Drink It — In Front of Me, Before I Call the Press
I-eum finished the pre-meal tea and set her cup down in silence.
Seated across the table was Assemblyman Park — a full year older than her own father, Chang-shin — wearing a smile so greasy it practically shimmered.
"Hello there, I-eum. So nice to see you again."
His glossy suit caught the light in dull, oily waves, like a hairtail fish pulled from the water days ago. The eyes that were ostensibly admiring her, sliding up and down beneath a veil of courtesy, had exactly the same look as rotting fish flesh.
She had never believed for a second that this was just "one meal." And now that she'd pieced together why Chang-shin had pushed her through that door, her stomach had already begun to churn.
"You know you're supposed to eat nourishing food before the CSAT, right? That's why oppa called you here today — wanted to treat you to something delicious. Did oppa ever take you out to eat back then, our little I-eum?"
I-eum shook her head.
"Ah, you don't remember. Well, of course not. You were so little the last time oppa saw you."
The assemblyman put on a paternal, beneficent smile and pressed on.
"Oppa was shocked, honestly. Our I-eum, all grown up already. Back then you were tiny and cute as a fairy, and now you're…"
His weathered voice trembled faintly, unable to hide the filthy thing crawling beneath it.
The sight turned her stomach. She was frowning, lifting her head to say something —
"Assemblyman. Your meal is ready, sir."
A knock sounded, and waiters filed in to begin serving.
Should I run for it now?
Even as the thought crossed her mind, the man spoke.
"Our I-eum's already nearing twenty, isn't she? My, how time flies."
Assemblyman Park waited until the serving staff had filed out, then leaned his upper body toward her.
"Let me be direct. Oppa came here today because I want to marry you."
I-eum wasn't surprised.
She knew full well that her grandfather, Yeon Ho-nam, hadn't stopped at using his own son Chang-shin — he intended to peddle his young granddaughters as well, all to shore up his backing.
But as her thoughts crowded in and she sat frozen, the assemblyman studied her at his leisure, the corner of his mouth curling upward.
"Oppa's being unfair, huh? You've got the CSAT weighing on you, and here I am talking about marriage. Sorry if it startled you. My heart's just in a bit of a hurry, that's all."
As if he'd anticipated her mute reaction, he beckoned a waiter over and had something brought to the table.
A small glass arrived — prepared in advance, by the look of it.
"Go on, drink. This kind of thing takes the edge right off."
"That's alcohol, though."
At the first words she'd spoken all evening, the man beamed, as if finding her adorable.
"What an obedient girl our I-eum is. But when an adult offers you a drink, it's fine to accept. Come on, now."
That beneficent smile stretched across his face, and it made her skin crawl.
I-eum knew the look in the eyes of a criminal deranged by lust all too well. She could guess exactly what he planned to do after he got the drink into her.
She answered with a face like a blank sheet of paper.
"And what exactly am I trusting here?"
"Hmm?"
"Who's to say something isn't mixed into this?"
For an instant, the assemblyman's expression flickered with panic — then he burst into booming laughter.
"Hahaha! They say kids these days have no filter — turns out it's true. Who would drug a drink? Do I really look like that kind of man to you, I-eum?"
She was about to give another flat, expressionless is that so —
"Sir, you can't enter the reserved room without—!"
BANG!
The door flew open with brutal force.
Not just Assemblyman Park — even I-eum, who had whirled around, went wide-eyed with shock.
"Tea—"
Before she could even finish the word teacher, Ji-hoon, who had slipped inside in the blink of an eye, snatched the glass set before her and raised it to his nose.
"Wha— who the hell are you!"
Only after shouting did the assemblyman seem to recognize Ji-hoon; suddenly his eyes bulged and his jaw began to rattle.
Ji-hoon set the glass back down in front of the man with a sharp clack.
"Drink it."
"You— you…!"
"Drink it right in front of me. Before I tip off the press."
At the word press, the man flinched — then shot to his feet, his face flooding red.
"Kim! Kim, get in here! Kimmm!"
Ji-hoon paid him no mind, seized the back of the man's neck, and spoke to I-eum.
