By Zephyria 
March, the first day of school after the start of the term. The feeling of facing a new school year wasn’t fresh at all.
The winter supplementary classes had eaten away at the precious vacation, leaving only about ten days before they ended, and ten days was too short a time to feel genuinely glad to see the school again.
The scenery of the school in March wasn’t much different from the end of February. Except for a few evergreens, the trees surrounding the playground and sidewalks were still skeletal without a single proper leaf, and the cold air of winter, which still had a long way to go before leaving, enveloped the entire school.
Since he already knew who among his close friends had ended up in the same class, there was nothing to be curious about. On the day the class assignments were announced, as expected, the site server crashed, so they were busy exchanging messages to check who was in which class, but by now, they had figured it out to some extent.
Seung-pyo arrived at school earlier than usual. On the first day of the new school year, he wanted to start the day on a good note by claiming a seat he liked.
Aiming for a back seat by the window, he reached the front of the classroom and frowned slightly as soon as he opened the door. Someone had already claimed his favorite spot. Perhaps having the same thought and coming early, he and the other person were the only two in the chilly classroom.
As Oh Seung-pyo walked into the classroom, the guy who had been looking out the window turned his head. The expressionless faces of the two people met.
Seung-pyo wasn’t surprised. The one sitting there also seemed equally calm.
Whether it was a leak or something, the news that the students who had taken the first and second ranks in the entire school during the first year had ended up in the same class in the second year had spread by word of mouth since the day the assignments were announced, so most students already knew.
“…You came early.”
While Seung-pyo stood rooted at the door, Ryu Jae-min spoke first. He was acting as nonchalant as if they had met just yesterday, but an unavoidable awkwardness lingered in his tone. Without replying, and without smoothing out the barely visible crease between his brows, Seung-pyo simply stared at Ryu Jae-min in silence.
“Oh, Ryu Jae-min!”
“As expected of the top two in the school, you two are the first ones here?”
Before they could even finish their greetings, several students entered the classroom. Quite a few of the kids who had been in Class 2 were now in the same class. As they welcomed Ryu Jae-min, who had been absent for most of the end of the break, Jae-min smiled and greeted them back.
As the other students intervened, Seung-pyo turned away without a word and sat in the farthest seat from Jae-min, right by the hallway. He flopped down with a rough motion, as if staging a protest against an invisible opponent.
He had heard that only about twenty students in the entire grade had chosen Physics 1 as their elective for the second year. Because of that, people said everyone who chose Physics 1 would likely end up in the same class, and it turned out to be true. When he first heard the rumor, he had a feeling that Ryu Jae-min would be one of those twenty, but he hadn’t let it bother him. He didn’t feel the need to change his elective just to avoid the guy.
While Seung-pyo pulled out his phone with a needlessly grumpy expression, the conversation between Jae-min and the other kids reached his ears.
“How’ve you been?”
“What about you? You suddenly stopped coming to school, so everyone thought you were sick.”
“No. My parents just thought it would be better for me to study at home for the rest of the break.”
I see, the kids replied, seemingly imagining something like one-on-one tutoring with expensive instructors. However, listening from a distance, Seung-pyo didn’t get that impression.
‘Something is definitely off.’
During the remainder of the winter break, Seung-pyo had spent a considerable amount of time thinking about Ryu Jae-min. He had no choice. He was the victim who had been subjected to something bordering on a crime by a pervert who looked perfectly normal on the outside, yet had nowhere to vent his frustrations.
The conclusion Seung-pyo reached was simple. Ryu Jae-min was strange. And Ryu Jae-min’s parents were strange too.
Ryu Jae-min had claimed to have lost Seung-pyo’s phone, but for some reason, Seung-pyo had received the lost phone back via mail. Moreover, it had passed through two homeroom teachers and arrived wrapped in plastic, like a piece of criminal evidence.
Since the Class 2 homeroom teacher had mentioned receiving contact from home, it meant the teacher had spoken directly with Jae-min’s mother or father. If that were the case, the only explanation was that Jae-min’s parents were the ones who had packaged and sent the phone this way.
Did a psycho create another psycho? In Seung-pyo’s mind, Ryu Jae-min’s parents—whom he had never even met—were psychos who surpassed even Jae-min. Perhaps that was why, instead of ordinary tutoring, images of the bizarre parents he’d seen in movies or on TV naturally overlapped in his mind.
“Let’s play basketball again. Now that Oh Seung-pyo is in our class, we can really dominate everything.”
Seung-pyo stopped his train of thought when his name was suddenly mentioned. Looking toward the voice, he saw the kids glancing at him as they asked.
“Right, Oh Seung?”
