Late-Night Intrusions and the President's Concern
I lightly caught the edge of her sleeve and shook my head.
"Sit down. Don't."
"Why? You're just going to sit there while they carry on like animals?"
"Someone moved into the place next door the day after I did. They've been like that on and off ever since. Everyone around here has their own mess to deal with. Getting involved only makes things awkward for both sides, so leave it."
Min Jiyeon looked down at the sleeve still caught in my fingers, then let out a sigh and sat back down.
"…You're surprisingly easygoing. I can't believe you've put up with that racket every single time."
"Once you get used to it, it's basically background music. More importantly, eat. It's getting cold. It never used to happen this often, but ever since you showed up… well, funny how that works. Haha."
"Your jokes are…"
Min Jiyeon's face was full of open dissatisfaction, but she didn't push any further. She simply started moving her spoon again.
The noise beyond the wall flared a few more times, then finally settled into silence. Without another word she cleaned her plate of omelet rice down to the last grain. The moment the meal was finished she snatched the dishes from my hands as if confiscating them.
"I'll do the washing up."
"I can handle it."
"If I make the person who gave me a place to sleep wash the dishes too, my conscience won't survive it. You go sit over there and rest."
She marched stubbornly over to the sink and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. I perched on the edge of the bed and quietly watched her back as she turned on the water, soaped the dishes, and scrubbed. Her slender waist, the black hair cascading down it, catching the white fluorescent light and gleaming.
The sole legitimate daughter of a conglomerate that moved the entire country… standing in a semi-basement kitchen wearing rubber gloves and doing the dishes. No one would believe the farce even if you told them. Even in dramas the heiress never does the washing up.
A question that had been floating at the back of my mind finally surfaced.
"Min Jiyeon."
"Hm? What?"
She left the water running and only turned her head slightly to look at me.
"Your family isn't looking for you?"
At my question her hands went still. Silence stretched between the sound of running water. She turned her gaze back to the dishes and answered flatly.
"…As if they wouldn't be."
"Why? You're the daughter of the house. If you vanish, the whole place should be turned upside down."
Min Jiyeon rinsed the last of the suds away and let out a short, dry laugh.
"The people in my family, Park Yijun… they only have eyes for money, prestige, and power. To them I'm nothing more than a product that raises the family's value. The product wandered off the display shelf on its own, so of course they're angry—but not because they're worried about me. They're angry because the family's face is getting dragged through the mud and a signed contract might fall through."
There was something almost refreshing in her voice, more than sadness.
"Father's probably already sent people out looking for me by now. But that isn't because he cares. It's so he can twist my wrist if he has to and force my signature onto that contract. …They're not searching for me as family. They're trying to reclaim property."
She set the last dish on the drying rack and peeled off the rubber gloves. When she turned around, the expression on her face was nothing like the defiant look she had worn that morning. Deep loss flickered for a moment inside empty eyes.
I had never imagined that the real life of the young lady who seemed to have everything—overflowing money, a world that envied her—could be this wretched. The thought struck me that she might have been suffering a loneliness even deeper than mine, the orphan who had lost both parents early and been left alone.
"…I see."
I didn't pile on any long words of comfort. I only looked at her with quiet pity. Min Jiyeon wiped the moisture from her hands with a towel and forced a faint, almost deliberate smile.
"…Don't worry. They won't come bursting in here for a while yet."
Time slipped by quickly and night arrived. Just like the previous evening, the lights inside the room went out. Through the tiny gap of the semi-basement window, the faint residual glow of a streetlamp painted the linoleum floor. I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling; Min Jiyeon lay on the futon she had spread out on the floor below. In the space of a single day this strange cohabitation arrangement already felt oddly familiar.
I turned my head a little and looked down. A few strands of her black hair had spilled out from under the blanket.
"Good night, Min Jiyeon."
A soft rustling answered from below. Then her voice came.
"You too. Sleep well, Park Yijun."
That was the end of the conversation. I closed my eyes. The day's fatigue rolled over me and my consciousness began to blur.
Rustle.
The sound of a blanket being lifted. Light footsteps approached the side of the bed.
What…?
