Episode 10
“Why have I never seen this ‘bad sleeping habit’ of yours? I feel like I’ve seen you sleeping almost every day lately.”
Junyoung’s accusing tone seemed to annoy Beomjin, who glanced back at her. But when he saw her glaring at him, eyes wide with whites showing, he turned his head back without protest.
“I sometimes do that when I have nightmares.”
“What? The great Kwon Beomjin has nightmares? Is there even anything in the world you’re afraid of?”
“There is.”
The answer came faster than she expected, and Junyoung blinked in surprise. Beomjin murmured quietly, “That’s the reason I’m here.”
Her ears perked up. She could tell he wasn’t just saying that. Beomjin rarely spoke about himself. Of course, she was no different, but still.
They had a kind of unspoken rule not to pry into each other’s personal lives—but lately, Junyoung found herself becoming more curious. There were more and more things she wanted to know about him.
She opened her mouth to ask something, but was caught off guard by Beomjin’s sideways glance.
“You spent the night out, so why come back here again? Do you really like studying that much?”
Yeah, what was so important that made her crawl back here?
Scoffing to herself, Junyoung replied, “I do. I can’t help but like it.”
She added in a low voice, avoiding Beomjin’s gaze that looked at her like she was an alien, “It’s the only thing I can control.”
The air that had been moving restlessly settled into an awkward stillness. Beomjin’s sharp gaze lingered on her cheek, and suddenly feeling self-conscious, Junyoung stood up awkwardly from the bed.
“Better get to that reflection letter. You know how persistent the math teacher is. He’s not going to let it go.”
As she headed down the stairs, she heard Beomjin flop onto the bed, as if tagging out. Sitting at the desk, Junyoung had barely pulled out her chair when his voice drifted down.
“So, did you and Na Seungwoon write your letters side-by-side all nice and friendly?”
The warm flutter inside her twisted into a cold prick of irritation. She tilted her head up and narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t talk nonsense. What’s there to be all friendly about with him?”
A dismissive scoff followed—somewhere between a snort of disbelief and indifference. She pouted, pulling out her books, and threw a sharp glance back.
“Stop bringing up Na Seungwoon in front of me.”
She tried to sound threatening, lowering her voice deliberately, but all that came back was silence. The crease in Junyoung’s forehead deepened.
“You asleep?”
“Already sleeping.”
Came the gruff reply, lips half-buried in the blanket. Rolling her eyes, Junyoung opened her textbook.
Maybe it was thanks to Kwon Beomjin turning her brain into a whirlwind, but tonight, she didn’t think about Oh Hyesoo or her mom. She could dive right into her studies, undistracted.
The club she carried today had a perfectly smooth grip—just right for swinging. As Beomjin walked down ahead of her, yawning, Junyoung followed with a long yawn of her own.
She’d stayed later than usual trying to memorize a backlog of English vocabulary. Still half-asleep, she stared at Beomjin as he suddenly stopped walking.
“What is it?”
“The streetlamp’s out.”
She looked up at his words. Sure enough, the road ahead looked dimmer than usual. There were streetlights spaced far apart here, and one had gone out.
“How much farther do you have to walk?”
Beomjin stepped onto the flat path and asked. Junyoung gave a wry smile.
“Don’t worry about it. I can walk alone. Or are you pretending to care now ‘cause you feel bad for choking me?”
Even in the dim light, holding a stick like that and staring blankly at someone, Beomjin looked mildly threatening. Junyoung cleared her throat.
“It’s not far. The road’s empty anyway. Nothing to be scared of.”
“There’s a person standing there.”
“What? Where?”
Standing just behind Beomjin, Junyoung stretched her neck to see. Between the two streetlamps, in the darkest patch of road, something darker than the shadows stood still. It looked like a person—frozen in place.
If they’d been walking, it wouldn’t have been this unnerving. But that figure hadn’t moved at all.
If Beomjin didn’t have good night vision, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed until they were right up close.
