16. Words of Love
The eyes that had been reading Han Sua's text blinked, lids sliding down over them. What was the question actually asking? It might have been one of those twisted, roundabout ways women had of saying a thing. Or it might have been exactly what it sounded like—an innocent question about men's tastes. Thinking of Han Sua's personality, the latter was far more likely.
A woman who played at being easygoing while quietly looking out for herself. Unlike Lee Hayun, who was forcing herself to become a fox whether it suited her or not, she was about as far from that kind of cunning as a person could get. An exceedingly human woman.
If I laid what Yozora had told me over the situation in front of me, she probably wanted friends of the opposite sex as well as her own. I couldn't be sure. She might even have been hoping for one of those "fateful encounters" that filled the romance manga she read.
Which meant that when Han Sua had asked me to be her friend, and was now diligently texting me in the middle of class, it wasn't because she was interested in me as a man. It was because, among men, I was the only one she considered even somewhat close. I dragged a fingertip lightly down the edge of my lip—once, twice—and let out a lukewarm sigh.
For now, of course, I still held an unrivaled position among them. I was probably the only man who had so much as held a conversation with her, let alone known her number. But that was all. As the saying went, the childhood friend always loses. A role like "the kind teacher" had a high floor and nothing else. The ceiling sat far too low for the relationship I was after.
Still. I'd come too far for a chance like this. I had to take hold of it.
Look at that usually expressionless face and she seemed to carry a sharp, imposing air. Put her in front of a close friend and she smiled loose and easy, as if she'd never been anything else. Put her in front of a man she didn't know and she froze so completely that her eyes went sharp again. And what was actually inside was a conglomerate heiress who liked reading comics.
Resistance to men: zero.
Friends who were men: none.
Hunger for a friend who was a man: considerable.
And yet, judging by how little she cared about fashion, or her hair, or the way she carried herself, she had no idea how fuckable she looked. For all that, she had never masturbated once in her life. According to Yozora, she didn't particularly like anything lewd. For all that, her body was sensitive to a pointless degree. And as a hero, her ability sat at the very top of the country. She was the woman whose creepshots—baggy casual clothes and all—had circulated online in broad daylight, people calling it street fashion with a straight face. The woman who couldn't hide her figure no matter how she dressed. There was no one who could replace Han Sua. Not for the next ten years, at least.
Which meant this chance—this lifeline—had to be seized, however I could manage it. Even if I wound the rope around my hands until they went crimson. Even if I clamped it in my teeth and held on. Even if the method was ugly.
I asked that much for now, and set my head to work. The thing was so stiff it had rarely been of much help, but that didn't mean I could go charging in with no plan at all.
Of everything Yozora had given me, nothing was particularly useful aside from Han Sua's hobbies. At best, that her relatives were desperate to bury her. In the past, someone other than Yozora had half-succeeded in putting Han Sua in the ground, and I sometimes wondered if that was why the future had changed—but whatever. Knowing it only in outline wasn't going to help. I set aside what had happened before the regression and focused on the present.
The one holding the shovel meant for Han Sua now wasn't a stranger. It was Yozora. Predictable enough in which way she'd bolt, and controllable enough to order as I pleased. Someone I could tell, instead of digging with the shovel in her hands, to crack Han Sua across the back of the head, knock her out, and drag her in front of me.
I had already shown an interest in Han Sua—telling Yozora to call her out to a bookstore so we could stage a "fateful encounter," and the like—so Yozora would follow my orders diligently, if only for the sake of her reward. On the surface, of course, she'd be too busy snarling and acting like a bitch to show it.
So what exact order should I give her now, if I wanted it to help make Han Sua mine? That part, at least, was easy.
Isolation.
To begin with, she wore a mask cold and prickly enough that people found it hard to approach her at all—assuming, of course, that she wasn't wearing the soft, dopey smile she saved for Yozora's side. So if Yozora kept a reasonable grip on Han Sua's leash and watched her properly, filthy little gnats might buzz around and take an interest, but none of them would actually stick.
All right. Then, while Yozora set that stage, what should I be doing? That wasn't particularly difficult either.
Lies. Pitch-black lies, meant to talk Han Sua under. Teaching her, for instance, that friends having sex was a "normal" thing. Something along those lines. But we'd only spoken a handful of times. It was still too soon. I had to wait for the moment.
Dragging charcoal across the thin sheet of drawing paper that was Han Sua—that had to wait until her trust in me had grown good and thick. For now I was nothing more than Kind Teacher No. 1, and my work was to stack that trust, layer by careful layer.
Sports stories. At the bookstore I'd only said it because I hadn't had a decent excuse ready, and she'd remembered. I couldn't afford to drop that persona. I took a breath, then typed out a line.
I had a fair sense of what she meant, and I asked anyway.
Will you be my friend. What do men like. Do you like that too, Teacher. Then, could you help me practice in a little while. Lay the record of how Han Sua had grown so far on top of that, and it was obvious.
