Date, Date (1)
"Ahh… haah…"
Her whole body twisted. Twisted was the precise word for it, though thrashing came closer still. Jeong Ayeong burrowed into the soft bedding, wriggling deeper, and nothing tore. Nothing broke. There was only the sensation of floating, of feeling so good she might simply lift off the mattress.
"Heheheh… hihhih…"
The corners of her mouth curled into something sly. A date. An actual, honest-to-god date.
They had been together less than a week. And yet Jeong Ayeong, who had secured a Saturday date with him, was so happy her face hurt. Her mouth kept lifting on its own. Her cheekbones climbed toward the ceiling. She did not stop until the muscles in her face cramped, and even then she meant every second of it.
Jeong Ayeong felt good. The spike of emotion was so steep it would almost certainly leave side effects—but for now, at least, she was happier than she had been in nearly five years. Was it because of what had happened only three hours ago? Against all the isolation and sorrow that had once filled her feelings for him, the simple fact that everything was better now—and the hope of tomorrow—loomed enormous.
"Hehe…"
Good. Something twinged deep in her chest, but she decided to stay faithful to the feeling she had right now.
—Grrrk.
"I'm hungry…"
She had been glued to her phone so long she had barely eaten dinner. She pushed herself up from the bed to fill her empty stomach.
She won't scold me… right?
In Korea, ten o'clock could still be called early. Even high school students who needed a full night's sleep were only just packing their bags at school around then. But in Han Seyeon's home, darkness arrived quickly.
"……."
Tap. Tap.
There was nothing but silence, yet the fact that both of them were looking at their phones made the quiet perfectly comfortable. The lights were off. The blankets lay soft and warm. For a rundown interior, the texture was surprisingly decent.
"Noona, are you working tomorrow?"
"Mm. Yeah, I have to."
Yaaawn.
Han Seyeon answered through a yawn. She had to be up at five in the morning. It was about ten now, so if she wanted anything close to enough sleep, she needed to drift off soon. She usually managed an extra hour during the long lunch break, but that was nothing like sleeping straight through the night.
"Should we sleep…?"
"Uh… yeah. Let's."
Twenty, and twenty-three. Between an ordinary man and woman, those words might have sounded suggestive. But they were family—bound by the thread of being siblings. Han Seyeon banished the murky imagination that had started to form and set her phone aside.
Darkness settled in. Beside her came a rustle of fabric and a faint, subtle warmth. Close, and yet not. They did not press together to sleep. Even as family they were still of opposite sexes, and both of them adults; even in a one-room apartment they kept a proper distance.
A ticklish feeling circled through her. It was not strange. It always happened when she thought of her little brother. But then, out of the silence, his next words cooled that fluttering feeling cold.
"I'm going out tomorrow."
"…You are?"
She wanted to ask more. Truthfully, she was half surprised. They had barely spoken for so long, and only recently grown close again. Even so, she knew her brother's style. Kindly put: a homebody. Unkindly: an outsider. As an older sister, that tendency had been a relief—though she had also fretted about his social skills. Looking back, the relief had always outweighed the worry. Which was exactly why Han Sein's words sounded so unfamiliar.
Is it okay to ask more?
He had never introduced a friend. Going out to play was itself a first. Fortunately—if that was the word—Han Sein spoke first.
"Ayeong… do you remember her?"
"The one from when I came to pick you up?"
"Yeah. I'm hanging out with her."
"Hmm…"
A short hum. Sensing her brother's hesitation, Han Seyeon felt a sudden pang of wait—is this even right? A little brother asking his older sister for permission. The feeling that rose in her was complicated, delicate, and shot through with a pleasure she could not name. He knew she would be at work. He could have kept it secret. Even as siblings, he had no obligation to tell her. And yet here he was, reading her face in the dark and reporting his plans—and a thin pleasure stirred at the sight.
What if I said no?
What expression would he make in the dark?
A sadistic impulse she herself did not fully recognize bloomed faintly. Desire was beginning to melt her reason. What caught her mind and held it was Han Sein's quiet voice.
"Noona…"
"Ah—ah, yeah. Go ahead. Go ahead… have fun, and be careful. What time do you think you'll be back?"
"Around six? Probably earlier than that… If you want to eat together, you might have to wait a little."
"I'll buy chicken."
"Oh, for real?"
The delight in his voice. Hearing the word noona had snapped Han Seyeon back to herself, and she wore a bitter little smile. He might not be able to see it—but she made the face on the assumption that he could not. That single word confirmed what they were. Blood-related siblings. And for the impulse that had flickered through her, she felt a sharp guilt.
"Chicken… sounds good."
"It's been a while…"
"Mm. Yeah. Thanks, Noona."
