Episode 3
Junyoung blinked. “Wh-What are you doing…?”
“Wear this and hand yours over. I’m done eating.”
With a casual look, Beomjin held out his t-shirt. Junyoung stared blankly at the oversized shirt—big enough to wrap her entire body—and asked again.
“Are you serious?”
“Stuff like that comes out fast if you scrub it with dish soap. So, you handing it over or not?”
It didn’t really feel necessary, but the image of that big guy scrubbing her shirt was kind of hilarious. Junyoung rolled her eyes and jerked her chin toward the door.
“Then go wait outside.”
“Hey!”
When Junyoung’s eyes flashed with white, Beomjin gave a dry chuckle and stepped outside. The wind that slipped in as the door opened and shut was cold. Only then did she realize he had nothing on his upper body. Ducking under the desk, she quickly unbuttoned her shirt.
Doing laundry at night was a pain. Especially without hot water—and in the mountains, the tap turned icy in the mornings and evenings.
If she could skip that hassle, all the better.
Once she’d taken off her shirt and slipped into Beomjin’s, warmth spread all the way down to her knees. His body must run pretty hot. Though it was a short-sleeved shirt, the sleeves nearly covered her wrists. It didn’t smell like sweat or smoke, surprisingly—it had more of a soft, woodsy scent.
“Done.”
She called toward the door, and it creaked open. Beomjin came back in, then frowned when he saw her holding out the shirt. Junyoung matched his annoyed look.
“What? Didn’t you say you’d wash it? Changed your mind already?”
Beomjin stared silently at her in his pitch-black t-shirt. His brow twitched before he snatched the shirt from her hand with a grumble.
“Don’t go around saying stuff like that.”
“Saying what?”
He didn’t answer. Just stared ahead stubbornly as he stood at the sink, scrubbing the shirt with soap. Junyoung kept sneaking glances at him as she ate her ramen.
Whenever he exerted force, muscles rippled along his wide shoulders and down his long arms. The thick blue veins pulsing beneath his skin felt like something from an entirely different world—powerful, full of life.
Like he could do anything. Like there was nothing to fear.
Kwon Beomjin’s body was beautiful. The thought just hit her. His lean muscle, smoothly defined and balanced over a solid frame, was almost artistic. Even his tanned skin seemed to have a healthy sheen.
“Yoon Junyoung.”
She’d been zoning out with ramen halfway to her mouth, and the sound of her name snapped her back. Beomjin had stopped wringing out the shirt and was staring at her, head tilted.
“You drooling over my body or what?”
“The ramen’s spicy. How much chili powder did you use? Get me some water.”
Scrunching her face, she smacked her lips. Beomjin chuckled, poured a cup of tap water, and handed it over. She downed it all in one gulp. Her neck still felt flushed.
After eating, they strictly stuck to their zones—Junyoung downstairs, Beomjin upstairs.
At first, Junyoung wasn’t sure whether she needed to say anything before heading out. But before she even finished packing her bag, Beomjin stirred, yawned loudly, and shuffled downstairs.
‘You leaving too?’
‘It’s pitch-dark out. How else am I supposed to get home?’
Junyoung asked awkwardly, a little thrown by his unexpected concern.
‘Wait… are you worried about me? You gonna walk me back?’
Beomjin looked like he’d just been whacked in the head. His glare turned so fierce that she had to look away. She held up the flashlight she’d brought.
‘I can just use this. Lights my way just fine.’
‘That’s what I was worried about. Stop carrying that thing around.’
He snatched the flashlight from her and tossed it into her bag. When Junyoung scowled, Beomjin added:
‘What, you want to advertise this place? You know how visible flashlight beams are at night?’
‘Oh.’
She frowned, still annoyed. How else was she supposed to walk in the dark?
She was grumbling silently when she saw Beomjin suddenly grab something leaning in the corner—a wooden club of sorts—and froze.
He always seemed like a harmless bear, sleeping the whole time. But he was still Kwon Beomjin, the guy at the center of a violent scandal involving over a dozen people.
‘I see fine at night. Just grab this and follow me.’
Beomjin opened the door and walked out. Junyoung hesitated, then watched him extend the end of the stick toward her.
…She had no idea she’d end up grabbing that thing every night after that.