Just then, sunlight pushed through the curtain at my back and washed out the phone. Even with the brightness cranked to the limit, the light was thick and brilliant enough to get in the way. Annoyed, I drew the curtain properly and shut the sun out completely, then tapped the screen under the harsh fluorescent glare.
"Jiyoon's been weird lately."
"Has she?"
Three in the afternoon. The end of the school day was only just beginning to show itself, blank and far off.
"...It's just, Jiyoon's gotten really nice...."
The words came from Lee Hayun, who had wedged herself in among the second-years and come looking for me disguised as a patient.
"Nice?"
"Nice, like I said. She's eating breakfast properly, she's not sleeping in...."
She wasn't some little elementary-schooler. Wasn't the bar for "gotten nice" a little off? I held the thought in my mouth and crossed to the window behind me. Sweat from the students. A faint smell of dust. And the fruit scent of the diffuser. The smells slipped out through the window I'd left open to air the room, and the knife-edged wind of early March filled the space they left.
Deciding that was enough, I shut the window and held out a warm cup of cocoa to Hayun. The question was still popping, bright and sudden, across her face.
"No, I mean.... Ever since middle school, there's been about a forty-three percent chance she'd call me Lee Hayun instead of Unnie."
"Oddly specific."
"But at some point she started only calling me Unnie. It just hit me a minute ago and I got chills...."
"Maybe she's growing up. She's older now."
"And these days she doesn't seem to game for that long, either...."
"Ah. She turns it off around midnight."
"Right?!"
"Isn't that just a good change?"
"They say if someone changes all of a sudden, it's a sickness they're going to die from."
"Die from.... ...There's no way."
"Don't laugh!! I'm being serious."
"Yes. Yes."
Lee Hayun locked her arms tight beneath her chest, as if there were no possibility she was wrong. A demure older sister, good in the kitchen—she looked less like that and more like an angry hamster.
So it seemed Lee Jiyoon had been loading her own desire into the word Unnie for a long time. Well, either way. The seed I'd planted in her before appeared to be growing just fine on its own.
Next time I had a moment to spare, if Hayun and I made a few "gifts" and sent them along, she'd probably put them to use without being told. For her own pleasant relief, or for some filthy fit of jealousy. Either way suited me. All I had to do was wait for Lee Jiyoon to crumble, a little at a time.
"What do I do? A nice Jiyoon isn't Jiyoon.... Give me back the one with no manners...."
"...Then shall I stress her out a little? In a game?"
"Stress?"
"Yes. I was thinking she might turn back into the old Jiyoon pretty quickly that way."
"...Forget it. I like the nice Jiyoon too, the way she is now."
"...? Then why the talk about a fatal illness...."
"I was just saying it. A joke."
Bleh—Hayun stuck her tongue out between her lips and flopped forward onto the infirmary desk, arms folded under her. She'd lain on her side with one arm for a pillow, and those deep-green eyes—the very same shade as Lee Jiyoon's—came to rest on my face.
Would a day ever come when I could set both pairs of those deep-green eyes side by side next to my cock? For a moment I pictured it: the sisters soaked through with sweat, streaks of semen still marking them, giving me a sloppy, soaking double blowjob. Only for a moment. Knowing Hayun, she was bound to knock the cocoa I'd left beside her arm, so I shifted the cup well clear of the desk.
And just then, something occurred to me.
"...Ah, Noona."
"Mm."
"Does Jiyoon hate buying clothes, by any chance?"
"Mmm, I dunnooo.... It's less that she hates it, and more that she'd rather just spend the money on games...."
I didn't particularly want to scold anyone for spending money on games, but still—food, clothes, and a roof ought to come first. I folded the baffled thought away and went on.
"Let's go buy some clothes together next time."
"...Clothes? We could just get them online...... No, okay! I'd like that!"
"We'll bring Jiyoon too. The three of us."
"...The three of us?"
Going out alone with Lee Hayun, without Lee Jiyoon. Going out alone with Lee Jiyoon, behind Lee Hayun's back. Both were attractive options, no question. Neither was more attractive than this.
"It gets on my nerves, the way she wears the same clothes every single day."
I tossed out a suitable excuse, and eyes the same color as Lee Jiyoon's turned toward me.
Eyes. Cheeks. Mouth. Eyes again.
The deep-green gaze traveled that path, and in the end disappeared beneath Lee Hayun's long lashes.
"Yeah. Well, let's. I haven't been going to the hospital lately, so a few outfits...."
Unlike the bright answer from a moment before, this one arrived with a lukewarm permission.
"Let's see.... Going at night's no good. You've got your shift, Noona, and Jiyoon will want to game.... Shall we make it the weekend? Saturday?"
"Okaaay. Saturday.... Guess I shouldn't make other plans...."
Hayun answered while sprawled across the desk, rolling and rumbling. I stroked the hair of the girl who hadn't the faintest idea, and gave her a gentle smile.