Chapter 3
As I walked up the low street lined with rows of similar walls and rooftops, my shoes and bag were completely soaked despite the umbrella.
The quiet residential street felt even more deserted under the rain, giving off a slightly eerie atmosphere. Occasionally, only a luxury sedan—its color similar to my father’s—would pass by, but there was no sign of anyone else.
The growing darkness made me uneasy, and I quickened my pace. In the distance, I spotted a black-roofed house encircled by deep brown walls.
On the garage door with the shutter down, someone had scrawled in red paint, “August, go away.” Probably a visit from some rival fan club members. Instinctively, I glanced around. Thankfully, no one was there.
…Dad’s going to throw a fit again. He said if I got caught this time, he’d call the culprits’ school.
Not wanting to wait for someone to answer the doorbell, I used the key and went inside. Stepping briskly over the fresh green lawn, I hurried into the large standalone house.
Barely greeting anyone, I dropped my bag and headed straight to the bathroom. The moment hot water poured from the shower, my body finally relaxed. It almost felt like the day’s unease was being washed away. Only after I let the warmth seep in did I turn off the water.
After applying lotion and roughly drying my hair, I went to the kitchen. The smell of meat hit me, and my stomach growled. It finally dawned on me that I hadn’t eaten anything all day.
The table was already half-set and looked plentiful. I pulled out a chair, sat down, and popped a fried sausage into my mouth.
“Stepmom, where’s Dad?”
“He said he has a dinner engagement with clients tonight.”
It was the usual, so neither I nor my stepmother asked any further. Just as a heaping plate of bulgogi was set on the table, my little “followers” barged in.
“Unni!”
One had just entered middle school, the other still in kindergarten.
Unlike my second brother Min-gyu, who had started middle school and liked to act mature, my youngest, Min-jae—his glasses covering half his face—plopped himself into the seat next to me. I used my sternest voice.
“Hey, Glasses. Didn’t I tell you how to greet your sister?”
The six-year-old let out a startled squeak, hopped down, and clasped his hands over his stomach. Bowing ninety degrees, he greeted me politely.
“Good evening, Stepsister. Welcome back.”
“All right.”
Grinning with the gap from his missing front teeth, Ji-min-jae looked foolishly happy, making both my stepmother and Min-gyu laugh. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little as well.
“That girl thinks just because she’s the elder, she deserves special treatment from her younger brothers.”
With those sharp words, the warm atmosphere filled with the steam of bulgogi dampened instantly.
Grandmother appeared, seated at the head of the table. Her white hair tied in a silver pin, wearing a silvery-gray hanbok skirt and jacket, she looked as though she’d stepped straight out of the 1400s. Both her clothing and her thoughts belonged to another era.
“You never raise boys by letting them feel inferior. Don’t think being the older sister means you get respect—you should treat your younger brothers with care. What kind of name is ‘Glasses’ anyway? Utterly useless.”
While speaking, she pushed the bulgogi plate that had been closer to me toward Min-gyu.
“Min-jae, come sit by me, granddaughter.”
Clearly intending to feed her cherished grandchildren one piece of bulgogi at a time, Min-jae hesitated, and my stepmother intervened.
“Mother, Min-jae needs to learn to eat on his own now. The kindergarten calls, and his chopsticks are still clumsy… And there’s plenty of meat. Min-gyu is at the age to study hard, so make sure all the kids get enough.”
“Did you buy this meat with your own money?”
Grandmother’s sharp gaze pierced my stepmother. Having married young and raised another woman’s five-year-old child while also giving birth to her two beloved younger brothers, grandmother treated my stepmother as if she were bestowing some great favor.
“The money your father earned working hard outside—don’t you think about who worked for this? Who sweated to provide the food and supplies you’re wasting? And you can’t even think about your husband, who hasn’t eaten yet at this hour?”
My breath caught. All for a single plate of bulgogi… My stepmother stayed silent as if guilty.
“…”
I grabbed a generous bite of bulgogi from the distant plate and put it on my rice bowl, cheerfully speaking up.
“Grandmother, I’m a second-year high school student. I’m studying hard these days. Dad works so hard to earn money for my education. I can’t waste it.”
Grandmother’s wrinkled eyes regarded me with what seemed like disbelief.
“I especially read history books often. You remind me exactly of someone on the page in front of the book.”
Around page seventy—somewhere in Goryeo, Silla, or Joseon, or something like that.
“Your words, your thinking, even your clothes—it’s just like her.”
Even I, who swore never to attack women, had an exception: my grandmother.
“But isn’t it strange? The people in the book are all dead, but you’re still alive.”
