The Thirty-Fifth Assignment: Between Sweet and Bitter ③
For two days, Yeoni and Changmo threw themselves into the work they were supposed to be doing. Get too carried away and even the jobs that should go smoothly fall apart. Changmo, especially, had a miserable time keeping a lid on a heart that kept trying to swell right out of his chest. Holding something in had never come easily to him.
Still, they somehow made it through.
"Are you still not done?"
"Just a little longer. I'll be right out."
"That's the fifth time you've said that. I swear. It's just a club meetup — throw something on and come out already."
Friday had arrived at last. Yeoni, whose classes had let out early, and Changmo, who had spent the entire afternoon delivering letters without a single break, were getting ready to head out. Yeoni was already fully prepared. Changmo, on the other hand, was dragging his feet, fussing over this and double-checking that.
"How am I supposed to just throw something on? It's the first time I'm meeting her — of course I have to do this properly. Stop rushing me and wait. I'll make it before we're supposed to be there."
"There's only two and a half hours left. Take out an hour and a half for the trip and that leaves one hour. We should get there at least thirty minutes early."
Yeoni stuck out his lower lip and grumbled. He wasn't actually going to spend the entire thirty minutes getting ready... was he? The sinking feeling that he really might made Yeoni restless. If he'd known it would be like this, he would have set a hard deadline in advance. Even as he waited, fidgeting, a racket of ongoing preparation spilled from inside.
"Kept you waiting, huh!"
Fortunately, he didn't have to wait the full thirty minutes. Whether Changmo had meant it when he said he'd be right out, the door opened before a minute had even passed. Changmo burst through it, dressed to the nines.
Yeoni took one look at him and didn't know what to do with himself. Should he tell him to change, or shouldn't he? He hesitated, then had no choice but to say something.
"Changmo."
"What? I thought we had to hurry."
"It's not a wedding. A suit might be a bit much, don't you think?"
That was the situation. This Grim Reaper had shown up to a club meetup in a full suit. The reason the preparations had taken so long was, in a word, explained. Changmo flushed, looking genuinely flustered. Whenever Seri was involved, he seemed to pawn off every last scrap of his usual competence.
"Wouldn't dressing too casually be a problem too? When you're meeting a woman, you're supposed to look put-together."
"You look plenty put-together in ordinary clothes. A suit is going to make you stick out like a sore thumb."
"I-is that right."
"Yes. Go change. Right now."
Yeoni's voice was firm. At the shooing gesture sending him back inside, Changmo grumbled the whole way. All that effort, wasted — he was thoroughly put out. But if Yeoni said he'd stand out, what else could he do? He slouched back through the door, deflated.
I don't know if this is going to be okay.
Worry settled over Yeoni's face. The unfamiliar sight of Changmo like this was startling and concerning in equal measure. The Changmo he knew wasn't lacking, and he wasn't clumsy with people. If this had been an ordinary meeting, he would have gotten ready without a fuss and come out on his own.
The problem was that the other person was a girl he liked.
He was trying too hard, maybe. Putting his whole heart into it was fine — but he was pouring excessive attention into even the smallest details. Yeoni understood how he felt. He just wished Changmo would ease up and do things the way he usually did.
"I'm coming in."
This wouldn't do. Wound up that tight, he'd never be able to pick anything. Yeoni decided to take matters into his own hands and stepped inside. A moment later, the sounds of a full-blown squabble drifted out of the room.
"Something lighter than that. Just a T-shirt and pants, like me."
"Are you serious? I'll look like I don't own a decent thing to wear!"
"You won't look cheap — you'll look natural. Take it off. Or I'll take it off for you."
"W-wait, wait. Just give me a second to think— ow, ow, ow! That hurts!"
"Less talking, more wearing. This one. Now!"
It was the kind of racket anyone overhearing would have thoroughly misunderstood. Clothes hitting the floor, something knocking into something else — a complete mess. The commotion went on for a good ten minutes. Then the volume tapered off... and finally, it went quiet.
"All done. What do you think?"
