
“Don’t just shoot the outside—get in and take some selfies. I’ll open the roof for you too.”
“Huuuuuuuh!! Really?! The roof?!”
“Yeah. For real.”
To shut Dayoung’s mouth, I would have opened the roof or anything else she wanted. I opened the passenger door, escorted her inside like a gentleman, then slid into the driver’s seat. Dayoung’s eyes sparkled at the interior covered in dozens of gleaming buttons. She poured out exclamation after exclamation, paused to catch her breath, and finally started taking selfies.
“Dayoung, want me to open the roof?”
“Yes, oppa. Ah, just a second.”
“Hm? Why?”
“Um… would you take a selfie with me? If it’s with you, it’ll come out better… cooler, I think.”
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
“Th-then I’ll come over to your side, so oppa, just look at the phone and hold a pose.”
“Got it.”
Dayoung kept stealing glances at me, then stretched her arm to mount the phone on the center console. Slowly, she leaned her body toward mine.
She smells nice… She’d come straight from her café shift, so a pleasant coffee scent wrapped around me as she drew near.
“Get a little closer, Dayoung. The photo looks too awkward otherwise.”
“Sh-should I?”
She had been coming closer but suddenly froze, trying to take the picture from a safe distance. Only after I signaled again did she press herself against me until her silky straight hair brushed my forearm. The soft strands tickling my skin felt surprisingly good.
“O… oppa, does my hair smell like coffee? I’m sorry. What if it gets all over your car?”
“It’s fine. It smells good, so what’s the problem?”
“You… you smelled it? My hair?”
“Well, yeah. You’re this close…”
“Ah… yeah… since we’re this close…”
The moment the words left her mouth, Dayoung’s entire body went rigid. I could feel her even holding her breath from the tension.
She was the one making all the noise earlier, but now that she’s like this, even I feel awkward…
Caught up in Dayoung’s pace, I suddenly felt awkward too. The girl who had been leading the entire situation froze like she’d caused a broadcasting accident, which in turn made my own heart start pounding.
“Ahem. Aren’t you going to take the picture?”
“Ahhh~~ Right. The picture. I’ll take it. Okay, one~!”
“Wait. Dayoung, it still looks way too stiff.”
“R-really? Then what should we do? Should I… get a little closer? Is that okay?”
“Hmm. Maybe it’d be better if I moved closer. That alright?”
“O. O. O. O.”
Dayoung seemed to have blue-screened. She couldn’t finish a single word, just kept repeating the same syllable.
“…?”
“O. O. O… Oppa? That won’t work. I feel like my heart’s about to explode. I might actually die.”
“…Your heart’s going to explode?”
“He. He. He. Heart failure! I have heart failure!! My heart keeps fluttering. When something unexpected happens it goes boom-boom-boom-boom! Boom-boom-boom-boom!”
“But you’re telling me in advance, so it’s expected, right? Not unexpected at all.”
“Oh… that’s true, isn’t it?”
Slowly, I extended my arm and lightly wrapped it around Dayoung’s shoulder. Not a tight lover’s embrace—just the light arm-around-the-shoulder pose celebrities strike in award-show photo zones. Even so, our bodies were pressed incredibly close, and I could feel her heart hammering so violently I genuinely wondered if she had a condition.
“Hauk…”
“You okay? Heart failure kicking in?”
“Haa… ah… no, it’s not that… I’ll… take the picture now, oppa.”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Dayoung hammered the shutter without pause. She didn’t seem like the type to take a hundred shots to salvage one, but she had clearly malfunctioned the moment my arm went around her.
When Dayoung talks too much, maybe I can just break her like this?
The realization I gained while taking those selfies was one I could only hope would work on her. If even this failed, I might really have to brainwash her to reduce her word count.
“Haa… haa… huuuuu…”
After finishing the photos, Dayoung returned to her seat breathing like she had just sprinted a full marathon. Then she stared at her phone as if she had unearthed buried treasure, completely absorbed in the selfies we’d taken together.
“Did they turn out well?”
“Yes, yes. Want to see? Ah, no! If you give me your number I’ll send them straight to your phone!! How’s that? Pretty smart idea, right?!”
“Uh, sure.”
The moment our bodies separated, Dayoung’s tension skyrocketed. Her tone practically screamed how badly she wanted my number. I gave it to her without hesitation and started the car.
This feels good.
I was always the one taking numbers; having mine taken felt refreshingly sweet. Of course, my impatient personality meant I usually moved first, so opportunities for them to ask were rare. Still, being asked made me feel like a genuinely high-value male.
The roads weren’t too congested since rush hour had passed. I focused on driving while Dayoung kept letting out little gasps of delight as she scrolled through the photos.