"Squirt. Close your eyes."
The moment she reflexively shut them, the room erupted — the crash of colliding furniture and shattering glass swallowed by the assemblyman's howling screams.
Crash! Crunch! — Shatter!
The ugly displays adults put on, the sordid, unbearable spectacles — she was so used to them by now they made her sick.
And yet I-eum never opened her eyes.
Ji-hoon was worried about her innocence, so she wanted to be the one to protect that feeling of his.
Because he was the only adult who had ever seen her as a child.
The rain came down in sheets on the way home.
I-eum let her gaze rest idly on the streaks of rain drumming against the window, then darted her eyes sideways.
Ji-hoon, hands gripping the wheel, had been silent for a while now.
She had no idea what he'd done to that middle-aged man. By the time his voice told her she could open her eyes, everything had already been settled.
"I'll drop you off."
The rain was growing fiercer and the streets stood empty. The trees lining the road swayed frighteningly in the wind and rain.
But I-eum's heart was a different story entirely.
It felt like a warm spring day.
"You're not cold?"
"I'm fine."
"Cover up anyway."
A large jacket landed with a soft thump across her knees.
It was probably her bare thighs on display that bothered him. He kept insisting he wasn't a teacher, but he guided students better than any teacher ever had — which was exactly why she called him Teacher.
Jacket draped over her lap, she stole another glance at Ji-hoon, who was still fixed on the road ahead, and asked,
"How did you know to come?"
"Just. Happened to."
"And why did you help me?"
Only then did Ji-hoon's gaze land on her.
Something about her clearly displeased him — his eyes had been prickly the whole ride — but every instant their gazes met, her heart refused to settle, pounding so hard it frightened her.
It was a feeling she'd never known in her life, one she couldn't put into words even to herself.
"So I should have just left you in that suspicious setup?"
"Why is it suspicious? It could've been my dad, for all you knew."
At that retort, Ji-hoon pressed his lips shut with the look of a man holding back far too many words.
Her clothes that suited her so badly, the faltering way she walked, the anxious flicker in her eyes — everything had been screaming that something was wrong. But explaining all that felt like wasted breath.
He remembered the I-eum who had once confessed she liked him.
The girl whose eyes had sparkled with a thousand colors.
So he had to ration his words. With sensitivity that white and tender, who knew what aftershock a single careless remark might set off.
"You don't resemble him one bit. No idea why."
Saying only that much and letting it go seemed less likely to stir up false hope.
"You beat that man up back there, didn't you."
"Don't go poking into adult business."
"I'm not that far from being an adult myself."
"Which means you're not one right now."
Against that iron wall, I-eum pouted and gave up asking.
The car filled with nothing but the sound of rain. The air was calm enough that listening quietly might lull you to sleep.
But the truth was, Ji-hoon's circumstances were anything but peaceful.
Because his phone, switched to silent, had been flashing nonstop.
It was Min-jae, of course. Blowing up an arranged date with Kang Ri-won in broad daylight, stirring up an incident on top of it, then walking out — the fallout was only natural.
By the time they finally pulled up in front of I-eum's home, the rain had mercifully thinned to a drizzle.
"Go on in."
But I-eum seemed to have more to say. Her lips wavered, and she lifted her eyes to him and asked,
"Can I keep your jacket and take it inside?"
"No."
A flash of disappointment crossed her face at that railroad-flat refusal — but then, as if the question she truly wanted to ask were a different one entirely, she hesitated, watching him.
"Can I pretend I don't know about what happened today?"
The seating had been arranged at her father Yeon Chang-shin's request. Whether she herself would face consequences for the incident — the worry gnawed at her, and it would have been a lie to claim otherwise. This was the first time she had ever thrown a wrench into the decree of her grandfather, the absolute monarch.
"I mean — can I hide behind you, Teacher?"
At that, Ji-hoon turned and looked at her with unreadable eyes.
Silence stretched between them.
I-eum held her breath, waiting for his answer, her lips trembling with impatience — and in that exact moment,
"Unnie?"
Knock, knock.
The voice that reached I-eum's ears was not his at all. It belonged to someone else entirely.