Chapter 2: Private Life (2)
Pathetic as it sounds, I hadn't been able to bring myself to refuse a request to manufacture rumors about my own friend.
...
That evening, even after returning to the orphanage, I couldn't fall asleep for the longest time.
Lying there listening to the steady rhythm of Jihye's breathing — she'd drifted off ahead of me, like always — I stayed lost in thought for ages.
What was I supposed to do?
As long as I hadn't flatly said no, the Company would take it as a yes. And honestly, refusing had never really been an option to begin with.
Noir Corporation hadn't gotten to be Noir Corporation by accident. In the webtoon, there was a reason the company bore that name. "Offer" was just the polite word for it — if they ever decided to force my hand, they had any number of ways.
Leaking my personal information, for one.
...Even if they got caught, a modest fine would settle the matter. It wasn't as if the company's image was anything to write home about in the first place.
Somehow, I had a feeling I'd gotten tangled up with this company to no good end. It would have been easier back when I still knew nothing at all.
...
After turning it over forever, I simply closed my eyes and rolled onto my side.
Whatever. What good would more agonizing do? What's done is done; all I could do was be as careful as care allowed.
There had to be some line where Hayun stayed out of trouble and so did I. There had to be. Definitely.
That was what I told myself, but worry is worry, and I had no intention of seeing Hayun within the next few days.
I figured even the Company would judge that much to be reasonable. A corporation, after all, exists to maximize results and profit — not to hound people.
...
All right, I couldn't claim no company like that existed, but still. The point stood.
Worst case, if they pushed in carelessly and Hayun caught on first, it would become a serious problem for the Company too. Sure, the Galaxy Federation's magical girls only "don't get caught" as they teeter along the edge of outright illegality — but if it ever came out that they'd run that kind of scheme against a minor—
—wait. Which meant I'd be in just as much trouble. Yeah.
So I resolved to tread carefully on this one.
But—
Bzzt—
I'd gotten up as usual, eaten breakfast, done a quick round of cleaning, finished a shower — and found a text waiting from Hayun.
The message read:
From the time we were very small, Hayun had always found it hard to be the first to say "let's hang out." She was a timid kid — planning get-togethers or dragging someone out to play before being asked was never her strong suit.
I wasn't so different, but at least I knew how to be blunt with the (few) friends I was close to, or with people I genuinely couldn't stand. Hayun, on the other hand, always sounded faintly unsure of herself even talking to me, her childhood friend.
Even though she knows perfectly well I have nothing but free time.
I had a habit of ending my replies with periods.
It made me look a touch more decisive. And when I had no choice but to turn her down, I'd use three of them.
I thought for a moment,
Period included, this time too.
There was no need to settle on a place. The two of us had a spot we met at every time anyway.
"Where are you off to?"
asked Jihye, who for once was glued to her desk.
"Yeah."
"Going to see a friend?"
"Yeah."
"You have so many friends~"
To Jihye, who said it like she envied me, I offered a shrug.
The friend never changed. It wasn't that I had no other friends at school, but Hayun was just about the only one I was close enough with to see separately even over break.
"You should go hang out with your friends sometime too."
When I said that to Jihye — who kept shooting envious little glances at me for always being out and about — she heaved a deep sigh.
"The girls all went off somewhere......"
"Oh."
......
An excruciatingly awkward silence passed before I finally managed to speak.
"Sorry."
"It's fine, whatever. You did the same thing last break."
Jihye said it while pointedly spreading her fingers and studying her nails.
...I didn't have much to complain about, living at the orphanage. The facilities were a little worn, but I didn't think there was a single part of the place that was unusable.
That said, we weren't exactly flush with money either — often enough, when friends went off traveling somewhere far away, we couldn't follow.
Thankfully, I'd never had to sit out a school trip or anything like that.
"...Oh. Right."
Jihye, who'd been glaring at her nails with a slightly sulky face, suddenly looked up at me, eyes brightening.
"Can't I come play with your friend too?"
