Blank
After we finished our meal and stepped outside, the world had already gone dark.
I waited by the door while Kim Seol-ah settled the bill. I had started to pull out my wallet, only to catch her sharp look and shove it straight back into my pocket.
"I told you I was paying."
"Yeah."
"Compared to the handkerchief, one bowl of rice is nothing."
Seol-ah pushed the shop door open and called back over her shoulder.
"I'm heading out, Grandma!"
"Come again anytime. And bring your friend next time too."
The old woman waved. I bowed my head almost without thinking.
We slipped out of the alley onto the main road. Streetlights were flickering on one by one.
"The handkerchief should be ready the day after tomorrow."
"You really don't have to."
"How am I supposed to just keep something of yours? When it's done, take it."
She adjusted the strap of her bag.
"I'm this way."
"Okay."
Seol-ah waved and took a few steps, then suddenly turned back.
"Hey. Earlier you said you don't fit anywhere. That was pretty pathetic."
I had nothing to say to that.
"You drop one crush and the whole friendship falls apart? If that were true, Yujin and I would've been strangers ages ago."
"……."
"You let go of what you have to let go of, and the rest stays. I'm still his childhood friend, crush or no crush, and you'll still be that for Woo Han-gyul. Why act like you've already lost everything?"
I stayed quiet, so she fussed with her bag strap for no real reason.
"Anyway. If you really hate being alone at home, come eat with me sometime. You're buying, though."
"……Okay."
"And eat properly even when I'm not around. I mean your own bowl, not someone else's."
With that, she gave a light wave and turned away.
I stood there until her back disappeared into the alley.
Eat properly even when I'm not around. Your own bowl, not someone else's.
The words stuck with me longer than they should have. They weren't anything special. I had spent my whole life saying things like that to other people; no one had ever said them to me.
It felt strange.
When I opened the front door of my parents' house, the usual cool air washed over me.
"Welcome home, Young Master. About dinner……."
"I already ate."
"Ah. Yes, sir."
I went upstairs, peeled off my uniform, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Only then did I notice how full I was.
That was strange. For the past few days everything I ate had stuck in my throat; I'd leave half of it every time. Today I'd finished two whole bowls.
Seol-ah had forced them on me. I'd said I was full, but she'd snapped that I'd barely touched the first one and ordered another anyway. Then she'd sat across from me and watched until I cleaned the plate. It had been a long time since anyone watched me eat.
……What a weird girl.
Who drags someone all the way to a local diner just to pay back a handkerchief and then makes them eat two bowls? And never once explains why she's doing any of it.
Come to think of it, she'd said something odd when we parted too. If I hated being alone at home, we could eat together. Of course she'd made sure to add that I was paying.
I couldn't remember the last time anyone had offered first to sit down and share a meal with me.
With her I was always the one feeding; at Mother's house I simply ate what was set in front of me. No one had ever reached out first and said, Let's eat together. So I didn't really know how to receive words like that.
They weren't anything special. Yet those ordinary words kept snagging in my chest.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling.
Today, in a local diner I'd never been to before, I had poured out things I hadn't told a single person in nearly twenty years.
That I liked Woo Han-gyul. That I had decided to step back. That I didn't belong on either side.
I should have been embarrassed. Somehow I wasn't.
Instead it felt like something that had been packed tight inside me had finally leaked out a little. The space it left was hollow, but it wasn't crushing.
So this was what talking felt like.
Until now I had believed that keeping quiet was the mature thing to do.
That it meant not burdening anyone else. So I had kept everything locked inside.
But looking back, there had never been anyone I could burden in the first place.
My parents were always far away. I hated imposing on Mother. With her I was always the one holding her up; I had never been the one leaning.
Maybe I had just dressed up the fact that there was no one to talk to as some noble silence.
Today I learned something else.
Putting it away inside doesn't make it disappear.
It only piles up.
……Maybe Seol-ah was right.
She'd said if you keep it alone it rots. Said it was from experience.
Coming from someone who had swallowed the same thing for ten years, the words carried a strange weight.
I closed my eyes, then opened them again.
But the last thing Seol-ah had said kept circling back.
You said looking after Woo Han-gyul is your role. Are you afraid that if you let go of that, nothing will be left?
I'd thought it was nonsense. I looked after her because I liked her, that was all.
Yet the more I turned the words over, the more they snagged on something unexpected.
If I stripped away every single thing I did for her, what would be left of my day?
Standing at her gate every morning. Carrying her bag. Sliding side dishes onto her tray in the cafeteria. Once I peeled all of that away, I couldn't immediately picture what remained.
It felt like the empty day of this house would be all that was left.
Then, suddenly, I wondered: what kind of person was I, anyway? What did I even like?
