Lilac
Slip—
My body, plastered flat against the living room window, went limp and slid straight down.
Thud!
The moment I hit the floor, I saw them.
Gray sweatpants with the knees poking out.
Not a ghost… it was Han Iseul….
"Hah…! Hah…!"
"Are you all right?"
"W-why on earth are you standing there like that?!"
"Pardon…?"
The second I barked at her, Han Iseul parted the hair hanging over her face like a curtain and tilted her head with the most innocent look in the world.
"That hair! Your hair! Why are you covering your whole face like some ghost?!"
"Ah… I'm sorry. My bangs have gotten really long…."
"……"
As if trying to put me at ease, she swept the parted bangs behind her ears and finally showed her face.
First things first—something had to be done about that hair.
And those clothes, too.
Seriously, what was this, a tattoo? Why was she always in the exact same outfit?!
"Ah—! I'll go grab something to wipe that up first! Eek!! Ah—!"
"……"
Of course she tripped. Running around with the lights off will do that.
"Haa… You okay?"
"I'm fiiine… heeing…."
I picked up the fallen cup, got to my feet, and flipped on the living room lights first.
Even if I hated wasting electricity, I at least needed the bare minimum on. I had no interest in dying of a heart attack.
"Let me take a look."
"N-no, really! I'm completely fi…ne…."
"Does this hurt?"
"……"
I took her foot and gently rotated it. Han Iseul, head bowed low, shook it side to side.
"Ankle seems fine. So where does it hurt?"
"M-my knee…"
"I'm rolling this up for a second."
"Huh…? Hup!!"
I pushed up the baggy sweatpants and found a faintly reddened knee.
Nothing serious, by the look of it.
"Is this really the only clothes you have? I didn't see anything else in your suitcase either."
"…Yes."
"So you don't even wash these, you just—"
"N-no! When I'm home I take them o—"
"……"
Han Iseul's face went scarlet. She slammed her hair shut like a curtain again and dropped her head. I cleared my throat, dusted off my knees, and stood.
Just how bad were things for her?
At an age when most girls loved dressing up, she didn't even have a single cheap accessory—and she was washing and rewearing the same underwear and clothes over and over.
I'd struggled for money myself after Grandma passed, but never quite like this.
"I'll clean that up. You go on in. And four hours—just work those four hours, and the rest of the time, forget I exist and study. Or just rest, whatever you want."
"No! That would make me uncomfortable! Please don't worry about me! And I'll clean that up myself!"
"Fine, then."
"…Huh?"
"I'm heading in first."
"Ah—! Yes! Good night!"
I just went to my room.
Apparently my consideration only made her more uncomfortable.
The moment morning came, I could feel how different everyday life had become.
"Good morning."
Unit 301—no, Han Iseul—greeted me with a faint smile, looking noticeably brighter.
How long had it been?
Waking up and exchanging a smiling good morning with someone.
"Morning. Did you sleep well too, Iseul?"
"Yes! Here's your coffee."
"Huh? I never taught you how. How'd you make it?"
"I looked it up online and tried to follow along. So… I'm not really sure if it tastes good. I don't know coffee…."
Her eyes were practically begging for a verdict, so I took a sip first.
Not that I knew coffee either.
I'd just gotten in the habit of buying cheap coffee on the way to work every day, which was the only reason I'd bought a machine in the first place.
"Mmm~ It's good."
"Really?? Haa… thank goodness…. Ah—! Um, about that…"
"Go ahead. Speak freely."
"Well… there weren't any ingredients in the fridge… so I couldn't make breakfast. I'm sorry…."
"Ah… Are you hungry, by any chance?"
"No. I don't usually eat breakfast anyway…."
She didn't usually eat breakfast?
I distinctly remembered her crying her way through an entire bowl of the beef soup I'd bought her the morning we negotiated her pay.
Chomp— chomp— chomp— chomp—
Sluuurp!!
Just as I thought.
She was demolishing that sandwich and coffee like they might vanish.
"Didn't you say you don't usually eat breakfast?"
"…Mmph! Mmph!! Mmph…!!"
"Kidding! Kidding! Just eat comfortably."
"……"
Han Iseul thumped her chest for a while, struggling, then glanced at me, gave a tiny nod, and went right back to her sandwich mukbang.
So I pushed the untouched half sitting in front of me toward her as well.
"Mmphh??"
"This is plenty for me. Bread doesn't sit well in the morning."
"Mmphhh!!"
"It's fine. Just eat it. I do eat bread sometimes."
"Mmph…."
Hold on.
You're not eating?? / Then let's go get something else!! / Okay….
How was I even understanding all that?
Well—I'd done every part-time job under the sun since I was a kid. After surviving that many meals of reading the room, it'd be weirder if I couldn't.
"Aaaah… I'm so full…."
"All done?"
"Yes… heh."
"Then come with me."
"Huh??"
"We've got grocery shopping to do."
"Ah… yes!!"
We left the café and walked a bit to help digestion.
Having a place in Cheongdam really was nice.
"Let's go in."
"This is… a supermarket…?"
"No. A hair salon."
"A-a hair salon??"
"Yeah. I can't live with a virgin ghost."
"Ah…. I'm sorry…."
Whoa… Cheongdam salons did not mess around…
Or was this place just especially expensive?
