#27. ATM
#27. ATM
Deulkeong. Deulkeong.
A coin laundry not far from my house.
I was blankly staring at the blanket sheet spinning round and round.
...I raped Na-eun.
I shoved my dick into her mouth as she begged me saying it was wrong, and even seeing her tears, I didn't give a shit about her painful screams and rammed my rod into her virgin pussy.
I'd crossed the line.
At that moment when Na-eun was yapping away in my room, I thought my actions were justified.
She treated me like a fool who couldn't even eat what's given to him, and dismissed my novel as crap.
If I just hung my head without saying a word there, what dignity as a man would I have left to live with?
But Na-eun being a virgin... that was a variable...
A massive fucking variable.
No, but no matter how I think about it, how the hell was that a virgin?
It was a ridiculous story.
What kind of virgin wears a placard around her neck saying [Please fuck this pathetic me.] and brings a guy home.
Honestly, calling Na-eun a slut who's already lost her cherry fit her way better.
But the world wouldn't acknowledge my grievances like this.
What's important is always the facts.
Erotic Novelist Lee Min-ho raped Han Na-eun, who had zero sexual experience and no consent.
Nexus is destroyed~ Jju~ Jju~
Fuck.
The voice of a famous game caster echoed in my head.
Jju jju, yeah, that's right.
When the washing machine stopped, I put the damp laundry into the dryer.
Hoo... anyway, what the hell is Na-eun thinking?
She promised not to report me in exchange for me not cumming inside.
Since no cops have barged in yet, it seems like she really won't...
But our last conversation only amplified my anxiety.
[Oppa. I'm a Premarital Chastity believer.]
[What...?]
[I can't get married now.]
[No... how are you into Premarital.]
Na-eun reached out and caressed the intense remnants of our intercourse on the bed.
The excessively red stains, too much for just sexual fluids, proved she was a virgin.
[Take responsibility.]
Na-eun glaring at me with fierce eyes.
[...How.]
[Think about it hard.]
Now, if the world I live in was some orthodox Japanese light novel world, I'd go 'Ahaha! No choice but to marry now!' and scoop her up princess-style for a spin...
But this is reality.
Who the fuck would marry a rapist?
There must be some other meaning hidden...
No way...
She means financially support her!
I recalled the tuna we ate with Na-eun earlier today.
Na-eun was already a woman who'd successfully exploited me financially.
A not-insignificant meal costing 150,000 won per person.
My specialty as a writer, wild delusions, started chaining one after another.
[Oppa. You only made 400 this month?]
[No... Na-eun... that's...]
[At this rate, I can't buy that designer bag! Serialized updates! Do serialized updates!]
I dropped to my knees in front of Na-eun.
[I... I've already used up all my reserves... I can't think of the next story anymore...]
[You joking? Right now? You worm with nothing but sex in your brain! Write it! Write it now!]
[Na-eun... I'll somehow scrape together that bag money by next month, so calm down. Yeah?]
[Haa... Look here, Lee Min-ho-ssi. Don't throw a tantrum. Am I your girlfriend or what?]
[No, sir. Sorry. I'll write.]
[Yeah. Answer snappily like that. Got it? Yeah?]
[Yes, ma'am.]
[If there aren't two uploads by tonight, we'll go to the police station hand in hand.]
[Yep. I'll upload.]
...Oh. Fuck.
Maybe I should just turn myself in.
Is a life barely clinging on like that even worth living?
I pulled the blanket cover out of the now-stopped dryer and trudged powerlessly back home.
After reorganizing my bedding and sitting at my desk, I meticulously checked my suicide note again.
[I lived a shame-filled life.]
The first line from Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human.
No better one-liner to sum up my life.
I turned on the computer and logged into Novel World.
I hadn't been checking the comments that diligently lately, but today I read each of the roughly 200 comments on the latest update, [Han Na-eun (7)].
[Author-nim. Han Na-eun is such a total slut.]
I think so too. Na-eun's body is killer.
[Wow, this is insane lololol Han Na-eun is turning into total trash.]
Sorry. The one in the novel could be trained, but our junior can't.
[Author-nim, I really love it...]
A familiar nickname. It was [White Snowflake]-nim.
I thought about replying, but if I only replied to that person's comment, other readers might get offended, so I just firmly hit the recommend button once.
Reader Sensei. No idea when I'll hiatus. Thanks for the love so far.
Like a traveler savoring final moments with precious reader-nims before departing far away, I relished the last time.
Wondering what to do next, I suddenly realized design class starts again tomorrow.
Honestly, I had no mental energy left for design prep or writing novels, but I brought out the model materials piled in one corner of my room.
This project's Museum Renovation.
Renovation projects require a different approach from regular architecture projects.
If new builds focus on how to erect a new building on empty land, renovations are all about how well you preserve and utilize the existing structure.
As always, some reference analysis should yield something good.
I searched online, grabbed a few images I liked, and planned to make a concept model similar to them.
Craft paper...? Woodlock...?
Normally, Isopink is unbeatable for knocking out a day, but today I wanted to hunker down on model work.
I wanted to forget Na-eun.
To escape the grim reality looming before me, I started making what was too high-quality to call just a concept model.
"Minho-ya. Is this right?"
I'd finished the presentation, but the professor's expression wasn't great.
"...Yes?"
"Is this right? Right now."
Ah. This way of talking. I fucking hate it.
"Bring tracing paper."
I tore off a sheet of yellow tracing paper and handed it to the professor, who measured with a scale and rotated it around.
"What scale did you print the drawings at."
"200 to 1."
"What scale did you use for the model."
...I'd thought of it as a concept model, so I hadn't considered actual sizes.
"Like... 300 to 1...? Or something."
"Haa... You're a 4th year. Minho-ya. Get your shit together. Does 300 to 1 even make sense? Then how the hell does this fit here? Huh?"
"Sorry."
"Hey. Cut the crap. Redo the site analysis from scratch. Did you go to the site or not."
"Not yet..."
"You're a design student—how do you design without even visiting the site? After this, go there, do the site analysis, and resend me the presentation."
"Yes..."
I'd worked on the model until 3 a.m. last night, but the professor didn't even evaluate the model itself.
Fucking bullshit...
I thanked him and left the classroom, heading to the basement cafe for coffee.
My insides were burning up; I needed to drink something.
"Iced Americano large, one please."
As I handed over my card, a familiar voice came from behind.
"I'll have a strawberry frappuccino."
"Shall I ring them together?"
At the employee's words, I nodded.
I hadn't even turned around yet, but it was clear the bill was on me.
"When did you get here?"
I forced a smile and turned around.
Today's Na-eun showed up to school in magazine-model fashion as usual.
Inside a beige check jacket, a white turtleneck that perfectly outlined her breast curves.
A maroon flare skirt that looked a bit chilly for fall.
A mini chain bag perfectly suiting her cute petite frame completed her outfit.
"Right before. Design class done?"
"Yeah."
I took the drinks and handed her the strawberry frapp I'd bought with my money.
Mine: 2,000 won iced Americano.
Na-eun's: 5,600 won strawberry frapp.
It was already starting.
"Where you headed?"
Honestly, I had no plans to go right away, but I intended to bail using the homework the professor assigned.
"Ah... Gonna redo the site analysis."
"Yeah?"
Na-eun slurped her drink with the straw and smiled brightly.
"Yeah. So I'm heading out to handle it quick."
The moment I turned to escape the cafe.
Na-eun grabbed my wrist.
"N-Na-eun?"
"Where you going, you rapist bastard."
An eye smile that could melt men's hearts.
But I couldn't help trembling at her cute smile.
Hic.
This time, hiccups started coming from my mouth.