A 45-Year-Old Married Man in School Uniform (3)
It was a chilly day. My breath puffed out and dissipated right at my chest—too early for spring, really.
Having left the training grounds a bit sooner than planned, Ji-ah Lee headed home.
...I went too far.
She'd committed a wrong, felt regret. Then committed another wrong, felt more regret.
In the midst of this endless daily cycle, Ji-ah flailed about. She'd even considered seeing a psychiatrist, and once went all the way to the sea to vent the suffocating lump in her heart.
Yet nothing had changed.
The time was pushing past 7 p.m., nearing 8. A little later than usual, but if she hurried in now, she could still eat dinner. It might not be with Dad, but at least she'd have his cooking.
I'll apologize. That was her resolve as she approached the front gate, about to head inside.
She'd apologize first. Not just for her recent twisted attitude—no, at minimum, she'd take back the harsh words she'd spat out today. It was in that moment of firm determination...
"......"
"Oh, h-hello."
She didn't give off a good impression. Her face had a rough edge to it, or crudely put, she looked like a thug. Blonde hair, tanned bronze skin that stood out.
But the key point here was: why the hell was this woman all the way up at their front door, beyond the gate? She looked like she'd just been knocking, judging by her arm position.
Had she seen something in Ji-ah? Da-eun Kwak spoke first.
"Yuseong ajusshi invited me for dinner. I was eating and came out after forgetting my phone..."
"......"
Stride, stride. At those words, Ji-ah marched forward without a reply, straight toward the entrance.
Passing her by, shoving ahead almost aggressively, she punched in the door lock code.
-Beep, beep-beep.
The emotion Ji-ah was denying was sheer insolence.
They always ate dinner together. Unless it was some special occasion, it had been years of shared meals.
And yet. Skipping just one day, and he invites someone else? A sticky, filthy urge welled up to her chin, too nasty to put into words.
That very moment.
"Hic, hic-up."
A hiccuping sob. And there, at the door: a man in Hunter Academy uniform. The 45-year-old Yuseong Na. No... his name tag read Na Yuseong.
The air around them grew frigid. Ji-ah said nothing. She just stared at the man holding his smartphone, his face flushed beet red.
"J-Ji-ah, hic, it's, it's..."
"Shut up."
"......"
A flinch. The one reacting to the curse wasn't him—it was Da-eun Kwak.
Ji-ah opened the door and snatched the smartphone from the man's hand. An unfamiliar model.
"Agh...!"
A pathetic groan followed. Was it because her movement was too swift? Yuseong, unable to let go, tumbled forward with it.
Just a fall? No. Perhaps because he hadn't cleared it away: a shard from a broken plate stabbed into his foot.
One drop, another. Ignoring the blood staining the floor, Ji-ah tossed the phone over her shoulder without a glance or a word.
The smartphone left Ji-ah and returned to its owner.
That instant.
-SLAM!!!
The iron gate crashed shut with a thunderous boom. The door lock's chime echoed faintly amid the ringing silence.
Da-eun Kwak was gone now. At least from this house.
"Ugh, u-ugh, hic, Ji-ah. Th-that... it's all, all..."
What could she say? To her dad, looking up with teary, pleading eyes, crying injustice. What the hell was Ji-ah supposed to say?
Three seconds of silence. A long deliberation, but no answer came. Returning home to find traces of leftover dinner and her dad in his uniform cosplay—what could a daughter say to that?
A whirlwind of emotions she couldn't articulate swallowed her whole.
All that remained at the end was a sticky residue.
When the gale had raged, smashing everything solid to bits and vanishing, only that viscous emotion lingered. Hiding its writhing form, Ji-ah headed to her room.
"I'll explain, I'll explain. Ji-ah, Dad... I, well, you see..."
"Forget it."
A cold, curt dismissal. This time, it was Dad who flinched.
Cold, dead eyes. Family? No, she'd look at a total stranger with more warmth. Meeting that gaze, tears welled up and spilled from his purple eyes.