Cut — 80,000~180,000 won
What kind of haircut started at eighty thousand won just for a basic cut?
Well. It'd better be worth the money.
"Is this your first time at our shop?"
"Yes. I just moved here recently."
"I see. Would conversation bother you at all?"
"No, not particularly."
"If I talk too much, please just say so anytime."
"Sure, I will."
The chatty-looking hair designer had excellent sales technique, too.
She steered the conversation without making it feel pushy, sliding from style recommendations straight into hair and scalp care, and sucked my wallet dry in the process.
Of course, the results were worth it.
"How do you like it?"
"Looks good."
Not overdone, easy to maintain, not too long—a clean cut that showed a little forehead. I liked it.
They always said a man's looks lived and died by his hair. Seemed they were right.
Looking at myself like this, I wasn't half bad.
"Ah—what about the person who came with me? Is she done yet?"
"One moment."
The designer who'd gone to check on progress had clearly said thirty minutes. An hour had already passed.
I couldn't take it anymore.
I needed some air, even just for a second—
"Whoa…"
"……"
"Your boyfriend must be falling for you all over again, you look so pretty~ Hohoho."
"N-no! He's not my boyfriend…!"
"Ah… ahh~~ Yes, my mistake. You're not… yet."
"It's not 'yet,' it's—!"
So it wasn't just men who lived off their hair. Women did too.
Or rather—it felt like her face had finally come into its own.
That heavy, stifling mass of hair was still long, and yet somehow it looked light and fresh now.
A soft curl at the ends gave it an elegant touch, too.
But the real masterstroke was parting it so her face was fully visible.
I'd known she was pretty. I just hadn't known she was that pretty.
"Shall we go, then?"
"I'll get th—!"
(It's over a million won.)
"……"
The second I whispered the price near her ear, Han Iseul clamped her mouth shut and trailed after me. Our next stop was the department store we'd hit yesterday.
"Why are we here again?!"
"Groceries."
"D-department stores are expensive, aren't they…?"
"No idea. First time shopping for groceries here myself."
"Ah…."
Before hitting the food hall in the basement, we wandered the upper floors and shopped first.
Things for me. Things for Han Iseul.
"Th-this isn't something you'd keep at home for yourself…."
"Of course not. I'm buying it for you to wear, Iseul."
"I…"
"I'm not buying it for you. I'm buying it for me."
"…What?"
"Looking at pretty things makes me feel good. So I'm buying it for my own sake."
"……"
For a second her eyes wavered, and she lowered her head.
She wasn't avoiding my gaze—she was looking at her own clothes.
It would sting, but this way she wouldn't feel burdened. It couldn't be helped.
Once shopping and grocery runs were done, we left the department store and walked home, falling into a conversation that got surprisingly personal.
"I'm twenty-six. What about you, Iseul?"
"I'm… twenty-two…."
"And school??"
"Well…. I dropped out…."
"Why?"
"The truth is… I was majoring in art… but things got hard at home…. And I wasn't exceptionally good at drawing anyway…."
"So that's why you're prepping for the civil service exam?"
"Yes… As an art major, getting hired at a regular company is tough…."
"Which grade?"
"Grade seven… But it's so hard…."
Of course it was hard.
Someone who'd spent her whole life drawing, suddenly stuck staring at textbooks.
But just how bad had things gotten at home that she'd given up college and started grinding for the civil service exam?
And if she'd been an art student, her family must have been reasonably well-off—so why the underwear and clothes…
"I sold everything… anything that could make money…."
"……"
"I-I figured you might be curious…."
"Ah… I know this is a rude question, but even the underwear…."
"……"
Han Iseul stopped walking. In a whisper so quiet I could barely catch it, she said:
"Those sold for the most…."
"……"
The underwear sold for the most?
No matter how nice they were, used ones that someone else had worn—
"Ah…!"
"I-I'll go on ahead!!"
Han Iseul bolted for home like she was fleeing the scene. I stood there until my blanked-out brain rebooted, then started walking again.
This world really was crawling with perverts.
Han Iseul had changed a lot.
The stretched-out T-shirt and knee-blown sweatpants that had clung to her body like a tattoo were gone for good.
The problem was the new clothes she'd started wearing.
Swish— swish— swish—
She was up on a chair on tiptoe, barely managing to wipe down the high cabinets.
And the higher she stretched her arms on those tiptoes, the higher something else climbed with them.
That short skirt.
At this rate, her panties were going to show.
"……"
"Nnngh…! Why can't I reach…! Nngh…!"
"Just a little more… just a little more…."
Just a little more and those panties would—
"……"
"……"
"Employer…?"
"…Yes?"
"What… are you doing down there…?"
What was I doing down there.
Where was I right now….
Why was I lying face-down on the kitchen floor?!
You absolute pervert…!!!
"I-it looked like something was stuck to the floor…."
"Ah! I'll wipe it!"
"It's fine! I'll handle it—you just finish what you were doing!"
"No, I should…."
"No, I'll wipe—"
I was rubbing the floor with a spit-dampened finger when I lifted my head—and witnessed it.
A flower blooming in a deep valley.
"Lilac…?"
"Li…la— KYAAAAAAAH!!!!!!"
A lilac had bloomed in that deep valley.
So she liked that color.
I wonder… could I buy a pair too…?
WHAM!!!!
Apparently not for sale.
"Guhhk!!!!"