WW | Chapter 9

“So why the hell did you mess with a civilian, you idiot?”

“Was it me who started it? The old hag started lecturing me about smoking without even knowing anything, so I just raised my hand a bit.”

“Still, does that mean you hit her?”

“Who the hell hit her? Damn it.”

An exchange between Park Geonju and some girl bounced back and forth, loud enough for everyone to hear. Yul tried hard not to visibly pull back. Every other word from them was some curse, raw language flying out unchecked. Maybe this was their idea of casual conversation, but the atmosphere in the classroom got tense fast. Yul hated being caught between them, but she kept her gaze lowered, not wanting to stand out. It felt like cracks were forming in the air itself, and she held her breath, fearing the whole space might shatter with just one more push.

Then, it happened.

“Ugh, damn.”

Someone let out a sharp, unfiltered sigh of irritation, their voice mingled with exasperated breath. Among the frozen silence, one bold student plainly revealed his displeasure as if the awkward tension had nothing to do with him. Everyone, including Yul, turned toward the sound’s origin.

It was Kang Yoonjo who had changed the atmosphere. Yul just blinked in surprise.

Maybe irritated that his nap had been disturbed, he slowly lifted himself up, his drowsy face turning in her and Park Geonju’s direction. Half-open eyes revealed a hazy gaze that didn’t seem to focus on anyone in particular—maybe Park Geonju, maybe Yul. His look wasn’t particularly intimidating, but just watching him made her feel on edge. She thought for a second that Geonju, clearly irritated, might jump up and swing a punch at him.

“…!”

The classroom quieted down as surprised students stopped making noise, and Yoonjo once again laid his arms on the desk, burying his face. Soon, his broad shoulders and back rose and fell with slow, steady breaths. Amidst all this tension, he had fallen asleep again, like the situation had hit pause only to unfreeze and start playing again. It was almost like a forecast warning of a violent storm that ended up passing quietly. To Yul’s astonishment, Park Geonju, who seemed glued to his seat, eventually stood up.

“See you around, Seomun Yul. Get yourself a phone already.”

Geonju’s tone was oddly friendly, his voice quieter than before, as he casually said goodbye.

Yul felt relieved for a moment as Geonju left without incident. But it wasn’t over yet. As Geonju’s group left, the group of girls who had spoken to him surrounded her. One of them took a seat in Jieun’s empty desk, leaning her face close to Yul. Up close, Yul could see this girl had on a heavy layer of makeup. She had dark circle lenses, blunt bangs, and a sleek bob that gave her an intense look.

“Wow, making waves already. You even got Park Geonju to come into this class.”

“…”

“Where did you transfer from?”

“I’m from…”

Even though she’d been asked this twice, she still didn’t have an immediate answer. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected the question, but she hadn’t thought it would be so basic.

Why does it matter so much where I came from? She tried to make her tense mind work. Should I just say I’m from Mucheon and leave out the school name? Mucheon’s one of the biggest cities in Gyeonggi Province, so maybe they won’t dig any further. Her palms were damp with nervous sweat. How long will I have to answer this question, feeling like my heart’s about to burst?

While she hesitated to answer, the girl gave her a displeased look, moving even closer.

“What, did you come from North Korea? Why can’t you speak?”

“…”

“Seems like you’ve caused some trouble.”

The girl snickered knowingly.

“It’s not like that.”

Yul replied, trying to keep her face as calm as possible. She could instinctively tell these girls weren’t friendly. It had been the same at her previous school. On the first day after transferring, before class even started, a group had surrounded her, asking her name. Back then, Yul was filled with resentment over an unfair punishment at her previous school, so she’d stared them down without flinching. When they cursed, she cursed back, and when they hit, she hit back. In the end, they’d labeled her as a thief.

This time, she was determined to follow her grandmother’s advice, keeping her temper in check and trying to blend in. She had to stay invisible, like air, smiling even if someone hit her, and disappearing quietly.

The girl in front of her squinted as if she’d figured something out, then smirked.

“I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.”

“…”

“See you around, Seomun Yul.”