Ji-ah felt numb. Eerily calm. The storm's path was deathly still.
Her father clutched at her pant leg. A desperate, begging grasp—like don't go—drawing a single line between them.
"I said forget it."
"......"
"You don't have to explain. It's your life, right? I'm an adult now. You can do whatever you want."
"......"
"It's your life."
With that, Ji-ah turned away.
The line snapped. The line from her father gripping her pant leg.
-Drip, drip, plop.
The wound from the glass had stopped bleeding. Only fat, chicken-shit tears fell to the floor.
-Grip.
Ji-ah clenched her bedroom door handle tight.
That moment.
Her eyes caught a single room.
A door ajar, just a handspan wide. Her dad's bedroom—and until 15 years ago, a room shared with someone else.
Through the gap: wardrobe, bed. And on the headboard, a single photo.
It should have been a wedding portrait. But no—the photo showed a man and woman in Hunter Academy uniforms.
Seola Lee, and Na Yuseong.
He'd been Na Yuseong back then; marriage had made him Lee Yuseong now. But the name tag still read Na Yuseong.
One figure filled Ji-ah's gaze. Dad? No, her mother's side.
Seola Lee. S-rank hunter, her mother who passed 15 years ago.
And the woman in the frame looked shockingly...
"Hic, sob, hic..."
Like Ji-ah. Even the hair color, the eye color.
How long had it been since she'd last looked in the master bedroom? A space she rarely entered—why did it stand out so sharply now?
-Thump, thump, thump, thump.
Her heart raced. Sadly, the emotion pounding in her chest now was a bit off. Guilt for making her dad cry? No.
Something more sinful, guiltier still. Unallowable by any moral code. Not like they weren't blood-related or adopted—no.
It was the pure emotion of a child bound by blood.
Mom was beautiful. And she looked just like her.
And... Dad was the same as ever.
Like her racing heart. Ji-ah turned back to her father.
"Gasp, u-ugh?!"
His body floated up. Like scooping up a baby, Ji-ah effortlessly lifted her father.
And held him. The princess carry from the stories.
Because of the sudden shift? Her sobbing father's body went rigid.
Their faces were close. Bodies pressed tight, hot, breaths mingling at this distance—she whispered to him.
"You okay?"
"...!!"
His legs trembled. A small pain throbbed, but that wasn't the point. The daughter's coaxing voice pierced his ears.
Pure instinct. Like freezing when your weakness is exposed. A woman's sweet whisper in his ear was massive stimulation.
"Sorry... Dad."
Ji-ah apologized, just as she'd vowed on the way home. Her breath felt fragile.
Ji-ah moved slowly.
Through the living room, into her father's open bedroom.
The photo in the frame loomed closer.
She gently set Dad on the bed's edge. Then knelt.
No big reason. She needed to check his leg wound, and had words for him.
Her viewpoint lowered. Now the daughter looked up at her father.
He faced away from the framed photo. Perspective, or the spot she'd placed him? With him seated, the mother in the photo was obscured. Her whole body hidden. Replaced by the dad right before her eyes.
Ji-ah gazed at the photo behind. Because Dad blocked it, she alternated between the two men who looked identical enough to have been snapped yesterday.
"Th-thank you, Ji-ah... Dad's..."
"Really, you're okay."
Her lips curled slyly.
Good. Thank goodness. Yuseong was bewildered by his daughter's sudden change, but he felt genuine relief. The girl before him now was like her old self, before that late-blooming puberty hit.
A smile gentler than ever. Delicate fingers peeled off his sock to check the wound.
"Must hurt a lot."
"It's fine, I'm a hunter too. Yeah... Dad's okay."
"Yeah, Dad. Tell me slowly what happened."
Slide.
-Flinch.
Her touch on his foot was soft, yet chilling.
Pale, milky skin. Plush, and it even smelled nice.
Ji-ah looked up at her father with a faint smile.