Yoon Ayoung (4)

Yoon Ayoung (4) — Incheon Central Library, 4th Floor Women's Restroom

"F-fucking tell me where you got that, right now! I-I'm gonna tell Kangsan-hyung everything!"

The closer I got to the restroom, the louder Lee Gyeongmin's yelling became.

"I-I really don't know anything…."

"This girl's lying again. Hey! That snack isn't even sold at the library convenience store, so how the hell do you have it? You're the only one who comes here, aren't you?"

Lee Gyeongmin was shaking the bag of snacks I'd given Yoon Ayoung, veins bulging in his neck.

And our Ayoung just trembled in silence, offering not a whisper of resistance.

Kim Cheolsu, perched on the sink counter watching the whole scene with apparent amusement, spotted me as I walked in.

With a look of mild disgust, he waved me off dismissively.

"Ah, just go. We've got some stuff to talk about among ourselves."

At those words, Lee Gyeongmin's head whipped around like a bolt.

The moment he registered who had arrived, he rounded on Kim Cheolsu in a panic.

"Hey! What the hell are you saying to our Guwon-hyung! I explained everything already, didn't I? Let's go."

"That's what I'm saying — I didn't rat you out."

"What's that supposed to mean now? G-Guwon-hyung, we were just leaving! Please don't mind us!"

Lee Gyeongmin grabbed the reluctant Kim Cheolsu by the arm and started tugging him out, winking at me all the while.

I gave him a discreet thumbs-up where Yoon Ayoung couldn't see, and he beamed back with a greasy little grin.

Watching the two of us, Kim Cheolsu's expression curdled.

How should I handle that little shit?

After a moment's thought, I applied telekinesis to Kim Cheolsu's still badly swollen arm.

"Agh! Aaaargh! You—I told you not to grab my right arm!"

"What the—! I wasn't grabbing it! Why are you suddenly flipping out on me!"

I watched the two of them shriek and flail like Dumb and Dumber until they vanished from sight, then sat back down beside Yoon Ayoung.

"Th-this is…?"

"Throw the wrapper away properly this time. Don't get caught."

"Th-thank you. Oppa."

Yoon Ayoung blushed and carefully unwrapped the chocolate, beginning to lick it like a cat.

"So… anything you're particularly craving?"

"…Huh?"

"I hear girls are crazy about tteokbokki. Do you like it too, Ayoung?"

"N-no, it's f-fine, really…."

She waved her hands frantically, still clutching the wrapper in her other fist.

But her eyes already had that faraway look, as if she were remembering tteokbokki from a past life.

So this is that famous "women speak the opposite of what they mean" thing?

Or is it that godawful rumor that actually it's the reverse that's true?

Eh, at this level it's just a light flex on my part.

The moment I pulled steaming-hot tteokbokki out of my inventory, Yoon Ayoung's eyes went perfectly round.

"W-woooow."

She seemed even more moved by this than she had been by the telekinesis.

Her hands, cupping the bowl, trembled with reverence.

"So how were you planning to eat it? Face-first into the bowl?"

"…Ah."

When I handed her wooden chopsticks from the inventory, she accepted them carefully and began staring at the tteokbokki with unblinking intensity.

Could it really be that good?

I watched her quietly, and she didn't move a muscle — literally just looking at the tteokbokki, nothing more.

"…What are you doing?"

Yoon Ayoung answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Th-the el-elder has to eat first…."

"Ah, you were waiting for me to start?"

"……Yes."

That shy little expression of hers made something in me burst with cuteness aggression.

Now that stroking her face had become second nature, she actually leaned into my hand, begging for more.

After luxuriating in that softness for a good while, I spoke again.

"Eat it all, Ayoung. If it's not enough, I can give you more."

"…Th-thank you for the meal."

With a polite little bow, she dug into the tteokbokki in earnest.

Her cheeks stuffed full of rice cakes and fish cakes, she chewed away, then peeked at me with cautious eyes.

"…Um. O-Oppa?"

"Yeah?"