Seung-pyo didn’t answer; he just shrugged his shoulders. The kids immediately looked at Jae-min, but he was equally vague in his response.
“Maybe later, if the timing works out.”
Jae-min brushed it off. Seung-pyo didn’t answer at all, merely firing a cold, blunt glare like an arrow.
Meanwhile, the classroom slowly began to fill up. Seung-pyo turned his head away, choosing not to join the conversation further.
The first period began with a fairly brisk atmosphere. Every teacher who came in from morning until lunch gave a stern warning, saying there was a world of difference between the first and second years, and that they should focus on their studies as if they were already seniors.
At first, the students seemed tense and nodded along, but as the warnings repeated every single period, they grew bored. Eventually, they just stared blankly at the podium with glazed eyes.
For Seung-pyo, who was ranked second in the entire grade, such advice was not a threat at all. College admissions weren’t much of a concern for him.
His only father was a man who believed his children only needed to be able to earn their own living. He never pressured them to attend a specific university or choose a particular career path. Due to a home environment that was less “free” and more “neglectful,” Seung-pyo was given an excessively wide range of options.
Whenever he saw kids being dragged to all sorts of academies, information sessions, and experiential learning trips by their mothers or because they couldn’t withstand their fathers’ nagging, Seung-pyo felt lucky that no one bothered him like that. Yet, at times, he felt like a baby dolphin lost in the vast ocean, like something he had once seen in a marine documentary. Though it felt a bit shameless to compare himself to something so cute.
Thus, Seung-pyo’s goal for his second year wasn’t a prestigious university title or a respectable profession. It was simply to reclaim the top rank in the grade—a spot that had usually been his throughout middle school—and to give that pretty-faced pervert a proper taste of his own medicine. After all, once he achieved the goal of being number one, the college admission results would naturally follow.
Returning to school after ten days made the time from the first period to lunch feel as long as a century. Now that he was a sophomore, he didn’t need to read the room to figure out who to eat lunch with on the first day. Naturally, students who had been in the same class in the first year, or those who knew each other through mutual friends, took seats at the same tables.
Despite rushing out of the classroom the moment lunch started, the boys spent more time sharing their accumulated frustrations and sighs than actually filling their stomachs.
“Wow, coming back to school after a while is fucking tedious.”
“But when I was at home, I actually wanted to come back.”
“That’s true. When you’re at home and not studying, you can feel people judging you.”
“Man, I only have a bed in my room now. They moved my desk to the living room so I wouldn’t do other things.”
“Study in the living room? Doesn’t that make it harder to concentrate?”
While the other kids grumbled and chatted, Seung-pyo remained silent. Today, he seemed to be in a low mood, unlike what one would expect on the first day of school.
Ryu Jae-min did not sit at the same table as Seung-pyo. Whether it was the school’s intentional class assignment or a natural result of sorting students by elective, Class 2-3—the class shared by Seung-pyo and Jae-min—had a significant concentration of top-ranking students, aside from the first and second in the grade.
Those students had somehow usurped the position of Jae-min’s friends and were sitting at a table with him. The kids who had played basketball with him in the first year were sitting at a different table.
…Seung-pyo had never made friends based on grades. He knew such people existed everywhere, but he found the behavior of students dividing people by their academic rank to be repulsive. Above all, if they were going to divide people, he naturally thought he was superior to those kinds of people.
Why should someone as great as me bother hanging around people inferior to me, only to be judged by them? That was Seung-pyo’s thought, and he believed in choosing who he wanted to be close with.
In any case, to those calculating types, Ryu Jae-min would naturally be an appetizing target. Jae-min was the universally recognized model student, the top-ranked academic whose parents were both university professors and who lived in an incredibly expensive apartment.
The only person who knew that he ran an anonymous SNS account and posted videos and photos of himself masturbating in secret was Oh Seung-pyo. Although there was no evidence left now, and the “terror” he had suffered during supplementary classes was a thing of the past.
Right, all the injustices of the world get buried quietly like this. Seung-pyo gripped his spoon, feeling as though he had learned a lesson about the world.
* * *
When the long classes, which felt as if they would last forever, finally ended, after-school activities remained. A friend he had attended an academy with during the break asked him just before they parted ways at the school gate.
“The special lectures are over. Are you going to re-enroll in the academy?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He had enrolled in that academy just to catch a glimpse of Ryu Jae-min’s face, but he hadn’t seen a trace of his target throughout the entire break. Still, since he had already enrolled, Seung-pyo had attended diligently without missing a day. He hadn’t had any expectations or curiosity about the classes, but after actually taking them, he felt he understood why everyone chased after famous instructors.
