WW | Chapter 10

“No, I just feel a bit embarrassed.”

“What’s embarrassing? I’m awful at drawing, so I’m jealous of people who are good at it. Are you thinking of becoming an artist?”

“No.”

Yul shook her head slightly. She’d been good at drawing since she was young, but she didn’t want to be an artist. She had another dream—a dream that had once been her father’s but had since become something she wanted for herself. She hadn’t intended to say it out loud, but with Jieun looking at her, waiting for an answer, it was hard to ignore her gaze.

“An architect.”

“I don’t know much about it, but it sounds cool. It kind of suits you.”

“Cool? Come on. Aren’t you going to eat?”

With the fourth period over, lunchtime had arrived, and Yul turned the conversation in that direction. She felt uncomfortable receiving compliments, especially after giving an answer she didn’t really want to. She wasn’t naturally friendly, and she and Jieun weren’t close enough to have these kinds of conversations yet. And, more than anything, Yul had been burned too many times by people her age before.

“Oh, I brought my own lunch. Are you going to the cafeteria?”

“No. I brought my own lunch, too.”

“Really? Want to eat together?”

“Sure.”

Jieun’s eyes lit up as she asked, and Yul replied easily.

She hadn’t signed up for school meals. Despite the school’s reputation, this was a private school, and the cafeteria fees were pretty high. To Yul, that kind of money was a luxury. Since they couldn’t even file a proper change of address to avoid debt collectors, she couldn’t get any government support. Their household income came only from Yul’s part-time work and the money her grandmother made selling vegetables at the market. Rather than paying for school meals, Yul would have rather used that money for something like a patch for her grandmother’s aching knees.

In any case, she’d been a little embarrassed to eat alone, but knowing Jieun had also brought her own lunch was a relief. She found it a bit surprising too. Judging from appearances, Jieun didn’t seem to have any financial issues, so why did she bring lunch from home? From the way the other girls had acted and from Jieun’s behavior, it seemed like she was being excluded by others, but Yul decided not to ask about it. She didn’t have the luxury to worry about anyone else, and knowing other people’s circumstances would just be a burden. She was just glad Jieun didn’t pry into her own life either.

“Seohui picking on you earlier? She was just jealous.”

Jieun muttered as she opened her lunch box.

“That girl’s name is Seohui?”

“Yeah. She likes Geonju.”

“Ah, I see.”

While the thought unsettled her, Yul also felt a bit relieved. If it was because of Geonju, she could just avoid getting close to him. Figuring out how to do that would take some thought, but at least there was a solution in sight.

“Those girls…”

Jieun seemed like she was about to say more, but then she closed her mouth. It looked like she’d held back, maybe unsure if she could trust Yul yet.

Yul glanced at her and picked up her spoon, choosing not to ask further. She didn’t care to know about other people’s issues, and keeping out of it from the start was always simpler. She’d seen enough problems arise from people talking and sharing rumors. Jieun tilted her head, as if surprised Yul wasn’t curious, but Yul ignored it.

“What do you do after school? Want to go to Hongdae with me?”

Jieun asked as she scooped rice into her spoon, perhaps feeling they’d grown closer.

“Sorry, I have to work.”

“Work? Are high schoolers allowed to work?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I’d love to try that, but my mom would never let me.”

“If you don’t have to, it’s better not to.”

“Why? It’d be a good experience.”

“…True.”

Seeing Jieun’s slightly disappointed expression, Yul replied after a brief pause. It struck her as strange, the way something she had to do out of necessity could be seen as a mere experience by someone else. She knew Jieun wasn’t wrong for thinking that, but the contrast made her feel a bit bitter. In Jieun’s world, this was normal, but in Yul’s world, it felt like a luxury.

With a faint, bitter smile, Yul took a bite of her meal. Though her grandmother had prepared it early in the morning, it didn’t seem to give her much strength. A dull ache was beginning to spread through her body.

The rest of the day passed without any further incidents, much to Yul’s relief. After school, she walked quickly, but because her homeroom teacher had called her in for a brief chat about how her day had gone, the other students had already left by the time she was able to head out. The teacher’s pretense of interest was obvious—just gathering information in case he was ever asked about her from higher up.

The repeated tension and release throughout the day had given her a stomachache and a headache. After taking some painkillers, she felt a bit better but still exhausted.

