Things Only Visible When Faced
There are things you only see when you face them.
"Ah—s-sorry! I wasn't trying to eavesdrop."
"..."
I half-listened to Jin Jo-hwa's awkward apology, saying nothing as I dug through my memories of the past.
Had something like this even happened before...?
I still felt a visceral discomfort at sifting through old memories. But my sister's words, my homeroom teacher's words, Yoon Narae's words all flashed through my mind in rapid succession.
Recalling the past made me physiologically recoil, and yet at the same time it forced me to think.
Because of my sister.
Because of my homeroom teacher.
Because of Yoon Narae.
So I had no choice but to dig through those memories.
Even as the discomfort and revulsion rose, I kept searching—but as expected, I remembered nothing. I hadn't even known I'd been called to the teachers' office for an open class, let alone that I'd had this awkward encounter with Jin Jo-hwa there.
I began to doubt whether this dream-situation was truly a past I had lived through at all.
"Jo Yul...?"
"What."
At Jin Jo-hwa's call, I turned to look at her. She wore a look of considerable surprise, as if she'd expected me to ignore her again.
So even the great Jin Jo-hwa could make a face like that. The vacant, dazed expression that came with her surprise wasn't exactly a good look—but it was rare, no question.
I didn't know if she was still the same now, but Jin Jo-hwa of the past had been the perfect child in the eyes of every student and every teacher in the school. That was why her dumbfounded face was such an uncommon sight.
"If you've got nothing to say, I'm going."
"W-wait!"
She'd just been sitting there with that blank look and nothing to say, so I'd started to head back to the classroom—but a small, urgent hand caught me, and I couldn't take another step.
When I turned my gaze, I could see a great deal in Jin Jo-hwa's large, bright eyes.
In the past, I'd believed that what made Jin Jo-hwa the perfect child was her endless confidence and passion. Look—I still couldn't tell where a little girl drew her confidence from or what she burned with passion for, but just those eyes alone told you she was no ordinary kid.
"What. If you've still got nothing to say, I'm really going this time."
I drove the point home: if she didn't state her business, I'd ignore her even if she held on.
Jin Jo-hwa spoke with an anxious face.
"If I made you feel bad, I'm really sorry. I had something to tell the teacher, but it looked like you were talking with her first, so I didn't want to interrupt. It's true—please believe me!"
"..."
I looked at Jin Jo-hwa without a word.
As expected, this situation didn't surface from my memories of the past either. There really wasn't much I could recall. How indifferent to everything around me had I been back then?
Jin Jo-hwa was a monster who couldn't live a normal life without other people's love and attention. That was why she was apologizing so desperately.
Because she didn't want me to hate her.
Because she was afraid of the bad reputation that might spread through me.
It was a way of thinking most people couldn't understand. But Jin Jo-hwa was not a normal child.
Without others' love and attention, she couldn't function. But to receive that love and attention, she had to make people like her—and that meant she had no choice but to live a life of pretense, molding herself to other people's moods.
That didn't mean her apology was insincere. If there was a problem, it was in the purpose of the apology. Selfishness as the purpose—that was the problem.
It was ugly and filthy, no two ways about it.
"I don't particularly care."
"R-really? That's a relief. We're going to be spending a long time right next to each other—it'd be weird if things got awkward, right?"
"..."
Faced with that ugly, filthy display, I finally couldn't take it. Without hesitation, I turned my back. She seemed to say something behind me, but I ignored it.
As I remembered it, the reason Jin Jo-hwa of that time had taken an interest in me was curiosity and pride.
Jin Jo-hwa had been a celebrity at our school. A genius all-rounder who drew love and attention and envy and jealousy not just from her class but across the entire grade—that kind of feeling. So of course she'd had her own pride. And that pride must have been considerable.
But back then, I had zero interest in anyone around me. Whether my desk partner was Jin Jo-hwa or anyone else, I didn't care. I didn't even glance her way, as I recalled.