"Huh?"
The sound escaped me before I could stop it.
"No, I mean, that's... well. If it's too much for her, then there's nothing to be done."
One look at my reaction and Jihye deflated on the spot.
Just as years beside Hayun as her childhood friend had taught me all her little habits, years of sharing a room had taught Jihye all of mine.
She never touched things I'd just bought without asking. At the very least, she waited until I'd opened the plastic or the packaging, then asked before using anything.
Street food that came in a paper bag — fish-shaped cakes, hotteok pancakes — she could dig into freely, but anything vacuum-sealed and shut tight, she'd announce before eating... little unwritten rules like that.
By and large, unlike Jihye — who couldn't care less if people helped themselves to her things — I was rather precious about mine. She wouldn't blow up so long as nothing got broken, but having her stuff handled without permission still bothered her.
...None of it would matter if we had separate rooms, but I imagine rooming with a fussy friend like me got stifling for her too, now and then.
And the "Huh?" I'd let slip a moment ago was much the same thing. Just as Hayun couldn't come right out and ask someone to play, whenever I got handed a slightly sensitive question, that sound came out of me unbidden.
And once that sound was out, the next word, more often than not, was "no."
"...Well then, have fun~"
She didn't seem to be sulking or angry, exactly, but there was a faint air of hurt about her.
"Oh, then—"
The words came out on reflex. If today didn't work, then tomorrow, or the day after—
—was what I almost said, before a thought flashed through my head.
"Hold on."
"Hm?"
When I held out a flat palm toward her and pulled out my smartphone, Jihye looked at me with wide round eyes. She'd whipped her head up from where it had been slumped on the desk — she was hoping, clearly.
"...Let me ask first."
"Huh?"
This time it was Jihye making the sound I'd made. I'd stake my life on there being nothing behind it. Just surprise.
I stared hard at the chat window on my phone.
What was I supposed to send? I had no idea how Hayun went about making "new friends." The two of us had only grown close because we happened to sit in the same corner of the same classroom.
......
No, that's not it.
Texts don't show faces. They don't even carry the mood of a voice the way a call does — which made them a little scary.
She really is such a good kid.
I very nearly shot out of my seat, barely caught myself, and turned to Jihye, who was watching me, wound tight as a spring.
"She says it's fine."
"Yes!"
Jihye sprang up, and her wheeled office chair shot backward across the floor.
"I'll get ready right now!"
And she went scrambling to the wardrobe to yank out clothes.
Thank goodness I'd made her wash up this morning. Truly.
Then again, she'd have caught it from the teacher if she hadn't.
So, here was my plan.
The Company wanted me and Hayun going around as a pair — just the two of us. That was the only way they could cheat their angles and framing into an article about Hayun being "in a relationship."
They seemed to already know she didn't have the mental fortitude for that sort of thing, either.
But here was the thing: the Company had never actually told me to meet her alone.
All they'd said was "get close to her."
In that case, why not simply wedge a third person right in between us?
It satisfied the condition of me spending time with Hayun, and at the same time it would keep anyone from getting a clean shot.
"Just don't act like you know too much."
Anyway — that was why I'd warned Jihye in advance that the person we were meeting today was Hayun.
Jihye already knew Hayun and I were friends. In fact, not that it's anything to brag about, a few articles had run about me before. They'd never amounted to more than "Miss A, a friend close to the magical girl," but still.
Even with my face mosaicked over, anyone who knew me would recognize me for certain from my clothes or the location in the shots.
"I know, I know. What kind of person do you take me for?"
This from the girl who, when a drama shoot briefly took over our school field once, had been bawling celebrities' names with tremendous enthusiasm from all the way across the yard.
When I gave her a look that said I bought none of it, Jihye jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow.
"Anyway, let's hurry. We'll be late."
We lived in 'roughly' the same neighborhood, but since I'd gone out of my way to hide the fact that I lived in an orphanage, the place I met Hayun could only ever be somewhere near her house.