“You can enroll mid-term, so just let me know whenever. Hey, let’s keep going together if possible.”
“Yeah, I’ll decide soon.”
After a brief goodbye, his friend—who was in a different class starting this year—hurriedly disappeared. Seung-pyo put his hands in his pockets and pondered lightly.
Should I keep going or not? It doesn’t seem bad, but it’s a hassle to keep going after the break is over, and it feels like a waste of money.
He knew his father earned a decent amount as a captain, but he had overheard his aunts talking a while ago that his father didn’t have many days left to sail. Apparently, young people from good universities were pushing their way up, making it increasingly difficult for older captains to keep their positions.
As he stood at the school gate lost in thought, a familiar face entered his vision from a distance. Ryu Jae-min—with whom he hadn’t exchanged a single word, let alone a proper look, all day—was getting into a car. He had heard that a separate academy pickup vehicle came rather than his parents driving him, and that vehicle was a Mercedes.
‘Is he going home? Or back to the academy since the break is over?’
Seung-pyo stared blankly at the car as the door closed, then turned away without lingering. As he trudged toward home, he suddenly stopped, swallowed hard, and glanced around briefly as if checking for others. Then, he spun around and hopped onto a bus that happened to arrive.
The bus was crowded with students in uniforms. Even if no one was screaming or playing pranks, the heat emitted by the teenage boys and girls made the interior of the bus noisy just by their presence. Seung-pyo put earphones in both ears, as if telling anyone who might recognize him not to speak, and simply stared out the window amidst the commotion.
As rush hour approached and the roads began to clog, the bus, running in the dedicated lane, moved without hesitation. The Mercedes belonging to Ryu Jae-min, which had departed earlier, eventually came into Seung-pyo’s view.
The two vehicles, moving back and forth, eventually stopped at a similar time and place. Jae-min stepped out of the Mercedes, which had stopped further ahead of the bus stop, and Seung-pyo confirmed that Jae-min’s destination was indeed the academy, as expected. The academy was right in front of them, but since there were more than twenty minutes left until the regular class time, there was plenty of time to prepare.
Ryu Jae-min’s face looked completely indifferent to his surroundings. The expression he managed while surrounded by kids at school had turned blunt and tired. Walking straight ahead, he seemed entirely unaware that Seung-pyo was watching him.
Seung-pyo followed Jae-min, who was advancing blankly, a few steps behind, like a detective chasing a criminal. He didn’t try to hide his presence or maintain a great distance, but thanks to the busy crowds and the noise of the street, Seung-pyo’s tailing was successful.
However, as he walked silently watching Jae-min’s back, Seung-pyo’s brow began to furrow. Jae-min had walked right past the main entrance of the academy.
Where is he going? An ominous feeling washed over him, but Seung-pyo continued to follow him silently. Jae-min, who had been heading somewhere in a hurry, suddenly whipped around to check behind him. Seung-pyo had kept his head high, thinking it wouldn’t matter if Jae-min discovered him, but the moment he turned, Seung-pyo was startled and quickly hid behind a utility pole.
‘What am I doing?’
He found his own behavior—scurrying away like a frightened chicken—absurd, but he didn’t want to stop here. Seung-pyo cautiously peeked out to see where Jae-min was. And then,
“Crazy bastard…”
The words he had muttered countless times whenever he encountered Ryu Jae-min finally escaped his lips on the first day of the second year.
Seung-pyo stood staring blankly at the building in front of him. The place where Jae-min had disappeared was the abandoned building where they had collided on a rainy day during the winter break.
He understood why Jae-min had suddenly turned around to check his surroundings. Seung-pyo had also unconsciously looked around before opening the door to the abandoned building. However, people were all just going their own ways, seemingly uninterested in what Seung-pyo was about to do.
Seung-pyo pushed open the entrance door of the building, where red spray-painted X’s were drawn here and there on the walls and “NO ENTRY” was written in large letters. As soon as he entered, a musty smell of old cement wafted through the air, and the deserted stairs were dark and eerie. The lights and elevator were, naturally, not working.
As he climbed the stairs, he tried turning the handles of the doors he saw along the way, but they were all locked. Seung-pyo muffled his footsteps and climbed the stairs one by one. Now that he was inside, he felt the place was far more suited for a test of courage or a ghost story convention than for taking perverted photos. Upon reaching the fourth floor, the top floor, Seung-pyo finally grabbed and turned the last doorknob.
The door leading to the rooftop was not locked. Through the silently opening door, he saw the back of Ryu Jae-min, who was leaning against the railing and looking down.
“You really are hopeless.”
