Do-young's Favorite Random Game (9)
Even if attacks through lies were clumsy, he was confident in his defense against getting surprised by them. Ever since meeting Do-young, how many provocations and pranks had he endured with shock? By now, patterns were starting to form in Ha-min's mind, and with just a little thought, he could predict the timing and type of prank Do-young would pull.
At that level, you'd think he'd have some self-control, but Do-young was the real problem—hitting him with the same relentless teasing every single day without tiring. Still, Ha-min figured those moments could turn into an opportunity today. Even if his attacks were clumsy, if he could just hold out on defense, maybe someday he could land a perfect counter on Do-young.
Maybe all this time he'd been the victim of her endless pranks was to let him finally stand on equal footing and beat her once. That's what Ha-min thought.
"Alright, that's 1 to 0."
"…."
But the moment Do-young's attack began, Ha-min crumbled helplessly in under ten seconds.
He'd been deluded. He thought he'd mastered her attack patterns? No, the opposite. She'd never needed other attacks because a single one was enough. If this were a game, it'd be like only experiencing phase one of the boss monster Ban Do-young and strutting into the raid thinking you could clear it easily.
Ah, what a perfect analogy.
"Ch-cheater! Lying about your gender? That's not fair!"
"Huh? That's the whole point of the game—scaring people with that kind of lie."
The confidence to say "I'm a guy" with that face, so casually. Lies usually involve hiding the truth, so anxiety always leaks through somehow. But Do-young's attitude was so brazen. Even if there was no anxiety, for a prankster like her who loved April Fool's, there should at least be some glee at fooling someone. Yet her precise wording came out so shamelessly convincing—not a hint of it feeling like a lie, even on April Fool's.
No, the premise itself was absurd. With a face that anyone would instantly like, wearing a T-shirt with a woman's symbol straining against it like it might burst into a circle, how could she say that without a shred of emotion, like it was pure truth?
The game director who made this was a genius.
"Then why didn't you just say you're a girl? That would've shocked me."
"H-how could I say that...? E-everyone can see I'm a guy…."
"Exactly why it's perfect for April Fool's. So relaxing, no lingering regrets—you can just wipe it clean. By the way, no matter how much you think you're hopeless, you must have some self-awareness as a guy."
Could Ha-min have thought like Do-young? Even if he did, could he deliver the lie as smoothly? Impossible for him. He wasn't naturally good at lying, nor did he like it. Backed by school days filled with classmates' forceful threats to swap seats and fool the teacher, how could he ever enjoy lying?
"Saying you're a guy... how can you say something so obviously fake so naturally…."
"Even if it sounds like bullshit to everyone else, the moment you say it, you have to believe it's true, right? If I don't believe my own lie, who will?"
"…Like parents blindly trusting their kid—it's still a lie. Still fake!"
"So what, you think I said it 'cause I look like a guy? You gotta believe it's real when you say it for trust to build!"
After her passionate lecture on lying, with Ha-min unable to retort, Do-young leaned in close, her sparkling emerald eyes fixed on him.
"Wh-why are you coming closer?"
"Why? You lost, didn't you? In games, winners get rewards, losers get penalties."
Do-young dragged her wooden chair closer to Ha-min. As the distance shrank, he instinctively shoved his own chair back.
"Where you going? Loser follows winner's orders for ten seconds. Forgot?"
"Wh-what about no weird requests?"
"Who said that? So stay still."
While Ha-min had dozed off at the table, Do-young had apparently changed clothes and showered. Her damp hair glistened under the veranda ceiling light, and the shampoo scent grew thicker up close, proving it.
Every time that scent intensified, Ha-min recoiled like a scared animal. He'd grown used to it wafting gently when they sat side by side, but this concentrated version was on another level. He couldn't pinpoint the fragrance, but it conjured cherry blossoms in his mind—though he couldn't recall if cherry blossoms actually smelled like that.
"W-wait a sec... let me prepare myself…."
"Everything's fine, but time doesn't stop for prep. I count the ten seconds."
Ha-min yanked his chair back desperately, but in the cramped veranda of Do-young's room, a few steps hit the wall leading to her brother's veranda.
"Hey."
Do-young, her wet hair swaying in the night breeze, looked down at him amid post-shower steam.
"…Huh?"
"Close your eyes."
"…."
"For ten seconds."
Her penalty: close your eyes for ten seconds. That was it.
"Wh-why close my eyes?"
"It's an order. I'll handle the rest."
It was simple, harmless—nothing difficult or risky.
"Or... keep 'em open?"
"…."
Ha-min cautiously looked up at Do-young peering down. Just like with the guy lie, her eyes showed no hesitation. Teasing him felt utterly sincere; he couldn't tell where the joke ended and truth began. Not to him, at least.
"….."
His breath trembled. His heart raced pathetically, as if anticipating what might come. That thrill was humiliating. He'd been pretending to be aloof, innocent, detached—but deep down, he'd been half-expecting something.
Do-young would tease him mercilessly for it, and he'd get mad, blush, bite his lip. Self-loathing surged. To vent it, he had to flee right now.
But he couldn't. The door wasn't locked, but backing out meant admitting he was that despicable. Even for Do-young's sake, he couldn't. Fleeing from self-hatred would make her an unconquerable terror, a tree too tall to climb.
He feared her, but didn't want to run completely. He trembled at the mental images, yet couldn't reject them from his heart's depths.
Why had he agreed to this game? Sure, her tearful act started it, but he'd chosen to play. To stand equal with her even once after all her teasing. He'd jumped in knowing the odds, betting he could endure.
So if he'd lost through his own weakness, whatever she did next, he'd have to take it silently.
"…I'll close them."
Ha-min kept his head raised toward her and shut his eyes.
Don't tremble. Even if something approaches in this darkness.
Don't flinch. Whatever happens here.
"Stay still."
"…Got it."
Stroking down his loathsome heart, Ha-min silently counted inside: One, two, three…
As he hit three and moved to four—
Tap.
Something warm and fluffy touched his lips, so soft it seemed ready to melt right in.
"…Open your mouth."
Do-young's command whispered close. Trembling, Ha-min parted his lips where the sensation lingered.
It slipped inside, tangling with his dormant tongue. Slightly sweet, slightly salty, it filled his mouth bit by bit.
.
.
.
"So? How's my first proper rolled omelet?"
"…D-delicious."
Do-young's rolled omelet had somehow surpassed his own in skill.