"Is-is something… bad happening to you?"

My smile slipped off my face naturally, and Yoon Ayoung flinched hard.

"I-I'm sorry! I-I-I overstepped, d-didn't I? It's just, y-you seemed in such a bad mood, so, p-please don't be angry, I-I'm sorry."

I wasn't angry.

I was just curious — was it all showing on my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠face, or had Ayoung simply noticed on her own?

I calmed her down as she bobbed her head in apology over and over.

"No, you're right, Ayoung. Something… did happen today. Something a little unpleasant."

"Wh-what kind of thing?"

Her voice was soft and careful, and her fingers fidgeted in her lap.

She was curious about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me. This was a very, very good sign.

"Some people… were giving me a hard time. And I've always done my best to be someone they could trust."

"Wh-what kind of people? Who-whom?"

Her urgency drew a laugh out of me.

"Why? Is our Ayoung going to scold them for me?"

"I-I wish I could… but, y-you know how I am, Oppa. I-I couldn't…."

As her face fell into a sulk, I held out the tteokbokki again.

Keeping that same sulky expression, she chewed through the rice cakes I fed her.

Every time her mouth emptied, I popped in another rice cake or piece of fish cake and spoke.

"Now it's your turn to tell me something, Ayoung."

"Mmph, yes?"

"I told you one of my secrets, so you have to tell me one of yours."

Yoon Ayoung covered her chewing mouth with one hand and rolled her eyes this way and that, clearly racking her brain for something.

"I-I'm sorry. I c-can't really think of…."

Her voice dwindled until it was practically buried in the floor.

To coax her out of that sudden gloom, I offered her an Iced Americano bought from the shop.

"It's fine. It's fine. Here, drink this while you eat. You're supposed to have something to sip when you're eating spicy food."

"Th-thank you. Oppa."

"Come to think of it, our Ayoung handles spicy food like a champ. Did you used to go out hunting for hot spots with your friends a lot?"

"W-well…."

"I mean, while the guys were holed up in PC bangs, you girls were off finding famous restaurants, right? Especially the spicy tteokbokki place in front of our university—"

"Uuu…."

Mid-deduction, piecing things together from experience, I heard a whimper of pain.

A tear that had welled up in Yoon Ayoung's big eyes spilled over and rolled down her cheek.

"It's okay. Yes, it's okay. Everything's okay."

"I-I'm sorry…. Uu, uuuuh…."

Startling even myself with how fast I moved, I pulled Yoon Ayoung into my arms and patted her back.

Honestly, I had no idea why she was crying, but calming her down came first.

Yoon Ayoung buried her face against my chest and sobbed for a long time before she finally began to speak in a trembling voice.

A mother who cheated when she was little. A father who divorced that mother and then raised her alone. But her father had hated her for resembling her mother — the indifference, the neglect. And from that came the hypersensitive, timid personality, forever over-conscious of everyone around her. Maybe because of it, the ostracism that started in elementary school carried on unbroken through middle school, high school, and all the way into university, she said.

"Ayoung, weren't the guys desperate just to have a single conversation with you, though?"

"…I-I never went to a co-ed school."

"……Not even university?"

"I-it was, um, a women's university."

Ah-hah. So just as a guy might go through all-boys middle school, all-boys high school, and the military, she'd been through the all-girls equivalent: girls' middle, girls' high, women's university.

I looked at her again with fresh eyes.

Did women like this actually exist?

No, wait a second.

The feminists that were apparently all the rage at women's universities these days came to mind.

With a personality like hers, holding beliefs like those?

"So… are you okay even being around a guy like me?"

"…Wh-what's a 'guy like you'?"

My little probing remark was met with a perfectly innocent question.

"…Didn't you at least talk to girls your own age?"

"E-even when I tried to get close, th-they all ignored me and c-called me names and…."

Ah, my brain auto-generated the image.

Yoon Ayoung, hunched and hesitant, stammering at girls her own age. And those girls staring back at her with rotten, contemptuous expressions.

"Did you not use the internet, though?"