The front door opened again. Changmo stumbled out, shoved along by Yeoni's hand at his back. A hand mirror had somehow found its way into his grip. He stared into it for a long moment, then pulled a face of undisguised regret, as if mourning the suit he'd been talked out of.
"Doesn't this look kind of... loose?"
"Not even a little. So don't get greedy, and let's go. Okay?"
It was an outfit that had taken keep it light as gospel. The colors had been chosen to complement his blue eyes: a shirt in a contrasting shade of red up top, and below, a pair of sky-blue jeans a shade paler than his irises. Yeoni was no fashion expert himself, so there wasn't much else to the look. At most, a pair of small earrings he'd made Changmo put on.
"The earrings are too small, too."
"Earrings these days are a lot smaller than they were in the Joseon era. If it were winter I would have put something over the shirt, but... it's spring, so I left it. You hate being hot, right?"
"What kind of question is that. Aigoo, getting one outfit on shouldn't be this much work."
Yeoni smiled wryly at the complaining. Changmo still hadn't noticed how nervous he was. Well — better to let it slide. Yeoni shut the front door and took Changmo's hand.
"We're going to be late. Come on."
The two of them finally stepped outside. Their destination was the university Seri attended. Their purpose: to meet the girl Changmo had been dreaming of.
"Alright. Let's go."
"It's really crowded today."
"Looks like a few schools are already here. I don't recognize half these faces."
People were gathering in the wide gymnasium. Today was a fairly large event, with several schools coming in. Meeting in the club room would have been impossible, so they had borrowed this space instead. Seri had come along for the first time in a while, trailing after her friend Seoah. The club president, who had been in the middle of handing out flyers, came over to greet them.
"Man, I was worried you wouldn't show. Glad you made it."
"If Seoah hadn't nagged me, I wouldn't have. You owe her a meal later."
"Of course, of course. Gotta repay a favor. Sit tight for now — a few schools still aren't here. We'll start once everyone's in."
Classmates she hadn't seen in a while, along with the usual mix of seniors and juniors, waved her over. Seri had hesitated about coming, but seeing them, she was glad she had. She could always put in a little extra over the weekend. Today, she decided, she would actually take it easy for once.
"President! The uptown crowd is here!"
Speak of the devil. Not long after the president had mentioned that a few schools still hadn't arrived, a junior out by the entrance called in the news. Uptown — meaning the university students from north of the Han River.
"So much for the upper crust. Everyone, listen up! That's all of us, so we're going to get started. Get ready, please."
A sharp clap cracked through the gym. The noisy crowd turned to look. Pleasure, annoyance, anticipation, impatience — every flavor of feeling arrived on their faces. Undaunted, the president ran through the program with practiced ease. He pointed toward the doors just swinging open.
"The uptown students you've all been waiting for. That's everyone, so let's write some pieces, then chew them up, tear them apart, savor them, and have a good time. Everyone ready?"
"Yes!"
"Whoa. Kid's got some lungs."
"I'd heard this club's president had a voice on him. First time hearing it in person, though."
Changmo and Yeoni marveled at the president's voice. It wasn't a small gymnasium, and yet every word he shouted carried, crisp and clear. Volume alone couldn't account for it. From the first impression, the image of a genuinely decent guy stamped itself in place.
"As you can all see, there are a lot of people. So today we'll split into groups ahead of time and run the critique that way. You'll draw lots in the order you arrived — please take your time and keep it orderly!"
Lots? Ugh. I hate drawing lots.
Whatever goodwill the president had earned evaporated on the spot. At the mention of drawing lots, Seri and the rest of the club members fanned out holding numbered signs. Yeoni's face went white. Lots, of all things.
"Yeoni. You draw."
"Me?"
"Everyone else says it's a hassle. Even if we get a weird group, I won't hold it against you, so just draw. Please."
On top of that, the school friends who had come with them dumped the job on him entirely. Flustered, Yeoni looked over at Changmo, hoping he would step in — but Changmo did nothing of the sort. He only wore a smile Yeoni couldn't read and urged him to draw. This senior, honestly!
"You there — it's your turn. Please draw."
Without a shred of mercy, the president pressed him to pick. Behind him, people were murmuring, closing in. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Yeoni tensed and drew a stick. Please, just this once, let that damned luck of mine sit this one out.
