KMH – Chapter 5

“Jugyeong, Jugyeong….”

Jugyeong was dragging in air in short, choppy bursts, like hiccups. A hand that had been wandering aimlessly over her rigid shoulders and back clenched into a tight fist.

…Lockdown drill!

A few kids who’d panicked during the training they’d done for an active shooter scenario flashed through Seju’s mind.

Seju hurriedly pinned Jugyeong down to the floor. Her thin arm dropped—thunk—limp against the boards, and Seju’s heart dropped with it.

But thankfully, her pulse was there.

Slow, but unmistakable.

Seju, pale as he went, climbed over Jugyeong at once.

And with all the strength he had, he pressed down on her.

As he frantically stroked her arm—cold as ice—he whispered over and over, almost delirious.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The body that had only been heaving beneath him gradually grew still.

Not long after, Jugyeong lifted her heavy eyelids.

Her cheeks were wet.

‘Maybe there’s a hole in the ceiling….’

That thought drifted through her foggy mind.

But no.

It was sweat.

Plip, plop—cold sweat dripping from Seju’s nape splattered onto her cheek.

Warmth began to seep little by little into her feet, which were chillingly numb.

Then the body that had been stiff as a log loosened, and the throat that had clamped tight slowly opened.

Even the heart that had been charging as if it would smash her ribs eased its pace.

The soles of her feet, which had been pushing wildly against the floor, slid outward, loosening.

“H—haa, haa—.”

Jugyeong’s breathing, pinned beneath Seju, fully returned. She panted harshly with a deathly pale face, then fumbled for Seju’s arm and grabbed it.

To say she was okay now. To say thank you.

Jugyeong only meant to put strength into her hand to deliver those words—

But Seju jerked upright as if his waist had sprung, faster than she could even speak.

Jugyeong looked up at him, startled. Seju looked down at her, his jaw clenched so hard a knot stood out.

His pulse was thumping so fiercely up his neck it was almost visible to the naked eye.

Jugyeong felt sorry—and flustered.

“Seju, are you… crying?”

“I don’t care if I look like a doll—I’m, I’m a man! Men don’t cry easily…!”

Seju barked it out.

His voice was so loud that Jugyeong thought her eardrums might burst. But staring into his bloodshot eyes, the request to get off her throatily vanished.

Hesitating, Jugyeong awkwardly reached out.

When she patted his back—clumsily—Seju’s uneven breathing gradually settled.

Doom, doom….

Listening to their heartbeats striking each other off-beat, the two of them let their shoulders sag at about the same time.

And then, at some point, their eyes locked.

Dust trapped in the crimson sunset drifted in the air, and in each other’s clear pupils, their clumsy faces were reflected.

“…….”

“…….”

Seju held his breath.

His ears rang, muffled.

His chest, too… ached a little.

Then, like he’d lost his wits, a small exclamation spilled out.

“Uh… huh?”

While Jugyeong blinked slowly, Seju scrambled to lift himself—

And at that moment, the door flew open.

“You brats—! Do you have any idea how worried we were when you disappeared without a word?”

Beyond the troublesome door that had refused to open were Professor Im and her husband—along with Jugyeong’s mother.

***

The next afternoon, Seju, sitting under the oak tree, sprang to his feet.

Jugyeong, walking over with a book hugged to her chest, noticed him only belatedly and halted.

‘Ah—what is he doing over there?’

‘Tch. If you’re going to come, come faster….’

Before long, Jugyeong—still staring only at her own feet—approached slowly. Seju, who’d been inwardly frantic that she might ignore him and pass right by, brightened instantly.

“…Hi.”

She always pretended not to see him, yet greeted him politely every time—apparently unchanged even after nearly dying in the attic yesterday. Oblivious, Seju firmly suppressed his widening grin.

Seju sternly reined in the corners of his mouth that were threatening to spread into a grin.

“Yeah.”

He tried to nod as coolly as possible, but when it came time to actually hold out the gift he’d prepared, sweat pricked at the back of his neck.

He dragged the sole of his sneaker through the grass, pretending to be interested in anything else for a long while—then, hesitantly, shoved the box toward her.

“It’s… not a big deal or anything.”

Seju dragged out his words unconvincingly, then snapped his head away.

Jugyeong—who’d been determined to finally finish the book she hadn’t been able to complete—fingered the spine and asked,

“…What is it?”

