More Than I Thought...?
A moan.
It was a natural sound that burst from my mouth on its own. My actual impressions, though, ran a little differently.
A fist driving into my abdomen. It should have hurt. The phrasing was odd, but strictly speaking it did hurt—of course it did. Getting punched hard in the gut, there was no way it wouldn’t. And yet it was more bearable than I’d expected. Breathing felt a little labored, and moans of pain I hadn’t even known I was making spilled from my lips. But…
It didn’t hurt as much as I thought?
My waist folded and coughs tore from my throat, yet the pain actually registering in my abdomen wasn’t that severe. A woman’s strength was supposed to be formidable, wasn’t it? Thinking back on the original Han Sein’s past, compared to the way his mother used to hit him this was barely a tickle. Only the sound was dull; only the reaction exploded like this. Yeah. The old saying about empty carts making the most noise fit perfectly.
Had she gone easy on me?
I slowly lifted my head. Kang Hyeona’s expression was beyond words. Could a human face look that forlorn? “Sad” or “tormented” didn’t even begin to cover it. In contrast, Kim Hyeongmin’s face was pure satisfaction—like a judge shouting “Pass! Pass!”
“Ha, stop it…!!”
“Let go.”
A desperate struggle. Jeong Ayeong had seized Kang Hyeona’s foot, her whole body screaming that she hated hitting more than anyone. The kicks Hyeona threw just to shake Ayeong’s hands off looked more painful than anything. The shallow ache in my gut had long since faded. I kept my expression carefully blank as I watched.
“Ugh, cough—I-I’ll take it. I’ll take the hits, so…”
“Ayeong…”
“G-go, Sein. Please… don’t come…”
Drip. Drip. Tears fell, desperation etched into every line of her face. Hit me instead. Bully me instead. She shouted it, insisted on it with everything she had. But the voice that answered her was ice-cold. Inside Kim Hyeongmin’s exasperated laugh lived pure sadism.
So? Jeong Ayeong likes Han Sein, does she.
Anyone with eyes could see it, yet the one person who absolutely should not have known had just found out.
“Who said you could?”
“Ugh…”
A girl who had never once shown tears was crying. What was love, that it could do this? As if something new had occurred to him, he waved a dismissive hand and shut the whole thing down.
“Cute. Let’s stop here for today.”
“…….”
In the end, Jeong Ayeong’s pleas had worked. Kang Hyeona moved with her eyes downcast like a criminal. Park Hyorin clicked her tongue as if the whole affair had been boring.
“Se-Se-Sein.”
“Don’t cry.”
“Ugh, hic… s-sorry. I’m sorryyy… b-because of me. Waaah…”
The hand that had been clutching Hyeona’s leg now grabbed mine. Ayeong crawled over on her knees, tears streaming. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong, yet she hung her head like a sinner and trembled.
“It’s okay.”
“Why, why, why!”
“…….”
Ayeong’s emotions climbed higher. The head she had bowed in apology lifted. Tears that had been dripping now rolled freely down her cheeks. Eyes full of doubt, anger, and a tangle of other feelings locked onto me. Frustration, exhaustion—powerlessness toward herself, self-reproach, rage—all of it spilled out clumsily, the way emotions do when they’ve been held back too long by someone timid and hyper-aware of others. It was almost a scream. Her tear-choked voice pleaded.
“I’m the one who did wrong, right?”
“…….”
“Because I sit next to you, because we’re desk partners. Because of me, even you… hic…”
“How is any of that your fault?”
“…….”
I slowly lowered myself. I knelt so our eyes could meet; the hard, cold floor pressed through my clothes. What she needed right now wasn’t forgiveness.
“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Don’t you hate me? You can blame me.”
Ayeong’s tears stopped. Her still-wet eyes trembled—at my words, at my face. Her expression began to crumble.
“There’s nothing to blame. The ones bullying us are the ones at fault.”
“But…”
She couldn’t finish. What she needed was warmth. I slowly wrapped my arms around her. The voice that had been rising unsteadily settled. She still hadn’t said everything, yet her emotions began to steady.
“Hic, snf…”
“It’s okay.”
Pat, pat. As I stroked her back, the shoulders that had been heaving every so often quieted.
Such a crybaby. Our Ayeong.
She only fully calmed after the lunch bell rang. We returned to class, sat through third period, and by the time seventh period ended and dismissal approached, I called her over in the empty classroom.
“W-what’s up…?”
“Ah, there’s something I wanted to say.”