No one came down this road after 10 p.m., let alone at 1 a.m. Junyoung had gotten used to coming home late ever since she started visiting the storage house—but she had never encountered anyone on the way before.
“Well, if you’re really worried, you can walk me to the next lamp post.”
Still staring at the figure, she mumbled. Beomjin gave a quiet snort and adjusted his grip on the stick. Junyoung followed closely behind him. But the shadow didn’t move even as they approached.
Her nerves on edge, Junyoung’s hand slipped off the stick.
“…Mom?”
Beomjin turned in shock. The shadow began to move with a sluggish, staggering gait—like someone waking from a deep sleep. As the figure entered the light, Junyoung broke into a run.
“Mom!”
Her voice didn’t sound like she was just startled or relieved. It was almost accusatory. Beomjin instinctively shifted the stick behind his back and watched the woman.
Her hair was loosely tied, her dress black, her face gaunt and hollow-eyed. She was tall, with sharp features—could’ve been called beautiful if not for the eerie emptiness in her gaze and the drained aura clinging to her.
“What are you doing here? Go home. Now, please—”
Junyoung reached for her mother’s arm, but it whipped through the air and slapped her across the face. Beomjin’s stick clattered to the ground.
The woman let out a strange noise—part groan, part growl—and hit Junyoung again, this time across the other cheek. She crumpled to the ground without even screaming. The woman raised her hand again, aiming for Junyoung’s ear.
Beomjin leapt.
The hits didn’t seem to be aimed anywhere in particular—just wild, crazed thrashing. Like she was trying to obliterate whatever was in front of her, not hurt it in any precise way.
He shielded Junyoung with his back and shoulders. Her trembling in his arms told him she was still conscious.
This wasn’t a kind of violence he was used to.
The people he knew always hit where it hurt. They struck fast, clean, and with purpose—either you got knocked out, or you knocked someone else out.
Even when he’d gotten dragged into brawls with other clueless sixteen-year-olds, it hadn’t been like this.
This was more like the desperate lashing out of someone powerless.
Just as he started wondering how long he’d have to keep taking hits, her palm smacked hard against his ear and neck. The sound rang loud.
Junyoung, now looking up in shock, had wide eyes brimming with fury.
“Move.”
“What?”
“Move, Kwon Beomjin.”
She shoved past him and stood up. Another slap came—but this time, she caught it. Her fingers clamped tight around the woman’s thin wrist.
With a burning-red face, her voice was ice cold.
“Tell me. Is this because I didn’t come home?”
The woman twisted and shrieked, but Junyoung gripped her harder. Her tone turned sharp and mocking.
“What, trying to imitate moms who ‘discipline’ their kids now? Since when did our house have rules? I grew up on my own. I made my own morals, my own limits.”
“Nu—Nu—”
“Don’t even give me a reason. Just hit me like you always have. Stop pretending to be a decent mom. Acting like you care—it’s disgusting!”
Tears spilled down her chin as she yelled. She shoved the woman away and bolted.
Beomjin, rubbing his sore neck, slowly stood up. He watched Junyoung’s retreating figure stumble into the darkness, then looked at the woman. She stared back.
She looked like a brittle winter branch—dry and hollow. Her sunken eyes fixed on him, brimming with hostility.
She didn’t chase after Junyoung. She didn’t hit him. But she stood there, unmoving.
That meant she wanted something.
Beomjin was good at reading animal intent. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly bowed.
“I’m Kwon Beomjin. I’m in the same class as Yoon Junyoung.”
She didn’t react—only breathed heavily, like a cornered beast.
He added in a calm voice, “You don’t have to believe me, but nothing happened that you should be worried about. Junyoung’s not that kind of kid. She’s got studying on the brain 24/7.”
Maybe something in his tone worked—after a long, tense pause, she stepped back. Then she turned and slowly walked in the direction Junyoung had gone.
Beomjin exhaled sharply through his teeth. His shoulders slumped as the tension drained away.
His whole body ached, but he barely noticed. His mind was spinning.
It felt like he’d just been pulled into a storm.
To be continued…
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