It wasn't so much unfair as something I'd insisted on myself, so there was nothing to hold against anyone.
"Oh, look—"
Jihye spotted her before I did, pointing ahead with a voice already a little giddy.
Where her finger pointed stood Hayun, radiating spring in the middle of winter — thick coat, black stockings, scarf and hat and all, and somehow it made no difference.
Maybe Jihye's gestures had been big, but Hayun seemed to have noticed us too. When I gave her a small wave, she waved back, looking shy about it.
With Jihye beside me today, she looked one shade more embarrassed still.
"Hi~ there!"
Jihye bounded a step, two steps ahead of Hayun, landed on the ground with a tap, and called out in a bright, excited voice.
"So you're Hayun?"
"Yes... Hm?"
Hayun's reaction was spectacularly awkward. Far more awkward than anything I'd imagined.
"I'm Jihye. Jung Jihye."
"Jung Jihye...-ssi."
Hayun blinked, then looked back and forth between me and Jihye.
"Huh?"
Jihye blinked at that.
Then she looked at me.
Hm... I hadn't seen this coming either.
Hayun was a lot of things, but she wasn't the type to use formal speech with a classmate. With the other magical girls, maybe — I seemed to remember her being polite with them...
Ah.
"Same age. We're the same age."
I hurried to say it, pointing back and forth between Jihye and me.
"Haa—" A breath slipped out of Hayun. With her eyes still wide and blinking, it looked less like a sigh than air let out in the act of understanding.
"Oh, um, uh, um—"
Hayun's face flared red in an instant.
"Your names sound alike, so, um, I thought, you were the unni."
"...Huh?"
For a second, that was all the sense I could make of it.
Unni?
"Oh, I get it. You thought we were sisters — the matching names threw you, right?"
Jihye said it with a grin.
Then she jabbed me in the ribs. Twice.
"Hey, she called me unni. Unni. Apparently I come off more grown-up than you do."
Hayun jolted at that.
"Oh, um, no, that's not— sorry."
"It's fine. She's just saying you seem mature."
I tossed that back.
"Oh, um, no, that's not it, I'm sorry!"
Startled all over again, Hayun blurted her apology at full volume. And every time she did, her feet rose about five millimeters off the ground and dropped with a tap as her body swung toward whoever she was apologizing to — it was, frankly, ridiculous how cute it was.
"Hahaha!" Watching Hayun apologize, Jihye burst out laughing.
"You're funny."
Hayun's face went redder still.
"By the way, why keep the formal speech?"
"Oh, um, that's..."
"Hey. Hey."
I jabbed Jihye in the side.
"Give her some room. Even I wouldn't know what to say, in her shoes."
"Hm. You think? Sorry."
"Oh, um, no, it's fine. Really, it's okay."
"...Actually, I think I like the formal speech better. There's just something about it, for me."
When Jihye's face turned oddly serious watching Hayun apologize in honorifics yet again, I smacked the back of her head with my palm.
"Ow! What was that for!"
"Nothing. Just felt like smacking you."
Jihye grumbled and rattled off a whole string of complaints, which I breezily ignored.
"So... where do you want to go? It's cold, huh?"
"Hey, how come you're only nice to her?"
Because to me, you don't even register as a girl, that's why.
Not that I counted Hayun in the romance column either. I wasn't the type to keep gazing up at a tree I'd never climb.
Hayun stared at the two of us mid-banter, mouth hanging open.
"Um, Hayun?"
"Hm? Oh — yes!"
Only after I called her again did she blink and answer in a hurry.
"Anywhere you feel like going?"
"Ah, um..."
Hayun fell briefly into thought.
Apparently, nothing came to mind.
And something about that reaction left me feeling oddly warm and fidgety.
Which meant... we were close enough that she'd call me out just because she had nothing in particular to do. And that she'd trusted I would come.
If I were a man, and Hayun a man too, I'd have found it a little sad. Two guy friends with no girlfriends, so starved for anything to do that they met up from New Year's onward just to kill time together — that's what it would have looked like.
