The Best of Tomorrow-Chapter 3Vol 2. .4

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Seon-jae pulled down the scarf and lifted his head, scanning the outside of the building. The brick exterior had no balconies, just windows spaced evenly apart.

“This is it?”

“Yeah.”

He tilted his head back as if counting the floors, then brought it level again.

“You live alone?”

He asked with a puzzled expression. I blinked and gave a small nod. His face hardened slightly as he handed the scarf back to me.

“...Why? I’ve been living alone for a while now.”

I took the scarf from his hand and loosely wrapped it around my neck.

“You shouldn’t go home drunk when there’s no one waiting for you.”

As I pulled the scarf up under my nose, I caught a faint trace of Seon-jae’s scent. I blinked and looked at him.

What’s that got to do with anything? I’ve been drinking for years.

We held eye contact in silence before Seon-jae glanced away, like he regretted saying it. Fiddling with the handle of my basket, I stepped over the entrance threshold.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

At my words, Seon-jae gave a slight nod. I stepped into the building and headed toward the stairs, glancing back briefly—he was still standing there, both hands stuffed in the pockets of his padded jacket.

Why isn’t he leaving?

Just like when my grandmother waved her hand in the air saying, Go on, get going, as I left the countryside, I motioned with my hand, shooing him. But Seon-jae only nodded slightly again, not budging. Feeling awkward, I turned away and climbed the stairs.

I hadn’t even gone up a few steps when the second-floor front door burst open. A young woman came out, adjusting her coat as she descended. My eyes widened, and my heart sank.

Just before the wide-open door closed, I saw it—inside, on the wall: a bromide poster of Seo Yun-jae.

I spun on my heel and dashed back down the stairs.

I knew it.

Of course Seon-jae was still standing there. My mouth dropped open. I heard footsteps clicking down the stairs—getting closer.

His face turned toward me as if asking, Why are you coming back down?

Why are you still here?!

I grabbed Seon-jae’s arm and ran. Thankfully, he followed without resistance. Once we exited the alley, Seon-jae dug his heels in and stopped.

“What? What is it?”

Still holding his arm, I turned toward him.

“Oh, it’s just...”

As I started to explain, I saw over his shoulder—the woman from the apartment had exited and was walking in our direction. I hurriedly unwrapped the scarf from my neck and haphazardly wrapped it around Seon-jae’s face, paying no mind to how it looked.

“What the—?”

He muttered, annoyed, but I yanked his arm again. I didn’t have time to let him finish speaking.

We pressed ourselves against the glass door of a closed hair salon, hiding as best we could. I flattened my back to the door and peeked out.

Nobody.

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and turned to see Seon-jae staring down at me with an expression that said he was completely lost.

“What? Why haven’t you left yet? Don’t you have somewhere to be? Just call a taxi and go.”

“I was about to.”

Despite saying so, Seon-jae hadn’t moved. His eyes dropped downward. I followed his gaze.

We were still holding hands.

“Oh my god!”

Like I’d touched something I wasn’t supposed to, I flung his hand away and took a step back. Seon-jae stared silently as if analyzing my startled reaction.

The cold air stung my cheeks. A puff of white breath escaped from between my parted lips. I hurried to straighten my expression and cleared my throat to mask the awkwardness.

“Your hands are cold.”

“Huh? Oh.”

“I said your hands are cold.”

Seon-jae turned to face me and scanned my face. Then he reached out—his fingers brushed past my cheek and skimmed my ear. I reflexively squeezed my eyes shut.

What the hell, Im Sol. Why are you closing your eyes?!

But then I felt him touch my hair. I snapped my eyes open.

“Jeez. It’s frozen stiff.”

I followed his hand with my gaze. My hair, still wet from not drying it after the bath, had frozen into stiff strands.

Seon-jae unwrapped his scarf and gently draped it around my neck. Warmth spread across my skin.

“I’m really leaving now.”

He took a step back. I nodded and glanced around again. Seeing that, Seon-jae chuckled and muttered to himself, “Told you—I’m not that famous,” and turned to walk away.

I watched his retreating figure, then slowly lifted my left hand.

I... held Seon-jae’s hand.

My heart pounded. I almost clutched my chest with the same hand—but stopped. No. I can’t taint this hand. I didn’t even put it in my pocket. I just left it floating in the air.

On my way home, my basket felt oddly light.

Strange.

I looked down.

Some of my bath items were missing.