If this goes wrong, don't come crying to me.
He opened the eyes he had squeezed shut.
And then they went wide.
Huh?
The number he had drawn was 5. Precisely the same group as Seri.
"You two are in Seri's group. This way."
"Sorry? Ah — yes."
He had drawn it himself, and he still felt dazed. Had his wretched luck decided to slack off today? That wasn't it. The moment he looked back at Changmo, Yeoni understood exactly what had happened. He muttered, looking faintly hollow.
"Is this even allowed...?"
He had actually cast a spell? Here, of all places? The sheer audacity of it left Yeoni speechless. What was Changmo going to do if Heukchi or Simyeong found out later? Yeoni found himself genuinely torn between admiring Changmo's quick thinking and scolding him for casting unauthorized magic. Changmo grinned, sly, and whispered.
"It's not like it's a bad thing. Better than getting split up and having to wait for the next chance. You don't want this job getting any more complicated either, right?"
"I don't think the Director would see it that way."
"Aww, cut me some slack. I needed it."
Changmo startled at the threat of being reported — but his eyes and mouth were smiling, so the panic had no persuasive power at all. Was he really that happy? Yeoni had been about to lecture him, then caught sight of those brightly shining eyes and let it go. He was that delighted. There was nothing to do but leave him be.
"You're the ones from ── University, I take it? I'm Song Seri, class of '17. I'll be leading Group 5's critique, so I look forward to working with you. It's nice to meet you."
However they'd gotten there, they had succeeded in landing in Seri's group. Seri, who knew nothing of any of this, greeted Yeoni's party in a calm, even voice. That quiet, measured way of speaking sank right into the ear. They returned the greeting with energetic politeness.
"Yes. A pleasure to meet you."
Changmo, you're going to start drooling.
Changmo, in particular, was beaming from ear to ear.
"Ordinarily we'd tear into each other without mercy — we all know one another, so the critiques would even turn into full-blown arguments. But we have people from other schools with us today, so we'll set some limits. If things start to get too heated, I'll step in and mediate, so please keep that in mind."
Seri explained, clearly and precisely, how the day's critique would work. Yeoni, who had been a guest from the start, stayed silent. Changmo listened as if he meant to memorize every syllable. Wasn't that a little too earnest? Yeoni had no idea how much Changmo actually knew about literature, and a sliver of unease crept in.
"You're going to participate too?"
"I can't just sit there doing nothing. If I don't want to get treated like a weirdo, I have to join in. I actually know a thing or two about literature, I'll have you know. I've got some skill, so don't worry."
"I hope that's true..."
Changmo, brimming with confidence. Yeoni, full of worry. The two of them were thinking in completely different directions. While they were at it, Seri began handing out paper for them to write on. She declared, with real force behind it:
"For the next thirty minutes, you'll each write a piece of your own — poetry or essay. The main event, the critique, will come after we're done writing. And... begin!"
Yeoni was surprised by two things. The first was the discovery that he was this hopeless at creative writing. The second was...
"There are all kinds of words for holding a feeling. They might be ornate, or they might be the kind you see and hear on any street corner. Direct doesn't mean shallow, and rough doesn't mean it can't be affirming. So even this person's unpolished writing, I think, has a flavor of its own."
...the fact that Changmo was taking this quite seriously.
That wasn't the same as saying he was good at it. Yeoni didn't know literature himself; he was in no position to judge. But he could tell, at least, that the argument was coherent. Curious what the other students made of it, he glanced around.
"Literature is art. Everyday life is allowed its unrefined roughness, its ordinariness — but art, I would argue, needs to be something other than the everyday. Unpolished writing, in the artistic sense, isn't 'rough.' It's simply a stone no one has even laid a hand on. What do you think?"
Seri was the first to respond. Her rebuttal was fierce and sharp, a hundred and eighty degrees from the even, unhurried manner she had shown at the start. It was the zeal of someone who actually had a stake in this field.
Whoa.
Yeoni didn't really know literature. But Changmo, as far as he could tell, seemed to be holding his own.