Seventeen, and Spring (6)
That day passed without any real drama. The classroom got a bit rowdy for a moment, but it was before the teacher even walked in. The kids mostly took my side, saying Kim Yuha had it coming, and surprisingly, he didn't seem all that pissed off. He clutched his solar plexus, coughing for a good while, then later even gave me a thumbs-up, calling it a solid punch.
That didn't mean the Bunny nickname vanished, though. This kind of thing had happened plenty of times since middle school, and everyone knew it, so they just shrugged it off.
March was already pushing mid-month. The class vibe was already buzzing like crazy, even though it was still early in the semester. These kids adapted fast.
Lately, more kids had been approaching me first to chat. Of course, half of them were just messing around or teasing me, fully prepared to take a hit for it. Thanks to that, my arms were sore every single day.
Today was no different—I smacked one guy on the back of the head and headed back to my seat, where Jisu was waiting in front of my desk. Wondering what was up, I walked over, and the first thing I noticed was the thick book sitting on my desk.
"This is that novel I mentioned last time. You said you wanted to borrow it, right?"
"Oh, thanks." I sat down and picked it up with both hands. Pink cover. The title in black letters jumped out: The Hated Wife Will Disappear.
"But you're reading romance fantasy these days too?" Jisu tilted her head, looking surprised.
I gave a wry smile and stroked the cover. "Just... got a bit interested, I guess?"
Right then, two girls came over, peeked at the cover, and chimed in.
"That's fun! Later, the protagonist—"
"Shh! Spoilers are a capital crime!"
They said they wouldn't spoil it, but then they launched into a rough plot summary anyway. It starts with a political marriage, but the heroine falls head over heels for her husband at first sight, begging for his affection only to get persecuted every time. Finally, fed up, she demands a divorce and leaves, and that's when the husband realizes he loves her and chases after her too late. Something like that, apparently.
I flipped the book open casually and skimmed the first page. The short prologue summed it up almost exactly like what I'd just heard. As I glanced through line by line, the chatter around me had already bloomed into full-blown romance fantasy talk.
"I love it when the male lead gets a total rebirth."
"Ugh~ Washing machine trope is the worst~"
"I wanna be the villainess's foot mat."
"Why do they always realize after she leaves, though~?"
"This one's got some serious overpowered heroine vibes."
Something weird slipped in there midway, but I let it slide and just nodded along. Truth be told, I'm not really into romance fantasy. I don't even enjoy reading much. I was just looking for some conversation fodder.
As I chatted with the kids about this and that, someone sidled up to my desk. Kim Yuha.
"Hey, Bunny. Eat this."
A colorful wrapper plopped down on top of my book. Cola-flavored candy. Before I could even look up, he was already turning and bolting away.
Today was March 14th. White Day. The annual event that rolls around every year, but for me, it held a special meaning too.
But seriously, I like cola, not cola candy. Tsk... Can't just toss it, though.
*
After the end-of-day homeroom, the classroom erupted in noise. Most kids headed down to the cafeteria for dinner, then back up for self-study. Amid the ones packing up, I slung my bag over my shoulder and slipped out quietly. I don't do self-study, so I just head home.
Staying late at school means getting home at night, and Mom and Dad would never allow that. Especially after that accident when I was little—they won't let me walk dark streets at all.
So until a few days ago, Dad had been waiting out front. He'd buckle my seatbelt himself, drop me at home, then head back to the office and come home late.
That bugged me. So I spoke up first. Told him he didn't need to pick me up every time, that he should just leave work early and eat dinner with us.
Dad hesitated a few times but finally nodded. Honestly, the biggest reason was I didn't want to make Mom and Dad work even harder. And I didn't want to look like a little kid getting picked up by her parents in front of everyone.
I stepped into the hallway with my bag, and laughter from the kids staying for self-study echoed from every classroom. The sky outside the windows was already turning ashen.
I set off for home but didn't take the direct path across the crosswalk. Instead, I turned in the opposite direction. I had other business today.