I frowned and lifted my head. Something was lying on the street up ahead. And next to it—another item.

When I got closer, I realized they were my shampoo and conditioner. I must’ve spilled them when I whipped the basket around while running.

I bent over and picked them up. Just as I grabbed the conditioner, I froze.

It was in my left hand.

Five minutes. That’s how long it lasted.

I sighed and walked back into the building, basket in hand. I stopped at the base of the stairs and looked out toward the street.

Where Seon-jae had stood was now empty.

Suddenly, the image of him standing outside Jagam Snack Shop looking at me came to mind. My chest tightened inexplicably. I let my lips curl downward into a faint frown and climbed the stairs.

I pulled out my phone and turned on the screen.

Double-tapping the home button brought up recently used apps. As I was swiping them closed, I saw the message window.

Seon-jae’s message was still open.

[Chun-baek. Do you still not know how to answer a call?]

I stopped on the stairs and reread the message, then did some mental math. I checked the message’s timestamp, then opened my call log to confirm the time I had called Seon-jae.

The message had arrived before the call.

Student Chun-baek. Someone’s coming, so no need to call an ambulance.

I remembered what the woman holding my phone had said.

And the phone icon beside Seon-jae’s name meant I had called him.

More precisely: she had.

It finally made sense.

The woman must have opened my locker, seen the incoming message from Seon-jae, and called him herself.

Mouth slightly agape, I stared at the remaining stairs.

□ ■ □

I clocked out side by side with Shim Won-jun, both of us worn out from overtime. For the past few days, PD Kim Myeong-hyeok had been giving him a hard time, and dark shadows clung beneath his eyes. He looked so worn down by life that I found myself patting his shoulder without thinking. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

If our company were a battlefield, then Shim Won-jun and I were foot soldiers. Parts of the field exploded and killed us daily, but we opened our eyes again, returned to the moment before death, and went right back into battle. Over and over again. That loop only ended when you handed in your resignation. Maybe that’s why we’d naturally developed a sense of camaraderie—something that simply formed over time. It was an inevitable bond, really, considering how PD Kim Myeong-hyeok alternated between the two of us, chewing us out like it was on a schedule.

At the fork in the road, Shim Won-jun came to a stop.

“See you tomorrow, Sol-ssi...”

“...Yeah. Get home safe.”

When I gave a polite nod, he dipped his head deeply in return. Slowly lifting our upper bodies, we turned and headed off in opposite directions.

I was walking toward the bus stop when my eyes were caught by a pojangmacha (street food tent) set up on the corner. Steam billowed from the gap in the orange tarp.

“Udon? That sounds good.”

The night was cold, and I hadn’t eaten a proper dinner, so hunger was creeping in. Rubbing my stomach, I stared at the orange tarp enclosing the stall. I remembered someone once saying, If you’re debating whether to eat or not—eat. Glancing behind me, I spotted Shim Won-jun, who I thought had already gone his way. But he had stopped a few steps away, also looking at the pojangmacha. Our eyes met—and we burst out laughing.

“Wanna eat?” I asked.

Shim Won-jun nodded.

We pushed aside the tarp and stepped inside. Five plastic tables were set up, and two middle-aged men were already drunk, bickering over who should pay the bill. We avoided them and sat at a table tucked in the corner.

“Ma’am, two bowls of udon, please!”

“Sure! Any alcohol?”

I hadn’t intended to drink. But somehow, I ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ glanced at Shim Won-jun as if silently asking for permission. He blinked once—what looked like a yes.

“One bottle of soju, please!”

“Alright, just a moment!”

I tucked both hands between my thighs and exhaled. A puff of white breath floated in front of me. My cheeks and nose tingled with the cold. Just eat a bowl of udon quickly and head home, I thought, blowing out warm breaths again and again.

The two bowls of udon were soon placed in front of us. It was so cold outside that the steam rising from the bowls looked solid. I twisted open the soju bottle, poured a drink, and filled our glasses.

“Sol-ssi, thanks for being the bullet shield today. It’s probably my turn tomorrow.”

“We’ve got to take turns getting hit or we won’t recover...”

I let out a bitter laugh and clinked glasses with him. One shot down, a spoonful of udon broth, and it felt like a reward for surviving the day.

“This is delicious.”

“Right?”

“This must be why people work—to eat like this.”

“Just figured that out?”

