Flashback - Strikes and Subtle Jealousy
After finishing our meal, we stepped outside. It was early spring, but a sudden gust of wind made my body shiver. I was always sensitive to the cold.
"Cold?"
"No. I'm not cold."
I shook my head at his question. Good call on my part. If I'd said yes, he would've draped his jacket over me again.
"Tell me if you get cold."
Shut up. Don't act like some doting husband, you filthy bastard.
"See that bowling alley over there? It's just a five-minute walk. How about we play a game?"
Everything irritated me. His voice, his face, even the map on his phone screen. All of it.
We arrived at the bowling alley. Being early morning, there weren't many people—just a few middle-aged folks. No young crowd in sight.
"You play often?"
"A few times in middle and high school with friends."
Friends? Guys?
"Guys?"
"Yeah. Weirdly, I never really clicked with girls. Here, watch."
He picked up a bowling ball, slipped his fingers into the holes, and rolled it lightly.
Rumble rumble...
Thud!
The ball rolled off with gusto but veered straight into the left gutter—what they call the side drain—and went out.
"See? That's what happens if you roll it like that. It slips into the side lane."
"Looks like that's just your skill level."
"Heh heh! Let me try again! That was just a demo!"
Roll...
Thud!
Last time it made it halfway before guttering; this time, it dove right in like he'd aimed for it.
"Pfft."
What a moron.
"Truth is, I'm a slow starter. Back in school, I even got three strikes in a row sometimes."
"Try again then."
"My friends were fighting to get me on their team... Huh? It was total chaos."
"I get it, just roll."
"Okay, this one's a definite strike."
He took a deep breath and rolled again.
Rumble rumble rumble...
Clang!
It looked straight at first, but it curved slightly left, knocking over only three pins on that side.
The scoreboard lit up with the score.
"See? Roll it straight like that—bam!—and you get a home run like this!"
Home run? You playing baseball?
"..."
Two straight fails, and now barely three pins down, yet he was hyped like he'd nailed a strike. Pathetic.
I could do better than that.
"Alright, your turn now that you've seen it."
I took the ball he offered. It felt heavier than expected in my hand.
"Ngh."
"Whoa, too heavy?"
Get lost!
But what came out of my mouth was different.
"Yeah... heavier than I thought."
"Hold on."
He glanced around and grabbed a wrist support. Probably there in case the weight caused injuries.
"Here, put this on."
He fitted it on me himself, then stepped back.
"Go ahead."
Quiet down a bit.
But my body obeyed him, rolling the ball.
Rumble rumble...
Clang!
"Ah?!"
"Whoa!!! Strike!"
The ball barreled down, sending all ten pins flying in one go.
What...? I wasn't even trying, and it happens on the first shot?
"Strike! Home run! Home run!"
He clapped wildly. It should've annoyed me, but oddly, it didn't.
"You into baseball? Keep saying home run..."
"Fair point. First time?"
"Yeah..."
After that, I'd been all study, work-study jobs, and workouts—no time for fun like bowling.
"Something in the wrist support?"
He eyed it curiously. Possible.
"One more."
He handed me another ball. Instead of taking it meekly, I removed the support.
"Huh? Why take it off?"
"I'm curious too. Wonder if it's the support."
I rolled it just like before.
Clang!!!
Two strikes!
The ball demolished all ten pins again. The machine chimed like celebratory fireworks.
"Hey, Manager Kim! That girl next to you's already got two strikes, and you're just dumping it in the gutter—what's that, some gutter special?"
"Heh heh, old timer like me... been a while!"
The guys bowling nearby. Their voices carried loud and clear.
This... is fun?
Thump, thump.
The heavy ball's weight, the nail-biting tension wondering if it'd gutter, then the crash and tumble of pins—it sent an inexplicable thrill through me.
"One more?"
"Yes!"
I snatched the ball and rolled immediately.
Rumble rumble...
Splosh!
"Ah...!"
Beginner's luck lasted twice. It went fine midway, but the angle slipped, and into the gutter it went—just like the uncles said.
"Ugh, so close...!"
I wanted three in a row!
"O-okay, one more try!"
I grabbed the next ball without waiting for him.
Whoosh, whoosh... Deep breaths, then a careful roll.
Rumble rumble rumble...
Clang!!!
I'd worried it'd veer at the end, but no—all pins crumbled satisfyingly.
"Wooow!!!"
In what was really no big deal, I bounced like a schoolgirl, arms wide in cheer.
"Whoa, you're amazing at this."
