One Last Drinking Party with the Iljins? (1)
I had received my orders from the Iljin ladies.
Clean the house properly. If they spotted so much as another strand of hair on the floor, I was to prepare myself for the consequences.
And just whose hair was that supposed to be, anyway? That was the thought running through Lee Haerin’s head—mine, unfortunately. I was deep in the middle of a full-scale deep clean of my eight-pyeong studio apartment.
For the record, I had already scrubbed the place top to bottom just last week.
Under the bed, the bathroom, the kitchen, even the washing machine (why the washing machine, of all things?)—I had cleaned it all to a standard that would have put professional cleaning services to shame.
And yet the Iljin ladies still hadn’t been satisfied. They had casually run their hands over the floor as if searching for something.
Fine. If they had done it from the start, I might have accepted it. I would have owned up to it.
But no—they had gotten completely wasted, sprawled out on the floor wiping it with their backs, then suddenly gone “Huh?” and plucked up a single strand of hair.
The two strands the Iljin ladies found were different colors, of course. What was I supposed to do about the fact that all three of us had different hair colors?
Mine was the ordinary black that nearly every Korean man has.
Do Yeon and Seo Daon, born with unusual hair colors, had wine-red and silver respectively.
And that was where my blood pressure truly exploded.
Do Yeon had picked up a silver strand. Seo Daon had picked up a wine-red one.
Any normal person—anyone who had received a basic Korean education—would have thought the obvious in that situation.
Ah, this must be hers.
But that was not what happened.
Our Iljin ladies had shoved the hairs right in my face as a pair and thrown every kind of fit imaginable, demanding to know whose they were.
I had decided then and there that this was true, pure, unadulterated frame-up.
Being born a Korean man and getting forcibly dragged off to the military? I could live with that.
Losing both parents in an accident at ten years old? …I could live with that too.
Having my two childhood friends—whose parents still supported me to this day—treat me like their personal toy as payment?
Actually, that part was pretty good.
But even I had nearly broken when they threw a full-blown tantrum over their own hair, insisting I tell them whose it was.
I had shed a few quiet tears before falling asleep. The only other time I had cried was at my parents’ funeral!
And so here I was, gripping the mop handle tightly, tensing my core, and pushing it across the floor.
A satisfying scritch-scritch sound rose from the boards.
After an hour of that, the mop glided like an ice-hockey stick—not a speck of dust left anywhere.
“Urrrgh… haaah…”
I held the mop in one hand and tilted my chin toward the ceiling, straightening my back.
My spine gave a pleasant series of cracks. My back, waist, and neck all felt wonderfully loose.
I stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, then checked the wall clock.
8:50. The Iljin ladies had said they would arrive by nine.
They would probably come together. They always did.
I made one final circuit of the entire apartment just to be sure.
I smiled with satisfaction at the bathroom floor gleaming under the light.
I ran a finger over the gas range—not a single oil stain—and nodded.
Opening the washing-machine door, I breathed in pure, scentless air and felt a quiet thrill of pleasure.
My face reflected clearly in the black desk surface.
The keyboard and mouse looked brand-new. The all-important desktop wallpaper held nothing suspicious whatsoever.
I smiled at the studio apartment that was perfect for living alone.
Looking at it like this… maybe the Iljin ladies actually had a plan?
A scheme to cure my laziness through verbal abuse and physical force?
No. I shook my head.
They had simply wanted a clean place to hang out, and my apartment had won the lottery.
I knew exactly what kind of school life the Iljin ladies had led—I had watched it from right beside them.
They hadn’t been the truly vicious type who made other kids’ lives hell.
They had simply annihilated every friend who tried to get close to me.
Looking back on it now, yeah… they really were terrible bitches.
I had only learned this recently, while drinking with them.
They had deliberately made sure I never had a single friend of my own, they said.
I had felt a deep sense of betrayal—last week’s hair incident included.
The Iljin ladies hadn’t shown the slightest guilt. If anything, they had bragged about it, saying I only needed to hang out with them.
Which was why my phone contacts contained exactly five numbers, including the cafe boss.
The cafe boss was a woman too. Sometimes I deluded myself into thinking I might actually be popular. Absolutely not. It was depressing.
Two of the numbers belonged to my grandmother and grandfather—my only remaining family on my mother’s side.
Still, even if it was just a studio, I had managed to move into a Seoul officetel. I was earning my own money and living a reasonably complete life.
My grandparents had won the pension lottery a few years back. They were spending their remaining years overseas.
They had already been wealthy to begin with.
So every month, between salary, allowance, and support, a full ten million won landed in my account.
For a twenty-one-year-old, wasn’t that a pretty solid achievement? I had even grown my assets quite a bit through stocks.
Except for the constant lectures from the Iljin ladies every time they saw me, telling me not to waste my life.
They weren’t wrong. I had no money worries. I really ought to find something I actually wanted to do.
I was still mulling it over when my phone, sitting on the desk, buzzed.
I took two steps, picked it up, and unlocked the screen.
My back went ramrod straight like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.
I immediately hurried to the shoe cabinet and lined up two pairs of slippers neatly. I didn’t forget to push the computer chair back into place either.
I stood nervously in front of the front door. A moment later the doorbell rang.
I opened it. Click. The door swung open, revealing the faces of both Iljin ladies.
“How’ve you been?”
Seo Daon greeted me with a smile.
“Uh, yeah.”
I answered awkwardly. We messaged every single day—why the sudden small talk?
