2. Seol Yuha (1)

Seol Yuha's gaze stayed on the screen.

I froze with the mouse still in my hand. I knew I ought to close the window, but my hand wouldn't move. Hiding it now wouldn't do any good.

A recruitment notice sat dead center on the display, large enough—from the job title down through the working conditions—that Seol Yuha, standing right beside me, could read every line.

"...Teacher."

It was hard to believe this was the same person who had been avoiding my eyes only moments ago. Her expression had gone rigid, and the look she turned down on me was ice-cold.

An excuse I hadn't even prepared climbed all the way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to my throat. I only opened it to look. It came up by accident. Either one would have been a lie. I really had been browsing with the intention of applying, and I'd saved every listing that looked decent. The one on the screen happened to be one of them.

Seol Yuha's lips parted slightly. I braced my shoulders and waited. Whatever she said, I would hear her out first and explain afterward.

She didn't say a word. She picked up the papers on the desk and squared their edges; the corners tapped the desktop twice. Then she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set them back down and turned away.

"I— that's..."

Nothing came to me to follow it with.

The click of her heels crossed the staff room, and a moment later the door opened and shut. For a while I only stared at it.

"...I'm fucked."

I leaned back, and the chair rolled a little beneath me. Only then did I close the job site. Underneath it, the notice I'd been revising was still up—the very file Seol Yuha had said, just minutes ago, was fine to post as it was. I hit save.

That was the last of today's work. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to stand. Go out now and I was sure I'd run into her again in the hall.

I took out my phone, opened the messenger, and turned the screen off again.

Should I message her first? And say what? That I'm not planning to quit? Except I wasn't exactly not planning to.

I picked up the empty sandwich wrapper from the corner of the desk. A little sauce still clung to the inside. My head was starting to pound.

If a job doesn't fit, looking somewhere else is allowed. That was what I'd told myself when I went searching through the listings. But now that I'd been caught, the look in her eyes at the end kept snagging on me.

She'd told me to come in ten minutes early tomorrow. Said there was something the two of us needed to check. It had clearly been about work, and yet now it felt as if all that awaited me was being called aside.

I threw the wrapper away and packed my bag. After checking once more that the notice had saved properly, I shut the computer off.

Out in the hallway the lights were half off. Seol Yuha was nowhere in sight.

Even while I changed my shoes at the entrance, I kept glancing back. It felt as if someone might call my name at any second.

I got home, washed up, and lay down, and still sleep wouldn't come. Close my eyes and Seol Yuha's face appeared, the way she had looked at the monitor. Try to push that face away, and the voices from the afternoon came back instead—Jeong Daeun searching for an umbrella, Seol Yuha checking whether I'd finished my sandwich, and the talk of a dream.

I threw the blanket off and sat up.

"...What the hell was that, really."

Hearing other people's innermost thoughts. Why would something like that suddenly happen to me? Turn it over as many times as I liked, I couldn't guess at a cause.

I picked up the phone I'd left by my pillow and typed a line into the search bar. I stared at it for a moment, then erased it. A search didn't seem likely to turn up an answer I could actually accept.

Instead I opened the messenger. Every exchange between Seol Yuha and me had been about work. When a file came in, I replied that I'd checked it. When revisions came back, I said I understood. Scroll up a little and yesterday's notice file appeared, with a short line attached beneath it.

I remembered being called out for putting a photo in.

Right. I'd had my own grievances. She would tell me to ask if I didn't understand, then snap that it was obvious the moment I did. She even found fault with a brief conversation I'd had with another teacher. When that happened several times a day, was it so wrong to look at other jobs? I hadn't done anything I wasn't allowed to do.

Thinking that, I set the phone down. Maybe ten seconds passed. I picked it up again and set my fingers on the input field.

I stopped there. What I saw earlier—what, exactly? I could hardly claim it had been a list of restaurants and not a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠job site.

I deleted the sentence and wrote another.

This time I looked at it a little longer. Even if I didn't mean right away, it read like a promise that I would quit later. In the end I erased that too.

I turned the screen off and lay back down. Seol Yuha hadn't asked me anything. Sending a long explanation just because I felt guilty on my own would be strange. It was late enough that she might read it and not answer, and then I would obviously sit there fretting over that.

