Nothing Happened
She won't break if I touch him, will she?
Kang Hyeona's hand froze stiff in midair.
The hand hovering there wandered, uncertain where it ought to go.
What do I do?
She had spent time close to men before. She understood how their minds worked. But love—love she barely knew at all.
His tiny body was pressed flush against her, clinging on with precarious strength. The irregular heaving of that frame made her ache with how hard it must be for him.
In the end, Kang Hyeona chose desire.
Her hand descended slowly. The one that had floundered in empty air settled gently atop Han Sein's head—exactly like a scene she had once read in a novel. Without thinking, she stroked the hair of the man so much smaller than herself.
Soft. The silky strands slipped between her fingers and tickled them. The more she touched, the more addictive it became—not merely from the texture, but because this was a man she actually cared for. She could have stroked Kim Hyeongmin whenever she wanted; the fact that she never had was proof enough.
As she stroked his hair, Han Sein's trembling breaths gradually began to steady.
Was it coincidence? At that strange little moment, Kang Hyeona felt her heart flutter. No—when the boy she liked was nestled in her arms, what woman in the world could keep from feeling excited?
"Sorry—ngh, sniff. I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
But... can you let go of this?
Han Sein had clearly released his own hands. Yet the arm that had somehow wrapped around his waist showed no intention of loosening. Only after the plea finally left his lips did the strength leave it.
"Can't you... let go...?"
Perhaps it was the ragged breathing. His voice cracked—technically speaking, it broke—and a thread of cuteness seeped into that clear tone.
Flinch.
It was Kang Hyeona whose heart stopped at the unintended charm. Cute. So cute I want to stroke him again. With the flush still blooming across his cheeks and those trembling eyes looking up at her—what woman could possibly endure that?
I feel like I'm going crazy. Is it a little wet? What do I do?
Kang Hyeona fought with everything she had to rein her heart back in. Calm down. Calm down, Kang Hyeona. Let go first, then think.
"Ah..."
"…?"
Softly, Han Sein's body slipped away from hers. It was spring, and with so many layers of clothing she hadn't truly felt his body heat—yet there had been the simple warmth of another person. She let out a sigh thick with regret. It had only been a hug lasting a few minutes at most, yet the empty space cooled so quickly it felt almost cruel.
"I need to buy bread."
"Uh... yeah..."
Why am I like this?
Kang Hyeona felt a little broken. She was so different from her usual self that everything felt awkward and unsettling.
Once again, it was Han Sein who moved first. They were already late for certain—but he still had to finish the errand, didn't he? Behind his steps toward the snack shop trailed Kang Hyeona. Not beside him. Behind.
Anyway.
The snack shop was emptier than expected. Well, students were free to leave the academy grounds, and this place was known as a relatively cheap little supermarket.
"You two a couple? I'll give you a discount."
"Cough—sniff—no..."
"Hahaha..."
The awkward laugh belonged to Han Sein. The sharp reaction belonged to Kang Hyeona.
Classic middle-aged man specialty: overflowing with teasing banter. Once you hit forty or fifty, you lived for tossing a line or two at the young ones. For an adult who spent his days behind a snack-shop counter, it was one of the few remaining amusements.
But for Kang Hyeona the remark landed like a solid hit. To an outsider she might have looked startled—yet the fluster came precisely because she had feelings. Afraid her face would heat up for no good reason, she hastily changed the subject.
"Ch-cheese bread and one Picnic, please."
"Sure, sure."
"I'm... fine."
Crumple. He held out the ten-thousand-won bill he had been given. Kang Hyeona pulled out her wallet to stop him, but—
"No. It's not even my money. Put it away. I'll handle it."
"Th-then... okay..."
Have I gone blind? Even a trivial gesture like this—why did it look so unbearably cute and lovable? The way he accepted the bread and drink, short and endearing for no particular reason. Kang Hyeona simply stood there and watched him for a long while.
"Ugh..."
"Whoa, is she crying?"
"Looks like she's really crying."
"The nerd and the slut finally hooked up."
"Hey."
A tangle of voices filled the classroom. This was Class 1-3 during lunch—everyone eating, everyone chatting. A typical school scene. Perhaps because the academy blended high-school and university atmospheres, the students still hadn't fully shed their immature skins.
Meanwhile, the girl slumped over her desk, shoulders shaking, was none other than Jeong Ayeong. The very back seat. The seatmate who had been eating with her until moments ago had long since vanished.
Please. Please don't go.