From Jin Jo-hwa's perspective, her pride would have been wounded—and at the same time, while so many people gave her love and attention, this one person who wouldn't even look at her must have sparked a small curiosity and interest.
There was one other reason, too.
The other kids and the teachers never seemed to notice, but when I watched Jin Jo-hwa playing with the others, I saw it immediately. That the face she showed day to day was a pretense. And when she came up and spoke to me in that friendly way, I remembered saying, without thinking:
"If you're trying to win me over with that face of pretense, you'd better give up. I have no interest in you."
I remembered it clearly. Because when she heard me, Jin Jo-hwa's eyes went round, and she stared at me with pupils trembling as if in shock.
She must have been hit harder than she'd expected. I learned this later from her own mouth: until then, I had been the first person to truly see through her pretense.
How deep must a third-grade elementary school girl's pretense have run, that no one but me had ever noticed it?
From that day on, you could say Jin Jo-hwa felt a different kind of interest and curiosity toward me than the reasons I'd already described. Those, I believe, were the two reasons that bound Jin Jo-hwa and me together.
If it was a special connection, it was a special connection—but it wasn't a beautiful one. Even so, the bond between Jin Jo-hwa and me continued.
Back in the classroom, Jin Jo-hwa spoke to me countless times—during breaks, during class, it didn't matter. I figured it was because she'd taken an interest and grown curious about me. But I answered with silence. I felt no need to respond to anything she said. Even so, her attention toward me never broke off.
Any ordinary kid would have been offended and stopped talking. But Jin Jo-hwa was a child on a completely different level from ordinary kids.
Did she feel no anger, disappointment, or displeasure toward someone who wouldn't even react to her words? No—it wasn't that she didn't feel them. She probably couldn't feel them. Interest and curiosity filled her head to the brim.
Ah—and there was one more reason. Something other people didn't know: Jin Jo-hwa was stubborn as an ox. That was why she kept talking until I reacted. On top of that, I'd wounded her pride—so wounded pride, stubbornness, interest, and curiosity all mixed together, and her obsession with me could only grow.
Had ignoring her been the right call? I felt a twinge of regret, but it was already a story of the past.
While I was lost in my own thoughts, Jin Jo-hwa's voice reached me.
"Do you have time after school, by any chance?"
"?"
Until now, nothing she'd said had felt worth answering—but this was different. So I turned my gaze from the window toward Jin Jo-hwa.
She was looking at me. Those large eyes seemed to sparkle. It was close to the look a child gets when something has seized their enormous curiosity. Honestly, it was burdensome. Should I just ignore her again?
"You finally looked at me."
"!"
That line startled me for a moment. Of course, the reason I was startled and the meaning of the words the Jin Jo-hwa in front of me had thrown out were different things.
But.
For some reason, my heart was pounding hard.
I didn't know why.
What was this beating?
Why was my heart thrashing like this?
This contradictory pulse—unpleasant and yet faintly refreshing—what was it?
"It's just—do you have time after school today?"
"...Why."
My heart was still thrashing, but I did my best to keep my composure.
"I want to talk with you a lot!"
"I don't want to."
To Jin Jo-hwa's direct declaration of intent, I answered just as directly with my own.
Jin Jo-hwa had always been that kind of kid. Stubborn and blunt—the kind who, on the surface, didn't seem all that different from ordinary children. The truth was she looked like a kid but wasn't like a kid at all. And I was probably the only person who knew that.
"I'm not trying to mess with you or anything, so just listen calmly."
"..."
What was she going to say this time? Without a word, I rolled my eyes toward Jin Jo-hwa.
"Why don't you try to hang out with the other kids?"
"..."
Instead of answering, I stared hard into Jin Jo-hwa's eyes. What those eyes held was simple curiosity. Finding no reason to answer her question, I opened my mouth.
"You don't need to know."
"You're really stubborn, aren't you?"
"That's rich, coming from you."
"I don't know why you're like this, but just this once—can't you hang out with me?"