At Seung-pyo’s sigh-filled voice, Jae-min, who had been facing the railing, turned around.
His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but that was all. Jae-min held a cigarette between his fingers, blew out a puff of smoke, and faced Seung-pyo with a relaxed, indifferent expression. Then, he answered as if they were on friendly terms who had been chatting comfortably until recently.
“How did you find out about this place?”
“It’s on the way to the academy.”
Jae-min continued to smoke, as if it didn’t matter whether Seung-pyo was there or not. The furrow in Seung-pyo’s brow deepened.
“Can you not live without doing something that would make you feel guilty? If you can’t take pervert photos, you absolutely have to smoke?”
“What about you? Did you come up here out of curiosity, wondering if I was taking photos again?”
Jae-min gave a short laugh and turned his head.
“You must have really wanted to see photos of a slut.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re seriously fucking interested in me.”
“It’s not interest, you fuck, it’s because you to me—”
As Seung-pyo grit his teeth, unable to finish the sentence, Jae-min stared back at him with an expression that asked, So what are you going to do about it?
Although it had been a fake threat, Seung-pyo was the one who had intimidated him, saying he would publicly leak Ryu Jae-min’s photos. The fact that the top student in the grade had been secretly smoking from the first day of the second year would also cause a huge uproar if the school found out.
Yet, far from throwing the cigarette away, Jae-min was boldly puffing out smoke. Even though a single photo taken now would leave undeniable evidence.
Seung-pyo just looked at Jae-min with an incredulous expression, taking no action. Meanwhile, Jae-min smoked the cigarette down to a short butt without a word, and only after extinguishing it thoroughly did he speak.
“Move. I’m going down now.”
He didn’t know how the door had been unlocked, but the rooftop of the old building was quite spacious. Even if Seung-pyo didn’t move, Ryu Jae-min could easily pass through the door.
“Hey.”
Instead of moving, Seung-pyo spoke.
“Are you doing this because you’re stressed again?”
“…I told you to move, I have to go to the academy.”
“No, I seriously don’t get it. Are the only ways you know to relieve stress taking pervert photos to get comments from other perverts and smoking? Why do you do that when you’re so smart?”
Seung-pyo had clearly seen the bright, smiling face of the Ryu Jae-min who was now glaring at him with a cold expression. Despite the cold winter weather, he had been sweating and smiling so brightly, as if there were nothing more joyful in the world.
“Just play basketball with the kids again. They all want to play with you.”
“Where would I find the time for that?”
Jae-min frowned, seemingly starting to get irritated. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to snap back with something more, but after checking his wristwatch, he swallowed his anger. Finally, he spoke as he passed by Seung-pyo, who was blocking his path.
“I’m leaving. You’re not supposed to be in here, so you should leave quickly too.”
Seung-pyo watched Jae-min’s back as he walked indifferently toward the exit. He wouldn’t feel any regret if they parted ways like this. They would meet again at school tomorrow anyway, and he was a guy he would encounter tediously for the rest of the year, and perhaps until graduation.
And yet, Seung-pyo couldn’t leave the spot, his lips parting. He felt like he had a lot to say, but he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to say. His chest felt tight with a desire to scream, even though he didn’t know what words to use.
Seung-pyo’s voice burst out just as Jae-min flung the door open.
“You can just make time!”
“……”
Jae-min didn’t look back. But he didn’t just leave either. Seung-pyo adjusted his bag and made a new proposal.
“Hey, let’s just check in at the academy and get out.”
At those words, Jae-min finally looked back at Seung-pyo.
For Seung-pyo, this was a proposal he had put a lot of thought into. As of this morning, his first instinct upon seeing Ryu Jae-min had been to hurl his bag at the other’s face, grab him by the collar, and ask if he really thought he could just get away with it. The fact that he had endured a feeling of nausea all day was already a great act of mercy.
On top of that, he was even considering rescuing this unpredictable psycho; at this point, it was a good deed worthy of being recorded in his student file as “Rehabilitation of a Delinquent Student.”
Jae-min’s face was as expressionless as it was when he smoked. Seung-pyo frowned. This guy, who hadn’t even done anything right, wasn’t planning to play hard to get, was he? However, rather than being arrogant, Jae-min made a realistic point.
“Have you never been to an academy? You can’t just clock in and leave.”
“Why not? It’s not like they have guards posted.”
“The teachers check everything.”
“There’s probably a way.”
Suddenly, Seung-pyo recalled a memory from the break. The instructors had been talking worriedly about why the top student of Ilyang Boys’ High had suddenly decided to stop attending the academy. For someone like Ryu Jae-min, the academy would naturally want him to stay until the end.