Even if you couldn't fit in with a crowd, these days the internet was more than enough for human connection.

"M-my dad was strict…."

Why does strict dad come up here of all places?

I mulled it over, then remembered — I had never once seen Yoon Ayoung touch a smartphone.

A stark contrast to the part-timer at my convenience store days, whose phone never left her hand for a single second.

"What about a phone? You had a phone, right?"

"Dad was strict…. He-he said I should earn the money and buy one myself…."

"Haah."

Put kindly, she was a blank white sheet of paper. Put harshly, she was an ignorant dead weight who knew nothing.

Yoon Ayoung had clearly dumped every last drop of her luck in life — parental luck, friend luck, all of it — into the single roll of becoming an Awakened.

If she hadn't fainted in that bathroom, she would have died to a zombie without question. No — even if she'd only run into other people, they would have used her until she died. She would have been one hundred percent bait-ending or human-shield-ending material.

"It must have been so hard, our Ayoung. But it's all okay now."

"Ah…."

As my hand moved toward her cheek, she leaned in first and nuzzled against my palm.

At some point, I noticed both of her legs had wrapped around me like she was locking me in place.

"It's okay. Forget ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all of it now. You have me, don't you?"

"Heh, hehehe."

To the girl grinning up at me like a puppy, I whispered it again and again.

I'm ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here now. Everything's going to be all right.

As if in agreement with my words, her head bobbed enthusiastically with every phrase I spoke.

Her hazy, dream-drunk eyes had somehow gathered in front of her face, on my fingers.

My middle and index fingers gently stroked her lips.

"Say ahh~."

"…Yes."

Mmm—

My fingers traced a slow circle around her soft mouth.

Wet with her saliva, they caressed her even row of teeth and her tongue.

Mmm— Mmm— Mmmm—

Her breath, the part she couldn't let out through her mouth, tickled warm against the back of my hand.

After toying with the inside of her mouth for a long while, my fingers slowly withdrew.

And I began sucking on them deliberately, making sure she heard every sound.

Shloop— shp—

At the lewd sound ringing through the restroom, Yoon Ayoung's head ducked sharply.

Her cheek, visible at an angle, was already flushed red to the point of bursting.

"Ayoung, you have to look up, you know?"

With my free hand, I glided gently over the crown of her head.

She must not have been able to wash properly in ages, yet her hair flowed soft and silky through my fingers.

Slowly, she raised her head and met my eyes.

I could see it: her emptiness, once aimed at the whole world, had narrowed down to a single point. Me.

With a small smile, I began sucking my fingers again, making the sound on purpose.

Shloop— shloop—

To the sound of slurping like a kid with a popsicle, Yoon Ayoung stared at me in a daze.

Her gaze followed my fingers, soaked well and truly in my saliva, as they left my lips.

She could see them — coated in something thick and viscous.

"How hard must it have been? As if our Ayoung ever did anything wrong…. How could no one ever stay by your side?"

My fingers drifted toward her lips.

"But honestly, I think it's a good thing. Because that's how you and I met. That was a trial the gods gave you."

The serpent's whisper rang in her ear like thunder.

"Don't be lonely anymore. Don't be sad, either. All you have to do is listen to me, believe in me, and follow me. That's all."

Liquid of Subordination came to rest before her lips.

On her face — her gaze locked onto my fingers — relief, rapture, and happiness overflowed in equal measure.

"You have to answer, remember?"

"…Yeeees."

"Good girl. Well done."

I stroked her head once more and murmured softly.

"Then… eat now."

"Haahm. Shloop— shp—"

The moment permission left my mouth, Yoon Ayoung began sucking on my fingers with unmistakable relish.

Her throat bobbed in one gulp after another, absorbing the Liquid of Subordination.

"Hnnnnnngh— hng—"

The more she sucked, the more her eyes filled with pure rapture.

By now she was no longer just taking my saliva — she was diligently lapping my fingers clean with her tongue, drenched as they were in her own spit. As I watched her, a message window bloomed before me.

At last — the birth of my very first believer.