"I don't want to."
"Please! I'm asking you."
The sight of Jin Jo-hwa bowing her head to plead, set against my memories, produced a sense of dissonance. Given her personality, bowing her head to anyone was an absurd image.
Was the present situation feeling different because I hadn't been conscious of it before—was that why I felt the dissonance? If there was a reason I couldn't doubt that this dream was built on my memories, it was that some situations still matched those memories exactly.
This was one of them. I didn't remember the details clearly, but I did remember that Jin Jo-hwa had kept asking me for something, and that the request had something to do with after school. Just like now.
"I don't want to."
"I promise—it'll be a good time for you too. So please!"
Knowing full well what answer she'd get and still refusing to yield—Jin Jo-hwa's stubbornness went beyond impressive and into the territory of exhausting.
"I know it's a selfish request. But you're the first person who's ever seen through me that completely. So I'm curious about you. Even just a little while—can't you spare me some time?"
If I refused today, she'd come back tomorrow with the same relentless request. And the day after that, and the day after that—the thought of that endless loop made my teeth chatter—
"...Fine."
"Thank you!"
—and in the end, I decided to accept.
On Jin Jo-hwa's brightly smiling face, there wasn't even one percent of pretense.
And without thinking, I let a line slip out.
"That face—it looks good on you."
"Hm? What did you say?"
"...Nothing. I didn't say anything."
What had I just said? Looks good? I must have gone completely insane.
The one silver lining was that Jin Jo-hwa hadn't heard me properly.
Just like in the past, even in the dream I was being swept along by Jin Jo-hwa's pace. In the past, I hadn't known this direction was the wrong path. But now I did. So why was I still walking the same road as before?
Because it wasn't real?
Because it was a hassle?
Or else—
"...Don't tell me."
—was I deliberately looking the other way?
I was still confused by the conclusion that I didn't even know what I wanted or how I wanted to do it. When had this confusion started? After that day in the past? Or in middle school? Or was it recent?
Countless thoughts filled my head, but time waited for no one. Before I knew it, after school had arrived.
"..."
Mentally exhausted, I stared blankly up at the ceiling until the classroom had emptied completely. Jin Jo-hwa, who'd been quiet for a while, had started talking to me again at some point. She'd chattered away beside me, thoroughly annoying, and I'd answered with silence—but in the end, I was the one who raised the white flag.
When I was alone in the empty classroom, Jin Jo-hwa came back holding the classroom key in one hand.
"I got permission from the teacher."
I glared at her with a sour face as she jangled the key.
"Hehehe."
Even under my unfriendly stare, she was grinning away, clearly delighted—and I didn't have the energy left to react.
"So what did you want to say?"
I asked, wiping every emotion clean.
"All sorts of things. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this?"
Instead of answering the question concretely, she expressed her joy and excitement and thrill with exaggerated gestures. Anyone other than me who saw her would have thought it strange.
"Can I just go home?"
"Ah—okay, okay! Just don't put your bag on."
Quickly spinning her chair around to sit facing me, Jin Jo-hwa spoke without erasing the smile from her face.
"I only answered that way because I really have so much I want to ask. So stop glaring at me like that."
You might have a lot you want to say, but I don't.
"If I asked you everything I'm curious about, you'd hate it, right?"
"Yeah."
"I figured. So today I'll only ask a few things."
Here it comes at last.
Whatever else from the past I might not remember, this situation was burned clearly into my memory. It was also the point where the bond between Jin Jo-hwa and me truly continued—and because her questions at the time had been so blunt, they'd shocked me in their own way.
Knowing exactly what questions were coming, I felt at ease.
"When you saw through my pretense, I was really surprised. And my pride was hurt, and I felt a little bad. But at the same time, I got interested in you. How were you able to see through my pretense in a single glance?"
As I understood it, my past self had given a rough answer to that question. Explaining in detail had been a hassle, and I hadn't wanted to deliberately drag out a painful past. But ox-stubborn Jin Jo-hwa had kept asking me why.