There was only pitch darkness, but she could tell perfectly well that her little brother was happy. Having a little brother this lovable, and I…
Han Seyeon squeezed her eyes shut. Sleep. She needed to sleep so she could finish work early tomorrow and buy chicken on the way home.
"Hi, Ayeong."
"S-Sein. Hi."
Wobble, wobble.
It was a different kind of day. Not the ordinary rhythm of seeing each other at school and parting at school—but a weekend encounter, something outside the usual pattern. Han Sein looked her over and said it plainly.
"You dressed up pretty."
"Doesn't it look cool…?"
"Yeah. It looks cool."
He gave her a thumbs-up. Hair and eyes with a violet cast. Clothes that suited Jeong Ayeong's particular atmosphere. It looked, at a glance, like she had thrown on whatever was nearest—but she had clearly tried. A purple hoodie, a white skirt, neat sneakers. The whole effect was unexpectedly cute.
Jeong Ayeong, on the other hand, wore a faintly complicated expression. She was in no position to critique anyone's fashion, but she could at least identify what she was looking at. Black slacks. A pure white dress shirt and a black cardigan. Neat, and pretty—except half of what he was wearing was his school uniform.
Her mouth opened, then closed. A casual question could easily become an insult. Especially when she already had a rough sense of his family's situation; anything she said might wound his pride. She wiped the thought away.
Is it so bad he doesn't even have clothes…?
She was full of curiosity, but they were still only at the beginning of dating. Just yesterday she had made a mistake by jumping to conclusions. She needed to hold back.
"Shall we go?"
"I—I! I found a good restaurant."
"Oh… what is it?"
Jeong Ayeong forced the words out. The woman plans the date. It was almost an old saying, but if you thought about who held the initiative in a relationship, it was an unspoken assumption. Han Sein had simply messaged her suggesting they hang out nearby. Jeong Ayeong wanted to show him something. She wanted to look like a confident woman taking the lead!
So she strode out with her head high.
"It's that way. You haven't eaten, right?"
"Yeah."
"It's a pasta place. Do you like pasta?"
"Uh… I like it."
In truth, Han Sein preferred kimchi stew—but Jeong Ayeong had no way of knowing that. Endearing, maybe? Even if he did not particularly love pasta, the fact that she had researched and come prepared was adorable in itself.
—Taptaptap.
"Ah…"
Jeong Ayeong let out a belated sigh. She had been marching toward the restaurant with purpose, exhaling sharp little puffs of breath—but she had not accounted for Han Sein's stride. There was the height difference, and the stamina difference. She gradually slowed her pace and began to walk with care.
"Let's go slow."
"Okay."
They walked. In that simple act, a flutter of excitement bloomed. All that had changed was one extra person on the way to a destination—and yet Jeong Ayeong was no longer afraid of doing something outside. At school she had been hit. On the street, if eyes met, she had been hit. Being harassed anywhere that was not home had been ordinary life. The happiness she felt after so long was all the more precious for it.
How long did they walk? They arrived at the place she had introduced as a good restaurant. Even at a time that was practically an open-run, they still had a short wait.
"Table for two?"
"Yes."
"Please show them to table twelve."
The interior was refined. It might have felt like a stretch for students, but considering how prices had risen, it was only moderately expensive. The two of them sat at the table they were shown. The moment the menus arrived, Jeong Ayeong could read Han Sein's face. His mouth parted slightly. His eyes trembled, just a little. The emotion written there was hesitation.
"Do you want to pick first…?"
"Ah—yeah."
Jeong Ayeong took the menu. Plenty of options; alcohol was out, since it was daytime. The main pasta dishes ran between twenty and thirty thousand won. Against the money she had been saving with nowhere to spend it, the prices were no burden at all. She chose what she wanted—and only then realized her mistake.
"I'll have the rose steak pasta."
"Mmm… we're sharing, right?"
"Probably, yeah?"
Normally you ordered two dishes and split them. Other tables were doing the same; it was the usual way. Han Sein's eyes stayed quietly lowered. The way he studied the menu was passive.
"I'll have… the salmon poke. I want this."
"Should we get one more?"
"Ah—no. I'm not that hungry…"
What Jeong Ayeong had chosen was the rose steak pasta—a thirty-five-thousand-won dish. And Han Sein? Salmon poke. Thirteen thousand won. The most expensive item on the menu, and the cheapest. The combination laid their household circumstances bare.
I messed up.
That was the thought that came as she faced Han Sein's quietly closed mouth. Something in her chest began to ache. She had planned the date course. She had thought it would not be a burden. From Jeong Ayeong's own position, it would have been fine. But the moment she stepped outside herself and thought of someone else—the moment she considered another person's standpoint instead of her own—intent no longer mattered. The reality that her actions had wounded the pride of the person she loved was an unchanging fact.