If she asks tomorrow, I'll answer. I haven't decided anything. I wasn't looking because I meant to quit right away. That ought to be enough.

I dragged over the bag I'd set beside the bed and took the schedule out of the front pocket. Two stars were marked beside the items to confirm tomorrow—the parts Seol Yuha had pointed out before she left. There were things I still hadn't been told. Ordinarily I would have watched her mood every time I asked, but tomorrow I meant to write my questions down ahead of time.

Three lines, and looking at them, it wasn't going to be a long conversation. Seol Yuha had told me to come ten minutes early before she ever saw the recruitment notice. Being called in separately didn't mean the first thing we'd discuss would be changing jobs.

"..."

I set the pen down and slid the schedule into my bag. I was tucking it between books so it wouldn't crease when my hand stopped.

Inside the bag was an envelope with my résumé already printed. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠took it out and looked at the first page. Beneath the photo were my name, my contact information, and how long I had worked at the kindergarten where I was now. The places that still needed fixing were marked in small pencil.

And I nearly tried to say I'd only happened across a listing, after preparing all this.

I started to put the envelope back in the bag, then moved it to the desk drawer instead. It wasn't a document I would need tomorrow. I didn't throw it away, either.

Tomorrow I'll go in early and get the preparations done first.

I set the alarm an hour earlier than usual, and in case I slept through it, I set two more at five-minute intervals. Then I plugged the phone into the charger and set it on the desk.

I turned off the light and lay down. This time I didn't get up to fetch the phone.

My eyes opened before the first alarm sounded. I must have slept, though I couldn't say for how long. My head felt heavy, and my eyes were dry every time I blinked.

I shut off all three alarms and got out of bed. Washing my face, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I was a sight. Show up with this face and I'd hear, again, that I looked tired.

I washed once more with cold water, dried off with a towel, and pulled on the shirt hanging over the chair. Even while I did up the buttons, I was sorting through what I would say. I haven't decided to change jobs. I'll do the work I've been given, and I'll do it properly. I stopped there and shouldered my bag. Prepare any further and I was sure I'd forget all of it the moment I saw her face.

The streets, earlier than usual, were nearly empty. Waiting for the bus, I checked my phone. Nothing had come from Seol Yuha. I'd already looked through the night more times than I could count, and still I opened the messenger in case I'd missed a notification. The last exchange was exactly as I'd left it.

I boarded and took an empty seat. I looked at my face reflected in the window, then turned my eyes outside. My lids were heavy, but I didn't close them. I had no desire to doze off and ride past my stop.

When I reached the kindergarten, it was seven-thirty—exactly one hour earlier than I usually arrived. She'd asked for ten minutes. I'd come a full hour early. Even I thought that was a bit much. Still, it beat sitting at home staring at the clock.

I took hold of the front door and stopped. The lock was undone.

Someone's already here?

Through the glass I looked inside. The hallway lights were on. I opened the door and stepped in, and in one cubby of the shoe rack sat a familiar pair of black heels. Seol Yuha's.

I stood there a moment with my hand still on the handle. She comes in even at this hour. The plan to arrive first and get ready had gone sideways before it started. I could hardly come all this way and then wait outside.

I closed the door quietly and changed into indoor shoes. Adjusting the bag on my shoulder tugged my shirt collar to one side. I slipped a finger in, straightened it, and looked down the hall.

The inner voice I'd heard yesterday came back—the one that had sounded hurt that I was avoiding her. And after that, the cold face I had seen.

Greet her first. Like always. Then I can say why I came early. There were things to prepare because of the schedule we went over yesterday.

Walking the corridor, my steps kept slowing. I'd told myself not to dwell on it, and still I found myself checking whether anyone was coming out from farther in. In the quiet building, only the soft scrape of my indoor shoes made any sound.

The lights in the Kindergarten Staff Room were on. The door stood a little ajar. I'd expected, once I got close, to hear paper turning or keys tapping, but it was silent inside.

I stopped in front of the door, slipped the bag off my shoulder, and held it in one hand. I was about to knock with the other when I looked through the gap first.

Seol Yuha was there.

Except—

Why was she in front of my desk, and not her own?

I parted my lips to greet her, and stopped just like that.