The Call (2)
A couple of hours had already passed since the office workers had clocked in for the day.
It had been two days since she had parted from Seona.
Yurin herself had set out a day later — she had errands to run. The supplies she had prepared for Seona were considerable.
She had called her parents, but even after coming home for the first time in a long while, not a single person was there to greet her. It was a weekday, not the weekend, so her mother was never going to be home — and her father, who worked as a full-time investor and was not bound to any particular place, had gone out to meet his friends.
Was it middle school? High school? She could no longer remember exactly when it had started, but coming home on a weekday afternoon to an empty house had become ordinary. A workaholic mother who had rarely returned home even when Yurin was small. A father who, from middle school onward, had grown tired of waiting for her mother and begun attending housewives' gatherings instead. Being alone in the house had always been a given.
That was why she had trailed after Seona — to push back the loneliness. The affection Seona had shown her since childhood, pulling her into her arms, was what made the emptiness bearable now. Seona was that special to her.
And now even Seona was not beside her. A faint gloom settled over her.
I miss Seona.
Yurin had told Seona to spend one night at her own family home, then come to "our house — the one where Yura is." The reason was simple. She wanted them to go thank Executive Yura, who had dispatched members of the Hwaryong Guild during the kidnapping and helped both Yurin and Seona. Diligent Seona would arrive before long. Once a promise was made, showing up late in the evening simply was not in Seona's nature.
When Seona came home, Yurin planned to show her the marriage registration form she had prepared the day before and talk about arranging a formal meeting between both sets of parents. As a bonus, she would take care of the sexual needs she had not been able to handle yesterday — and the thought of that put her in a good mood. Her parents would not be back until late evening, so they could finish quickly enough. If she set her mind to it and worked Seona by hand until every last drop of desire was wrung out and Seona was left limp and spent, it never took a full hour. It was the most efficient method.
This time, though, she had a gift prepared for Seona. She hoped Seona would like it better than hands alone, and she had carefully memorized how to use the thing. The problem that she herself found it hard to reach satisfaction could wait — she would collect what she was owed after they were married.
Unlike her parents, she intended to live a life devoted to her household, building a marriage for Seona's happiness and her own. Unlike her mother, she would clock out on time when work was done, go home to the house where Seona was waiting, and welcome the Seona who waited for her. They would make love every single day.
How many children would be best? She even harbored a desire to have enough kids to field a soccer team. The children's genders did not matter to Yurin. A pretty boy who took after Seona would delight her; a sturdy girl who took after herself, someone she could play with and who would grow into a reliable adult her parents could lean on — just imagining it already made her happy.
But the plans for a second generation would begin only after her service ended. For the sake of a stable married life, having her term extended through substitute leave during pregnancy was not ideal. Having to return to service after giving birth would make it far too easy to fail at being devoted to the home. A child who could barely even see her mother's face — she had no wish to pass down the loneliness of her own childhood.
She could hardly wait for married life after her service was over. Imagining that every day would be a happy one, she looked at the marriage registration form in her possession, and the smile would not leave her lips. Thinking of Seona, who would be home any moment now, Yurin could not stop smiling.
Seona arrived at Yurin's house.
From childhood she had memories of weekends when the family was occasionally invited over by Executive Yura, and of visiting often as an elementary schooler. No matter how many times she saw it, a large two-story detached house with a wide garden, sitting inside the Seoul area, never failed to impress.
As if the house already knew she had come, she heard the front gate open even though she had not pressed the doorbell. Yurin must have spotted her approaching through the intercom camera and opened it first.
Passing through the gate, crossing the broad garden, and opening the door to the house itself, Seona called out,
"Excuse me."
It was someone else's home, not her own, so she offered the customary greeting — and a glad voice answered her at once.
"Welcome, Seona. I missed you."
They had only been apart a single day, and still Yurin looked that happy to see her.
"Yurin, are your parents not home?"
"They'll both be here on the weekend, so they should be back around this evening."
There was a faintly bitter edge to the way Yurin said it. Today was Friday, so "home every weekend" meant they would come in this Friday evening.
