Flashback: Lee Heena (3) - Hypnosis Before the Mirror
After work, I was your classic weak-willed slacker—didn't lift a finger for self-improvement, just lounged around wasting my life away. I couldn't even muster the will to try anything; forget three days of resolve, I didn't even get that far. So I figured I'd borrow the hypnosis app's power to change myself first.
Doesn't feel like anything's changed. I cast the hypnosis on myself in the mirror and quietly checked my body, but no sudden urge to do anything hit me.
Damn, figures. Disappointed, I flopped back down—then shot up again. My body felt stuffy, like ants crawling under my skin.
“Pull-up~ bar~ where~ iiiit~~” Like any guy rummaging alone, I half-sang it out.
“Oh, there it is.” I dug out the pull-up bar Dad used to stay in shape for his flings, set it up. He'd told me to take it since he didn't need it anymore, but I'd just shoved it in a corner. Guy barely came home once a month—fat chance he'd use it.
Still feels like something's missing… Ah! No BGM. I went to pull up some music on YouTube, but suddenly English hit the spot, so I fired up a lecture instead and cranked out chin-ups on the bar. I'd checked the form on YouTube first.
This is fun! My near-90kg frame hauled up smooth as butter, one after another. Placebo or not, the instructor's English sentences sank right into my ears.
“47, 48, 49, 50!” Knocked out fifty without a break. Pat myself on the back. But seriously, fifty nonstop? Most guys struggle with ten.
I pondered it briefly, but hey—good is good.
Hm? The floor suddenly felt gritty and sticky underfoot. Tough to describe, but if you've ever gone barefoot in a place that needs cleaning, you know that nagging irritation clean freaks pick up on.
“Hmm…” Hypnosis effect? Nah. My body just felt gross, so I tried it out. English was just BGM filler. And the place hadn't seen a mop in a month—normal to want to clean.
I was gonna wring out a rag and half-ass it, but my eyes caught stains that screamed for proper cleaner. Bathroom was a disaster, kitchen buried in days-old dishes. Bleach was out, toilet brush snapped and tossed ages ago.
Gotta go buy some. Snatched my wallet and phone, headed downstairs.
I'd planned to gorge on booze and meat first, then clean—but today, everything felt like it'd go my way. My steps were practically floating as I hit the convenience store.
No manager. Bathroom break? I waited. Nothing. Circled the store again. Only soul around was a woman at the outdoor table—sunglasses on, hat pulled low, poking at a cup ramen.
Nothing off yet. But how many soju bottles is that? One empty, one half-gone. Cup ramen with two sojus?
Chugging straight soju with a puny side of small-cup ramen? Might as well skip the snack. Her stomach won't revolt?
Stranger or not, I worried. But nosing in felt pushy, so I grabbed cleaning supplies and snacks, piled them on the counter, and waited for the manager.
Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.
“……”
Nearly twenty, still no show. Finally stepped out for night air—still zilch. Door unlocked? Thief shows, CCTV's got it?
Come back later?
“Yes, Coach. No, it's not that—my body's just off… Yeah.”
Quiet voice—I turned. The ramen girl was on a hushed call.
“Yeah, yeah… Got it. Rest up. Okay.”
She hung up, slurped the last of the broth, tossed the cup in the outdoor bin. Didn't budge, though. Deep sigh, head tilt to the night sky, more heavy sighs.
Staring, she nagged a vague familiarity. Seen her before… where?
Tall for a woman—sitting, maybe low 170s? Killer figure. Hat hid her face, but that jawline screamed beauty.
“Haa…” Another sigh as she chugged soju, draining a third in one go. Thunk. Bottle slammed down. Gonna shatter and cut her. Or hurl.
Old me? Walked on by. New me? Different story. Hypnosis app in pocket—power to bend humans to my will!
App at the ready, I approached. “Hey, pounding it like that’ll wreck your gut.”
“Ah, I'm good. Don't worry—just go… Thanks.”
Polite, even without looking. Surprising—no snappy “mind your business.” I'd prepped the app; now I felt sheepish.
Buzzed enough to snap, but nah—she seemed decent. Good heart, just nursing some hurt.
“Haa, seriously…” Grabbed the bottle again.
I whipped out the app right in her face. “What's th… st…”
Froze mid-reach.
“Put the soju down.”
“……”
She set it down gently. Stared blankly at my face, just like Dahyeon had.
“F-First, lemme see your face. Hat and shades off.”
“Yes.”
Docile as can be. Shades and hat on the table. Pure, stunning face revealed.
Where've I… ah? Hit me late. “L-Lee Heena?”
Chaebol third-gen, golf goddess herself. Thought I mis-saw at first. Who'd buy that Lee Heena solo-boozing at a convenience store, no guards?
Just a lookalike? Googled her. Nailed it. Sharp-pretty features, beauty mark by the eye—even entranced, radiating innocent allure. Undeniable: Lee Heena, golf goddess.
“L-Lee Heena… right?”
Hypnosis had me defaulting polite.
“Yes.”
Namesake maybe? “Not a coincidence—Yangho Group Lee Heena? Golf tourney champ?”
“That's me.”
No way. This sighing, soju-guzzling mess at a convenience store—is the chaebol heiress/golf goddess? Come on…
“Ahem. Got it, you're Heena… but why moping here with cheap booze?”
“Too exhausting.”
I cocked my head. Exhausting? How?
Yangho Group. Top-tier chaebol. Noble blood, world-class golf from childhood, trophies galore. Stunner with rabid fans—golf goddess says it all. Loaded, athletic, gorgeous. Life on easy mode.
No, what's 'exhausting'? Bet it's nothing.
Mood soured fast. Dad's mess made my life hell. Post-divorce dump: ghosted for a month, zero fucks for the home. Allowance? Bare scraps—not enough to live. Part-times before high school, all chores on me. Broke kid scraping by. Constant cash panic, crap food, shivering sans heat in winter, no AC in summer. Dad? “I'll handle it, wait”—endless rerun. Still grinding post-army, solo.
Her “exhausting”? Laughable to me.
What could she know? Harder than my life? Please.
“Unbelievable. Hey, what's so exhausting?”
Hypnosis? Her being two years younger from the profile? That word grating? Whatever—
“Chaebol princess, blowing millions daily, everyone kissing your ass. What's exhausting? Swap lives with me—you'd grab a noose and end it.”
“…Not quite.”
Didn't matter. I kept venting. “You wouldn't know real struggle. Know what that is? Can't even eat what you crave…”
That's when a figure across the crosswalk caught my eye. Looks like the manager?
“You—stay put.”
“Yes.”
Turned and crossed—green light timed perfect.
“Aigoo, eat up good.”
Up close: store manager, crouched feeding a pack of strays. Petting them as they devoured dirty bowls of kibble, big smile. I let out a hollow chuckle.
Waited thirty damn minutes. Bathroom? Fine, nature calls. But cats? Ditched the store for these yowling trash-riflers that trash the streets? Made me twiddle thumbs half an hour?
This for real? Rage bubbled up from deep inside.