“I… I saw it sometimes. The picture hanging in the second-floor hallway… you look at it a lot.”

“…….”

“If you want… I’ll give it to you. If you don’t, then whatever.”

For someone saying whatever, he kept glancing at the hand holding her book.

Jugyeong, unable to help herself, took the box.

“Untie the ribbon. Hurry.”

Unable to resist his urging, Jugyeong undid the ribbon—and the contents were revealed at a glance.

Jugyeong was startled and looked up at Seju.

White-knuckled nails gripping her book. Eyelashes flutter fast, like a butterfly’s wings.

Seju studied those things closely—then returned to his usual arrogant face.

The shoulders that had been caved in straightened, and he nearly rose onto his toes without realizing it.

Thankfully, he held back.

Instead, Seju shoved one cheek up as if crushing it with his palm, clamped his lips hard, then let out a little laugh.

“Heh.”

“It’s my favorite drawing book.”

His voice went up a whole tone.

“If you ever feel like messing around with it, come find me.”

Honestly, he didn’t want to leave Jugyeong alone. But at the same time, he wanted to give her time to savor his gift at her own pace.

“You don’t even read anyway. The whole time you’ve been here, you’ve brought the same book out every single day.”

“…….”

“The adults might not know, but I do.”

“…….”

“Only I know. Here.”

When Seju whispered it like a secret, Jugyeong’s lips parted slightly.

For a second, Seju’s hands itched to grab the two braids in her hair and yank—but he decided to retreat like a man.

Soon, Seju began walking backward, picking up speed. His feet felt light as cotton. Like he might take off.

“Then I’m saving your seat in my studio, Ha Jugyeong!”

“…….”

“Come! You have to come!”

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Seju shouted, waving his arm—whoosh, whoosh—in the air.

Then he shot off like a bullet and disappeared from the garden.

“…….”

Under the oak tree, Jugyeong blinked.

Her heart pounded, thump-thump, striking her breastbone.

Seju’s studio…

If it were there, she could avoid her mother’s eyes. Her mother didn’t go anywhere near places that smelled like paint anymore.

Only then did the terrible heat become… bearable, somehow.

And she thought—maybe she really could become friends with Seju.

***

It only took a few days for the drawing book to be snatched back from Jugyeong.

Seju managed it without the slightest effort.

One afternoon, as usual, Jugyeong slipped out of the studio on tiptoe, careful not to let her mother catch her drawing.

And there, she ran straight into Seju, perched on her bed.

With his forearms propped on his knees, fingers interlaced, he fiddled with his thumbs while staring at Jugyeong for a long time—then flicked his eyes up toward the ceiling.

After that, in a clear, unclouded face, he asked,

“Hwajeong Auntie doesn’t know, right?”

“…….”

“It’s okay. I’ll keep it a secret for you.”

“…….”

“So give it back to me.”

The drawing book he took like that stayed an afterthought for Seju all summer.

He was too busy grabbing her hand and trying to drag her off to the garden, to the beach, downtown to play.

Honestly, even if he’d just asked for it, she would’ve given it back. She would’ve felt bitter and cheap about it, but it’s not like she could’ve taken it home to Seoul anyway.

In the end, it was Seju’s bright-eyed sincerity—I’ll keep your secret—that drew lines across Jugyeong’s heart and shut the bolts.

The outer wall Jugyeong wrapped around herself was as hard as a crustacean’s shell, and from that day on, Seju never once managed to break through the wall.

…Yeah. Right.

That happened.

A fresh spring breeze brushed Jugyeong’s cheek.

Turning her head toward where the wind came from, Jugyeong drew in a small breath.

With a memory she’d lived while forgetting for so long resurfacing, the pulse that had been hammering at the inside of her wrist calmed, noticeably.

Jugyeong turned back to Seju now, eyes sharp.

“Woooow, fuck….”

As if he’d been waiting, he spat it out.

“Look who it is.”

Seju tilted his head and raked his gaze over her—head to toe, toe to head. The back of the hand gripping her handbag stood out, taut.

He twisted his mouth and let out a scoffing laugh.

“Ha Jugyeong.”

“…….”

“The Ha Jugyeong who stabbed an innocent bastard in the chest and then went under.”

…Stabbed?

As always, Jugyeong couldn’t even begin to guess what he meant.