“Oppa, if it’s not too much, can I change my messenger profile to one of our selfies? I’ll cover your face with an emoji!”
“Sure. Doesn’t matter. But isn’t that something you usually do with a boyfriend’s picture?”
“Right. A boyfriend…! Boyfriend! It’s something you do with a boyfriend! Since I don’t have one, I thought of using you out of desperation… No!! I don’t mean you’re desperate…!! I mean it’s a shame you’re not my boyfriend?!”
“…Really?”
“Ah, no!!! It was a joke!! Just kidding! Kidding!”
“Too bad.”
Dayoung was a born chatterbox. She talked endlessly and made endless mistakes. She was the type who, while trying to fix one slip-up, would blurt out excuses that caused an even bigger one. It was completely different from me, who calculated every single word. The ability to make mistakes so freely was a talent in itself. I liked Dayoung even more because she possessed something I didn’t.
“This it?”
“Yes, oppa.”
The place we arrived at was a cluster of one-rooms near the university district. The neighborhood looked a little run-down, but her building was a modern one-room complex that appeared relatively clean.
“It’s too shabby, right? It’s just a one-room where I live alone… I’m embarrassed.”
“It looks clean enough. Isn’t it new?”
“Yes. The agency president’s acquaintance owns the building, so I got lucky with the contract. It was originally pretty expensive, but they lowered the rent for me. Hehe.”
“Good. That’s fortunate.”
“Yes… it really is.”
“…”
The smooth flow of our conversation suddenly snapped. Only awkward silence filled the car. Dayoung kept glancing at me, hesitating, clearly wanting to say something. After a long internal struggle, she finally spoke.
“O… oppa. Listen, and please don’t misunderstand. I never say things like this. This is my first time.”
“What is it?”
“It’s… um… so… uuuugh…!! Never mind! I’ll go in first! Goodbye!”
Clunk—.
Before I could respond, Dayoung opened the passenger door and jumped out. I sat there stunned, but before I could recover, the door opened again. She climbed back in as if nothing had happened, staring straight ahead with mechanical stiffness, and spoke.
“Oppa…”
“Yes, Dayoung.”
“Would you… like to come up and eat ramen at my place?”
“Ah…”
I didn’t know exactly when it started, but at some point in Korea the line “Want to come eat ramen?” had become one of the most common sex appeals. It was used so casually it had almost become everyday language, so I hadn’t thought much of it. Hearing it in person, however, was powerful enough to induce heart failure. An incredibly potent sex appeal.
The awkward air, the awkward tone, the awkward gestures—everything suddenly grew moist, as if someone had poured hot ramen broth over the entire atmosphere.
“Hmm. Sure. Shall we go up together?”
“…Yes. Oppa.”
“Give me a second to park.”
I tried to keep my voice calm, but my heart was already on the verge of exploding. The cock that had been sleeping in my pants was rapidly transforming into a monstrous dick. I parked the Lamborghini haphazardly in the one-room lot. The other residents might find it annoying, but I had no bandwidth to care.
Thud—.
I parked, quickly got out, opened the passenger door, and took Dayoung’s hand.
“Watch your step, Dayoung.”
“Haa… yes. Oppa. Thank you.”
Her hand in mine was burning hot. She seemed to have a naturally high body temperature; I wondered if every part of her was this feverish. For someone who had eaten nothing but ramen for ten years, she was shockingly slim—from her straight, elegant collarbones to her impossibly thin waist, the long legs visible beneath her skirt, and above all, the place that would soon welcome my cock. It would be just as hot as her hand—perhaps even hotter.
“Umm… oppa.”
“…Yes?”
“If you keep looking at me like that… I won’t be able to hold back… My body… is getting so hot…”
“…”
It wasn’t just her body. Even the sweet breaths brushing against me carried intense heat.
“Let’s go up, Dayoung.”
“Yes, oppa…”
We climbed the stairs to her one-room hand in hand, almost racing. The moment we stepped inside, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from devouring her in a fierce kiss. We radiated scorching heat like competitors in a contest to see who was more aroused.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Even the seconds she spent entering the passcode felt like a waste. Faster. Faster. I wanted the door to open so this heat could melt us completely.
Creeeeak—.
“Kyaaa!!!! Oppa!!! Just a second!!!”
“…?”
“Don’t come in!! Please wait there!!”
“Da… Dayoung?”
Creeeak— Slam!!!
The girl who had seemed ready to cling to me any moment cracked the door open, let out a horrified scream, and then darted inside, leaving me standing there. All the excitement evaporated in an instant. My erection died completely.
Is her house that dirty…?
The fantasy I had built about visiting a woman’s home for the first time was slowly crumbling away.