Taking Off Glasses Doesn't Make You a Hunk (4)
I felt like this had been the most wasted week since possessing Ban Do-young. Ever since self-study sessions started, days had slipped by without a proper conversation with that Do Ha-min guy.
I tossed my uniform and stockings onto the chair, then flung myself onto the bed. The mattress promised unshakeable comfort, but it did nothing to fix my muddled mood.
"Fuck, if I were Do Ha-min, I'd have confessed by now."
Lying there, I muttered nonsense to my reflection in the mirror by the vanity—Ban Do-young's flawless face staring back.
"No, the world's most beautiful girl straight-up asks to hit the glasses shop first, basically a date invite, and he turns it down for some bullshit self-study? Future wife's more important than your grades right now, right? Why's this kid so damn short-sighted!"
It had been days since Do Ha-min rejected my offer, but the frustration still burned. It felt like tipping over while riding a bike with training wheels—like I'd studied the mid-boss strategy everyone called a combat gauge, only to get thoroughly wrecked anyway.
At first, I thought it'd be easy. No doubts there. We'd already watched movies, eaten together, even swapped fluids. Even without that history, objectively, it was the no-brainer choice.
Come on—'World's top beauty + glasses store date' versus 'just self-study.' That's not a balance game. Hell, not even a scale. If it were, it'd be 'Aura, just kill yourself.'
"Skipping one day wouldn't hurt. Teachers would forgive a quick glasses run."
The mirror showed Ban Do-young with a pissed-off frown, creases furrowing her brow. But it didn't make her look a day older or any less stunning. a line on a pumpkin doesn't make it a watermelon, and erasing a watermelon's stripes won't turn it into a pumpkin.
She was fucking gorgeous. Lucky bitch.
Ah, if I'd possessed Do Ha-min instead, I'd have swept her off her feet with adult techniques and charm. But being on this side? Tricky as hell.
"What's the problem? With this face and all the goodwill I've built, he should be pouncing by now. Me spoon-feeding him is one thing, but now he's kicking away the spoon?"
Was my strategy wrong? Or maybe guy-brain tactics just don't work on a pure-love story's male lead.
No way, that can't be. If raising affection with a guy's mindset is pointless, I'd be stuck as Ban Do-young forever.
"What the hell—no drifts, just pure love! You lied to me!"
After the gym storage incident between the class prez and Do Ha-min, my trust in Half Half Island was cracking—no sweet potatoes, no ex like Geum Tae-yang's, no study-abroad childhood friend drift.
What if someone else got close to protagonist Do Ha-min? Would the ending change? Or if my actions deviated from canon, would this "pure-love only" story veer off?
If the tale rushed to a different end and I couldn't stop it—what happens to me, the original Ban Do-young?
Those thoughts left my head spinning.
"Am I really doomed to friendzone eternity?"
Do Ha-min prioritizing studies over hanging with Ban Do-young was baked-in; no changing that now. That's why he picked books over my invite.
So, where else to connect outside class? In a story where the male lead does self-study, is there even room for the heroine?
What the hell was Half Half Island's plot flow? I couldn't even finish episode 1—how am I supposed to follow it?
"Fuck! Possessed as the heroine who has to flirt with a protagonist living two hours from school who religiously does self-study—pissing me off big time!"
-Thwack!
Frustrated, I lashed out with my leg at the wardrobe—
-Thud!
The shinai and navy kendo uniform I'd shoved inside tumbled out.
"...Shinai?"
Spotting it, my eyes drifted to the trophies and medals hanging above the drawer nearby—all from the original Ban Do-young's kendo tournament wins.
"Maybe getting closer to the original Ban Do-young will show me a way."
Like I was possessed, I grabbed the uniform and shinai.
The Ban family had been a harmonious five. But now, the reliable eldest was in the military, the adorable youngest studying kendo abroad. Even Mom joined her to care for her.
Sure, I'd inwardly cheered when Mom flew out with the little sis, but now the family was scattered.
Five to four, four to two—the longer apart, the more awkward it got. The living room couch that felt cramped with five now loomed huge with just two.
Phone calls weren't enough; framed photos made faces ache with longing.
But what could you do? For the day they'd reunite, he kept stir-frying and living on.
Even if stuck alone with his moody teen second daughter in her rebellious phase.
"Dad's home. Finished the 3 PM class transport."
Friday evening. Do-che bypassed the first-floor dojo, climbing straight to the second-floor stairs, entering through the front door into the living room.
The Ban home: floors 2-3 living quarters, 1st floor and basement the family-run Ban Family Kendo Dojo.
"What for dinner? Got japchae pork in the freezer—stir-fry that?"
House in the building meant easy stair access. So evenings, Do-che came up for a light meal before heading back for the evening class.
His love was rough, strict with kids, but he tried to carve out dad-daughter time.
"Huh? Where's Ban Do-young? School's long over. Self-study? No way she'd sign up."
Hours past dismissal, but the house felt empty. Maybe crashed on bed without changing? Do-young could pull that.
Checked upstairs—room empty, bag slumped by door, uniform shirt and stockings tossed on chair. She'd been home.
-Thwack!
Then, from the first-floor dojo: footsteps and sharp strikes. Someone savagely hitting the training tire dummy with a shinai.
Odd—he locked it evenings when away. Evening class folks couldn't enter yet. Only family had keys.
"No way...?"
Heart pounding, he rushed downstairs. With each step, mat stomps and shinai whooshes grew louder.
"Who's in the dojo?"
Do-che unlocked and entered.
-Stomp!
A thunderous foot stamp that pierced the ears—
-Crack!
Precise strike on the tire.
Even to dojo owner Do-che, the shinai wielder's skill screamed pro-level.
"Who the—"
"Men-hae!"
"...Huh?"
"Shiranui! Lion's Song! Reverse Cut!"
"..."
There: Do-young in kendo gi, fluid moves, perfect stance—but yelling bizarre technique names while swinging.
"Hya! Kamusari!"
"Cut it out, you brat."
-Bonk!
Dad's love-loaded shinai smacked her skull.