Off Leash

Hae-soo bit down on the familiar self-pity and swallowed it whole, trying to soothe the heat creeping toward her eyes. The money she earned coaxing and coddling Se-bin — that's what fed me, clothed me, raised me. So of course Mom pours her whole heart into Se-bin. It's all for me, her daughter, in the end.

"Okay. You're already booked, so go have fun."

Hae-soo smoothed over the ache of disappointment and said it brightly. Unburdened, Jung-ae chimed that she'd buy some Hallabong chocolates as souvenirs before hanging up. Only then did Hae-soo notice a dull pain below her ear. Her molars, clenched without her realizing, throbbed.

She loosened her jaw and drew a long breath. The clear sky of early summer spilled across her entire field of vision. She pictured the two of them soaring together through that blue expanse before long, and the grief she'd barely swallowed surged back up.

It's not just a day or two. Don't make a fuss.

Scolding herself sternly, Hae-soo started walking. Compared to the time she and Se-bin had come down with the flu side by side, today's affair was nothing.

She bombed her finals today, you know. I aced mine and landed the internship. Not sparing even such petty one-upmanship, she did her best to haul her sunken spirits back up.

"Oh, right — it's the middle of the night over there."

But having no one beside her to share the joy with was just as bitter as trudging home alone and taking cold medicine by herself. Before messaging Dami, Hae-soo had first calculated the time difference with Toronto, and her shoulders had sagged all on their own. Congratulating herself — I did so well, look at me — was a habit long since worn into her bones.

What is there even to do?

She sat at the bus stop and thought blankly. What did other people do on days like this? Where did they go, what did they do, to toast themselves? Hae-soo had always run on must before want, and now her mind was nothing but white noise.

Maybe I'll just go to the library.

That was the conclusion all her deliberating led to. Rather than sit alone in an empty house with no mother, brooding on this wonderful day, she'd at least be among students studying feverishly — even if, having bled over her exam prep until that very morning, the sight of printed text made her sick.

Just then, a white hand waved into her field of view. A crisp snap of fingers.

Her blurred eyes found their focus. A pair of pristine white sneakers, without a speck of dust on them, stood facing her worn-out trainers.

"What are you thinking about so hard? I called and you didn't even hear me."

At the low baritone, Hae-soo hastily smoothed her expression. Or rather, she tried to — if Yeol's hand hadn't suddenly hooked under her chin and tipped her face up.

"……What. Did you fail your exams?"

Yeol frowned as he studied her lifted face. Hae-soo twisted her head away from his hand. She didn't need a mirror to know she looked on the verge of tears. She hadn't actually cried, but her expression was wretched enough that crying wouldn't have seemed strange.

"Yeah. So don't touch me, and keep walking."

"Wow. Scary."

"Not in the mood for jokes."

"Then what are you in the mood for?"

"……"

"Want to get something to eat?"

He'd said the same thing yesterday, the day before, and the day before that. And Hae-soo's answer was the same as always.

"……No."

"Must have really botched that exam."

He tilted his head, then added, "Your answer usually comes in one second. Today it took three."

With nothing better to do than count my seconds. Hae-soo pretended not to hear and glanced toward the roadside. Precisely, toward the ivory sports car parked squarely beneath the no-stopping sign.

"You're in a towing zone."

"I know."

"Then hurry up and go."

"Get in. I'll take you."

"No thanks."

That arrogant face looked down at her — well, obviously — wearing the expression of someone doing the rejecting rather than the rejected.

Come to think of it, is today the last time I'll see that face?

The thought came unbidden. It was vacation now; she wouldn't see him for months. And in the meantime, that feeling of his — whether stubbornness or fondness, who knew — would slowly cool.

She had a premonition that next semester she wouldn't be having conversations like this with Seo Moon-yeol. They might end up so distant that even a perfunctory hello would feel awkward.

Good riddance.

He was so damn annoying and exhausting anyway.

Feels great.

But the moment she muttered it to herself, it was as if a cold wind swept through her chest. Hollow, and bitter. It felt like the day she'd heard Dami had been selected as an exchange student.

Even spite sours into attachment — I've seen him so often, maybe some fondness crept in after all.

Disgusted with herself, Hae-soo screwed up her face. Just feel relieved. Relieved and nothing else. She carved the vow into her heart like a scolding — and then Yeol spoke, quietly.

"Congratulations."

"……For what?"

"The internship. You got in, didn't you?"

She looked up in surprise, and he smiled, the sun at his back. Hae-soo blinked slowly. For some reason, her throat felt tight. It wasn't that she resented the man for knowing something she'd never told him — it was more that, somehow, somehow……

"Hurry up and go."