"R-right? I surprised myself."
"Mind if I go now?"
"Sure, sure..."
"Three strikes incoming."
Three outs, not strikes. Balls thudding into the gutter like he was trying to lose.
"Argh, why's it doing this?!"
He stared at the ceiling, muttering in frustration. I... couldn't help but laugh.
"Move over."
I grabbed a fresh ball and rolled. Not a strike, but seven pins down.
He protested like a kid.
"No fair! Why's it a strike for you and out for me? Discrimination?"
"You're just bad at it."
"Hah... no words."
He started to argue but hung his head, admitting defeat.
"Pfft...!"
I giggled. It was hilarious somehow.
We played a few more games before leaving. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
Didn't realize till now, but this was a real workout.
"Fun?"
"Yeah. It was... fun."
Huh...?
Then it hit me.
What the hell did I just do?
Not knowing what this bastard might do to me, and I go full-on bowling?
Strike? Big deal!
This fucking...
I bit my lip, glaring at his back as he led the way—but my body followed obediently, throwing me off.
Why isn't this working?
I tried slipping away, but no dice. Bummer, but at least his weird power wasn't infinite. Proof it'd wear off eventually.
"Sooo~"
A familiar voice. I turned at the syrupy tone.
That's... Yoon Ayoung, the student in my class.
Known as Korea University's goddess, always with my TA. Flawless skin, face and figure that screamed mixed heritage. Rumors she sucked guys dry for money and dumped them—but her allure had lines forming anyway.
Even buried in my lab, campus buzz like that was unavoidable. Guess the rumors were true: leeching cash and luxury goods with her looks.
"What're you doing? Come on."
"Ah, nothing. Coming."
"Sooo, I got the designer bag and ghosted him. What? Buy me this? Crazy bitch. I'm expensive. No chaebol, no dick for me."
He stopped, turning to coldly eye Ayoung on her call with a friend.
"Ahh, that guy? You remember? Crying and clinging to my leg. What? Hyun-seok's money? Fuck, he begged to take a loan and buy it for me—repay? Yeah right. Reported his ass straight away. Heh."
"Sigh..."
He sighed deeply, pulled out his phone, and strode toward her.
"Wh-what are you doing? She's my student. Let's just go."
"Huh? College student?"
"Yes."
"Early twenties and already whoring it up like that?"
He shook off my hand and approached her.
"Ahh, being born pretty is the best, right? Guys just hand over the cash..."
"Hey."
"What the—gasp?!"
Ayoung startled mid-call, ending it quick upon seeing him.
"Oh my, oppa, you're so handsome~"
Even sweeter tone, cheeks flushing.
"I'm Yoon Ayoung, Korea U class of '25. Don't misunderstand~ I never say stuff like this? You're totally my type. Number...?"
"Save it. Look at this."
He shoved his phone screen at her. She froze, just like I had.
"From now on, confess everything you've done to guys."
"Nothing. Never done any of that..."
"Not that! How much cash you scammed, what luxury shit, how you got it!"
Ayoung spoke slowly. Details poured out: designer bags, gold necklaces—how she got them, how she dumped the guys, reported clingy ones to cops or had her judo senior pals handle them.
"Holy shit, total trash. Can't have this."
Can't have this? What're you planning?
No way...?
A terrifying thought hit.
He hadn't done it to me yet, but for this Ayoung...
"From now on, reflect on every wrong you've done! No more scamming guys with your looks—live honestly and kindly! Above all, sincerely apologize to your victims and earn money to repay them, no matter how long it takes!!! Be a good daughter at home, a diligent woman outside!!!"
? What the hell's this guy doing?
"You weren't always like this! You had pure, innocent days once—remember them! Study hard and live right!"
"Yes... Sniff..."
She shivered in the cold; he draped his outer jacket over her shoulders.
"What're you..."
Does this to every girl? Disappointing.
"Good. Take this as a new-start gift and go. Snap my fingers, and the hypnosis ends."
Snap. He sent her off.
"Sorry for the wait..."
"That just now..."
"Huh?"
"Putting your jacket on her—do that to just anyone?"
"Nah, she looked cold. You worried? Sorry if it bothered you."
Worried? About me? This filthy bastard?
Some scheming fuck I don't trust? Controlling me and now my student like toys? Worried?
No way!
Of course not. Logically, some other girl getting his jacket? Not my business!
It's just... concern for a student.
As her professor, worrying about a girl in my class...!
Nothing else. Absolutely not!