Chapter 37
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Don't I Smell Just Like You?
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"Don't I smell just like you?"
"Take good care of Chaewon."
"Thank you for helping us out today."
"Sister, thanks. I'll text you later."
I bid farewell to the manager who'd driven us all the way home.
He accepted my thanks warmly enough, but only after laying down the law for Chaewon—no unnecessary antics, just rest—did the car that had carried us spin around and depart from the complex.
Even as dusk settled in, kids were still racing around the playground with boundless energy, while their parents stood watch, chatting among themselves.
Worried someone might spot her, I hurried to the apartment lobby, arms weighed down by bags stuffed with clothes for Chaewon to change into, toiletries, and a bunch of daily essentials I'd grabbed in a rush from Daiso.
For the record, it was Chaewon who punched in the lobby entrance code.
"Hey, this isn't your house."
Only once we'd reached the empty space did Chaewon mutter under her breath.
I didn't need to turn to picture her pouty face. I answered calmly.
"I'm not some stray kid you left behind, so why wouldn't the family home be mine? A one-room rental's no place for two to crash comfortably anyway. You know that, and you're still asking?"
"We can just lie down in the bed together."
"Every time you say crap like that, I seriously think you're out of your mind—"
It was so absurd I wasn't even pissed anymore.
Ignoring her nonsense, I stepped into the elevator first. Chaewon hit the button in my place as the doors slid shut.
Right, you and me? We're legally adults.
Seen what shouldn't be seen? Yeah, we've seen it all.
Which is exactly why, by any standard of common sense—at this stage—sleeping together was off the table.
Skipping steps was like an elementary kid tackling advanced calculus instead of basic textbook problems.
Step by step. That's how I wanted it.
But this moth-to-a-flame brat didn't get it.
All she knew was crossing lines with lines like you made me this way or you wanted it too. No reason for me to dig my own grave.
I'd thrown some reckless play to seize the initiative, sure—but I drew the line there.
Still, I want to confess in a romantic atmosphere.
Chaewon had her fantasies. So did I.
"Won't Auntie and Uncle be shocked?"
"Oh, right. Didn't tell them you were coming."
"They're gonna flip then."
"If I had, dinner would've been meat for sure."
"...But I gotta eat porridge?"
"That's the point."
"You—warning."
The brat jabbed my side sharply with her elbow—no real force in her fist.
I fended her off busily with the crinkly paper bags until the elevator dinged to a stop at the 20th floor.
"I'm starving. Let's eat quick~."
Chaewon took off at a trot, clutching her dinner takeout bag.
She knew the lobby code. No way she didn't know ours.
I strolled up slowly, expecting her to unlock the door. But she held off even as I planted myself right beside her.
Figuring she'd forgotten, I was about to rattle off the code.
"Want me to show you something mind-blowing?"
She turned to me with a sly grin.
"Mind-blowing?"
I echoed without thinking.
Ding-.
The door popped open the instant she touched the lock. It hit me late.
More precisely, the second her thumb met it.
"...Hey. When the hell did you register your fingerprint on our door lock?"
They'd changed it while I was in the army—even wiped mine. Why'd she have hers?
It floored me. My face went slack on autopilot.
"Last time I raided your albums, I did all ten fingers on the way out."
"Not 'about ten'—you did every damn one. Ha, why stop at fingers? Toes next?"
"Want 'em now?"
"......"
"Auntie, Uncle! Cutie Chaewon's here~!"
Spotting my souring face, she bolted inside—that miraculous brat.
I shook my head at the wry thought that soon, she might be the baby of the house, not me. Then stepped in.
"Lights are off?"
House was empty.
Chaewon made a beeline for the bathroom to wash her hands. I flicked on the living room lights and pulled out my phone.
Screen lit up to one missed call and one unread KakaoTalk.
Both from Mom.
「Suddenly craving a trip, so heading to Suncheon with your dad.」
Hold up. This wasn't in my script?
"They step out for a walk or something?"
Right on cue, Chaewon emerged, hands clean. Our eyes met.
I dodged her gaze on reflex, hustling her bags into the spare room.
"I wanna sleep in your room."
"Why my room? Cut the nonsense."
"Beds are better."
"Two mats stacked? Super fluffy."
"Just give me your room! You said you'd pamper me good today!"
"...Cheat code, huh?"
I muttered, sighed, and grabbed the bags again.
Trudging slow, I cracked open my bedroom door. Chaewon peeked around my back, scoping it out.
"Time to clean?"
"You poked in last time too."
"Yeah. Fair."