Before I could even open my eyes, the edge of my own blanket was pushed upward. Something slipped into the gap—warmth seeping in, smooth and quiet. I jolted and tried to sit up, but a thin arm settled firmly across my chest and held me down.
"You…?"
Min Jiyeon's eyes were staring straight into mine. She had crawled into my bed and claimed the space beside me.
"…Just stay still."
"How am I supposed to stay still? Your place is down there. Why did you climb up?"
"The floor is colder than I thought…"
Her voice trailed off as her fingers clenched the fabric of my T-shirt. She was trembling, just a little.
"Lying alone down there… I keep thinking about last night and I can't sleep. It feels like I'm locked up alone again in that huge mansion… I can't even close my eyes."
The same deep loneliness she had shown while washing the dishes clung to every word. Behind the runaway heiress's proud front, the fragility of a wounded child stood completely exposed.
"I want to sleep like this. When I'm next to you… I feel a little safer."
Without waiting for an answer she buried her face against my chest and wrapped her arms around me. The body heat from her slender frame pressed against mine. Ha… This woman is hopeless.
The awareness that a man and a woman were lying in the same bed made my heart race faster than usual, yet I couldn't ignore the desperation in the way she held me. Forcing her off the mattress and back onto the floor in this situation wouldn't have been a human thing to do either.
I exhaled a long breath and let the upper body I had been about to raise sink back onto the mattress.
"…Do what you want. Just don't start whining about being cold."
"Okay. Thank you."
Min Jiyeon tightened the arm around my waist and pressed herself even closer. I felt her breathing gradually change, and I closed my eyes as well. Strangely, the fact that she was sleeping while holding me no longer bothered me. I only hoped this strange night would pass without incident.
Deep night.
Ground level above Park Yijun's semi-basement room.
Near the utility pole in the alley, all human traffic had vanished; the place was unnervingly quiet. Even the streetlamp light spread in a dull, watery haze. A pile of trash bags discarded by the residents sat in a shadowed corner.
Slip.
A figure crawled soundlessly out from the corner of the alley, as though determined never to let another living soul see its face. A thick black hoodie was pulled all the way over the head; a mask and a cap completely hid the features. The silhouette looked abnormally bulky under the clothes. The figure glanced warily left and right, then approached the heap of garbage bags under the pole.
Rustle. Soft scrape.
Gloved hands began lifting the bags one by one, searching with frantic care. The hands that had been rummaging through ordinary trash finally reached the bag discarded directly beneath the window of Park Yijun's semi-basement room. The figure checked the knotted top of that particular bag. Behind the hood, the eyes smiled.
Found it.
Inside were the food scraps used for breakfast and dinner—traces of what Min Jiyeon had prepared and thrown away, mixed in among the rest. The figure clutched the bag and trembled all over, stifling the laughter that tried to burst free.
"Ahaha… Finally. I found it again. I'm taking it home. I'll set it up prettily in my special room…"
The figure hugged the trash bag as if it were the most precious treasure in the world, grinning without the slightest attempt to hide the joy. It pressed its masked face against the wrinkled plastic surface and planted long, fervent kisses all over it.
Smack. Smooch.
Still clutching the bag so tightly it would never slip free, the silhouette melted back into the far end of the alley and vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.
"Park Yijun!"
Someone shouted my name before they had even fully stepped through the front door of the classroom. I didn't need to turn my head to know who it was. Class president and student council president—Kang Sujin.
I took my chin off my hand and casually slid the bag sitting on my desk a little to the side. Kang Sujin walked straight up and tapped the corner of my desk with her knuckles.
"Assignment deadline is right on top of us and you're the only one who hasn't turned it in yet. You know academy regulations don't allow late submissions past the cut-off, correct? Hand it over. Now."
"Of course. I was just about to submit it, President."
I pulled the thick report I had already tucked into the front pocket of my bag and held it out to her. I offered it with the corner of my mouth curved slightly upward. Kang Sujin snatched the papers with a faint frown, then checked the name and student number on the first page with the same exhaustive thoroughness that always looked exhausting to watch.
She flipped through the pages once, organizing them, then suddenly stopped. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she leaned her upper body over my desk. Her hair swayed as she drew closer.