Well, technically it was the same situation even now, but at least we were girls, right?
I was a girl too, and either way, so was she.
I couldn't quite tell you what I was saying, but the point was: it didn't feel bad.
"Want to go to Hongdae?"
Both Hayun's head and mine whipped around at that.
"Huh? Why? You two have never been?"
We hadn't. Not once.
In my past life I'd... probably been there at some point, but I didn't think I'd ever gone to enjoy it the way other people did.
Had I gone to buy comic books?
"What's even there?"
"Uh..."
At my question, Jihye faltered.
What, you don't even know?
Then again, thinking it over — we'd been to Gwanghwamun until we were sick of it. We never actually did anything there. We'd just walk around with our heads empty, drop by a bookstore, eat, and head home, on loop.
And honestly, there was a good reason for that.
What were two underage girls supposed to do? We couldn't be out drinking late at night, and we couldn't sit around in a cafe until late either.
Unless we were the sort of Earth-boo who used cafes like bars, maybe.
Besides—
Right. If we suddenly switched destinations instead of going to the usual haunt, wouldn't it throw the cameraman for a loop too?
"...Want to try it?"
So I decided to cautiously entertain the idea.
Of course, what mattered most was how Hayun felt. She was the one who'd called me out today, after all.
"Ah... um, well."
Hayun went red.
Probably because it wasn't only my gaze on her face anymore — Jihye's was too.
"...Yeah."
Eyes lowered, Hayun gave a small nod and answered just barely above a whisper.
"Aw, she's seriously adorable. Should we take her home and keep her?"
I smacked the back of Jihye's head, one more time.
Hayun didn't have to say much — Jihye chattered away busily enough for the both of them.
Hayun, who'd been hopelessly awkward at first, seemed to more or less acclimate to Jihye over the subway ride. That relentless chattiness of hers turned out to be a huge help at times like this.
Then again, Jihye was the kind of person who thought about others. At a glance she resembled an Earth-boo in temperament, but unlike them — who more or less put their own wants at the center of everything — Jihye's first instinct was to be considerate.
If she weren't, she never could have shared a room this long with someone as sharp-edged as me.
And besides — you know how some people are just incredibly natural with physical affection?
That was Jihye.
Granted, part of it was that after all these years sharing a room, I didn't register her as a girl at all anymore.
......
Hm.
Hayun's gaze was starting to nag at me.
For a while now, she'd been watching Jihye — who had, at some point, slipped her arm through mine and was towing me along like it was nothing — with real attention.
She wore the face of someone earnestly wrestling with the question, 'Is that supposed to be normal?' The fact that she still had her disguise glasses on only deepened the effect.
Hm... maybe I should loosen up a little today.
Otherwise it might come off like I was freezing her out.
Having settled that, I cocked my head again.
Wait, though — part of the reason I'd brought Jihye along in the first place was to slip the camera's gaze. In that case, wouldn't it actually be better to stay naturally attached to someone else like this, and cook up an excuse later—
—and right in the middle of all that mental churning, I felt my brain abruptly short out.
Not the left arm Jihye had claimed. Something had suddenly arrived at my right arm — the one that had been hanging there, oddly vacant.
Hayun was holding my arm, with a look of quiet resolve on her face.
It was far too stiff to call arm-in-arm — what she'd actually managed was 'a hand clamped on my elbow' — but her hand had, at any rate, made it into the gap between my side and my arm.
The instant our eyes met, her grip nearly gave out, but she seemed to collect herself and squeezed down tight again.
......
Well. Yeah. Fair enough.
Hayun was the one I'd originally come out to meet; leaving her to trail along empty-handed would have been a little cruel.
And besides, pressed this close together, no camera would ever manage to set up its angle properly.
Rolling my eyes every which way without letting either of them notice, I walked on through the crowded street.
It was a mercy that so many of the passersby were couples.
There were more people out than I'd expected, but hardly anyone spared the three of us more than a glance.