If he skipped entire classes, they would have no choice but to contact his parents, but if he just entered a bit late, the academy would likely turn a blind eye. It wouldn’t be in their interest to contact his home only for Ryu Jae-min to stop coming altogether. Whether at school or the academy, adults were lenient toward the minor rebellions of honor students.
“Then 30 minutes.”
“What 30 minutes?”
“I was planning to register for that academy today too. Let’s call ahead and just go in 30 minutes late. They won’t say anything about that much.”
Jae-min didn’t answer, as if hesitating. Seung-pyo started walking first. He heard the footsteps of Jae-min, who had hesitated for a moment before hurriedly chasing after him.
“What are you planning? Are we really playing basketball?”
“There’s nowhere to play basketball near the academy.”
“Then what?”
“Are you worried we won’t be able to play because there’s nothing to do? We can’t play because we don’t have time.”
The voice of the guy who, until a moment ago, had been acting all heavy and world-weary with a cigarette in his mouth, was already sounding excited. Seung-pyo instinctively knew that despite his attempts to hide it, Ryu Jae-min’s heart had already been stolen by the temptation of a 30-minute skip.
It had been a half-impulsive proposal, born from the feeling that his own chest was tightening just watching this frustrating guy keep acting like a loser, but thinking about it now, it was a good choice in many ways.
Unlike himself, who could easily maintain second place in the entire school even while studying leisurely at home, Ryu Jae-min was a guy who maintained first place while wrapped in all sorts of expensive private education. If he could coax him into skipping a few times, as the saying goes, “the thief who learns late is the most fearsome”—Jae-min might fall so deeply into playing that his grades would plummet. Unaware of Seung-pyo’s terrifying scheme, Jae-min was now following him obediently like a docile lamb.
Having made a plan to play, the two moved busily without exchanging a word, like agents on a mission. There were less than ten minutes left until class started. Seung-pyo calmly called the instructor for the first period. Beside him, Jae-min watched his partner in the joint operation with an anxious expression.
“Hello, teacher. This is Oh Seung-pyo.”
Seung-pyo was perfectly natural. Teacher, teacher, it’s just that a very close friend of mine and Jae-min’s has a birthday today. We’ll just do a surprise for 20 minutes and then come in. Just 20 minutes! Yes, that’s right. We’re close too. Oh, teacher. Since it’s only 20 minutes, please keep it a secret. Really, really. Ah, of course, we’ll keep it a secret too.
While attending the academy during the break, Seung-pyo had become close with several instructors. The fact that the first and second-ranked students of Ilyang Boys’ High were friends, and that such honor students were cutely begging to be slightly late for class for a friend’s birthday party, seemed to have swayed the instructor’s heart.
“Thank you!”
Hanging up with an energetic greeting, Seung-pyo waved his phone at Jae-min. See? Facing that triumphant face, Jae-min frowned slightly.
“You said 30 minutes, why did you only take 20?”
“They’re not going to call home just because we’re 10 minutes later. They won’t even check the time once class starts anyway.”
Jae-min seemed convinced and didn’t ask further. Thirty minutes of free time. As Seung-pyo said, it was enough time to play a game of basketball, but he had said they wouldn’t. Leaving the abandoned building, Jae-min spoke again.
“So what are we doing?”
“Just follow me. It’s not like you have anything you want to do anyway.”
Seung-pyo was right. Ryu Jae-min had never skipped an academy class in his life, and he had no idea what to do for 30 minutes to play meaningfully.
As their free time dwindled, the two walked faster. With long strides, they arrived in front of a glass building crowded with people. The entrance was wide open as if welcoming them, and all sorts of noisy sounds were flowing out, audible from a distance. Jae-min was appalled.
“You want to go in here?”
“What’s with the fuss? It’s not like we’re going somewhere forbidden.”
Jae-min, who had never skipped class, had also never been to a place like this. Under an English sign that read ‘Game Station,’ Seung-pyo entered first. Hurry up, Seung-pyo urged, looking back and gesturing with his chin, forcing Jae-min to move his feet.
“This is just an arcade. It’s not like Kangwon Land, so square your shoulders.”
As he said, the wholesome game center was mostly filled with kids in school uniforms. He might have acted more composed if it were a gambling den, but Jae-min kept lowering his head, fearing he might be spotted by students from his own school. To some, it might have seemed like an unbalanced emotion, but he felt like he was doing something worse than taking half-naked photos and uploading them to social media.
“What are you, a celebrity? Who’s even looking? Stop being so damn extra.”
