FBF chapter 9 part 2

“I’m going to ask and come back.”

After saying that and placing a hand on the raccoon’s shoulder, I turned my head. The transfer student was still standing next to the desk. To put it bluntly, taking someone’s seat without any warning is quite rude, yet the calm expression on their face showed no sign of remorse or awkwardness. I began to walk away.

I had experienced something similar when I suddenly transferred to Taean. At least I didn’t accept being treated this way as if it was natural because of someone’s consideration. Just knowing that the transfer student’s gaze was among those watching me made me feel uncomfortable.

The homeroom teacher said something similar to what I had expected. However, he looked a bit more tired than usual. His face, which was trying to add various comments, seemed to frown throughout, as if he didn’t want to say certain things.

The homeroom teacher hoped that I would help the transfer student adjust well to the school. Show them around, assist them in catching up with the curriculum. However, his request felt overly protective considering that the subject was an eighteen-year-old male. Even though he hadn’t formally asked, the teacher clasping his hands and offering a prayer seemed to emphasize that he was aware of this fact.

“You’re going to be quite bothered, aren’t you? I know it might be frustrating to ask this of someone who’s busy studying, but please help out. The principal specifically instructed me to.”

The principal? I lifted my gaze from the attendance book that the teacher had tossed on the desk when he first arrived. Upon making eye contact with the teacher, his expression changed to one of surprise. However, he quickly closed his mouth without saying anything further and looked around the teacher’s room. The second-year teachers were absent, probably still finishing their morning meetings, since he had introduced the transfer student and returned directly to the teacher’s room. Seeing him relax, he tapped my back as a sign to return to class. I nodded slightly and left the teacher’s room.

There was little time left until the first period started. Unlike the noisy hallway, the classroom was quieter than usual. It didn’t take long to realize the strange tension in the air. As soon as I opened the back door, I locked eyes with the raccoon. Sitting in the now-empty back seat, the raccoon had a nervous yet aggrieved expression. It felt as if they were only waiting for me to return, and I slowly shook my head. After briefly saying I would explain later and patting their shoulder, the raccoon reluctantly nodded in response. I started walking. The gaze of my classmates was directed toward a single point. I had no choice but to walk toward it since it was related to me.

Amid the desks arranged in three groups with two rows, it was the third seat from the front. It was also the position where the teacher could see clearly when standing at the lectern. The person who had taken the raccoon’s place, Choi Hyuk-jun, was staring down at his phone. He had casually rested one foot on his knee and was tapping away at his keypad, leaning back in his chair in a relaxed manner. I pulled back the chair at my desk.

“After the first period, let’s go to the teacher’s room to get the textbooks. The homeroom teacher has prepared them,” I said to the guy who glanced over at the noise of the chair scraping against the floor.

Choi Hyuk-jun silently stared at me. I opened the Korean textbook I had pulled out from under the desk, fitting it into the narrow space between the desks. The first period was Korean. The moment the bell announcing the start of class rang, Hyuk-jun opened his mouth.

“I heard you are ranked first in the whole school.”

His tone seemed probing. I met his gaze, remaining indifferent. It wasn’t a question to which I felt the need to respond. Hyuk-jun continued to examine me silently. It didn’t take long for me to realize that he didn’t seem much like a wealthy kid up close. Just looking at the numerous piercings hidden among his hair was enough to suggest that. His dry eyes, lacking even a flicker of movement when he cornered his lips upward, conveyed the same sentiment.

“It’s ridiculously unfair, don’t you think?”

He threw out a vague remark, breaking eye contact with me. The sound of his phone being thrown into the empty desk where the raccoon’s textbooks had once been was loud in the silence. I wondered how he’d managed to do all that during the short time I had been away to the teacher’s room, then turned to the front of the class as our Korean teacher came in.

“Shiljang, greet the teacher.”

The moment I stood up from my seat, Hyuk-jun muttered softly.

“Old man. Dream big.”

It was a brief moment, but the disdain evident in his face and voice vanished in an instant. Hyuk-jun stared sulkily at the Korean textbook in front of him with his eyes half-closed. Then he didn’t say anything further.

Hyuk-jun’s irritation at being suddenly displaced from his seat, along with the message from the homeroom teacher to care for the transfer student, didn’t escape the raccoon’s notice. With a rather displeased expression, the raccoon glanced at Hyuk-jun’s empty chair. Not wanting to share the awkward obligation of having lunch with Hyuk-jun, I told the raccoon in advance that I would handle my meal alone for now. I patted the raccoon’s back, who looked worried as if leaving me alone was weighing on their conscience, and turned toward Hyuk-jun. Not long after, I spotted Hyuk-jun entering from the front door. He appeared to have been to the restroom, shaking off his wet hands as he glanced around the classroom, eventually locking his gaze onto me.