Oddly, nothing came to mind. Favorite food, favorite color—nothing stuck. The same for things I hated.
My previous self hadn't been like this. That person had known clearly what he loved and what he couldn't stand.
Even those memories had grown hazy now. Only the vague sense that I had once liked things remained; the things themselves were gone.
While I spent my days looking after her, everything that was mine had slowly leaked away somewhere. I knew every detail of hers, yet I didn't know a single thing about myself. The realization felt suddenly foreign.
I lay there a long time. Not knowing what I liked, realizing that without her there was nothing left—it left me newly hollow.
Then Seol-ah's parting words floated up again.
You let go of what you have to let go of, and the rest stays. Dropping a crush and staying by her side are two different things. Why act like you've already lost everything?
Turning those words over loosened something that had been clenched tight.
Letting go of the feelings didn't mean she disappeared. It didn't mean there was no path left beside her at all.
Once I thought that, the empty place became a little more bearable.
I pulled the blanket up over myself.
The room was large. Quiet. Yesterday and the day before, at this same hour, the room had always been like this.
From downstairs I could faintly hear the housekeeper putting something away. Beyond that, nothing.
I used to find the quiet comfortable. Lately the silence had started to sound strangely loud. I had thought I was used to being alone. Apparently I wasn't.
The local diner had been noisy.
The sound of chopping from the kitchen, the news murmuring from the television, the old woman humming. Seol-ah making a racket about ordering more rice.
In that noise, for the first time today, I had finished every grain.
In this quiet house the food hadn't gone down for days. In the noise, two whole bowls had.
People are strange. Or maybe it was only me.
When I closed my eyes, those sounds still seemed to linger in my ears.
Tonight, thanks to them, I thought I might sleep well.
When I opened my eyes in the morning, my body felt heavy.
I didn't want to leave the blanket, so I dawdled for a long time. Mom had to call me twice before I finally got up.
While I washed my face, the girl in the mirror looked tired.
Had I slept badly? Last night sleep just wouldn't come.
My eyes kept drifting toward the front door for no reason. Maybe Ji-an would still show up, even late.
He didn't.
Of course he wouldn't—he'd gone to eat with Seol-ah—but I kept looking that way anyway.
What had they talked about?
What had they eaten?
When Ji-an eats with other people, does he look after their side dishes too? The way he does for me—moving Seol-ah's soup bowl closer, setting her chopsticks just so?
The thought made my chest tighten.
……Why am I like this?
My chest felt tight, but I couldn't even tell where. It wasn't indigestion.
So what if he looks after someone's rice bowl? Ji-an's always been the type who takes care of people.
But he only does that for me.
……No, it's not like there's a rule that says he has to do it only for me.
So why do I hate it?
Imagining Ji-an sliding side dishes onto Seol-ah's tray made something in my stomach jab and twist. I didn't know why it hurt. I just hated it.
I'd never felt this before, so I didn't even know what to call it.
My head was a mess, so I just finished washing up.
When I sat down at the table, Mom set a bowl of porridge in front of me.
"You don't look well. At least eat some porridge."
"I'm fine."
"Fine, my foot. Why's your face like that these days?"
"I'm just a little tired."
I scooped up a spoonful. I had no appetite at all and stopped after a few bites.
Mom watched me with worry. I smiled and told her I was okay. Part of me thought I really was; part of me thought I wasn't.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped out the front door, then glanced beyond the gate.
No one was there.
At this hour Ji-an used to always be standing right there. Leaning against the gate, looking at his phone, then lifting his head when I came out and saying, Hey, you're here.
Lately he wasn't.
I stepped through the gate alone. The road we always walked together, I walked alone again today.
After a few steps I looked back without meaning to. Just in case.
No one.
I started to walk again, and then I heard footsteps behind me.
When I turned, Ji-an was coming this way.
I stopped for a second. The road that had been empty a moment ago now had him on it, and it didn't quite feel real.
"Let's go."
He fell into step beside me.
These past few days he'd always walked ahead or stayed quiet, but today his pace was unhurried. His face looked easier than before.
Something good happen?
Lately Ji-an had seemed a little off, but this morning that feeling had faded. If someone asked me to point to exactly what had been wrong, I couldn't have said. Just a sense that he wasn't the same as before. This morning that sense was thinner.
I didn't know why, but that was enough.
I wanted to ask, yet somehow I couldn't. Just having him next to me felt good, so I said nothing at all.
"Give me your bag."
"Uh……."
Before I could protest he took the strap and slung it over his own shoulder. Same as always.
Without the bag my shoulder felt light. But it wasn't only my shoulder. The tightness that had sat in my chest all morning quietly loosened the moment he was beside me.
The road that had looked so long earlier now felt short.