The deep wrinkles on her brow, which had long been etched by my teasing, deepened, and her face flushed with anger.
“You brat! Did you perform a curse to make me die quickly?”
Grandmother’s silver spoon flew.
“Why did you have to provoke her temper? It’s just a little unpleasantness, that’s all.”
My stepmother muttered, placing a small bandage on my forehead.
“Goodness, on that pretty forehead… that old lady’s temper! What if she really hurt the child throwing that?”
I hadn’t minded, but my stepmother’s voice quivered faintly as she clicked her tongue.
“It’s okay if she says something unpleasant, but if the granddaughter does, it’s not allowed. She needs to learn that if you hurt others, you can get hurt too.”
“Ugh… can’t even say a word.”
She pinched my cheek gently. While folding my pajama set on the desk, my stepmother’s dry, slightly wrinkled hands paused, then resumed.
“They said I’m Mom’s concubine,” she muttered.
I confessed honestly: “She’s not my mother. My stepmother is the concubine.”
“Good grief…”
Step-mom clicked her tongue indignantly.
“Why would you say that? She gave birth to children and is legally recorded as the legitimate wife. I should have said it clearly, only the second and third were called concubines. I have nothing to hide from your mother.”
I knew it too, and that weighed on me. I had just spoken rashly, but I couldn’t leave my stepmother unacknowledged.
“You embarrassed?” she asked carefully.
“Not really.”
I idly rubbed the flower pattern on the blanket.
“And what about your boyfriend? Are things going well?”
“…”
I’d once let Kim Eun-ho insist on walking me home, even after breaking up, which irritated me even more. I still couldn’t tell my stepmother we had broken up.
“Looks like he’s popular. The most handsome guy in school, right?”
At those words, Cha Seo-kyung flashed in my mind. That tall, straight-featured, broad-shouldered boy who, despite my annoyed thoughts, had completely wiped away any credit I gave Kim Eun-ho for being handsome.
Though I had never been close enough to see him well, I knew he was good-looking.
Twenty steps.
The closest I had ever been to Cha Seo-kyung. Yet, his presence always reached me clearly.
I know you, but do you know me?
Even knowing how exhausting it is to be “known,” I realized I wanted him to know me. That alone surprised me. Wishing for something impossible is always more exhausting than enduring reality.
How could Cha Seo-kyung possibly know Ji-yeon Seo, the outcast of Myeongwon High?
I rested my head on the pillow. Yet, the urge to respond lingered.
“…Yes. There’s someone more handsome than Kim Eun-ho.”
I closed my eyes and saw his back—Cha Seo-kyung’s broad, straight back.
When I opened my eyes again, the ceiling was faintly brightening.
“…Ugh, 0-period is murder…”
It felt like only ten minutes had passed, but it was already morning. I imagined shaking whoever thought up zero-period by the collar and quickly got up.
After showering, roughly drying my hair, and putting on my uniform, my stepmother called me to eat something before leaving. I waved her off and stepped into the yard. It was 6:58.
Crossing the lawn and descending four stone steps, I reached the metal gate, resting my hand on the lock to catch my breath. Once the slightly cool April air settled in my lungs, I slowly pushed the gate open.
Behind me, the metallic clank signaled it was 6:59, and—
“…”
I heard the smooth rolling of bicycle wheels somewhere in the alley across. Like clockwork over the past month.
A tall figure in a pristine white uniform shirt and black backpack came riding around the corner toward me.
The bicycle, ready to descend the slope by the gate, passed me as if I were a still life.
Cha Seo-kyung, passing by.
His clean, straight forehead slicing through the wind.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Three seconds to see that indifferent face, from twenty steps away, almost every morning for the past month.
To know someone is to know moments unseen by others. At 6:59 a.m., I am the only one who knows that Cha Seo-kyung.
Three seconds pass like an instant, and his familiar back moves ahead down the slope.
I, too, place myself on the downhill path, beginning the school day like any other. I could bet strawberry milk that today would pass like the previous days.
Yet exceptions always wear ordinary faces.
The bicycle suddenly screeched to a halt. Seeming to hesitate over something, he abandoned the bike and strode toward me.
Twenty steps, ten, nine, eight…
The distance vanished as Cha Seo-kyung approached.
Finally, five steps.
He stopped, standing like a plane tree in front of the school, casting a large shadow as if to engulf everything within it.
For once, I felt flustered. A low voice reached my ear—Cha Seo-kyung spoke for the first time I’d heard.
“You… that forehead.”
“…”
“Was that guy yesterday responsible?”