Seung-pyo grumbled, then suddenly took off his school jacket. Jae-min thought he was doing it because he was hot, but he abruptly threw the jacket over Jae-min’s head. Flustered by the feeling of suddenly becoming a clothes hanger, Jae-min demanded,
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“Instead of worrying about who’s watching, just cover your face with it.”
“Did I commit a crime?”
Indeed, he looked like a criminal being arrested, a scene often seen in the news or newspapers. He just needed handcuffs on his wrists to complete the look. Seung-pyo chuckled, scanning Jae-min from head to toe.
“You committed a crime against me. It suits you, so just keep it on.”
Wearing a school jacket over his head might have actually drawn more attention, but the advantage of a game center is that everyone is absorbed in their own games and doesn’t care about others. In particular, among the students playing rhythm games in front of people, there were quite a few who performed all sorts of antics to get attention, so wearing a jacket over one’s head didn’t seem that unusual.
Unaware of this, Jae-min continued to follow Seung-pyo, still mindful of others. It was frustrating, but Seung-pyo was right. Rather than being anxious and worrying if someone would recognize him, it was more peaceful to cover his face, even if it looked ridiculous.
Unexpectedly, what made Jae-min uncomfortable was the fact that the jacket covering his head was the one Oh Seung-pyo had been wearing until just a moment ago. As he buried his face in it, he could feel the lingering scent and body heat.
It was slightly similar to the smell he had encountered when he had accidentally buried his nose in the other’s t-shirt. It was a bit absurd that he had ended up rubbing his face against the guy’s clothes twice when they weren’t even close.
The inside of the center was very noisy. Along the walls were racing games for cars or bikes, shooting games to take down enemies, and rhythm games for dancing or playing music; near the entrance were claw machines. There were air hockey machines where players exchanged pucks, and basketball games further inside. In the middle of the spacious hall, various arcade machines operated by sticks and buttons were lined up in neat rows.
Flashy screens that made one’s head spin were everywhere, and loud music and sound effects flowed from every machine. Mixed with the voices of people screaming in the heat of competition, it was complete chaos.
“A psycho like you needs to do this.”
Navigating the crowd with familiarity, Seung-pyo led Jae-min to a large shooting game machine. In front of a wide screen flashing with sparks, two heavy-looking machine guns were placed on the left and right, and on the screen, monsters that looked like zombies were being shot down.
While Jae-min was distracted, Seung-pyo, who had exchanged money, clinked coins into the slot. The game started before Jae-min could even agree to play.
“Hey, grab the gun, quick!”
Seung-pyo was already firing the machine gun—rat-tat-tat-tat. Though he didn’t know how to operate it, Jae-min hurriedly grabbed the empty gun. When he pulled the trigger, the fixed machine gun vibrated quite strongly, shaking Jae-min’s arm and shoulder.
Jae-min quickly got the hang of it. It was a game that required no precise targeting or skill. As long as he kept his hand on the trigger, the gun fired automatically, and as long as he shifted the direction and blasted away, the zombies were knocked down by bullets. The zombies approaching with screams of Aaaagh! and Kaaaagh! were helpless before Jae-min’s attack. The anxiety remaining on Jae-min’s face gradually brightened.
I shouldn’t have come to a place like this.
What if someone sees me?
What if I get caught being late to the academy? Why am I doing this with this guy?
Every time he shot a zombie, the various distracting thoughts filling Jae-min’s head exploded like zombie heads and flew away as fragments.
By the time the subtitles appeared on the screen announcing that they had finally defeated a boss with about ten arms, Jae-min was smiling without realizing it.
His head felt refreshed, as if it had been emptied. It wasn’t exactly the same as when he finished his first basketball game, but it was a similar feeling. Jae-min gripped the gun with renewed enthusiasm for the next stage.
“Let’s do something else now.”
But Seung-pyo, having already lost interest, put the gun down. Jae-min, who naturally thought they would play more, was bewildered and asked him,
“Why? We still have lives left.”
“If we want to get in on time, we only have 10 minutes left to play. Since we’re here, it’s better to try a few different things.”
“Hmm.”
I’m enjoying this, though… Jae-min was a bit disappointed, but as he said, he was also curious about other games. Without a word, he let go of the gun and followed Seung-pyo, looking at various games, until Seung-pyo stopped and asked,
“Hey, instead of games, you want to sing?”
Jae-min looked where Seung-pyo was pointing. There were a few small coin karaoke booths set up there.
Jae-min blinked. Like the arcade, he had only heard of karaoke and had never actually been to one. It was the kind of place one might visit with family even if they weren’t allowed to go with friends, but Jae-min’s mother was a person who detested all kinds of loud noises. Forget karaoke; he couldn’t even turn up the TV volume or listen to loud music at home.