Anxiety flickered across her face—different from the usual kind. Excitement, really. Easy enough to understand. A friend she’d been spending time with, a guy no less, asking her to stay after school? What girl wouldn’t feel a little flutter? In that sense Jeong Ayeong was fidgeting as if she’d completely forgotten the lunchtime incident. Her restless fingers still looked anxious.
“Uh… so.”
How was I supposed to put this? I struggled over what words to use. As my voice dragged on, deeper anxiety rose on Ayeong’s face.
It’s not that, you idiot.
When my mouth finally opened and the words came out, Ayeong’s eyes went round.
“Could you hit me just once?”
“…What?”
Shock. Fear. And… lust? Those were the emotions swirling in her pupils.
No. It’s not that.
I sincerely didn’t mean it that way. Nothing sexual—I was genuinely curious. This was an experiment. After taking Kang Hyeona’s fist earlier, a question had taken root. Of course it had. Even if she hadn’t used full force, she’d hit hard enough to hurt; there was no way it should have been that mild.
Regardless, Ayeong’s cheeks grew hotter by the second.
“Y-you’re… into that…?”
“No. I hate pain.”
“Then why…?”
“Forget it. Don’t ask questions—just hit me.”
I stepped closer and offered my stomach. To settle the curiosity. If I took Ayeong’s punch, I’d know whether my body was simply dull to pain or whether Kang Hyeona had deliberately held back.
“Your stomach…?”
“Yeah. And don’t go easy.”
“Okay.”
Ayeong lightly clenched her fist. Then—
“Aagh!”
Ah! Fuck!
It fucking hurts!
Curses surged all the way to my throat before I barely managed to swallow them.
“A-aagh… ha, haah…”
“S-s-sorry. Se-Sein? Are you okay? Sein?!”
“Why… why did you hit so hard…”
“Ugh, uugh. Sorry. Sorry…”
Breathing was agony. It really hurt too much. I had my answer, though.
It hurt.
When I looked at Ayeong she flinched. It hadn’t even been a month since we met, yet for the first time I felt a flash of genuine dislike. Did she sense my gaze? Her face drained of color.
“S-sorry. I’m sorry, Sein. I was wrong.”
“Ugh, huff, hoo… n-no. Hey. Don’t kneel!”
This was driving me insane. Was there no middle ground with her? She either hit with full force or dropped to her knees apologizing. The sight of her made me forget the pain for a second; I focused entirely on getting her back on her feet.
“Ugh. Get up.”
“I’m sorry!!”
“I got it, so… get up.”
We have to go home, you idiot. How long are you planning to kneel there apologizing?
And that evening.
After work and dinner I sat talking with my sister. Languid. The spring air carried a gentle warmth that felt pleasant rather than cold.
“Noona.”
“Yeah?”
Cautious as always. I still didn’t understand why she tensed every time I called her, but the reaction was fresh enough to be entertaining. I voiced the curiosity that had been circling in my head—leaving out the facts about Kang Hyeona and showing only the question.
“Is there a way to hit someone without it hurting?”
“…Why are you asking that?”
After a moment’s thought, Han Seyeon’s eyes turned strange—sharpening.
“No reason. Just curious.”
“Making only the sound loud, that kind of thing. Yeah, there is.”
“I see.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. I’m fine.”
The atmosphere grew heavier. Her expression darkened further. It wasn’t true that nothing had happened, but claiming otherwise only made her look worse. Surely she hadn’t started thinking something weird.
“Hey, I really mean it. Look.”
“……!!”
Gulp.
For the briefest instant Han Seyeon’s eyes wavered—because I’d grabbed the hem of my shirt with one hand and lifted it. Being home, I was only in a thin short-sleeved tee. My soft stomach was fully exposed, and my sister’s eyes, locked on it, trembled.
Then—
“Fuck, what is this.”
“N-noona…?”
I was just as startled. Maybe because Kang Hyeona’s punch hadn’t hurt much, all that remained in my memory was the fact that it hadn’t hurt; Ayeong’s punch had already faded into the background. But the mark left on my stomach was hers. Against pure white skin, on the soft give of my belly, a purple bruise bloomed.
Fuck… Jeong Ayeong…
There was no reason to blame her. Still, the situation was growing more awkward by the second.
“Who.”
“Hic.”
Aura. At that sharp pressure a hiccup slipped out of me unbidden. The usual Han Seyeon who nervously watched my every mood was gone; what radiated from her now was something else entirely—like a fierce wolf growling. The face that had just confirmed my bruise was terrifying.
“Who was it. Who did this.”
Really.