Why is my body so heavy? Am I about to get my period? She thought there was still some time left, but her cycle was so irregular that it was hard to predict.

A few students who had stayed late were lingering around, but the bus stop was quiet. Yul moved into the shelter like a zombie, only to stop in surprise when she saw a familiar figure.

Kang Yoonjo. He was there again. He’d arrived in a chauffeur-driven sedan earlier, so why was he waiting for the bus to go home? He was definitely a hard person to figure out.

Sitting on the bench with his arms crossed and legs crossed, he didn’t budge an inch, even though he must have sensed her presence. Yul pretended to look at the bus schedule on the wall and glanced over at him, chuckling slightly to herself.

‘Unbelievable.’

Kang Yoonjo was asleep even while sitting at the bus stop. Judging by his relaxed expression, he wasn’t pretending; he was genuinely asleep.

If her grandmother saw this, she’d say he was possessed by the ghost of someone who died from lack of sleep or was afflicted by some sleep illness. How could he still be asleep after napping all day, with no regard for the place or the people around him? Yul felt almost envious of his carefree attitude.

Who knows if he’d even catch the bus at this rate. Maybe he was still sitting there because he’d already missed a few buses while napping.

Not that it’s any of my business.

She quickly turned her attention away from him. Across the four-lane road, the ginkgo trees were beginning to lose their lush green. The sun’s soft orange light, weaker than it had been at noon, washed over the bus shelter, casting a yellowish glow.

Autumn’s coming. She realized she’d been so caught up in everything that she hadn’t even noticed the seasons changing. As she stood there blankly for a moment, a faint buzzing sound reached her ears. It wasn’t hers but was coming from Yoonjo’s bag. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, clearly annoyed by the persistent buzzing, and pulled his phone out of his bag with a sigh. As he looked at the screen, his expression turned blank as he answered the call.

“Yes, Director.”

His voice, flat and uninterested, showed no trace of concern for the person on the other end.

“I’m heading to Buam-dong now.”

He massaged the bridge of his nose, probably trying to wake himself up fully. Yul kept her gaze on the road across from her but couldn’t help overhearing his conversation.

Why’s he going to Buam-dong from here? Since he addressed the person as “Director,” it didn’t seem like he was heading home. From here, in the southwestern part of Seoul, he’d have to change buses about three times to get there.

“It’s fine. I’m just going to look at some paintings and come back.”

His voice, thick with sleep at first, gradually grew clearer as he spoke. Just then, Yul’s bus arrived.

“Okay. See you later.”

Yoonjo ended the call and stood up as the bus pulled in.

As the bus stopped and the doors opened, Yul watched as he and two other students boarded. She stepped on last, glancing around as she walked in. The seats in the front for the elderly were empty, but she couldn’t sit there, and the seats in the back were already taken by the students who’d boarded earlier. The only available seat was the one in the second-to-last row, where Yoonjo was already sitting by the window.

Normally, she would’ve stood until a seat became available, and she’d started out planning to do just that. But the combination of her exhaustion and the bus’s swaying nausea finally wore her down, and she found herself glancing toward the empty seat beside Yoonjo, deep in thought.

Should I sit there? Or not? Should I?

After mulling it over, she let out a small laugh. Suddenly, she felt a little ridiculous. Why am I hesitating? It’s not like that’s his reserved seat or that I owe him anything.

Her decision made, she took off her bag and walked over to sit down. Yoonjo didn’t open his eyes, even though he must have sensed her presence. This time, his obliviousness actually made her feel relieved.

‘If you could just stay asleep until I get off, Kang Yoonjo…’

Oddly aware of his presence, she muttered to herself.

The bus began its route, winding through the streets. Yul had exactly thirteen stops before she’d need to get off, heading not home but to the convenience store where she worked part-time.

The light of an afternoon that held both summer and autumn shone in through the windows. It was a mellow, hazy light that felt almost like a lullaby for Yoonjo, seated by the window.

But within five minutes, the sun’s gentle warmth became uncomfortably bright. Depending on the bus’s angle, the light sometimes shone on her side of the seat, but most of it slanted directly onto Yoonjo’s face.

For a while, he seemed indifferent, but as the glare became more bothersome, he turned his head toward her to avoid it. With him leaning closer, Yul couldn’t help but glance at him in response.