Mesugaki and Booze
"No way... She's not that kind of person..."
I tried desperately to deny it, telling myself Park Jaeyeon unnie wouldn't have done that, but all the evidence was painting a picture of what she'd done to me last night.
First off, I don't talk in my sleep much, so my hair's never that messed up in the morning. Second, there's no way I'd ever put on lipstick. Hell, I don't even know how. Third, how the hell does your clothes get that disheveled just from sleeping? And fourth, that image of Jaeyeon unnie pushing drinks on me last night, insisting on toasts over and over—it kept flashing in my mind.
If I wasn't a total idiot, I could see exactly what happened when I passed out drunk. A horny twenty-something office lady in her prime, and me, a guy who blacked out from booze, alone in the same room, unable to fight back. Even I'd have jumped at that chance.
"In the end... me again..."
My face burned. I rushed to the sink and cranked the faucet. Cold water until my head cooled off enough for rational thought. I dunked my face in and scrubbed like a maniac.
The lipstick stain on my lips looked like a slave's brand—utterly revolting. Gotta wipe it off... erase this crap. I rubbed so hard it felt like I'd rip my lips off.
But why won't it come off...?
"Filthy... so filthy..."
Every woman in this world is the worst. Shimura ajummas groping me in public, the part-time boss slyly touching my body, the landlord's daughter lurking till I come out, and now this viewer who got me drunk and did who-knows-what. It went beyond disgust—straight to pure loathing.
Disgusting. This pathetic body is too gross. Short, weak, spineless, fragile mind, and stupid to boot. I hate this flesh.
-Shhhhhh...
Normally, I'd skip showers because of those creepy stares, but right now, who cared? Filthy... gotta wash it clean. Object, animal, human—doesn't matter. I'd usually rush to save on water bills, but screw that. Anything to scour away the grime.
I skipped body wash for cucumber soap on my washcloth, lathering up. Bubbles vanish in water, taking the dirt with them. But the deep-seated revulsion rising from my gut? That wouldn't wash away.
'Filthy... makes me wanna puke.'
Worst of all. Should've never let my guard down over food...
I let the shower spray from my scalp down, scrubbing slowly. Hangover for sure—head pounding, stomach churning. Yet my body wouldn't stop. I kept foaming the cloth, scrubbing till my skin squeaked. Lather up, rinse. Simple repeat, but each cycle chipped away at my sanity.
Is this life? Everything I've built crumbles, no happy ending? The water streaming down my face—warm shower or hot tears? Couldn't tell.
"Starving..."
Moving around since morning had my stomach roaring. When you're hungry, eat anything to fill it—but not for me. No ingredients left at home. Just 15,700 won. Not enough for two weeks.
Hate this... Am I seriously gonna starve? Stomach growling, no cash, and going out? Hell no. Just waste away slowly here? No family, money, or lover—quietly die alone...
-Ding!
"Ha... unbelievable."
The woman who got me drunk and toyed with me yesterday sends a sweet morning text? One taste and I'm hooked fish in her tank? Bet she has evidence pics for blackmail...
Sleep? Yeah, slept great. Too great—couldn't wake up when you had your fun.
Chatting fueled the rage bubbling inside.
'What, wanna meet up again and grope me?'
Sick of her good-girl act. She lured me with booze yesterday—follow blindly again and I'd get it worse. Awake this time.
"Shy? That bitch... I actually thought she was nice."
Her tone was so casual, like nothing happened. My whole body feels repulsive from last night? This world's women—lesson learned: never trust 'em.
No way she blacked out too and forgot? Gross. She gave in to lust, right? She brought me home—knows where my key is? She'll come rage anyway—might as well vent.
Playing dumb to the end.
"This doesn't add up..."
Passed out drunk, woke up clothes undone, lipstick smeared—how else to interpret?
'Huh? Accidental kiss?'
"Wait, if no intent... then fine, I guess."
I'm no psycho—drunk me yanked her, she says. Can't rage over that.
Suddenly, things shifted. Wait—if true, my clothes and hair? That off feeling on my body?
Head spun, thoughts fogging.
'Wait... yeah, think I did beg...'
Face heating up. No way it was all my imagination? Nah...
"C-call... gotta phone her...!"
Trembling hands dialed her number from before.
"Hello? Jaejun?"
"U-unnie...! D-did you really not... jump me yesterday?"
"Hmm... check the blanket or trash can?"
Ah... blanket. Only one in the house—if something happened, evidence there. Damn this dumb head.
In the end, I imagined the rape... flipped out solo. Fuck... mortified.
"Jaejun? Anything to say? I'm hurt..."
"Unnie, sorry...! So sorry! I'm banging my head on the floor!"
Not enough—full kowtow needed. Should've thought straight; easy fix. Past shame, now guilt.
What now? Free-meal unnie connection on the brink.
"Ahem... wanna grab food with me?"
"Food?"
"Unnie's lonely, no friends. You'll join, right?"
"Of course! Gotta!"
Her voice wasn't mad—relieved, almost. Why? My pea brain couldn't grasp, but whatever. I'm the psycho who framed an innocent—shut up and go.
I flung open the dresser, grabbing clothes. Dress sharp, shut her up...