Is There a Better Truth Serum Than Alcohol?
“After I graduated high school, I auditioned for survival shows all the time.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“My friends kept saying I sang well… that if I learned guitar too, I’d make it. They said it so often I started believing them.”
From her drunken lips spill stories I never asked for, flowing freely. The hazy silhouette of her past grows sharper with every word.
“But I get nervous easily. And… I wasn’t actually that good. I never made it past the preliminaries.”
“With a face like yours, I’d have passed you on looks alone.”
“…I thought so too. But I was shaking so badly it didn’t work. I even went to an academy, but it didn’t help much.”
She admits her own shortcomings yet never refuses praise for her looks. Now I understand why she was so prickly at the club and why she’s so easily swayed by a man like me. Seo Haeun is starving—for recognition, for validation.
“You probably heard this already, but later I went with my sister because I wanted to at least show my face on TV. I figured two sisters would cause a stir… But after the preliminaries, they pulled only her out. Some idol agency.”
“…”
“I’d heard stories like that before, so I half-expected it, but seeing it happen right in front of me was still shocking. And she just happily followed them without a second thought about her sister.”
I listen to her growing complaints and quietly swap her empty glass for a long tea. Her pronunciation is starting to slur, yet she keeps sipping the cocktail—twice as strong as soju—as if she doesn’t realize how drunk she is.
“What happened after that?”
“…I was so pissed off I just quit. Sold the guitar and got a job. At Dad’s club.”
“You said you hated baseball.”
“It’s not like there were better options. …I bombed the CSAT and couldn’t get into college anyway.”
She washes away bitter memories with the sweetness of the cocktail, sinking deeper into the dim bar’s atmosphere. Watching her, I take a sip of my gin and tonic and ask quietly, my lips carrying the scent of alcohol.
“That explains how you got in, but why did you leave again? I had an injury as an excuse.”
“…How can you ask me that, Kang Juhyuk?”
“What?”
“I left because of you. Because you left.”
“I never did anything to you, though. Everything that happened back then was because of you…”
“…Do you have any idea how much shit I got after you got hurt?”
“…What?”
The answer I never expected leaves even me, who’d been trying to stay calm, slightly flustered. …She quit the club because of me? But when I meet her eyes, glaring at me, I don’t sense overwhelming malice. It’s more like scolding, nagging—an shallow resentment.
“People who used to just leer at me started treating me like some evil bitch once you got hurt. I really… didn’t do anything. Then rumors started spreading that I was the director’s daughter.”
“Those rumors were already going around before I got hurt…”
“I don’t care! Anyway, after you got hurt I was completely ostracized. Like, really… And no matter what I said, Dad wouldn’t listen.”
“…What did you say to him?”
“I didn’t say anything! …I just complained to my sister. Why would I tell Dad? I’m not a kid.”
That pitiful gaze that says it wasn’t entirely my fault, but it wasn’t not my fault either. It should disgust me, yet it doesn’t. Because I feel something similar toward her.
“Why are all baseball people such idiots? My dad, that crazy bastard from high school, the players who only ever stared at my chest. Later they even made jokes about using Yeeun. She was still in high school back then. It’s insane, seriously.”
“I was a baseball player too, you know. That’s a bit harsh.”
“You’re the same, Juhyuk! …You’re always staring at my chest too. You have a girlfriend, yet you keep talking to me. …At least you don’t do anything weird.”
“Not doing anything weird is the bare minimum. And I don’t stare at your chest that much. I look you in the eye when we talk.”
“Whatever. When I see how much you like Yeeun, your tastes are obvious anyway.”
“Yeeun?”
“Jia, Seo Jia! You don’t even know your favorite celebrity’s real name? Seriously… You only like her for her hips and chest, right? You’re hitting on me because mine are bigger than hers?”
Completely drunk now, Seo Haeun can no longer tell what should and shouldn’t be said. I’m a little taken aback but hand her a tissue without showing it.
“Calm down, Haeun. Here, wipe your mouth first.”
“…There’s nothing on it.”
“There is. Just wipe it and calm down.”
She tilts her head at the tissue that comes away clean of any tint, and I take the chance to seize control of the conversation. She’s drunk enough that she won’t be able to fabricate answers.
“Let’s start from the beginning. You were stalked in high school, so you came to hate baseball, right?”
“…I don’t hate baseball. I hate baseball players.”
“But that’s not the job’s fault—it’s because that guy was an idiot. Just like that trainer who tried to hit on you.”
“I don’t know. I don’t. …It’s all your fault. Whenever I’m near you, other men keep bothering me too.”
“No, what happened in high school has nothing to do with me…”
“It does! …Because we went to the same school. You and me, Kang Juhyuk.”
“What?”
“I saw it while messing around with Excel at the club. We were classmates. I never met you, though.”
…She’s so honest right now that she even reveals this surprising fact without hesitation. If she gets any drunker, she might start blurting out her three sizes too.
“He kept staring at me because my chest was big. Confessed. Confessed again even after I rejected him. Left comments on my Insta. Acted like we were close. …Crazy bastard. If I said his name you’d probably know him too.”
“None of my classmates were that crazy.”
“Oh, so he acted normal around you guys. Or maybe that’s just what counts as normal when you’re around, Kang Juhyuk.”
“You’re being way too harsh. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“…I know. I’m just venting because I’m annoyed. Sorry.”