She had hoped he wouldn't leave—yet Jeong Ayeong did not dare speak the wish aloud. What right did she have to say anything to anyone? She herself had spent years terrified, enduring the bullying. How could she possibly tell a boy even weaker and more powerless than herself to overcome it, to fight back?
She couldn't.
"Hic... huu..."
She had to hide the sound of her breathing. She mustn't cry. She mustn't cry—yet Jeong Ayeong's throat was already drowning in tears.
A woman cries three times in her life. Even while thinking the saying was nonsense, she had always held her tears back. Even when she was bullied, even when fists slammed into her stomach, Jeong Ayeong never shed a single drop.
But now she was crying. Just a little. A very little.
How wretched must she have felt? Self-loathing. Self-reproach. Everything felt like her own fault. If only she could fight the way Kang Hyeona did. If only her family had power. If only—
"Ugh..."
If only she were like everyone else. An ordinary person with a decent personality who got along with friends. How wonderful would that have been?
Jeong Ayeong rubbed her eyes against the desk she was slumped over, pushing aside the worry that they might swell. She simply prayed for lunch to end soon. At least Kim Hyeongmin's group was usually good about keeping to the schedule.
How much time passed?
Ten minutes before the bell.
"What, sleeping?"
Flinch.
It wasn't a girl's voice. The other students never spoke to Jeong Ayeong. By process of elimination, only one person remained.
Han Sein.
His voice was still thick with moisture, yet joy and worry rushed ahead of everything else.
"A-are you okay? Okay—ah...?"
"Uh... uh... Did you cry...?"
Jeong Ayeong shot upright. Ignoring the tear-soaked sleeve, she began running both hands over Han Sein's body, sweeping across the uniform. The question about crying might have embarrassed her under normal circumstances—but nothing of the sort entered her mind. Only Han Sein's condition mattered.
"Are you okay? Are you okay? Where—where are you hurt?"
"Yeah. You're talking pretty well..."
"Ah..."
Only then did Jeong Ayeong actually look at him. Those red eyes. The still-beautiful face. The soft, clear voice.
You're not hurt? Really?
A single tear slipped free and fell with a soft plop.
"Uh—uh, why are you crying? Why?"
"N-no. No."
She mustn't cry. A girl mustn't cry. Yet the moment thirty minutes of condensed worry transformed into relief, the sheer overwhelming safety of it made Jeong Ayeong's tears spill over.
"Um... could you take your hands off...?"
"Ah... Aaa? Aaaaaa?!!"
Jeong Ayeong's shriek nearly blew the roof off the classroom. The hands that had been groping everywhere had settled in a rather unfortunate place—right between thigh and buttock. A little intermediate, perhaps, but still a strategic stronghold from which one could thoroughly appreciate the soft give of his rear.
"Aaaaah...!! S-sorry...!!"
"It's okay."
Jeong Ayeong's face went beyond flustered and straight into blazing red—so red it looked ready to explode like a bomb. Even Han Sein grew a little worried. The breath escaping her mouth was practically steam from a boiling kettle, embarrassment made visible.
And then Han Sein's voice filled that corner of the classroom, landing like a small bomb of its own.
"It's not like it'll wear out or anything, but it is a little embarrassing."
"S-sorry. Sorry..."
"Okay. Stop apologizing."
A light, easy laugh slipped from Han Sein's lips. The way Jeong Ayeong jumped with an "Eek!" every time he poked her was simply too cute.
And watching them both was one particular pair of eyes.
Not Class 1-3, but Class 5. Not an ordinary student, but the daughter of a prosecutor.
Kang Hyeona.
"……."
Why am I hiding and watching?
At first it had been worry. She felt bad for yelling at Han Sein with curses mixed in. Even if the whole scene had been a performance meant to redirect Kim Hyeongmin's anger, she knew Han Sein wouldn't see it that way. Afraid he might be suffering, she had come all the way to Class 3.
Through the crack of the slightly open door, Kang Hyeona heard every word of their conversation and saw every gesture.
Throb. Throb.
Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed tighter and tighter. Her impression of Jeong Ayeong had always been ordinary—not contempt, and sometimes even pity. The girl had never done anything wrong. But the way she talked with Han Sein now, flustered and shy—that was the happiest Jeong Ayeong had ever looked in all the time Kang Hyeona had known her.
Was that why? The emotion tightening around her heart began to twist into something else entirely.
Me too. Me too...
I want to laugh and talk with Han Sein like that.
Kang Hyeona gathered up her dizzying feelings and left. Back to her original seat. Back to her own class. Back to where Kim Hyeongmin waited.
She had never hated returning there quite this much before.