From middle school on, Yurin had more often trailed after Seona than gone home. She had claimed both parents were out and she was bored — but it was also true that, from middle school onward, parental neglect had made Yurin attach herself to Seona. Seona, for her part, had sensed that loneliness and worked harder to ease it, and so the bond had taken root. It was one of the reasons that no matter what terrible things Yurin did to her, she could never push Yurin away. Guessing how deep the loneliness of a girl left alone at home must have been had not been difficult even back then.
Still, I thought at least her father would welcome a daughter coming home after so long.
It was unfair to compare them to her own family, but Yurin's household truly did show a vast gap between weekend and weekday. On weekends they put on a harmonious front for subordinates; on weekdays the family all moved separately. The contrast was enormous.
"You must be tired from the trip. Want to go rest in my room?"
While Seona was still thinking about Yurin's parents, Yurin spoke up. Judging by the sly look on Yurin's face, if she trusted those words and went to the room with her, the odds that she would actually get any rest were essentially zero. There was still plenty of time until Yurin's parents returned in the evening, but she had no desire to do that kind of thing inside this house. Besides, Yurin looked as though she had prepared something — something that felt different from usual, and not in a reassuring way.
"I'd like to rest a little in the living room first."
Reacting too strongly all of a sudden might only excite Yurin. Lately it seemed Yurin got stimulated whenever Seona showed dislike, and that was something to avoid. She kept her tone even, careful not to provoke her.
"Then I'll bring some tea."
Strangely, Yurin did not press her any further about going to the room together.
Seona sat on the living room sofa, catching her breath, waiting for the tea Yurin would bring, and letting her thoughts wander. She roughly understood that Yurin's family had money, but even if they married, she had not the slightest intention of holing up at home like a housewife. She had attended a good department at a good university with a promising future precisely because she wanted to work as well — to be of help in the married life she would share with Yurin. Money was a large part of it, but considering the male identity she had carried over from her previous life, sitting at home while only the woman went out to work simply did not suit her temperament. It would feel too much like becoming a kept husband, and that was why she had gone to school aiming for a good job.
But now she had withdrawn from university. In a way, Yurin's suggestion that she apply to the Hwaryong Guild's medical center might be an opportunity. On top of that, the question of a couple's income was also, indirectly, a question of hierarchy within the household. No one would say it outright, but in modern society it carried real weight. Become a full-time housewife and she might truly end up under someone's thumb. She was not exaggerating — she might even have her going-out controlled until life amounted to little more than confinement. That she would decline. At minimum she needed a job if she wanted to avoid such things, so finding work was not optional. It was essential. In that sense, it was not a bad choice.
From what she had briefly learned on the way to Yurin's house, healing-type ability users were quite rare, and if their performance was reliable they showed outstanding results with external and internal injuries, poisoning, and the like — everything short of ordinary disease — which put them at the very top of the medical field in emergencies. Why healing-type ability users were so few was not written anywhere. As if the path to becoming one had been deliberately kept secret, she had not found a single article describing how anyone had awakened as a healing-type ability user. Perhaps it was simply because they were so scarce. She sank into thought — and then Yurin returned with the tea.
"Seona, I brought tea. I bought it myself. It should be pretty good."
The liquid was a dark color shot through with red.
"I've never seen this before. It smells a little sour."
"It's a tea made by concentrating and blending bokbunja and omija. It's sweet, so it should taste nice."
As if Seona would not recognize those two ingredients — both famous for boosting stamina. So that was why Yurin had been wearing that sly expression this whole time.
Finding Yurin rather cute for it, Seona sipped the tea little by little and kept talking with her. Even though it was still daytime, drowsiness began to pour down over her.
"Works great, just like they said. They told me the medicine tastes sweet, so if you put it in fruit tea no one notices — looks like I picked the right one."
Yurin scooped up Seona, who had dozed off mid-conversation, and carried her toward her own room. She did it with perfect composure, as if she had known all along that Seona would refuse. Drugging someone, hauling them off, and forcing them was hardly ordinary — but she had promised to manage Seona's sexual needs every day, and keeping that promise meant getting this done first.
Yurin knew that Seona's body had grown sturdier since her awakening. There was something she had dreamed of trying for a long time, something their busy schedules had never allowed — and she had brought various items specifically to try it now. Seona, this toughened, would probably be able to endure it. Unable to hide her excitement at the thought of using the things she had brought for something fun, imagining the look on Seona's face as she was milked dry like a dairy cow, Yurin climbed the stairs.