Searching for Your Traces (2)
That dizzying moment from just a minute ago... No, it was nothing. Just a minor hiccup, like tripping over a pebble on the street. After hypnotizing myself with that firm conviction, she and I spent a quiet afternoon without any further incidents. I had my laptop on the living room table, eyes glued to charts packed with numbers, occasionally clicking the mouse. She sat right next to me, bundled up under the blanket pulled all the way to her chin over her shirt, her face peeking out as she stared fixedly at the TV screen.
If she were still her old burly male self, sprawled out without a blanket, it would've been the most annoyingly mundane weekend scene imaginable. Unfortunately, our reality was anything but.
At least it's a relief that... when she's stuck right by my side like this, she stays this calm and well-behaved.
Or maybe she was just desperately pretending to be calm on the surface. Either way, the fact that we were getting through it peacefully without any accidents was a blessing.
We were deep into that serene silence, each lost in our own peaceful time, when—
Rustle.
Suddenly, she wriggled out from her blanket cocoon, looking around curiously. Then, with footsteps deliberately hushed, she tiptoed toward the kitchen. I couldn't help tearing my eyes from the laptop to follow her tiny retreating figure.
She'd reached the kitchen table by then and turned back, holding something in her hand, staring straight at me.
A phone. But not my burner.
I looked closer. The screen was big, the case unnecessarily flashy and glittering—it was unmistakably her own phone. The cold metal brick that had been gathering dust in the corner for days because neither fingerprint nor iris scan worked anymore.
I was a little surprised but kept my tone casual. "Oh? Gonna use your phone? Battery's probably dead. Charger's on my desk in the bedroom—grab any one you want."
Finally, with the meds kicking in and her rationality returning, she must've mustered the courage to peek at the social traces she'd been ignoring.
Good. Not a bad sign.
Her workplace might be in an uproar from the sudden radio silence, and it was about time she shot off a quick message to friends or acquaintances.
Seeing a flood of missed calls and texts piled up from people worrying about her might fluster her a bit at first... but it could also comfort her and give her a boost.
The Han Junseo I knew was a total social butterfly who managed his relationships flawlessly. He never treated people harshly and was always the smiling center of the group. For a guy like that to vanish without a trace for days? No way everyone just shrugged it off with "Whatever, not my problem."
They had to be worried sick, scrambling to find her. Reading all those messages full of concern and affection would help her realize she wasn't alone in the world and maybe open her heart a little more.
Running that positive loop in my head, I nodded encouragingly at her once more.
Confirming my nod, she clutched her powered-off flashy phone tightly in both hands like a treasure, then hurried back on tiptoe and gingerly perched her butt on the sofa edge beside me.
She pressed the power button repeatedly, and the logo appeared as the screen lit up. Moments later, the phone in her hands started buzzing like mad—bzzz~ bzzz~—spewing notifications and messages nonstop.
Pfft... And there it is.
What a social butterfly. Must be buried under an avalanche of texts and missed calls for ignoring everyone during her disappearance.
I swallowed a light chuckle inwardly and turned back to my charts—
She tugged gently at my shirt collar.
"It... won't... open...."
She muttered in a dazed voice, staring at the screen.
"Duh. Use the emergency code, obviously."
"Ah... right... yeah...."
Now that rationality was back online instead of instinct, she'd finally remembered how to unlock it.
She's no secret agent—what was she thinking, only using fingerprint and face ID?
Living with constant blaring notifications like that must be exhausting for a social butterfly. I shook my head and refocused on my laptop.
But every time I snuck a glance to check on her, her expression as she stared at the screen was growing darker. The face flushed with anticipation drained to pale blue, twisting in distress, and by my last peek, her eyes were rimming red.
That's... definitely not tears of gratitude from people worrying about her.
Her hunched shoulders trembled like she was gripped by extreme fear or terror.
Before she crashes to rock bottom on this emotional rollercoaster again, I need to intervene.
I slammed my laptop shut with a loud thunk.
Without hesitation, I reached over and snatched the phone from her grip like a hawk.
She'd been clutching it so tensely it seemed like it might shatter, but it slipped into my hand absurdly easily and limply.
Is this the strength gap between her old body and this new female one?
No way. Back in college on that MT trip, the female juniors laughed at me for sitting out the heavy lifting, calling me a weakling.
It wasn't that I'd gotten stronger—it was that she'd weakened so much she couldn't even grip properly.