“Let’s go eat.”

It was lunchtime after the moving class period. Once the students hurriedly placed their textbooks on their desks, the classroom became empty. As expected, Hyuk-jun slightly nodded. His expression suggested he had expected me to make such a proposal.

Hyuk-jun followed me properly to the cafeteria. I did as instructed; I scanned my ID card at the entrance machine of the cafeteria, received the meal as the cafeteria lady served it, and he took a seat directly across from me.

Today’s meal included bean sprouts salad again. I glanced at Hyuk-jun sitting opposite me and picked up my chopsticks. Even if it wasn’t to my taste, I thought it was something I couldn’t help. The homeroom teacher wouldn’t have expected me to take care of him to that extent.

When I was about halfway through my meal, Hyuk-jun opened his mouth. Holding his chopsticks loosely, he poked at something like radish in the egg soup and looked bored.

“My dad bought the principal a car for me.”

The chopsticks paused in mid-air.

“He’s the one who got kicked out of school for causing trouble, and he requested I be paired with the top student of this school as a condition.”

“……”

“Since I’m doing something I never expected, I thought I should at least know the reason why it’s so unfair.”

I slowly lifted my head. I was curious about why he abruptly offered such information. Hyuk-jun didn’t stop moving the chopsticks. In a careless manner, he punctured the pineapple pieces mixed in with the tonkatsu sauce into oblivion. His gaze towards the mess he had made was indifferent.

“I mean, he’s an ignorant person, right? He probably doesn’t even know how to use drugs in English.”

A light sneer escaped him, but amidst that brief moment, a deep sense of loathing emerged.

“The funny thing is, he probably knows that everywhere he goes, he has someone like you as his secretary. You know, the kids who study hard and have lived their lives just doing as told. Do they expect that by doing so, they can wash away their own identity and be something?”

Just thinking about it seemed to make Hyuk-jun chuckle aloofly. For the first time, I noticed that Hyuk-jun was genuinely laughing. It was a twisted expression that seemed excessive for an eighteen-year-old. It made me want to stand there and stare.

“But in the end, a drug dealer is still a drug dealer. No matter how well he’s treated, he’s still a gangster.”

If Hyuk-jun’s dad were sitting right in front of him, I wondered how he would react hearing his son say such things. I could imagine that what he longed for wasn’t to have his son associated with such remarks. I understood that revealing his dad was a drug dealer and a gangster to someone he had just met today didn’t seem to bother Hyuk-jun in the least.

He was so eager for my agreement that it felt like he could keep talking about it for a while longer, so I decided to speak up.

“…I’m sorry.”

Hyuk-jun stopped talking and looked up. His expression seemed to realize he was the only one talking. I let those words out toward him, having been curious since the moment he opened his mouth.

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.”

Memories of the rumors circulating before Hyuk-jun arrived popped into my mind. I had thought they were absurd, but his words just now had somewhat confirmed the validity of those rumors. Typically, rumors are exaggerated and lack credibility, but this time, strangely enough, some pieces matched up.

But what of it? The ambiance in the cafeteria, steaming due to the boys’ underdeveloped bodies sweating, remained the same regardless of summer or winter. The sentimental sweat marks on the back of some nameless kid sitting right behind Hyuk-jun, or the stories I had just heard, didn’t concern me in the least.

“Even just studying together and sharing a meal, I’ve never thought of myself as your servant.”

“…….”

“I don’t understand why you automatically thought it was fair to tell me this.”

Hyuk-jun simply listened in silence. His expression, raised eyebrows as he stared at me, seemed surprised that I was responding. Yet he didn’t stop me or deny what I had said. His face grew increasingly inquisitive, bordering on arrogant. It was the discomfort I felt since meeting Hyuk-jun.

Though he seemed to want to deny it, Hyuk-jun resembled his father, whom he so despised. The mere assumption that I would want to hear such things indicated that. It was a misconception created by the large ego of a teenager who thinks that everyone shares the same thoughts as him. I broke eye contact and began moving my chopsticks again. Meanwhile, time continued to pass. Ideally, there would still be time left even after finishing my meal to return to class. The time I could devote to the arrogant transfer student was limited, and Hyuk-jun’s apparent lack of cooperation was starting to irritate me.

