Love only truly flourishes between people who are alike. That’s the key to happiness. I agree with that. Similar values, similar family backgrounds, similar education levels, similar financial standing, similar levels of physical attractiveness. Like attracts like. I was a clever child who understood that this was the expressway to the happiness everyone sought.
And then, the year I turned seventeen, I realized I was in the midst of an extraordinary love. Maybe it had been love at first sight, and I was only now coming to terms with it. But because I prided myself on being rational and logical, I dismissed it as just a high schooler’s first crush and brushed it off without much thought.
Still, the feelings that were wound so tightly inside me blocked my throat and, in the end, choked me.
“Please take me to Sinsa Station.”
Now, I’m watching the city’s dawn scenery roll past me. A message, sudden and intrusive like an unplanned appointment, had stolen away my early morning peace.
After receiving it, I sat on my bed for a moment before getting up with a muttered curse. With no one at home except the housekeeper sleeping downstairs, there was no chance anyone would notice I was gone. So, I decided to go.
As I stood outside the gate waiting for a taxi, I noticed a motorcycle parked alone against the wall of the house across the alley. A year ago, the family next door had abruptly moved out, and a new family had moved in. But I’d never encountered them. Considering the neighborhood, with its high walls and private spaces, it wasn’t surprising. Judging from the motorcycle, I figured they probably had an older child, someone older than me.
That motorcycle was either casually left out in front of the gate or shoved into a corner of the alley, tightly chained up. Somehow, it reminded me of myself. I stared at it briefly before looking away and getting into the taxi.
During the ride, I kept my eyes on the window. But as someone who easily gets carsick, I eventually gave up and closed my eyes instead.
“...”
For some reason, I’d had trouble digesting food properly for about a year. With a sigh, I tried to ease the tightness lodged in my chest. I made a habit of ignoring emotions that unsettled me, and with enough effort, I’d managed to keep a composed façade all this time—just like I was now, stepping out of the taxi and heading into the hotel.
Inside, I bit my lip and clenched my fist before releasing it. I focused on the small piece of paper in my hand, found the number written on it, and approached the corresponding door. Slowly, I knocked three times.
“Hey, Han Junwoo. Open the door already.”
Silence greeted me from the other side. Irritated, I stared at the void for a moment before exhaling sharply. I pounded on the door again, this time with more force.
“I said, open the damn door!”
This situation—honestly, it was disgusting. Imagining what might’ve gone on in this room overnight made my skin crawl, but I couldn’t stop myself from knocking. Han Junwoo had asked me to come, and I was enduring this repulsive scene because he was the one who’d infected me with that first “illness.”
“Why the hell are you calling me when you’re off having some useless one-night stand, you worthless bastard?”
This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.
God, this is unbearable.
The life of an eighteen-year-old.