I Didn't Grow Any Taller

Kwon Hayun was twenty-six, and she worked in an office.

She was what people meant when they spoke of someone else's perfect daughter. She had come out of a university anyone would recognize at the mere sound of its name, and she worked for a conglomerate just as famous. God had given her still more. Her proportions were lovely, her height was just right, and even among ordinary people her looks stood out.

She had the sort of face that could have walked onto a Miss Korea stage, and perhaps because of it her popularity was extraordinary, inside the company and out. Her personality was pleasant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠too, without a sharp edge anywhere, so young and old, men and women alike, all liked her.

"Hayun, is there really nothing you don't have? God just isn't fair."

"If I had even one daughter like Hayun, I wouldn't have a wish left in the world."

But if God was fair, then she too had a secret she had never been able to tell anyone. As a child she had suffered severe burns across both thighs. They had been so bad that even now the skin was hideous to look at, and because she had never received proper treatment, the scars had remained, deep and ugly.

Had she only been treated properly back then, they might have improved to some degree. But her family had been struggling, and there had been no money, so she had received nothing more than the bare minimum of care. That remained the greatest regret of her life. Perhaps because of it, from her school days on she had never been able to wear the skirts other girls put on without a second thought.

Even going to school, she always wore shorts underneath to hide her thighs, and she could not set foot anywhere those thighs might be laid bare—the public bath, the pool with her friends. The scars were too hideous to speak of. She was certain that if anyone saw them, she would only be met with disgust.

Getting hurt had been her own fault, but being scorned by other people was another matter entirely. So through the very prime of her youth, Kwon Hayun went out only in jeans and whatever else could cover her thighs. Later, once she was earning a decent living, she went to famous dermatology clinics and tried, belatedly, to be treated—but there was no progress at all.

She had landed a job at a major corporation and was still seeing dermatologists, yet compared with before, had she improved by even twenty percent? There was not a dermatological medicine she had not tried, nor a laser. The money she had spent on these burn scars alone was enough to make an ordinary person's eyes bulge.

In the end, Kwon Hayun decided to accept it. She could not bring herself to stop seeking treatment, but she told herself that in this life she simply was not fated to wear a short skirt, or a bikini.

And so she stood before the bathroom mirror with a gloomy face. The reflection from the shoulders up was always pleasant to look at, but the moment she lowered her eyes, the hideous burn scars were there to greet her. She squeezed both eyes shut and reached, as she always did, for her cosmetics.

She was rummaging idly through them when her hand happened to close around a bottle of lotion.

"I must have been out of my mind, buying this..."

She remembered purchasing it at a cosmetics shop some time ago. Whether the clerk had years of experience behind her, or it was simply the woman's nature, she had explained everything so smoothly that Hayun had bought a bottle. Of course, the fact that the pitch had included a claim about being especially good for burns had played its part.

"It's a brand-new lotion from Starlight Cosmetics. They say it's wonderful for the skin—and excellent for all sorts of burns and scars, too."

"Good for burn scars?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The clerk, of course, had never used Starlight Lotion herself. But fruit sellers ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sold fruit they had never tasted—why should she be any different about lotion? With a silver tongue and a dazzling pitch, she succeeded in selling Kwon Hayun the bottle.

It had been an expensive lotion, so the clerk must have posted quite a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠figure. Hayun gazed at it a moment, then began peeling away the wrapping. The packaging was of such a luxurious material that her mood lifted a little. This did not feel like some quack's product.

Starlight Cosmetics was not a large company, but it was not a small one either, and it was hardly the sort of outfit that would stoop to putting out something meant to cheat its customers. Hayun slowly looked over the unwrapped lotion.

"Skincare, acne removal, dark-circle relief, blemish ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠removal, and scar removal? What kind of lotion has this many effects?"

At this rate it was less a lotion than a skin medicine.

Since she had bought it, Hayun resolved to use it properly. She took up the bottle, squeezed a long ribbon into her palm, and smelled it first.

"Doesn't seem cheap, at least."

Some unidentifiable fragrance rose gently from the lotion, but it was not a bad one. If she had to name the feeling, it was like standing in the middle of a dense forest. Far too refreshing for a lotion—not that she disliked it. If anything, she liked it.

She spread it over her face, then squeezed out another ribbon and slathered it thick across the rough, pebbled burn scars, using about twice what she had put on her face. Using more did not necessarily make it work better, but it felt as though laying it on thick ought to help. The bottle was so small that already only half of it remained.

Once the lotion was on, she lay down on the bed and watched television. Tomorrow was a day off, so staying up late would not have mattered, but strangely, after she applied it, her body grew heavy and languid, and she surrendered herself to the sleep that came creeping over her.

The next morning.

"Huh... huh!?"

She had looked in the mirror to wash up and been startled. Pressing her face close to the glass, she checked. Lately, from all the overtime, her skin had been sagging dreadfully—but that was gone.

A glow seemed to pour from her face, and the dark circles and wrinkles that had multiplied every time she looked were wiped clean away. At an effect that seemed like a lie, she could only stare, eyes wide with disbelief. Wasn't this too good, even for something good?

"I put lotion on once, and it changes this much..."

Murmuring, she looked down with a face that hardly dared to hope. When she examined both thighs, her body went rigid, as if she had seen something impossible. The burn marks that even famous doctors had said could not be fixed were almost entirely gone.

Some trace of the burns remained, of course, but even this was a tremendous leap. If scars that nothing could touch had faded this much, then if she kept applying the lotion, might they heal completely?

Women who went through something like her experience with Starlight Lotion slowly began to multiply. Even at a price approaching a hundred and fifty dollars, there were people who bought it.

No matter how shitty a product was, how many people lived in Korea? Out of fifty million, a few would set their minds and buy even an expensive lotion. Overjoyed, Kwon Hayun began posting this absurd thing she had experienced onto the internet.

There was also a promotion in which writing a review entered you in a drawing for a free bottle. Even working at a major corporation, a lotion that cost nearly a hundred and fifty dollars was something of a burden.

I could only stare at the height chart with a gloomy face. Bora said I had clearly grown, but my height was the same as before: four feet five inches. So I hadn't grown taller. Only my hair had.

"Hana, there's no need to be depressed. You'll grow later, won't you?"

"But..."

What mattered was my height now, and being short was terribly inconvenient. When Bora or Haru tried to show me something on the computer, I was too short to see the screen properly, and even climbing onto a chair, I had to grab hold of it and haul myself up as if I were scaling a cliff.

"Starting today, I'm taking medicine to grow taller!"

"Hana..."

Under the sorrowful look in Bora's eyes, I had no choice but to protest. Don't look at me like that... I felt as if I had become the heroine of some pitiful movie.

"And the other tests?"

Beside us, Baldy spoke, looking at Bora.

"There's hardly any difference from the last examination. Aside from the effects of her hair growing stronger, nothing's really changed. Hana's hair must still be growing."

"That's good news."

At the word that they could make far more green tea than the amount originally possible, Baldy's face brightened. It was my hair, and watching him preen over it as if it were his own did nothing for my mood. But he was my subordinate, so this was the sort of duty a leader had to endure.

"Waaah!"

But my not growing taller was nonsense no matter how you looked at it. I packed all that gloom into a glare and shot it hard at Bora. She must have felt my eyes on her, because she hurriedly looked away.

I grabbed Bora's thigh and clung to her like a cicada. But Bora could not make me any taller.