The girl patted Yul’s shoulder as she stood up. As she turned to walk away, she spotted someone and scoffed. Yul noticed that Jieun had returned and was standing by her locker, silently watching. The girl looked back and forth between Yul and Jieun with a sneer.

“You two losers really make a perfect pair.”

With that, she and her friends laughed their way out of the classroom.

Yul felt the strength drain from her body, and dizziness washed over her. She crossed her arms on the desk and rested her forehead against them.

Right. That actually went better than I thought. I’ve been through worse than this, so this shouldn’t be that hard. If things stay at this level, I can handle it.

But as she turned her head, trying to calm herself, her thoughts quickly evaporated. Lying with his head down just like her was Kang Yoonjo, and he was looking at her. This time, his eyes were clear, not clouded like before, piercing in a way that almost felt like an illusion.

Yul’s heart thudded strangely, though she hadn’t done anything wrong. Flustered, she blinked quickly, and in that instant, his eyes closed again. It was as if nothing had happened.

There were things Yul utterly despised—adultery, irresponsibility, debt, suicide, school violence, and gangsters. These were all things Yul had come to hate firsthand, experiencing them in the most painful ways.

“Everyone has a right to happiness, Yul-ah.”

Her mother used to say that, sitting little Yul down with teary eyes. She went on cheating countless times as if each affair was the love of the century. She’d even used her young daughter to lie for her grand infidelity. Yul would sit in the living room, playing with a doll her mother’s lover had bought, while faint sounds of passion echoed from the bedroom. On one particularly intense day, Yul had run to the bathroom, pressing her hand over her mouth to vomit. She’d cut off all the doll’s heads and thrown them in the trash. That day, for the first time, she didn’t make excuses for her mother to her father.

“It’s because of you that your mom’s leaving. Don’t ever blame her.”

Even as she packed her things, Yul’s mother had resented her. Though Yul cried for a few days, afterward, she never thought about her mother. Living together or apart, her mother had never been a mother to her.

As for her father, Yul couldn’t talk about him easily. She both loved and respected him deeply, but her resentment was just as strong. He’d run a subcontracting construction company, always busy but kind-hearted. But when her mother’s betrayal shattered him, he turned to alcohol. He became addicted, and eventually, his company went bankrupt. That was the beginning of all their misery. If he hadn’t ended his life in a drunken accident, if he hadn’t left them with unbearable debt, Yul might still miss him.

Despite signing papers to renounce the debt, collectors continued to hound her and her grandmother. One of them turned out to be the older sister of a girl at Yul’s high school. She was a tough, scary girl with an always-angry look. She would come to Yul’s class, insult her about her father’s debt, hit her, and steal her money. Yul finally snapped one day and fought back, but the girl’s uncle was a prosecutor. This led to a disciplinary hearing, and Yul was forced to transfer.

She had thought it might be a good thing, that transferring to a new school might mean a fresh start. She didn’t know her past would follow her there.

Rumors had spread, and the kids called her all sorts of things. She tried to endure it, but the moment they insulted her father and grandmother, she lost it. She tore into them, and the next thing she knew, they’d branded her a thief. At school, her classmates tormented her, while debt collectors terrorized her at home. Eventually, with the help of Pastor Choi, Yul and her grandmother had fled to Seoul.

Sometimes, Yul wondered. If she had kept lying for her mother, would things have turned out differently? Would her father have drunk less and kept the business afloat? Would she have been able to avoid the stigma and all the trouble that followed?

Who knows. Yul dismissed the thought, knowing it was pointless. Given her bad luck, she doubted a different choice would have improved her life much.

“Wow, that’s amazing! Did you draw this?”

Lost in thought, Yul snapped back to reality at Jieun’s voice. She looked down and saw her pencil pressing against her sketchbook. Her hobby was sketching famous buildings or drafting simple blueprints, and she’d started drawing absent-mindedly. Embarrassed, she closed the sketchbook, but Jieun, looking a bit sheepish, spoke again.

“Sorry if I bothered you. I just thought the drawing was really impressive.”