The games were fun, but he was curious about the karaoke booth too. Moreover, once inside the booth, he felt he could play with his face fully exposed without needing to worry about his surroundings. When Jae-min nodded, Seung-pyo grinned with satisfaction and opened the booth door.
The narrow booth felt cramped once two people over 180 centimeters entered. Once the door closed, Jae-min looked around with a curious expression.
“It’s really narrow.”
“Arcade coin karaoke is always like this. Hurry up and pick a song.”
Despite the urging, Jae-min had nothing to say. To begin with, he didn’t know many songs, and the only time he had sung using a karaoke machine was during a music performance evaluation.
What songs do people usually sing in places like this? Unable to think of a song he wanted to sing, Jae-min just stared blankly down at the remote Seung-pyo had handed him. Seung-pyo, seemingly in a hurry, was already holding the microphone.
On the other hand, Jae-min became as mute as a fish. He had followed him in because he was curious about the booth, but imagining himself singing loudly in this tiny space felt absurd.
Come to think of it, except for the music practical evaluation, he had never sung in front of another person. And now he was supposed to sing in front of Oh Seung-pyo? Unable to make up his mind, Jae-min pushed the turn to the other.
“You sing first.”
“We don’t have time, so I’m setting up the queue.”
“Just you go first.”
Seung-pyo cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on the microphone. Perhaps because he visited often, he quickly entered a number without searching and pressed the start button. As a fast-beat accompaniment began to flow, Seung-pyo cleared his throat.
“Ah, ah.”
The voice filtered through the microphone echoed in the narrow booth. The expression of Seung-pyo, who had been acting nonchalant while telling him to pick a song quickly, was stiff. Jae-min noticed that Seung-pyo was belatedly feeling a similar awkwardness.
Since when had Oh Seung-pyo and Ryu Jae-min become the kind of relationship where they showed off their singing to each other? He felt he had made a mistake; he should have just suggested they keep playing games.
However, the machine, unaware of their embarrassment, performed its role faithfully. When the intro ended and the lyrics appeared as subtitles, Seung-pyo began to recite the lyrics at a rapid pace.
It would be more accurate to say he was reciting rather than singing. Jae-min’s eyes widened as he looked back and forth between the screen and Seung-pyo. The song Seung-pyo had chosen had a very fast rhythm and far more rap parts than melody. It even contained some slang and profanity.
To Jae-min, who almost never listened to rap, it was a completely unfamiliar song. Seung-pyo followed the fast-flowing lyrics well, not forgetting to add hand gestures in between, performing skillfully. It was the skill of someone who had sung it quite often.
Distracted by the sight of the karaoke room he was seeing for the first time, Jae-min, who still hadn’t taken off the jacket on his head, listened seriously to Seung-pyo’s rap and gradually lowered his head. Beneath the face almost buried in the jacket, his tightly closed lips were trembling.
“Ah, we don’t have time, so I’ll just do the first verse.”
Seung-pyo pressed the stop button on the remote and turned toward Jae-min.
“Decided what to sing?”
Instead of answering, Jae-min pulled the collar of the jacket to cover his face more deeply. Seung-pyo also lowered his head to match Jae-min and asked with a puzzled expression,
“What are you doing?”
“Pfft.”
An unrecognizable groan escaped from between Jae-min’s tightly closed lips. The groan soon turned into a low, chuckling laugh, and after leaning over and laughing for a long while, Jae-min finally lifted his head to meet Seung-pyo’s eyes.
Whether it was because of what was so funny, not only was his face flushed red, but there was even a slight moisture in his eyes. Seung-pyo stared without blinking at that face, filled with overflowing laughter, glimpsed through the jacket he had lent him.
As if unaware of Seung-pyo’s gaze, Jae-min was busy catching his breath, which had been disrupted by laughter. Only after taking a long, deep breath did he finally open his mouth.
“Crazy, you… you’re fucking terrible at singing. You missed all the beats.”
“This little…”
Seung-pyo frowned as if offended, but soon relaxed his expression. He just snorted once and handed over the microphone.
“That’s why I’m not becoming a celebrity.”
“If you can’t sing, why are you waving your hands like that?”
When Jae-min exaggeratedly mimicked Seung-pyo’s hand movements, Seung-pyo replied bluntly again.
“I’m paying to sing, so why do I even need to be good at it? As long as I’m having fun. Hurry up and pick.”
“Forget it. I’m not singing.”
“What? If you’re not going to sing, why did you even come in here?”
“I’ve seen it, so that’s enough.”
At those words, Seung-pyo’s eyes widened.
“Is the rumor true that you’ve never been to a karaoke room?”