"I'll fetch blankets and pillow. Go eat."
"I could just use yours—."
"Tsk."
"...Fine. Eating first?"
I left her slinking tail-tucked to the table and dashed to the bathroom for a quick handwash.
No matter how I slice it, this ain't right.
I let out a hollow chuckle and shook my head.
Our family home to Chaewon's solo pad? Twenty minutes by car, traffic-free.
Her folks had moved to Yongin too—just thirty from here, smooth roads.
Deep down, I'd kill to tell her: Go recover at your place...
"Like that'd fly..."
I muttered, head hanging.
Sighed deep, shuffled out of the bathroom. She waved me over to hurry.
"Porridge after forever—tastes amazing. Minah, eat before it cools."
I plopped in the opposite chair, spoon in hand. Glanced at her savoring face, scooped some porridge...
"Auntie and Uncle back in three days?"
Splash-.
The porridge dribbled weakly off my spoon.
I lifted my stiff neck. Mom's chat history stared back.
"Minah, you'll take real good care of me, right?"
Her grin sent a dry gulp down my throat.
+++
"Minah, shower okay?"
"If I say no, you gonna skip it?"
"...Lame."
She tsked and slipped into the bathroom.
Nice. Nailed the comeback.
Fist pumped, I flopped onto the sofa.
Thirty minutes of peace ahead. Long sigh of relief.
"Minah~."
Instant regret—she called my name.
I smoothed my furrowed brow, answered low.
"...What."
"Your cleansing foam okay?"
"Then why Olive Young?"
"Good point. So... okay?"
"...Knock yourself out."
Shwaaa.
Water finally ran.
Now for real re—
"Minah~."
"......What now?"
"Which shampoo's yours?"
"Why? That too?"
"Yup."
"...Dark green bottle."
"Gotcha~."
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Body wash is white."
So please quit asking.
I swallowed the rest, dragged my weary feet back to the sofa.
A few exchanges, and I'm wiped? Why?
"Ah, today's middle school crew."
Truth? Exhaustion piled up.
Thought I was decently fit. Frog in a well, that was me.
"Haha."
Lost it, just like that first march.
Fumbled the phone tossed on the sofa arm, flicked it on.
Wild—two hours till bedtime.
Pictured tomorrow: me bedridden, not her. Powered off. Ironic ring.
"...What the actual?"
Our house patient Han Chaewon.
—Bored now that I'm actually washing up.
"Bored? Hurry up and finish then."
—Too beat today. Tub soak, twenty minutes. Hence the call.
"...Genuinely curious: no other options?"
So indignant, my voice pitched up unwittingly.
YouTube, Netflix, tunes—hell, call someone else.
Obviously why pick me from that buffet.
—Promised care. Keeping it or nah?
Plain speak: your words, your karma. Bon appétit.
Look at her, brat logic again.
"...So, topics for twenty minutes?"
—Stale couple fights. Thoughts?
"Lifelong singles here?"
—Don't kid.
"...Hit me."
'Night.' Lover: 'Yeah.' Hang up. Bummed or nah?
Idol prettier than you? Bummed or nah?
Risks two-hour trek for you—but 'don't, you're tired'? Rest omitted.
Topics so trivial, fights made zero sense...
—No, gotta say I'm prettier than Jang Wonyoung, right?
"World's got what, handfuls topping Jang? That's the gripe?"
—What? I'm uglier?!
"...Average take, yeah. When'd I say it?"
—What? So average me, you'd pick Jang?!
"...Why leap there?"
We fought. Full-on brawl.
So deep in, my logic barrage got tub splashes and nonstop 'You T-type?'
Twenty? Ten per topic—thirty total.
No more couple spats with you. Ever.
"Dry my hair."
Post-unplanned emo burn: labor tax.
"...Never dried girl's hair."
"Prime chance to learn. Honor: Ever Han Chaewon's locks, yours alone to..."
"Shedding everywhere. What gives? Gran's rice crust sheds less."
"You—warning."
Hair-dry sesh launched: two warnings stacked.
Towel-dry scalp/ends thusly; dryer so; essence blah; warm/cool winds whatevs; volume? Inside out...
Full Gangnam salon download. Doing it? Stylists earn bank, check.
"Minah. Don't I smell just like you?"
Brat flirts thorough, mid-process.
"Shampoo, body wash—even lotion match. Weird if you didn't, Chaewon."
No dice, obvs.
After? Total manservant.
Sofa, TV time: fan tuned; med water fetched; snack craving? Delivered.
...What? This ain't what I signed for.