Chapter 37
What a stupid game.
“One, two, three,” and then you point—but the fingers never tell the truth.
If you want the truth, you have to watch where people’s eyes go the moment the question ends.
“Who’s the prettiest person here?”
Noeul’s eyes, before she even realized it, turned toward Jiwoo.
Should she point at Jiwoo? Honestly, even if she did, it wouldn’t be weird. Jiwoo was pretty. In fact, pretending not to point at her would’ve felt more unnatural.
So when Hyunsu counted, “One—,” Noeul raised her hand toward Jiwoo’s side.
But the moment he said, “Two—,” Noeul’s eyes met Hansol’s.
Hansol’s face was expressionless.
Did Hansol see who Noeul had been looking at just now, right before the question ended?
Noeul suddenly felt like she’d done something wrong.
So when “Three—” came out, she hurriedly changed direction and pointed at Hansol instead.
But seeing Hansol’s face afterward, she realized it was pointless.
Hansol just gave her a faint, knowing smile — the kind that said, Nice try.
If she’d known it’d be like this, she should’ve just pointed at Jiwoo.
Feeling embarrassed, as if she’d been caught stealing something, Noeul regretted switching at the last second. Why did it even matter who she thought was pretty, anyway?
Ever since Jiwoo and Hansol had started picking on her, she’d found herself unconsciously watching their moods.
What, if I think you’re pretty, are you gonna date me? No, right? You’re not gonna go out with me — but I still have to think you’re pretty? The both of you are such jerks… God, this is so annoying…
As she lowered her hand, her eyes met Jiwoo’s.
Jiwoo had the same expression Hansol wore earlier — only sharper, colder.
Noeul swallowed hard.
Jiwoo looked away from her and down at her glass of penalty drink.
Half a tall highball glass was filled with soju.
Then, without a word, Jiwoo grabbed a bottle of Geumyo, the 40% alcohol one, and cracked it open.
For a split second, everyone stared — Is she really…? — and then cheers erupted.
“Woooow! She’s awesome!”
“She’s the prettiest, so of course she’s gotta drink like a champ!”
“Lee Jiwoo! Lee Jiwoo! Lee Jiwoo!”
Jiwoo filled her glass to the brim and started chugging.
Next to her, Jungi panicked. “You don’t have to finish it—”
Hyemi stopped him.
“Hey, don’t stop her! If it were me, I’d drink that much too!”
“She can’t handle as much as you! She’s gonna black out if she finishes that!”
But contrary to Hyemi’s words about “drinking happily,” Jiwoo’s face was cold and joyless.
She slammed the empty glass down after a one-shot.
Noeul just kept watching her.
The drinking games dragged on late into the night.
By dawn, no one was really sober anymore.
Someone who said they were going to the bathroom was now sleeping on the tiles. Another was puking in the yard. Someone else had their arm dunked in a kimchi bowl insisting, “I’m not drunk!”
Noeul went around, hauling “corpses” from here and there, laying them in a row along one side of the room.
Jesus… this isn’t a party, it’s manual labor.
She gathered up the chips and snacks scattered across the floor, wiped up spilled drinks and soup. She figured she’d just leave the rest till morning.
“Meow.”
“…?”
“What now?” she muttered, turning toward the sound.
Jiwoo was staring at her with dazed, unfocused eyes.
Those eyes… yeah, she’s gone.
She’d already looked like she was losing it when she downed that penalty drink earlier.
Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, and she blinked slowly.
Noeul’s eyes drifted downward.
Her short dress had ridden up a little, revealing her pale thighs.
Noeul’s face flushed hot.
She whipped her head around, fixing her gaze on the mess she was cleaning, scrubbing with fierce concentration.
She fought the urge to look back.
It wasn’t guilt that stopped her — it was fear. What if someone saw? They all seemed passed out, sure, but you never knew. If anyone remembered seeing her looking at Jiwoo like that, her reputation would be toast.
So she muttered loudly on purpose.
“Ugh, why am I the one who always ends up cleaning? You all drink like pigs, don’t even remember anything after—”
“Meow~.”
“…?”
Noeul hesitated — should she turn around or not? Her heart was pounding, face hot even though she hadn’t looked yet.
Finally, she turned, forcing her face into a flat, dry expression.
“You a cat or something? Why are you meowing?”
Jiwoo giggled.
That drunk laugh — the kind where anything is funny.
Noeul started to turn back, but Jiwoo spoke.
“Open this for me.”
Jiwoo was holding a bottle of olives.
“Weren’t you already trying to open that earlier?”
“Yeah.”
Noeul sighed and walked over.
She knew this wasn’t a great idea. Jiwoo wasn’t going to eat them. She’d just spill them, and then Noeul would have to clean it up.
But still, she twisted the cap open and set the bottle down in front of Jiwoo.
And okay — maybe she snuck a glance at Jiwoo’s thigh again. Not on purpose. It was just—inevitable, given the angle.
“Sit down. Sit here,” Jiwoo said, grabbing Noeul’s arm as she stood to leave.
Noeul froze, looking from Jiwoo’s hand to her face.
Her heart pounded hard — thud, thud, thud.
Like she had no will of her own, she sat back down.
Jiwoo slurred, “Why didn’t you open it earlier?”
“You said you didn’t need help.”
“You punk~.”
Jiwoo playfully punched her arm. It didn’t hurt at all.
“When I ask for help, you’re just supposed to help. No questions. Just say, ‘Here, give it to me.’”
“…Why should I?”
“Huh?”
“Why should I do that?”
Her tone was colder than usual. Jiwoo wouldn’t remember it anyway.