Junyoung ran her fingers over the now-familiar wood. After she’d grumbled about it chafing her hands, Beomjin had wrapped the handle in blue tape the next day.
It looked more like an upgraded weapon than a walking stick, but Junyoung had no trouble taking it from him.
People whispered about Kwon Beomjin as often as they bad-mouthed her. But the one she knew didn’t seem like the type to curse out a teacher and throw punches, or rob old folks for lunch money.
Granted, the only version of him she knew was the one from this place. But if anyone had seen how he neatly folded her damp shirt and tucked it under his blanket to dry with his own body heat, they’d think twice.
After three hours under Beomjin’s back, her shirt came out pressed like it had been ironed. Still warm, with just a trace of dust—it was hard to know what face to make as she accepted it.
“Watch your step. There’s a ditch here.”
Walking two steps ahead, Beomjin’s voice slowed Junyoung’s pace. With just the faint glow from a distant streetlight, she couldn’t see the trees clearly—so she had to listen carefully to him.
“Makes sense. You kind of look like a cat. You even have ‘beom’—tiger—in your name.”
He glanced back at her after her sudden comment. Nodding to herself, Junyoung added:
“Cats have good night vision. Big pupils help them see well even with very little light.”
“You sure know a lot of random stuff.”
He scoffed. Junyoung shrugged. The wind rustled the trees around them. Without Beomjin, she probably wouldn’t be able to study here so late.
“You don’t sleep during the day too, do you?”
“You asking what I do at night?”
He didn’t even look back. Just responded in that uninterested tone. Junyoung shook her head.
“No. I was just thinking… what if one day you stop coming? How am I supposed to get home alone at night?”
Beomjin let out a snort.
“Go home while the sun’s still up.”
“I can’t…”
She clammed up before finishing. Surprisingly, Beomjin didn’t react.
They walked quietly, crunching over dry leaves and twigs. Once they reached the street with proper lighting, Beomjin spun the wooden stick once and turned to her.
“Go on.”
“Yeah.”
She wanted to thank him, but didn’t know how. They’d both gotten used to ending things abruptly and walking off.
She considered glancing back but couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she sighed and trudged toward the alley leading home.
She and her mom lived in a one-room basement at the end of a narrow alley. The air there always carried a mix of mold and ammonia.
But she couldn’t hold her breath. Before going inside, she had to check—see if the smell of alcohol was lingering.
She quieted her steps and hoisted up her slipping bag strap. Just as she drew a deep breath, the metal door with frosted glass creaked open.
Startled, she stepped back and saw a dark silhouette emerge.
“M-Mom, you’re still up?”
If only…
…If only I’d stayed a little longer.
The thick stench of alcohol drifted toward her as her mother stumbled forward. Junyoung gripped her bag strap tightly. Her heart, cold and tight, shrank even further.
“Outfield, infield—get into position already.”
The gym teacher clapped his hands. As always, he wore the same worn-out tracksuit. The kids slowly moved into place.
Junyoung was nearly knocked over as someone bumped her shoulder hard on the way past. She staggered. Hyesu, wearing a ribbon in her long hair, looked back with a smirk.
“Oops, didn’t see you there.”
Junyoung let out a silent sigh. Then she slowly raised her hand—and flipped her off with a stiff middle finger. Hyesu’s face twisted.
Junyoung smirked without a word.
“Oh? Now you can see me?”
“You little—”
A sharp whistle cut through the air. The teacher. Junyoung subtly backed away from Hyesu’s murderous glare.
Normally, she wouldn’t hesitate to throw down even if Hyesu lost her temper. But not today. Not with her body still freezing from a night spent shivering outside. Her neck was warm to the touch since morning.
She needed to fake a good fall and head to the nurse. Not a bad plan. But if she collapsed here, Hyesu would probably stomp on her.
Not just Hyesu. There were plenty of feet waiting to trample her.
So dying was the best option.
Having decided, Junyoung moved toward a spot where the ball would likely hit her. But the ball flew the other way.
With a scowl, she drifted to the edge, hoping to at least look like she was participating. But no one sent the ball her way.
Eventually, she realized: the laughing kids were deliberately excluding her. Pretending she wasn’t even there.
Thanks for Reading…
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