Chapter 21: Variable and Rainfall

My damp, murky mood stretched into hours of agonizing over whether to text him.

I even considered shaking down that annoying prick who was in the same class as Song Yun Jae last year. But even if I did, it would be a dead end. I’d just get the same “he used to miss school because he was sick sometimes” or “I don’t really know him” answers. It was obvious that was the extent of their distance. If it weren’t, there would’ve been no reason for Song Yun Jae to say all that weird stuff to me about being “real friends.”

The most definitive way to know was to hear the reason directly from Song Yun Jae.

So, let’s not make this difficult.

If I’m curious, I should just ask. I shouldn’t waste time making it complicated.

I repeated this to myself several times, and only when lunch started and the other kids cleared out did I finally pull out my phone.

Just like twelve hours ago, in the same spot, I picked out words for the same person.

[Are you sick?]

Those were the words my hesitating fingers managed to produce. After confirming the message was sent, I waited once more with the screen on.

But just like yesterday, Song Yun Jae didn’t reply.

The self-imposed wait transformed into a strange sense of futility.

It was nearly 5 PM. For a while now, the phone in my pocket had been vibrating with multiple texts from the woman. Have you left? Where are you? Should I send a driver to pick you up? It was laughable how she acted as if I were committing a wrong through some unexpected variable, even though she knew I’d be like this. Didn’t she put those expensive things on my desk precisely because she knew—and expected—me to react this way? She must have been even more certain when she opened my door this morning and saw with her own eyes that I hadn’t taken a single thing she’d laid out.

I ground my teeth, my nerves already frayed to a sharp edge.

The only reason I hadn’t turned off my phone while ignoring her was one: Song Yun Jae might reply. But the contact I actually wanted never came; instead, her texts flooded in throughout the cleaning hour. Then, a long vibration started. It was a call from her.

I was just dropping off trash by the incinerator. Seeing the name on the screen made me crave the cigarette I’d been holding back. When I pressed the call button in irritation, her sharp voice demanding to know where I was hit my ear. I tightened my grip on the phone.

“I’m at school.”

⌜As if I called because I didn’t know you were at school?⌟

“Enjoy your meal.”

⌜…With what face do you intend to see the Chairman?⌟

“Am I the one seeing him? I assume Father is.”

A brief silence followed. I could hear the faint sound of her drawing a breath. The Chairman must not have arrived yet, given that she’d called. But since he was coming soon, she was likely forcing herself to hold back the urge to scream in anger.

⌜…Where are your manners?⌟

“I didn’t realize a student being at school was a problem.”

⌜…Your mother would be so happy, Hyun Uk. Such a student who loves school so much. She’d be so proud.⌟

She hung up first. Her trembling voice ended, as always, with an insult directed at my mother. It was her finishing move, her final desperate flail.

The hand I had balled into a fist ached. Looking at the deep crescent marks my nails had left in my palm, I felt the phone vibrate again and irritably checked the screen.

[I’m sick]

It was Song Yun Jae.

The blood that had rushed to my head felt like it drained to my feet in an instant.

His timing was unbelievable.

Calming me down in a sh*tty situation, while simultaneously pushing me into a different, chaotic hole—that was a talent uniquely Song Yun Jae’s. That simpleton. If he was sick, he should’ve said so from the start. He’s fine with saying nonsense like “sleep well” or asking what I’m doing, but when it comes to saying what’s actually necessary, he hasn’t got a clue.

I brushed back my bangs in frustration and turned the screen back on.

I’m sick. I felt like I could hear his voice in my ear.

It was only three syllables. Is it his finger that’s sick? F*ck. He’s only sending these three syllables now. He didn’t even say where or how much he was hurting. Belatedly, worry began to catch up.

I’d finally received the reply I was waiting for, but I didn’t feel a shred of relief. I let out a rough sigh. I’d resolved to get through this day, but this was beyond my expected limit of irritation. Song Yun Jae was the variable. I hurried to the keypad.

[Where does it hurt?]