Caught off guard by the sudden theft, she froze with her hand hovering in midair, then turned to stare blankly at me. Her expression was pitifully sad, like a pet whose only snack had been stolen, or maybe just an empty, emotionless void. It was ambiguous.
That suffocating gaze forced me to speak first.
"What? Everyone dying to see you right now?"
She just shook her head slowly, no words.
Then, as if recalling the texts filling the screen, her already pale face turned ashen.
"I won't snoop through your texts or KakaoTalk. That's your privacy. If it's too hard to look at right now, you don't have to force it."
If I pried into her personal messages here, she'd stop being my equal friend and become a pitiful pet locked under my protection and control. I chose my words carefully to spare her last shred of pride amid the collapse.
But she tossed even that aside, trembling lips parting as if desperate to crawl under me for shelter, spilling the contents inside.
"They wanna... meet. It's all... just wanting to gawk at me turned into a girl, check out this body once...."
"Yeah? Then just say you've been too sick to see anyone these past few days."
"I want to, but... every single one, all those texters... had that same look as Sangcheol, that bastard. I could see it in the words."
"Come on, no way everyone's around you is that trashy."
I tried to deflect her worst imaginings lightly, but her self-esteem had plummeted through the floor into the Earth's core. She pulled the blanket over her head on the sofa, voice muffled as she continued.
"The girls... not... a single message. And work... seems like no one there even cares...."
That's weird. No way.
Sure, her rowdy guy friends from drinking sessions were immature idiots who might send creepy texts out of curiosity. But her close female colleagues? And her job, where even one day of no-show causes chaos? No contact at all?
"Rumors... must've spread already. About my family treating me like a monster and kicking me out... seen drenched in the rain as a girl, chased out, those parlor managers leering and smacking their lips on the street... some saw it all...."
Her voice cracked pitifully from under the blanket.
Haa...
I let out a small sigh. As expected from a former social star bathed in attention and gazes, her plunge to the bottom—those pathetic lows she never wanted anyone to see—had been exposed to others far too easily and swiftly. The brighter the light, the quicker the shadows swallowed her.
"How... can they...? Just... just because I got sick and my body changed, that's all... why...?"
Like a soul lost, she repeated "why?" like a parrot in vain despair.
Then suddenly, she snatched her phone back from my hand and hurled it with all her might toward the dark hallway by the front door.
Thwack! The expensive, flashy phone clattered across the floor with a loud noise.
"I... really tried so hard to live right... why...?"
With that choked sob, she curled back into her blanket cocoon.
Leaving her perfect burrito on the sofa, I walked to retrieve the phone she'd flung toward the entrance. Picking up the cold device from the floor, I glanced at the still-lit screen. Sure enough, mixed in were sleazy emojis and disgusting texts, just as she said.
But that wasn't all.
Plenty of short, earnest messages genuinely worrying about her and checking in were scattered among them.
Her eyes right now probably couldn't even see these normal, kind ones.
Out of hundreds of messages, she'd forcibly picked only the sharpest shards that hurt most and stabbed them into her own chest.
Even if I pointed them out now, she wouldn't listen.
Telling a rock-bottom wreck "Hey, look, tons of people care about you!" would be pointless. Best case, she'd bawl and reject it; worst, she'd slam shut the heart she'd been slowly opening to me.
So... all I can do right now is this.
Like that rainy Christmas when we first reunited days ago. Just stay by her side silently, offer something warm, and comfort her oh-so quietly.
To avoid startling her, I padded softly to the kitchen. I opened the cupboard and pulled out the cocoa tin stashed deep inside.
Bought it to enjoy alone at home in winter vibes—good thing I did.
Filled the coffee pot with water, turned it on, and waited for it to boil. Scooped generous heaps of cocoa powder into a mug, then slowly poured the bubbling hot water.
As white steam billowed up, the sweet chocolate scent wafted from the kitchen, softening the sharp tension hanging in the air even into the living room.
I cradled the warm mug in both hands and walked slowly back to the sofa. She wasn't on it anymore but huddled in the corner of the floor below, wrapped tight in the blanket.
I didn't speak or offer overt comfort. Just silently set the steaming mug on the low table right beside where she crouched.
To let her sort her thoughts without outside eyes, I drew the balcony blackout curtains fully shut. Turned off the bright living room lights, switching on only the small nightlight in the corner. Its soft yellow glow mingled with the sweet cocoa aroma, filling the space.
Before I knew it, our living room had transformed into the coziest, most comforting haven where she could quietly gather herself undisturbed.