I avoided deserted alleys completely, sticking to crowded main streets. Sunset light seeped long between the sidewalk blocks, and bus stop ads glowed faintly red. A bit farther than home. Past some rundown single-story shops, a corridor-style apartment complex about ten stories tall came into view. Gray exterior stained with spots, railings chipped in places.
I passed the management office into the lobby, where mailboxes covered the wall. Thin metal doors with apartment numbers, rust at the corners. Some numbers half-erased.
I found 603. That slot alone was spotless. No ads, no bills—nothing stuck in it. Simple meaning: someone still lived there.
I glanced around and slipped in two prettily wrapped candy gifts. Then slowly walked to the elevator.
My reflection stretched distorted in the metal doors. My index finger hovered over the ▲ button. A chill crept up from my wrist. My heart started pounding irregularly, growing louder bit by bit.
"…"
My finger twitched. Sweat beaded on my palm. Suddenly, it felt like I could hear the TV noise or footsteps from memory. And then four voices.
"Haa... haa... hngh..."
In the end, I couldn't press it. I turned on my heel, stepping back one foot, then another. The lobby auto-door slid open, cold wind brushing my face. Outside, the evening air sharpened.
I breathed deep in the open air until my breathing steadied, then headed back to the crowded street. The sun hadn't fully set, but the sky was ash-gray. Streetlights flickered on one by one, painting white circles on the ground.
Going straight home like this left my mind too unsettled. I wanted a mood changer, but no one fit the bill. I call the school kids friends, but honestly, hanging out wasn't all that fun. Outwardly a high schooler, but inside, mid-to-late twenties. Fitting in with the young ones was impossible from the start.
I sighed deeply a few times. Walking aimlessly toward home, a convenience store sign filled my view. As I brushed past the outdoor bench by the door, a familiar voice hit my ears.
I turned. A familiar face.
"Yes, please organize that and email it by tomorrow. And there's a video call scheduled for next week..."
It was Ajusshi Yeonho. Sitting at the convenience store bench table, on a work call from the sound of it. A half-eaten cup ramen sat on the table. The smell tickled my nose, making my stomach rumble unexpectedly.
Ajusshi hadn't spotted me yet, steam wafting faintly over the ramen as he picked up his chopsticks. I went inside, grabbed a kimbap roll and two drinks, and checked out.
Back outside, he'd finished the call and was dunking his chopsticks into the ramen.
"Hello. Long time no see."
I approached and greeted him. He looked up, startled.
"Little sis...?"
Even after I told him my name, he still used that. I set the plastic bag lightly on the table and plopped down across from him.
"Mind if I sit? I got some drinks."
I pulled out a cider and handed it over. He hesitated a moment, then took it with a smile.
"Ah... thank you. But what about school...?"
"I don't do self-study."
Simple answer as I unwrapped the kimbap. I snapped the wooden chopsticks in half. They split perfectly clean, which put me in a good mood for no reason.
"What brings you here?"
I picked up a piece of kimbap and plopped it into his cup ramen. If he kept calling me little sis, I'd play along.
"I was supposed to meet your sister... but this is mine, I was eating it..."
He trailed off, looking awkward.
What, you saying it's too good to share with me? Stingy guy...
I muttered inwardly, chuckled once, then swirled the kimbap in the broth and lifted it out. Glossy orange from the soup, it glistened invitingly.
"Looks delicious, right? Want first bite?"
He stammered a bit, waving it off.
"Ah, no, I'm good."
Then he cracked open the cider I'd given him and took a deep swig, head turned slightly away.
Why's he suddenly so awkward...?
I kept dipping the kimbap in the broth anyway. The rice softened perfectly, grains clinging as they came up. Salty flavor hit just right.
Meeting my sister but not eating together? Why fill up at a convenience store?
I mulled over his trailing words. Meeting around here meant near our place. Whatever, whether they ate together or not wasn't my business.
I set my chopsticks down briefly and glanced up at him.
But Chairman Han's son eating cup ramen? Thought he'd be above that.
Rich or poor, people are all the same, I guess.