TSMFTDG 16

TSMFTDG

Episode 16

❖ ❖ ❖

My parents were heavy drinkers — the kind that everyone around them admired for their stamina. They never missed a social gathering and were always the last ones standing.

When I was young, I often saw them drinking together at home, smiling and chatting.

“Here you go, Hee-won — orange juice for you.”
“Ugh… I want barley tea, not orange juice.”

I frowned as my father handed me the glass.

“We ran out of barley tea earlier. I’ll make more tomorrow.”

My mom gave me an apologetic look and winked.

Beer for my parents. Orange juice for the underage me.

We spent many evenings like that — just the three of us, happy and content. On weekends, if they didn’t have work, drinking together at night was practically a tradition.

And then came the grand day — January 1st. The day I officially became old enough to drink.

Right after midnight, I had my very first drink with my parents.

“Hee-won, don’t overdo it, okay? If it’s too much, just spit it out. Got it?”
“Got it, Dad.”
“Eat some snacks first. You should start with something salty.”

Dad looked like he was debating whether to snatch the beer glass from me out of concern for my liver. Mom, on the other hand, kept pushing various side dishes into my mouth.

Half-annoyed by their fussing, I gulped down the beer out of stubbornness. I’d always been curious what it tasted like — and honestly, it wasn’t as great as I’d imagined.

“It’s… okay, I guess.”

Not good, not bad — just the right taste for the moment.

“See? She takes after me.”
“What are you talking about, dear? She drinks well because she takes after me.”

Dad retorted, and I quietly refilled my glass between their playful banter.

After that, I tried all kinds of drinks with them — soju, makgeolli, whiskey, and everything in between.

It amazed me how they treated trying new liquors like a sacred mission.

“Hmm, this one tastes kind of like that one we tried before.”
“You think so too? But this one’s a bit smoother.”

That kind of talk was perfectly ordinary in our family.

They say alcohol tolerance runs in the family, right? With parents like mine, being a strong drinker felt almost inevitable.

I learned how to make bomb shots, how to lift the mood at the table — all from them.

“Those days were really fun…”

I enjoyed drinking with my family more than with anyone else. Sometimes I even regretted having weekend plans because it meant missing our little gatherings.

“…Now that Mom and Dad are gone, there’s no one to drink with anymore.”

Drinking alone just doesn’t taste the same. And the loneliness hits harder than you’d think.

Since they passed away, I’ve spent more nights drinking alone at home, but I still can’t get used to the silence.

Even going out to drink with others doesn’t fill the emptiness.

“So even after being reincarnated, my habits don’t change.”

I really need to quit this habit of drinking whenever it rains.

Sighing, I lay down on the bed, feeling a pleasant buzz. I hoped the alcohol would help me sleep, but it didn’t.

…Lian must be awake too.

He also couldn’t sleep on rainy nights, for reasons similar to mine. He was probably lying awake right now.

“Should I… go see him?”

It was almost midnight. Not the most polite time for a visit — but I missed him.

I’d said something harsh earlier… What if he was hurt by it?

I exhaled deeply, the scent of alcohol filling the air. After hesitating for a while, I finally got out of bed, grabbed a bottle of wine, and headed out.

If you miss someone, you should go see them.

❖ ❖ ❖

Standing in front of Lian’s bedroom door, I found myself hesitating again.

They say alcohol makes people brave — so why was I the opposite?

Normally, I’d just barge in without a second thought. But right now, it felt… difficult. And a little scary.

“Ha… pathetic.”

If one of my friends saw me now, they’d probably laugh. Since when did you start caring so much about other people’s feelings?

…What am I so afraid of, really?

Clutching the wine to my chest, I took a breath and knocked.

“I know you’re awake. I just wanted to see you… I’ll just talk for a bit and go.”

After a long silence, I spoke again.

“…I’m sorry about earlier.”

It wasn’t something I said just to be polite — I meant it.

I wanted to explain more, but it would’ve sounded like an excuse. So I shut my mouth.

The door stayed firmly shut. I stared at it for a while before turning away, feeling like drinking more back in my room.

But just as I was about to leave—

“That’s not like you. I thought you’d act as if nothing happened by morning.”

The door opened, and Lian’s voice came from behind it. I turned, startled.

He’d just taken a shower — his hair was still damp.

“I turn into someone else on rainy days,” I said quietly. “And… since I always mean what I say to you, I didn’t want to pretend nothing happened.”

He looked at me steadily, unreadable as ever.

“Did you drink?”
“…How’d you know?”
“You look drunk.”

I look drunk?

In my twenty-six years of life — six of those spent drinking — no one had ever said that to me before.

“I’m not drunk.”
“…”
“Seriously, I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“If you came to apologize, why did you bring alcohol?”

Alcohol? Oh… right.

Until he mentioned it, I hadn’t even realized I was holding it. I must have brought it out of habit — I always felt safer with a drink in hand.

I scrambled for an answer.

“…To drink with you?”
“Ha…”

Lian sighed deeply — definitely exasperated.

“I really did come to apologize. I’ve seen your face now, so I’ll go.”
“…Drink,” he said quietly.
“Huh?”
“Let’s drink together.”

Wait, what? Did he just say he wanted to drink together?

Lian, the model of restraint, who I was sure never drank?

“Unless you’re not feeling well enough for more?”

I quickly shook my head.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

This was barely a warm-up. Smirking confidently, I stepped into his room and set the wine on the table.

Then I flopped comfortably onto the sofa.

“You should dry your hair first.”
“It’s fine—”

Before he could finish, I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down beside me. Then I took the towel from around his neck and started drying his hair myself.

“You’ll catch a cold if you leave it wet. You’re human — take better care of yourself.”

I thought he’d pull away, but instead he closed his eyes and stayed still.

That made it easier to study his face up close.

When I paused, his eyes opened — deep crimson, and focused entirely on me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“…You’re surprisingly good at drying hair.”
“I used to do it a lot.”

Mom always loved when I dried her hair for her. She said it made her feel relaxed after a long day. Sometimes, she’d dry mine in return.

“All done.”
“…Thank you.”

He touched his now-fluffy hair, looking slightly dazed.

Even I had to admit — I did a great job. Maybe I chose the wrong career.

“See? I’m good. You can come by anytime if you want me to do it again.”
“This was a one-time thing.”

He refused flatly. I pouted a little but poured him a glass of wine anyway.

He moved to sit across from me and accepted the glass.

“You’ve had alcohol before, right?”

In the game’s story, I didn’t remember him ever drinking.

He frowned faintly, as if insulted.

“About once a year.”
“…So you have drunk before.”

Barely counted, but whatever — if he got tipsy, I could take care of him.

I raised my glass, clinked it lightly against his, and took a sip.

It tasted better than drinking alone. A quick glance showed he was handling it better than expected.

I looked out the window. The rain was falling much heavier now.

“It’s been a while… drinking with someone on a rainy day.”
“I’d think you’d have plenty of people to drink with.”
“Not on rainy days. I don’t like drinking with others when it rains.”

On rainy days, I always drank alone — with too much alcohol and too many snacks laid out.

My own private memorial ritual.