Seung-pyo looked at Jae-min as if he were a complete oddity. If it really was his first time, it made sense that he would just sit there blankly without doing anything. Jae-min asked back bluntly,
“What’s the reason I absolutely have to have been here? I don’t like singing, so I didn’t come.”
“Perfect. I was thinking about how to get revenge for the perverted thing you did to me.”
Seung-pyo began searching for a song title with the remote.
“Try singing a song you ‘don’t like.’ If you do, I’ll let the molestation thing slide. Let’s see how well you sing to make you laugh at me.”
Jae-min closed his mouth again as if he had swallowed honey.
Jae-min knew well that he had acted like a madman in front of Seung-pyo, unable to contain his momentary rage. It was upsetting that he had been forbidden from coming to school by his father’s orders since that day, but it was also true that he had thought it was a relief that he didn’t have to face Oh Seung-pyo.
Thanks to the passage of time, facing Seung-pyo was no longer as embarrassing as before, but that was only when they ignored each other. That didn’t mean he wanted to apologize to the guy who had first called him a whore and other such insults.
While Jae-min remained silent, Seung-pyo was busy praising himself.
“Wow, where can you find such a generous person? A pervert did perverted things, and instead of reporting him or beating the hell out of him, he brings him along to hang out and even says he’ll let it slide for one song.”
“What did you do so right that you keep bringing that up?”
“I really wanted to kill you, but you’re quick on your feet… You should know you only survived because you bolted right then.”
While they argued, Seung-pyo finished selecting a song. An intro with a melody familiar to Jae-min began to play.
The song Seung-pyo chose was the theme song of a famous children’s animation. Because it had been played constantly over the school intercom all last year, there wasn’t a single student at Ilyang Boys’ High School who didn’t know it. Even as the cheerful intro played, Jae-min fought back without backing down.
“I showed you because you said you wanted to see. What’s the problem?”
“Why are you bringing up something from way back? I didn’t want to see it then. I told you, stop it.”
“Did I tie you up and force you to watch? If you didn’t want to see, you should have just gotten lost. You kept your eyes wide open and watched the whole thing, and now you’re talking nonsense.”
“That’s because I was shocked since you suddenly started acting like a pervert, you idiot!”
When Seung-pyo raised his voice in frustration, Jae-min cast a mocking glance at him, similar to the look he had when they were smoking on the rooftop earlier.
“Saying the same thing over and over… your personality is exhausting.”
“What?”
“I’m done talking about that with you. I’ll give you one last chance, so do whatever you want here. In exchange, never bring it up again. What, you wanted to kill me? Go ahead and try if you can.”
Seung-pyo frowned slightly. He leaned his face close to Jae-min’s and curled his lips into a sneer.
“A punk who trembled just from one finger flick is acting tough.”
“If you want to keep acting so generous, just give me the finger flick now. Hit me all ten times and never mention it again.”
Ah, really? As if asking back, Seung-pyo snorted and reached out. His large hand immediately grabbed Jae-min by the collar and pulled him. Jae-min hesitated, tensing his body for a moment, but then allowed himself to be pulled along, as if telling him to hit him if he wanted to.
Inside the narrow booth, the two were already sitting practically on top of each other. Due to Seung-pyo’s grip, their faces became so close they looked as if they would collide at any moment.
Though no one held the microphone, the karaoke machine continued to pump out the loud, cheerful melody. The lyrics of the children’s song he had heard until he was sick of it all year naturally drifted into Jae-min’s mind.
[Playing is the best. Friends, gather ’round…] *
While he endured the silence, unconsciously singing along in his head, the psychedelic lights vividly illuminated the dark booth in primary reds and blues. Red and blue lights passed alternately over Jae-min’s face, hidden beneath his jacket, and over Seung-pyo’s face as he stared at Jae-min with a stiff expression. Neither of them backed down, staring intently at each other.
“If you’re going to hit me, hurry up…”
As the staring contest dragged on, Jae-min couldn’t take it and spoke first.
It was then. Seung-pyo reached out, yanked the jacket covering Jae-min’s head, and pulled his own head under the jacket as well.
Suddenly, both their faces were trapped inside a single jacket. Everything went dark. Jae-min gasped in surprise.
“…Ngh…!”
Before long, a small nasal sound leaked out. Unlike Seung-pyo’s hands, which were gripping the collar and the jacket, Jae-min’s hands, which held nothing, flailed in the air in surprise before eventually landing with a thud on Seung-pyo’s thigh. His trembling hand unconsciously scratched at the fabric of the pants.
The noise from the karaoke room and the game center drowned out their increasingly hurried breaths.