To the Jin Jo-hwa who clung on relentlessly, I remembered answering, "I have no intention of telling you."
Outwardly, I was a child right now. But inside, I was a high schooler who'd grown to a certain point. My parents' divorce was an old story, and even bringing it up again didn't stir any particular emotion. Also, if I gave the same answer as in the past, the situation going forward would unfold exactly as it lived in my memory.
As I'd experienced even recently, a battle of wills with Jin Jo-hwa was exhausting to the point of futility. That left me with only one choice I could make.
Pick the option that benefited me the most.
I spoke indifferently.
"I just pick up on things fast."
"Hmmm—? Really?"
Jin Jo-hwa looked at me with eyes full of suspicion.
An ordinary kid would have accepted my answer without any doubt and moved on. They wouldn't even have thought of this meeting as something deep, something meaningful. But Jin Jo-hwa was no ordinary kid. A child only on the outside—a genius, multi-talented, anything but ordinary.
Even my past self had immediately recognized that Jin Jo-hwa was more than the rumors. They say like recognizes like, right? So did that make me an extraordinary kid too?
"Even if what you're saying is true, isn't that way too sharp for your age?"
"Coming from someone who crafts a pretense that refined at your age, that feels rich—but you're right."
"Could you tell me why? I want to know why you're so sharp so young. I'm super curious!"
"..."
She seemed extremely excited. Honestly, it was a little scary. Like looking at a bull in a frenzy, maybe? You could tell just by looking at Jin Jo-hwa's eyes.
Even though it was a dream, facing the past once more seemed to let me see new sides of things around me, little by little. Just as with my homeroom teacher of that time, I found myself reconsidering whether the Jin Jo-hwa waiting for my answer in front of me had really been a child who showed this much interest in other people.
The Jin Jo-hwa I knew from back then had been, at the end of it, a child with a strong will, stubborn as an ox, who used a measured pretense to gather other people's love and attention all to herself. I hadn't felt or seen anything beyond that, and I hadn't even thought to try.
I'd been an extraordinary kid myself, but I'd still been young—was that why I hadn't thought further? Probably, I thought so. My indifference to everything around me at the time had played a part too.
I felt I could understand, just a little, why Yoon Narae had said those things to me.
"This story's going to run a bit long, so listen carefully."
"Okay."
"The first time I started reading people was when I was seven. Back then, I'd been playing in the dirt with my friends and came home, and my mom happened to be cleaning. So I ran over and hugged her. But Mom took one look at the state I was in and got angry for a second. It wasn't that I didn't understand—but to a little kid, it hit as a pretty big terror. I cried from the fear of Mom's angry face, and Mom apologized and soothed me. That was the past. After that, I started watching adults carefully. Would someone get angry at me because of something I said or did? And would I feel that terror again? With those thoughts, I started reading people—and by reading them, I learned to pick up on their feelings and situations and thoughts, and match my words and actions to them."
"So that's what happened..."
Fortunately, Jin Jo-hwa seemed to accept it.
Looking at it now as a grown person, it really was a trivial trigger. But back then I'd been so young that the shock had been huge. I never wanted to taste that same shock and terror again.
Because it hurt, and because I was afraid.
"Yeah. That's all there is to it."
"In a way, it's similar to my case..."
It wasn't directed at me, but I heard it clearly.
Had Jin Jo-hwa said something like that in this situation...? Looking at my memories of the time, Jin Jo-hwa had muttered to herself a few times, but I remembered not being able to hear her well. Just now, though, I'd heard her for certain.
Why? Because I'd come to hold a different perspective from the past?
"What do you mean by that?"
"H-huh?"
"Just now you said, 'In a way, it's similar to my case.'"
"You really heard that."
"Yeah."
"Um..."
Jin Jo-hwa suddenly fell into thought, but it didn't last long.
"You told me about your past, so I'll tell you about mine. Why I became a person of pretense."