“If you still have those complaints but ended up being dragged in here, then just do what your dad says. Don’t make me do what a real servant would.”

After I finished speaking, Hyuk-jun stayed silent for a while. Only after hearing the sound of chopsticks scrapping the stainless steel tray did he look up. For the first time since he sat down in the cafeteria, Hyuk-jun was actually eating. The guy who had been poking at the tonkatsu looked at me with a smile.

“Indeed.”

It was a genuine laugh that made his eyes crinkle, just like when he had criticized his dad earlier. An unusual warmth of kindness emanated from his gaze as it met mine. Instinctively, I felt that the animosity he exuded towards me had vanished. I didn’t know why, but it seemed my words had struck a chord with Hyuk-jun.

“You’re way too bold to be a servant. Just looking at you speaking your mind to the son of a gangster shows that.”

Not knowing whether it was a compliment or an insult, Hyuk-jun grimaced and leaned back. Throwing his chopsticks onto the tray, he muttered in a low tone.

“Is the cafeteria food always this bad? I can’t even eat this.”

It was an ordinary comment that seemed like it could come from any student in the cafeteria. While I was thinking, I pulled over a yogurt and casually replied, “Well, it’s like this.”

Leaving the teacher’s room, Lee Jihoon reached out his hand.

“Isn’t it heavy? Give it to me.”

His gaze was fixed on the bag of his that I was carrying. I had picked it up from his class while waiting for him. This had become quite the routine for us; whenever either of us had to stay late unexpectedly, we would do this to save time since we were taking the bus together anyway.

It hadn’t even been long since I picked it up, nor was it particularly heavy, but before I could say it was fine, it felt much lighter. Lee Jihoon, with the bag on one shoulder, gently tapped my shoulder. Let’s go. I nodded and closed the vocabulary book I had been looking at, holding it in one hand.

The hallway, which was completely devoid of people, was quiet. The kids studying during evening self-study had already moved to the annex, and the rest had gone home. Apparently, the school was notorious for enforcing evening self-study on all students back when the older seniors were around, but that had changed with the new principal last year. While the third years, who were preparing for college entrance exams, still had their evening self-study mandated, lower grades were allowed to choose whether or not to attend. Jihoon and I, who had attended evening self-study up until first year, chose to leave the school as soon as classes were over this year. I had deemed studying at the study room more efficient, while Jihoon opted for supplementary lessons in subjects he was struggling with at a private academy in the city. I found it remarkable how, without even discussing it, we both decided against evening self-study. Still, I appreciated that I could commute together with Jihoon, even if there were more than just the two of us.

Just as those thoughts crossed my mind, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

As expected, it was a message from Kang Youngsoo. Since his school was a bit more inland than ours, he always caught the bus around twenty minutes earlier than us. Although I had consoled him saying we could catch the bus together if he timed it right, there was another reason he began doing so: he had broken up with his girlfriend. With the way he clung on to us whenever he had free time, it felt like this was a task we were meant to accomplish, even if we had no idea if it would succeed. It wasn’t surprising when I recalled how he had even sat next to us while we were studying, flipping through textbooks as we ignored his invitations to hang out after we entered high school. Jihoon simply referred to Youngsoo’s actions as “flailing.” He had blatantly told him in front of Youngsoo that he didn’t have to receive all that attention as he tried to fill the void left by his girlfriend. Youngsoo looked sulky but couldn’t dispute Jihoon’s claim. After that, he had started openly begging for sympathy.

While Jihoon brushed him off entirely, I found it difficult to do so after remembering Youngsoo’s eyes, which were puffy to the extent that his eyeballs were hardly visible on the day they broke up. I was the one who, after finding out that Jihoon was scheduled to meet with our homeroom teacher, advised Youngsoo to catch the bus a bit later than usual.

After sending a brief message, I tucked my phone back into my pocket. Jihoon, who had been waiting, began walking again. The students had been overly eager to turn on the air-conditioning despite it not quite being summer yet. The appropriately warm air wrapped around us as the sun gradually dipped lower in the sky, causing the school’s shadow to stretch significantly over the playground. Jihoon was staring ahead as he walked. Suddenly, he turned his head. There was a calmness in his face partially lit by the sunset.

“The homeroom teacher told me to go to Seoul.”

“…Seoul?”

“Yeah. They want me to attend a mock UN or something. If I say I’ll go, they’ll support me.”

