Chapter 38 : Travel (4)

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window and a warm weight on my shoulder. I turned to see Hyelin sleeping soundly, her head resting on my shoulder.

This position must be uncomfortable. She had stayed by my side all night.

A thin blanket covered us. Someone must have been thoughtful enough to put it on us. I started to get up, then stopped, realizing we were… entangled.

If I moved, I would wake her. And I didn’t want to disturb her peaceful slumber. I closed my eyes, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, letting the sounds of the morning wash over me, drowning out the noise in my head.

Birds chirping outside, the gurgling of the stream, Hyelin’s soft, even breaths… The gentle melody of everyday life brought a smile to my face.

“Yawn…”

After what felt like thirty minutes, I heard a yawn and footsteps approaching. I looked at Hyelin, who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“You’re awake?”
“Ugh… yeah…”

She blinked a few times, looking around, then smiled sheepishly.

“Y… You could have… woken me up…”
“It’s okay, I just woke up too.”
“Liar.”

She gave me a knowing look, and I quickly averted my gaze. She grinned and sat up.

My hand, which had been intertwined with hers, was pulled upwards. I quickly let go, flustered. She tilted her head.

“Don’t go…”
“I… I wasn’t going anywhere…”

I covered my eyes with my hand. It wouldn’t make the world disappear, but it was the only way to hide my embarrassment.

Alcohol was a cruel mistress. Fragments of last night’s memories were surfacing, revealing my drunken antics. Hyelin giggled.

“Heehee… Your ears… turn red when you’re… embarrassed…”

So, there was another witness.
I took a deep breath and forced a smile.

It was my own fault for letting my guard down. The weak were always at the mercy of the strong.

I splashed some water on my face and went outside, where I found a blonde zombie slumped on the living room sofa.

I poured her a glass of water from the fridge. Gu Yuri grabbed it with both hands and gulped it down.

“Ugh… thanks…”
“How much did you drink last night?”
“Until sunrise, I think. I feel like I’m dying.”
“Living the young life, huh? Doesn’t make you any younger, though.”

Yuri frowned at my comment.

“I could drink you under the table when I was your age. Just wait until you’re older.”
“That’s what all lightweights say.”
“What? You passed out after one bottle.”

I felt a pang of annoyance. My past self could have easily drunk all night. But this body was, unfortunately, a lightweight.

“Can you move, please?”
“Hmm?”
“I left my phone on the sofa.”
“Oh, right.”

She fumbled around on the sofa, then handed me my phone. I checked my messages and breathed a sigh of relief.

“What did you see? Your face lit up.”
“My dad texted. He said he got home last night. He could have told me earlier.”
“That’s… obsessive, you know.”

I smirked. A thought suddenly occurred to me.

“Did you put the blanket on us?”
“No. No one went into that room after you two fell asleep.”
“Really?”

Just then, Chaerin and Junseok entered the pension. Their faces were slightly flushed, and they kept a careful distance from each other, the picture of a new couple.

Yuri grinned.

“Did you use protection?”

Junseok’s face turned bright red.

“Noona! We’re still students!”
“You were gone for a long time, though. Did you at least… you know…reach the first base?”
“First base?”
“That thing… where you… press your lips together, passionately.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re kidding, right?”

He continued to feign ignorance, a shield against her relentless teasing. I watched their verbal sparring with amusement, then said,

“Junseok, you have lipstick on your face.”
“Huh?”

He frantically wiped his mouth. Chaerin punched him lightly in the ribs.

“…I wasn’t wearing any lipstick.”

Their reactions gave them away.

“So, you did do it.”
“They did it, they did it!”

Two days and one night was too short, but two nights and three days was too long. It was the eternal dilemma of vacations.

So we decided to return to the stream. Young people would bring the action, provided we gave them a decent setting.

We were right. Despite our activities yesterday, they still had energy to spare, splashing and playing in the water.

Dojun placed a watermelon in the stream to cool and sat beside Saeron, who was busy writing in his notebook.

“What are you doing?”
“Character studies.”
“Can I see?”

Saeron nodded and showed him his notes, detailed observations of our personalities and quirks. Dojun frowned.

“That’s… thorough.”
“It’s an occupational hazard. Observation is key for writers.”
“Observation?”

Saeron tapped his temple.

“That’s right. Stories come from here. So, writers need to observe and remember. Even the best chef can’t cook without ingredients.”
“I guess so.”

Dojun looked out at the stream, then frowned.

“So, we just… watch?”
“No, you watch, and then you think.”
“Think?”

Dojun tilted his head. Saeron chuckled.

“Question the obvious.”

He picked up a pebble and held it up to Dojun.

“Why are rocks hard?”
“Because…they are?”

Dojun squinted at the pebble. Saeron chuckled.

“Yes, rocks are hard. We all know that. But as a writer, you can’t stop there. You have to ask why. You have to be curious.”
“…”
“The problem is… we’re too used to accepting the answers we’re given. No one questions why rocks are hard. Because they’ve always been hard. So, we accept it as a fact. And it is a fact. But…”
“…It’s complicated.”

Saeron scratched his chin and gathered a handful of pebbles.

“These little guys are always running away. From the stream to the river, from the river to the ocean, constantly escaping, carried by the current.”

He tossed the pebbles into the stream, one by one.

“But there’s always an end to the journey. And at the end, they pile up, accumulating, forming larger masses. We call the big ones boulders, the small ones pebbles. If they had somewhere else to go, they wouldn’t have stopped. They might have become sand, constantly shifting, searching for an escape.”

Dojun frowned, tilting his head. Saeron, pleased by his reaction, grinned, revealing his unnervingly white teeth.

“So, I came to a conclusion. Rocks are hard because they have nowhere left to run.”

He looked down at his notebook.

“When you form your own conclusions about things, instead of accepting the answers you’re given…that’s a story. And when you write that story down… that’s when you become a writer.”

A long silence followed. Dojun broke it with a sigh.

“I… have a story I want to write.”
“I’m sure you’ll do well.”

Saeron jotted something down in his notebook. Dojun chuckled wryly.

“You haven’t even read anything I’ve written. How can you be so sure?”
“Quiet people are usually good writers. They bottle up their thoughts and then release them as… potent sentences.”

Dojun frowned, his gaze fixed on me, laughing and chatting with my friends.

He remembered last night. The soft, frightened whimpers he had heard from behind the closed door. The trembling of my body, the anxiety he had felt through the blanket he had placed over Hyelin and me.

He forced a smile and said to Saeron,

“I’ve never written a play before. Mind giving me some pointers?”