An Eye for an Eye
"A computer, you say?"
"That's right."
I gave a firm nod to the puzzled-looking teddy of a kid.
A computer, a monitor, a keyboard, a mouse, and speakers.
No matter how thoroughly I dug into the fact that I had been reborn as a little elementary school girl, there were some things a healthy young Korean man's spirit simply refused to live without. And yet I still hadn't stocked the house with any of them. Why?
Because even if I had them, there was nothing I could do with them.
Before you could even transfer a game account, signing up for a single website meant running the gauntlet of every authentication under the sun. Under fourteen? Get lost. A flat, one-sided door slammed in your face.
Why was this idiot world only realistic about things like that?
At least I should be able to play videos.
And the real comedy was that every last website was so money-mad that they still let non-members pay. Whether I should call that lucky or just plain funny was anyone's guess.
I could already watch videos on my smartphone without any special verification, so buying a computer would land me in roughly the same boat.
Once the decision was made, payment took no time at all.
A fortune large enough to order kimbap by the hundred rolls vanished in a single go, followed by internet LAN cables, the cords to connect the monitor and the tower, and everything else in turn. I watched the stack of completed payment screens pile up and solemnly steeled my heart.
Thump-thump-thump-thump. Even that racket, I told myself, would only make the melody of vengeance sweeter. I would wait for the day of retribution alone; their laughter would turn to screams soon enough.
"Hmm-hmm~"
The day itself arrived humming a little tune of its own.
"Hey, Kim-mari!"
"Yeah, yeah, it'd taste great dipped in tteokbokki, right?"
Even the usual school name-teasing rolled right off me with a smile.
"Mari-nim, a monster has…"
Even when the monster alert blared during that awkward free period after third period.
"Yeah, yeah, let's wrap it up quick."
Even when, less than an hour later, word came that another monster had shown up right in the middle of fourth period.
Today I could smile wide and take it all. The endless string of "delivery complete" payment screens made me happier than any grudge against the world ever could.
"Heh-heh…"
What music should I treat the upstairs neighbors to?
An evil little laugh no one would ever associate with a magical girl filled my head with pure malice.
Hard rock laced with swearing? Metal famous for its bone-rattling bass? A malicious eight-hour loop of nothing but power-drill noise?
Truthfully, it didn't matter which. Sound from another floor at an unwanted hour was all the same. Even the sweetest piano or the grandest orchestra became nothing more than noise.
"Whoa, what is all this?"
Siyon, who had come home hand-in-hand with me, gaped first at the mountain of boxes.
Monitor, speakers, keyboard, mouse, every cable and part imaginable—every last one had finished delivery, so of course the front door was buried in packages.
Hauling them all inside with our small bodies was pure labor. An adult could have finished it in four trips; the two of us felt like we made at least seven. Still, I never once thought of the work as painful or pointless.
After we somehow got everything assembled—power humming through the computer, clear sound from the speakers, internet properly connected, the monitor blazing bright—
"Done!"
"Does this mean we can use a computer like the teachers now?"
"Yep. We can."
I answered the visibly excited Siyon and immediately opened a browser window. Into the address bar I typed a familiar link and landed on a page packed with videos. The moment I typed "interfloor noise" into the search bar, autocomplete helpfully offered "interfloor noise revenge" as the very first result without me even needing to look.
Foot-hammering. Gong-clanging. The simple, pure sound of a hammer driving nails. A feast laid out right before my eyes; my mouth watered.
Naturally I had bought speakers that could stick to the ceiling. Since no one was watching inside the house anyway, I shamelessly abused my magical-girl strength, ran extension cords, and mounted them facing straight up.
"Siyon."
Before I hit play, I looked up at the speakers glued flush to the ceiling and quietly called her name, recalling the laws of a certain once-great nation.
"Yeah?"
"Do you know what the Code of Hammurabi is?"
The Code of Hammurabi. I let that magnificent name roll off my tongue.
"No…?"