I stepped back so the Iljin ladies could come in comfortably.
“Oh~ slippers. What’s this? Nice touch.”
Seo Daon said.
I had prepared them with all the sense I could muster (after last week’s extremely pointed hints, that is).
Looking pleased, Seo Daon hummed a little tune as she stepped inside.
Do Yeon followed with her usual blank expression, slipping into a pair of slippers.
Then she glanced back.
What now? I had to meet her fierce gaze head-on.
Her everyday expression was already cold enough that people picked fights with her constantly.
Today it went beyond cold—it was downright freezing. She was clearly in a foul mood.
“Something wrong?”
I asked Do Yeon. She stared at me like she wanted to devour me whole, then simply continued on her way.
…We were supposed to be having a celebration party today. Seo Daon was acting normal, at least.
Since neither of them said anything further, I headed into the living room—the widest space in the apartment.
“Haerin, what do you want to eat?”
Seo Daon asked. The Iljin ladies were already seated around my low table.
Do Yeon was using the bed as a backrest; Seo Daon sat with her back to the window.
I naturally took the seat closest to the front door and answered.
“Let’s get nakgopsae.”
“……Again?”
Again? Was she looking down on nakgopsae right now? Nakgopsae was something you ate at least once a week.
“Yeah. It’s the best drinking food there is.”
I couldn’t say exactly what I was thinking out loud.
“Hmm…… All right. The place around here does make pretty good nakgopsae.”
Yes! The fact that she was going along with me so easily today felt promising.
Last week when I suggested nakgopsae she had made such a fuss about other options.
Not that she ever actually picked something else. It was exhausting.
“Heh-heh~ We’re drinking again today~”
Seo Daon hummed. She was a rising rookie actress whose popularity had recently exploded.
“Is it okay for an actress to drink this often?”
I carefully did not add that she got drunk off a single can of Bang-ul Toktok.
I was too scared of what might happen if I did.
Unlike Do Yeon, Seo Daon was excellent at beating people up with words, and the mental damage was severe.
Getting lectured while drinking? I really couldn’t handle that.
“Filming hasn’t started yet. It begins next week. So I wanted one last drinking session at Haerin’s place.”
Seo Daon said.
“Oh…… Really? What was the movie you’re shooting again?”
“I already told you it’s a crime movie.”
Seo Daon’s voice turned scary. I was in trouble!
“Haaah…… For the sake of our dumb little Haerin, I’ll explain one more time. The role I got is a murderer locked up in prison. Got it? Forget again and see what happens.”
“Sorry……”
I answered while avoiding Seo Daon’s eyes. Ugh, terrifying.
Looking into those blue eyes felt like drifting alone on a vast open sea under a night sky where even the moon had hidden itself.
The director clearly had a good eye. Seo Daon was going to nail the serial-killer role perfectly.
Wasn’t this what they called “experienced hire”? Either way, the movie was going to be a blast to watch.
“But if you’re the murderer, Daon, it’s actually going to be really scary. Everyone’s going to be on the edge of their seats.”
“Hey.”
Seo Daon narrowed her brows and dropped her voice.
“……Huh?”
I asked back in confusion.
“I told you not to call me Seo Daon. And what’s with you? Are we strangers?”
“No……”
“Say it properly. Now.”
Crushed by the pressure, I spoke in a tiny voice.
“Daon……”
“What?”
Seo Daon asked with a sweet smile.
“Thanks for telling me.”
“That’s right~ Our Haerin’s so dumb he only understands if you say it two or three times.”
With that, Seo Daon nodded to herself and pulled out her phone. It looked like she was checking Instagram.
My head hurt. It really hurt.
Leaving the silver-haired girl twirling a lock of hair behind me, I turned my gaze to Do Yeon.
“Do Yeon.”
Do Yeon turned her head toward me.
Whatever had set her off this time, she was staring at me with eyes full of pure fury.
Those wine-colored irises looked exactly like blood. Combined with the sharp bob, it was even more terrifying.
My back tightened and goosebumps rose.
Yeah, she really was a UFC fighter. The killing intent was no joke. But why was she looking at me like that all of a sudden?
I hadn’t done anything! This felt unfair.
“You gonna drink a lot? Haha……”
I asked with an awkward laugh.
“Yeah.”
“……Don’t you have a match?”
“Next week. You forget?”
Do Yeon tilted her head as she spoke.
Was that motion a threat to knock me flat? Some kind of predator move?
Back in school, Do Yeon used to drag me around like a doll glued to her side.
Whenever I tried to escape she would squeeze my thigh.
The memory hit me. I had genuinely thought my thigh muscle was going to rupture.
Right now my right thigh suddenly throbbed.
So I forced my brain into full overdrive and dragged the memory out.
“……Ah! Next Wednesday! Six in the evening! Right, I even bought tickets for Yeon’s match~ Completely slipped my mind.”
I silently congratulated myself on the detail of calling her “Yeon.”
Thankfully Do Yeon just stared daggers at me for a moment longer, then pulled out her phone. The murderous aura drained away, leaving only her usual fierce expression.
Well, nothing new there. I concluded that about the current situation and checked the clock.
9:33. Had that much time already passed?
Ding-dong. The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.”
Neither of my Iljin ladies looked up or answered.
……I went and collected the nakgopsae from the delivery guy.
Thinking that today might be the last time made something in my chest feel strangely empty.
One way or another, I hoped tonight’s celebration party would last a long, long while.