"You're really weird today."

"……"

"Half expected you to accuse me of digging into your background."

Behind the usual sly, insolent lilt, she could hear something soft and warm. Something that seemed to say: I'm interested in you. I've been thinking about you. Something that seemed to whisper: I hoped you'd succeed — and I'm glad you did.

The hollowness filled in, the emptiness patched over. Congratulations. Just two little words, and yet.

"Are you coming down with something?"

The hand pressed to her forehead was remarkably warm. In this sweltering weather, the heat of his skin — which by rights should have been unpleasant — didn't feel bad at all.

Hae-soo pulled his hand from her forehead and slowly rose to her feet. And the loneliness inside her blurted something out to him before she could stop it.

"……Could you buy me dinner?"

She'd wanted to mimic his take-it-or-leave-it delivery — whatever works, whatever doesn't — but she couldn't quite manage it.

She was anxious, embarrassed, queasy to the point of nausea. The few seconds it took Yeol to answer stretched into an eternity. When the thought flashed through her that if he said no she might burst into tears on the spot, he answered with a wry smile.

"Sure."

In the piercing relief of that moment, Hae-soo finally understood.

I don't want to lose this boy.

"Anything you want to eat?"

"No. Just. Whatever. Food."

Yeol snorted and mimicked her. No. Just. Whatever. Food. He repeated it a couple of times like it was entertaining, then asked bluntly, "So you're telling me to pick something myself?"

"Yeah."

"Anything you can't eat?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Great."

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, face thoughtful, as if weighing the menu. Her gaze kept drifting to how naturally he handled the wheel. Someone who's good at what I can't do is bound to look impressive, Hae-soo rationalized, for no particular reason.

"For a first, something safe like Western cuisine is probably best."

To Yeol, glancing over as if seeking agreement, Hae-soo nodded absently. Her thoughts stopped at roughly this: thank god it's not the kind of food buried in chili flakes that you eat through tears and a runny nose.

But when they arrived wherever he was leading her, Hae-soo couldn't help being inwardly flustered.

This was, by no stretch of the imagination, a place that looked like it served "safe" Western food. The scale of the building and the interior were extravagant beyond reason. The uniforms of the staff who bowed with impeccable courtesy the instant the automatic doors slid open were so luxurious they made her feel small.

"Shall we prepare the signature dinner for you?"

"Yes."

She was even more dumbfounded when she saw the menu. She'd expected to choose from all manner of dishes, but the long, postcard-like paper decorated with dried flowers held exactly one option: a tasting course. The full extent of her choice was paying a supplemental fee to swap the main dish.

290.

At the very bottom sat three digits and a period, the three zeros omitted. Three hundred ninety thousand won per person. Before she'd even finished reeling at the fact of spending that much on a single meal, he asked, "Wine's all right, right?"

"No. It's not all right."

"Champagne, then?"

"No. Let's just eat tonight."

"Why? From what I saw last time, you can hold your liquor fine."

He tilted his head and slapped shut the drinks menu with a soft thap. Under lighting the warm color of an egg yolk, the watch on his wrist caught the glare and flashed. It was the watch she'd seen in that catalog before.

"Ah — that thing."

Feeling her gaze, he raised his left hand and gave it a light waggle.

"Thanks to you, I got sick of it."

He was short twenty-four thousand won of eighty-three million and couldn't buy it. The absurd joke surfaced, and a wry laugh escaped Hae-soo's lips before she knew it. What was she doing, trembling over a bottle worth a few hundred thousand won, in front of a man wearing a watch worth tens of millions? A faint flicker of self-disgust.

"It suits you."

Yeol gave a brief nod, as if that were the correct answer, and unfolded the drinks menu again to glance across at her.

"So — really no drinks, just dinner?"

"Drink if you want. I'm fine."

"What's the fun of drinking alone?"

"I……"

"Let's do champagne. You have to toast an acceptance."

He ordered the drinks from the attendant standing at his side after all. Hae-soo, who had been about to stop him, quietly shut her mouth at the words acceptance.

Oh. Right. That's right — I did get in. The way he kept reminding her of the very thing she herself had forgotten felt, somehow, grateful and tender.

"It'll be good. If it's not to your taste, just fake the toast."

"Okay."

"I should call your uncle and thank him."

"My uncle?"

"The vice president at your company."

Your company — as if she'd started work already, when orientation hadn't even begun. The absurdity of it pulled a laugh out of her.

"So the vice president is your uncle. That's the man who wore the sky-blue shirt that time, right?"

"Sky-blue? Was it?"