"Whoever kills a man shall be put to death. Whoever breaks a man's arm shall have his own arm broken. Whoever blinds another shall have his own eye gouged out."
What a beautiful resonance that was.
Whoever torments others with interfloor noise shall suffer the same torment.
The click that started the video was the starting gun of my revenge.
Ah—and just in case any ads tried to interrupt, I wiped them out with a two-month premium trial.
"Time to pay the price for your sins."
"Mari's using hard words again…"
From the moment the running footsteps began, I had planned to leave the everyday-noise video playing for only an hour. Barely twenty minutes had passed when a pounding started on our iron apartment door.
The reaction was immediate.
Quality confirmed.
Ancestral teaching number one: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The old folks never said a wrong word.
"Excuse me! Open the door!"
The voice was thick with pure irritation. The chain latch sat well above the handle; before the door could open wide enough for the ajumma to barge in, I used a stick to make up for my height and slid the chain fully across.
"Who is it~?"
I opened the door with the most innocent little-girl voice I could muster.
The wrinkled face that had been staring straight ahead tilted downward. Before she could spit out something nasty, I struck first with a greeting.
"Hello!"
"Ah… right. Hello? Are your parents home?"
Ancestral teaching number two: you can't spit on a smiling face. Especially not if that face belongs to a pure, innocent child. Even the most shameless middle-aged jerk thinks twice when dealing with a kid their own children's age.
"Nope! They said they had something busy and went out!"
"Ha… then would it be all right if I stepped inside for a moment?"
"Uh…"
I drew the sound out in a long, perfect little-kid whine and delivered the line every child is supposed to say, ready to drive the ajumma off.
"Daddy told me never to open the door for strangers!"
"Ha."
A short, exasperated sigh. What was the point of a long conversation with a lower-grade elementary student? In the end she only stamped her feet in visible frustration, unable to vent her full rage, and left a few parting words with a thoroughly furious face.
"If your parents come back, tell them the upstairs neighbor came by because it was too loud."
"Yes, I will!"
Could the click of a closing door ever feel this good?
With the door shut and nothing visible beyond it, I raised my right arm high, middle finger proudly extended, and slapped my left hand against it with a crisp smack.
Eat shit.
Through the narrow crack of the barely open door, the angle of the room hid both the computer flush against the wall and the speakers stuck to the ceiling. Having completed the perfect downstairs counter-complaint, I paused the video and savored the refreshment of a cold can of soda.
"It should be quiet for a while now."
"Really?"
Color returned to Siyon's face at the news that the footsteps would ease up. Sleeping through it was one thing, but hearing constant thumping from above during the day was pure stress. Even a kid hated interfloor noise…
Let's see.
I glanced at the boxes still scattered around the house. The computer, monitor, speakers—everything I had somehow connected by pure feel. I gathered every manual that had been tossed into the boxes and stacked them neatly.
Then, by chance, my eyes fell on the speaker instructions…
Play your favorite music freely. No matter how good the music is, if someone else is playing it, it's all noise.
To avoid the appearance of deliberate intent, use everyday household sounds that could come from any home.
Dispute Response Guidelines
If someone comes to the door, speak through the intercom or through a narrow crack with the chain still fastened.
If security shows up:
Tell them the upstairs noise is so loud you're just turning the music up to drown it out. If upstairs gets quiet, you won't need to either. Make them quiet the upstairs unit first.
If the police show up:
Sometimes the upstairs neighbors call the police. Handle it as follows.
Do not slam the door in the officers' faces. There is no need to make enemies of the police.
If they ask to come inside and look around, simply say no.
Police cannot enter without the homeowner's permission.
There is no legal issue if they do come in and look, but there is also no need to deliberately show them anything.
The police themselves know better than anyone that there is nothing they can do legally.
If upstairs calls the Interfloor Noise Neighbor Center:
They have no legal binding force. You do not have to comply.
"Oho…"
In the most unexpected place, I had stumbled across a treasure trove of unexpectedly useful information.
So that's how it was.