Wearing a half-crying expression, I picked up my chopsticks. A bite of udon, a shot of soju, another bite of udon, another shot. The alcohol hit quickly, maybe because I was tired, or because I was drinking fast. My body flushed with heat.

Shim Won-jun ordered another bottle of soju and left to use the restroom. He had to use the bathroom inside a nearby building, so it would take some time.

“Miss, I’m going to lift this side for a second—I need to tidy up.”

“Oh, that’s fine.”

I smiled and nodded, and the ajumma thanked me before peeling back part of the tarp. A cold gust blew in through the opening, making me shiver.

“Oof, so cold.”

Music drifted from a radio mounted beside the menu board. I perked up at a familiar tune. Rocking side to side, I let myself get lost in the rhythm, as if tipsy from the music as much as the drink. The ajumma didn’t return right away, so I was left alone in the pojangmacha—perfect timing for a little singing.

Holding a spoon like a mic, I sang along.

My brows furrowed in earnest emotion.

“Woo~ the one who left~ woo~ comes to mind~ woo~ the one who turned away~ woo~ comes to mind~”

I kept mumbling along with the lyrics. I was ready to sing the next track too, but a commercial came on. Still, I knew the jingle by heart and sang that too.

After singing even the commercial jingle, I smacked my lips and set the spoon down with regret. I chewed on a yellow radish slice and filled my shot glass again. As I watched the stream of soju fill the glass—

Someone dragged a chair over and sat down across from me.

I blinked hard and looked up. My alcohol-blurred vision took a few blinks to focus. Slowly, the person sitting in front of me became clear.

My eyes went round.

“I just happened to be passing by and saw you.”

“...You were just passing by here?”

Seon-jae sat there with both hands in his pockets, nodding slightly.

“You smell like alcohol.”

“...I drank, so yeah, of course I do.”

“When are you going home?”

“I’ll go after I finish this.”

With that, I closed my mouth, and only the sound of the radio filled the air. We stared at each other in silence.

Then, without a word, Seon-jae reached over, grabbed my glass, and drank it. Just like that—no hesitation.

I blinked in shock.

“What are you doing?”

He’d shown up out of nowhere and stolen my drink. I was too stunned to react, but Seon-jae calmly grabbed the soju bottle and filled the glass again, then drank it down.

His brow twitched ever so slightly as the last shot slid down his throat. He wiped his mouth with his thumb, completely unfazed. Drinking soju like that with no side dishes—what was he thinking?

“Your house isn’t even on a main road. Go home before it gets any later.”

“...Is that why you drank all this?”

“It’s not the only reason.”

“Are you good at drinking? You okay after that?”

Seon-jae stared straight at me with a blank face.

“I’m good at most things.”

I hadn’t asked because I was impressed—I meant are you okay drinking like that, but his immediate answer left me speechless.

What a guy, I thought, meeting his gaze in silence.

Then his lips moved again.

“I’m best at waiting.”

“....”

I froze. Best at waiting. Wasn’t that... exactly what I’d done? His eyes looked like they were holding the night itself—so deep, as if even sadness was buried somewhere far beneath, never to be shown.

Just then, the ajumma came back with her bucket.

“Guess I better get up before I start saying nonsense.”

Seon-jae stood and walked to the counter. He handed over cash.

“Hey! Why are you paying?!”

I jumped up and ran over, but clearly fed up with earlier arguments from drunk customers, the ajumma snatched his money and gave him change without hesitation.

I was speechless. We were the ones who ordered and ate everything—why are you paying?

Seon-jae pocketed the change and looked down at me.

“I’ve got a question.”

“...What is it?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Wha...?”

I blinked in surprise. My eyes darted to the side. The ajumma smirked and walked out holding a sack of onions.

“Ah, youth is nice,” she muttered to herself.

Seon-jae’s expression was unreadable, but his pupils—shimmering under the lights—trembled slightly.

“No... I don’t.”

A soft flush rose on Seon-jae’s cheeks. He bit his bottom lip, then said a short “Okay” and walked out of the pojangmacha.

I stared after him, stunned.

What... was that?

One hand pressed to my chest. Just then, the tarp peeled back and Shim Won-jun came in.

“Oh? Are you leaving?”

I dumbly nodded. He sat down, lifted a bottle, and looked surprised.

“You drank all this by yourself?”

“...Apparently.”

I numbly nodded again and returned to my seat. My fingers clutched the edge of my coat. A chill wind seeped in through the gap in the tarp.