Even after seeing the “sent” icon, I couldn’t turn the screen off. Would I feel a bit more at ease if he replied to this one? Just then, the bell signaling the end of the cleaning hour rang through the campus. There were still two classes left until dinner. But I had no intention of going back to the classroom just because the bell rang. I regretted not grabbing the pack of cigarettes from my bag, but a smoke wouldn’t have settled this irritation anyway.

I sat on an old desk abandoned near the incinerator. The noisy campus began to grow quiet. Once the bell for class rang, the building became perfectly silent. On impulse, I opened the message window again.

[I asked how sick you are.]

I felt like I needed to see his reply to settle this murky, lingering irritation.

But unfortunately, until the full fifty minutes of the period passed, there was no reply from Song Yun Jae.

It was July, right on the cusp of midsummer. The days were long, and the sunset lingered over the playground for ages.

With break approaching, the kids began to slack off during dinner and self-study hours one by one. More time was spent kicking or throwing balls, and more kids were caught sneaking entertainment on their electronic dictionaries while pretending to watch lectures. Even the teachers monitoring the sluggish students seemed to have the same low energy. It was the perfect season for everyone to drift.

The summer nights were especially difficult for self-study. When the night air hits the ground that’s been baking all day, a strange, humid heat begins to seep into the air. Whether you were on the second floor or the third, you had to endure that sticky warmth. It was a sensation that fans couldn’t fix. I was just thinking that the fatigue felt particularly heavy today when—

“Oh, it’s raining.”

Someone finally figured out why. The homeroom teacher’s warning about a passing shower had come true. Everyone turned their heads toward the window. Dissatisfied groans soon followed. I was in the same boat—no umbrella—but since I had no intention of going home yet, it didn’t hit me as hard as the others. I was the only one mindlessly flipping through my workbook amidst the flurry of kids calling home. If Song Yun Jae had been here, things would’ve been different. Thoughts of him reared their head again.

“It’s raining. Those who need to leave early, head out the back door quietly.”

It was almost time for self-study to end anyway. Kids who had an excuse to leave early—umbrella or not—hurriedly packed their bags. The rain was already getting heavy. It started with a few drops, then suddenly turned into a downpour with a loud whoosh.

“Aren’t you going?”

One by one they left, until it seemed only I and the supervisor were left in the classroom. Seeing him tidy the lectern, it looked like the teacher was ready to go too. As I was picking out an answer, he spoke again.

“I can give you a lift if you don’t have an umbrella.”

“I wanted to study a bit more.”

It was an out-of-character answer. Maybe if I were Song Yun Jae… ah, then again. Studying wasn’t the only reason he stayed late, either. Too many thoughts were intruding. But I kept my expression neutral. Is it because I grew up watching this kind of act? I was a ridiculous guy. The teacher, unaware of my internal thoughts, gave a proud smile.

“The top-tier students really are different. Still, it’s raining, so you should head out.”

“They said it’s just a shower. It’ll stop soon.”

“If you don’t have an umbrella, there’s a folding one at my desk in the staff room. Take it.”

“Thank you.”

The teacher, looking at me with approval until the very end, left the room. Once again, I was perfectly alone, just like yesterday. I thought about turning off the lights but changed my mind. There might still be people in the school. It would be weird for the guy who stayed behind “to study” to be sitting in the dark. My gaze naturally drifted out the window.

The sound of the rain, pouring down like a squall, made me space out for a moment. To say the rain broke my concentration would be a lie—my head had been a mess since sunset.

Right, if you really look at it, I wasn’t in a position or a relationship to be acting like this. I had no intention of playing along with Song Yun Jae’s “real friends” title. But what I was doing was…

“Ridiculous.”

Friends.

Real friends.

Ha, f*ck. It’s not like we’re playing house.

To put it simply, everything would be over as soon as Song Yun Jae replied. All this needless worry and murky feeling would be cleared up with a single text from him.

“But why are you the one shouldering it all, Cha Hyun Uk?”

The worry, the murkiness—why me? After I said I had no intention of playing along.

Once the floodgates opened, the thoughts just kept growing. I even thought back to the dawn hours Song Yun Jae had been filling lately.

It wasn’t pity, and it wasn’t playing along. It was nothing, yet thoughts of this “nothing” guy kept increasing until he filled my whole day. And that it was Song Yun Jae…

“…Is this right?”