While serving as her emotional trash can and listening to all her complaints, I keep an eye on her glass, already more than half empty. Most men would be wasted after one of those, yet she’s already downed three on top of everything else. If I dragged her to a motel right now and tied her up, she probably wouldn’t resist ninety-nine times out of a hundred. But there’s no need to make such a dangerous choice in this decent atmosphere. I want her, not a criminal record.
“Haeun.”
“What.”
“Answer me honestly. …Do you think I’m like those people?”
“…What people?”
“The ones you hate.”
“A little… similar. But very different.”
I lean forward, closing the distance, and ask in a low voice. Her eyes blink slowly, pupils starting to glaze over as the alcohol spreads through her body.
“What’s especially different?”
“You have a girlfriend, Juhyuk.”
“That’s about to end. Besides that.”
“…You’re tall? Muscles… honestly, there were plenty of those. You’ve got the kind of face that muscular guys are popular with?”
“More like the kind of face that’s popular with guys in general. You too, Haeun.”
“…”
“Anything else?”
“…You use formal speech? Everyone else talked down to me. Oh, but that trainer used formal speech too. I just didn’t like him…”
“Then, Haeun.”
“…”
Using the worst kind of man as her standard, I make the woman melting under the soft lighting reevaluate me from the start. After all, in a fight you don’t need to be the strongest in the world—you just need to be stronger than your opponent. Someone good at fighting is someone good at choosing opponents.
“We’re the same age, so I’ll drop the formal speech. Seo Haeun. Do I still seem like those bastards now?”
“…A little. Just a little different.”
“You drop it too. We’re the same age.”
“Kind of, just…”
“I get that you’ve had a lot of weird guys around you, but am I at least better than them?”
“…”
After pressing her lips shut and nodding, I ask again.
“Haeun, give me your hand for a second.”
“…Why?”
“Just give it. I want to try something.”
She offers her hand more willingly than when I gave her my business card. I take it and gently clasp it.
“W-what?”
“If those kinds of guys shook your hand like this, do you think it would feel good or bad?”
“Bad.”
“How about now?”
“…I don’t know. It’s just weird…”
With my other hand I cover the back of her hand and pull it toward me, pressing it to my forehead.
“You’ve never dated before, have you?”
“…No.”
“Only weird guys around you?”
“…Yeah.”
“Want me to tell you why?”
“What is it?”
“It’s a bit blunt. You okay with that?”
“…Yeah.”
Confirming the genuine curiosity on her face, I let go of her hand, stand up, and sit beside her. Then I down the rest of the cocktail in one go and, covering my mouth with my hand, whisper softly.
“It’s because your body’s too sexy. Honestly.”
“…Because my chest is big?”
“That too. And other places. In a lot of ways.”
“…Kang Juhyuk, are you drunk?”
“Of course I am. I’ve had several drinks.”
Staring at her collarbone, I shift my gaze to her eyes and continue without pause.
“It’s not your fault, but if you look like that, you have to reject them firmly or flies will keep swarming. When I saw how you rejected that guy at the gym, you were way too soft. That’s why they keep coming back.”
“…I thought I was pretty firm. I always am…”
“Not firm enough. Here, give me your hand.”
Before she can offer it, I grab her wrist and place it lightly on the table.
“Pretend I’m one of those bastards. What are you going to do?”
“…Let go. I’ll report you.”
“But I’m not letting go. Then what?”
“Report… I have to report it.”
“Reporting’s good. But at this level, the police might not even take him in. He could just say he was drunk.”
“Then what should I do…?”
“Straighten your back. Shoulders too. There. Stand tall.”
I subtly adjust her waist and shoulders, putting her into a confident pose that doesn’t match her dazed expression. I look at her profile illuminated by the alcohol-scented lighting. …It’s really not easy for someone to look pretty even from the side. And she’s barely wearing any makeup, yet the fact that this sensual woman reacts to my every word excites me.
“Now fold your thumb and index finger, then your ring and pinky.”
“…Like this?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“Isn’t this swearing…?”
“It is.”
Seo Haeun, looking sulky as she raised her middle finger toward the air, stared at her own fingers for a moment before suddenly snorting with laughter, then bursting into loud, unrestrained laughter.
“Pfft… What is this?”
“This is being firm. Get it?”
“You want me to swear? If someone hits on me?”
“Yeah. Raise your middle finger and tell them to fuck off. Just like you did to me.”
“Kang Juhyuk, you didn’t fuck off though?”
“If you’d raised your middle finger I would’ve. You only said it with words, so I didn’t.”
“What the hell…”
“Now stretch out just your index finger. Good. Like that.”
I change her fingers into a peace sign, naturally drape my arm around her shoulder, and pull out my phone from my pocket. With her giggling in disbelief as the background, I angle the camera so our faces are clear and snap a selfie.
“What are you doing?”
“Do this for someone you like. Middle finger plus index finger.”
“…I don’t like you though?”
“Why? I’m still better than those guys.”
“Better than those weirdos, sure. You’re still a bit…”
“Hey, isn’t that a little harsh to say to a guy who just got dumped yesterday?”
“You got dumped because you’re whatever…”
She insults me with slurred pronunciation, then laughs “ahaha.” I take one more photo of her and decide to stop the skinship here, even though it feels insufficient. …As much as I want to pour her another drink, it’s too risky. Even if it’s frustrating, I have to settle for this. If she passes out first, I won’t be able to pretend I passed out too.