As I listened, the program name sounded familiar. It had come up casually during the career guidance session at the start of the semester. I had already attended a similar debate competition in Seoul during my first year, which I found underwhelming, and so I shook my head. The teacher, going through the test scores and academic records, quickly nodded in agreement.

“Right, Seon-uk, going won’t really add anything to your achievements, would it? If you were to go, Olympiad events would probably be more beneficial. Let’s give this opportunity to someone else.”

The term “give up” felt odd, but that’s how they must have seen it. After I secured first place in the first exam after entering school, I was aware that the school had high expectations of me to continue in that vein. No matter how prestigious the school was, there was always a limit to the number of students they could send to respectable universities. This meant that as long as they could deliver students to good universities, the school was far more proactive in embellishing their records.

It was indeed surprising that Jihoon had received such a proposal. During his first year, he hadn’t drawn this level of attention academically. However, Jihoon’s grades had surged dramatically since the midterms in the second semester of last year. It was the moment when the consistent hard work he had been putting in started to yield results.

Having attended a private academy in Daechi-dong during my time in Seoul, I realized that the upper echelons of grades tend to remain stable. Even if someone accidentally gets one question wrong or another gets lucky with one extra correct answer, it does not drastically alter rankings. In a space ruled by homeostasis, other factors become more important. When Jihoon’s name appeared in the top ten from being barely in the 50s, it made sense that the teachers were shocked.

However, I wasn’t surprised. Anyone who had even just watched Jihoon study for a day would understand. If he studied that hard, it was entirely plausible for him to leap five steps at once.

This opportunity was akin to the school acknowledging that Jihoon’s sudden leap up the ranks wasn’t just a coincidence. It was surprising that Jihoon, who could readily accept such a proposal, now wore an expression as if he were pondering it.

“Are you not going?”

I asked that question with a hint of disbelief, but it seemed Jihoon had no intention of affirming it. As soon as we exited the school, the sound of the sneakers we had changed into hit the sandy playground. Jihoon, who had been strolling along, suddenly turned around. He looked straight into my face and raised his hand, partially covering it with his palm as he threw out a comment. His forehead furrowed slightly, casting a shadow over his expression.

“It’s on November 28.”

November 28? After thinking for a moment, I tilted my head.

“Isn’t that after the mock exams in November? That sounds fine. In fact, it might even relieve some pressure.”

Jihoon’s gaze locked onto me immediately. He glanced away, showing surprise for a brief moment before he clicked his tongue.

“Forget it. What am I worrying about in front of someone who even forgets their own birthday?”

Ah…

Only then did I grasp what Jihoon had meant, and naturally, I was taken aback. The fact that his internal struggle about such a good opportunity was related to me felt so stimulating. My stomach churned slightly, and the back of my neck flushed as I felt the warmth rise. I cleared my throat. I felt that if I didn’t respond, this reason would inevitably spill out.

“…My birthday is actually November 29.”

Jihoon laughed hollowly, as if he knew I would say that.

“Right, dumbass. It just so happens that it falls on a two-day one-night trip, so I immediately thought of you.”

As I hesitated, unsure how to respond, we approached the bus stop. Jihoon rummaged through his front pocket and pulled out his wallet. This indicated that I had missed my chance to discuss this further. I noticed the bus we needed to catch approaching. Kang Youngsoo leaned out of the bus window, shouting, “You guys!” The moment my eyes blinked, the overly excited Kang Youngsoo drew near. Yet, despite that, Jihoon’s words remained reverberating in my mind. As I absent-mindedly watched the bus slow down for a stop, I felt something hit my foot. Since it was a somewhat too ambiguous time, the one playing with my sneakers could only be Jihoon, who was right behind me. As Jihoon lightly kicked the tip of my sneaker, the sand from crossing the playground fell off. I looked up just as Jihoon’s gaze met mine.

“…….”

“…….”

Noting my expression, Jihoon raised an eyebrow, momentarily showing surprise. It seemed he had just realized I was still caught up in the recent conversation.

However, unlike me, he broke into a playful laugh. It was light and careless, just like when he had flicked the sand off his sneakers. As he gently kicked my shoe again.

“Well, it’s not like you care anyway.”

His remark felt almost like a playful jibe. Jihoon averted his gaze from me and reached for my bag. Even while fiddling with the zipper on the small front pocket, he was grinning mischievously. I finally figured out why Jihoon had acted that way when he saw my wallet peeking through the zipper he had just pulled. I snapped back to reality and pulled out my wallet to follow the bus that had just boarded.