Jiwoo blinked at her with wide eyes.
“…Are you mad at me?”
Jiwoo pouted.
“Haa…”
Noeul sighed.
What would she even be mad about? What had Jiwoo ever done to her? Sure, there had been times she’d been angry — on and off, like a roller coaster — but not now. The anger had long since passed.
So Noeul answered, in her normal tone, “No.”
Jiwoo smiled faintly again.
“Hey, isn’t this dress pretty?”
Jiwoo looked down at her own outfit.
“Yeah,” Noeul said.
“Not just ‘yeah.’ Say, ‘Yeah, it’s pretty.’”
“…”
Noeul’s heart fluttered.
Jiwoo probably knew what that kind of line did to people — how it made guys nervous, stammer, avoid eye contact. She must have enjoyed it.
Noeul didn’t want to play along.
Or rather, she already was, but didn’t want Jiwoo to know that.
That sliver of pride was all she had left.
With an exaggerated grimace, she said, “Ugh, no way.”
“Whyyy?”
“Whyyy~?”
Noeul mimicked her tone mockingly.
“Hahaha— stop copying me!”
“Stop copying me~.”
Jiwoo laughed, lightly hitting Noeul’s arm.
She was really drunk. Noeul knew she should just put her to bed. She’d regret all this tomorrow anyway.
But Noeul didn’t move.
She wanted to stay — just a little longer.
This moment felt like something that wouldn’t exist in the real world, something that would disappear come morning.
She wasn’t planning anything — she just wanted to sit there until Jiwoo got sleepy.
Of course, she knew it would only rekindle feelings she’d been trying to smother. But she didn’t care. Maybe she could manage somehow later.
The alcohol and the surreal quiet of the night dulled her sense of reason.
Then Jiwoo said, “If I’m so pretty, why didn’t you pick me earlier?”
She was talking about the game.
Poking Noeul’s side with her finger, she whined,
“Why didn’t you pick me? Why? Why? Whyyy?”
“Why are you only mad at me? Hyunsu picked Hansol too! Go ask him!”
“I don’t care about anyone else. Just you. I only care what you think.”
“…”
Did Noeul actually want to hear that? Was she… expecting an answer like that?
Was that why she’d mentioned Hyunsu — to test something?
Before now, she’d always explained Jiwoo’s need to hear “You’re pretty” as a kind of general validation — that Jiwoo just wanted everyone’s praise. Because otherwise it wouldn’t make sense. Jiwoo wouldn’t care about her opinion specifically… right?
But maybe Noeul had wanted to confirm otherwise. Maybe she’d hoped Jiwoo really did care what she thought.
Her mouth opened, but no words came.
She’d gotten the answer she wanted, yet didn’t know how to respond.
Because in her experience, hope only led to disappointment. Maybe, deep down, she was already bracing for that.
There was something she wanted to ask.
Why do you care what I think?
But even if she asked — what then?
If Jiwoo gave the answer she hoped for, could she even believe it?
Would she just dismiss it later as drunk talk, yet still cling to it and torture herself with hope?
That fear sealed her lips.
Instead, she deflected.
“Hey, I’ve actually been wondering… why are you so obsessed with that stuff? You already hear you’re pretty all the time.”
“Obsessed? Obsessed?! I’m not! I don’t care at all! Not one bit!”
“Right, right, you ‘don’t care about looks,’ huh? Then what’s this?”
“I said, I don’t care!”
Jiwoo’s face crumpled in frustration.
It made Noeul burst out laughing.
“Wow, you look so ugly right now.”
“….”
Jiwoo glared daggers at her.
Noeul flinched a little, but didn’t want to back down or apologize. If anything, she wanted to tease her more.
“So that whole ‘I don’t care about appearances’ thing was a lie, huh? You hypocrite?”
“I’m not a hypocrite!”
“Then what are you? Just admit it. You care about looks. Be honest, come on. You’re drunk, tell the truth.”
Jiwoo’s eyes filled with tears.
Oh no… crying was the last thing she wanted.
If she comforted her now, Jiwoo would only get more emotional.
Better to distract her instead.
So Noeul started rambling.
“Hey, I was going to pick you, okay? For no real reason — you just caught my eye first. You’re pretty, Hansol’s pretty, either would’ve been fine. But then Hansol and I made eye contact. What was I supposed to do? She would’ve pinched me or scolded me later if I didn’t! So I picked her. If you wanted me to pick you, you should’ve been glaring at me then. I totally would’ve picked you!”
She kept babbling, watching Jiwoo’s face carefully.
Thankfully, the tears seemed to fade — though the glare didn’t.
“Stop glaring at me already. Your eyes are gonna pop—”
Suddenly, Jiwoo leaned in close.
Noeul froze mid-sentence.
Jiwoo’s face was less than a hand’s breadth away.
She must know what she’s doing, Noeul thought — how being this close made people tense up, stumble, unable to meet her gaze.
Noeul’s eyes darted everywhere: from Jiwoo’s left eye to her right, down to her small nose, to her pink lips….
She’d never seen Jiwoo’s face this close before. Actually, she’d never been this close to any girl’s face.
Jiwoo was looking at her the same way now — close enough to see everything. Noeul must look awful up close: shiny skin, big pores, mismatched features in the worst possible combination….
She jerked back instinctively.
She really needed to leave now.
But as she stood, Jiwoo grabbed her hand.
“Then say it now. Who’s prettier — me, or Hansol?”
“…”
Noeul’s mind went blank.
She couldn’t think. Couldn’t calculate. Couldn’t guess what answer would be right.
So she just said what came to mind.
“…You.”
