Mu-ryeong recalled the small hand he had held. Was it always in pain, he wondered? The tiny frame looked fragile, as though it could collapse at any moment. His round, wide-open eyes were full of fear, much like a country mouse lost in an unfamiliar world.
“Drunk driving is the problem,” Seung-joo clicked his tongue in annoyance. From the brief explanation, he already had a pretty good idea of what had happened. The dead rarely speak, and it’s Mu-ryeong who takes on the burden of their pain, hearing their unspoken voices.
“People like that are potential murderers.”
Instead of arguing, Mu-ryeong simply nodded. People who threaten others often had deeply troubled lives, both during their time alive and after their deaths, continuing to make others’ lives miserable even after they were gone.
“What do the reapers do? They don’t even catch people like that, and they keep missing spirits.”
“That’s...”
Mu-ryeong, who had started to sympathize, stopped himself, letting out a small chuckle. Seung-joo wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t feel right to just blindly agree with him. After all, catching those kinds of people wasn’t the only issue—reapers were overworked and had to deal with countless souls, so it wasn’t entirely their fault they missed some.
Of course, Mu-ryeong didn’t particularly like reapers either.
“So, is that why your expression’s so bad?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been looking like a mess since this morning.”
Mu-ryeong absentmindedly rubbed his face, thinking he’d been hiding his emotions well. It seemed, though, that deceiving Seung-joo was a bit too much. Seeing his expression, Seung-joo smiled knowingly and raised an eyebrow.
“Still thinking about that guy?”
The day the request with Hwan-young had ended, Seung-joo had heard the general story. More accurately, he had picked up on Mu-ryeong’s distant look and had insisted on hearing all about it.
“You said you were canceling the request, right?”
Seung-joo had been baffled by Mu-ryeong’s change of heart. From a third-party perspective, Seung-joo knew that Mu-ryeong didn’t dislike Hwan-young, even though it had only been a short time. He had seen Mu-ryeong slowly open up to him in just one week.
“If it was something dangerous enough to be a problem, Mu-yeon should have contacted your sister and backed off. Why bother worrying so much about someone like that?”
It’s easy to disregard the seriousness of a malevolent spirit that can’t be seen directly, but it had bothered Seung-joo to see his friend struggling for days.
“The request is one thing...”
Mu-ryeong lowered his voice and looked down as if remembering something from the past. It was last week when he had sent Seung-joo home early and gone to Class 3 of Year 2.
“I just have something on my mind.”
When Mu-ryeong had gone to visit him, Hwan-young had been sitting in the empty classroom, staring out at the sunset beyond the window, with his eyes closed, breathing gently. It had been so peaceful that Mu-ryeong could have mistaken it for a still frame from a movie.
“Hwan-young stays in the classroom for a long time after school, doesn’t he?”
“I guess he doesn’t like the crowds on the way home.”
“I thought so too, but...”
At first, Mu-ryeong had gone there with the intention of dealing with a malevolent spirit. Like before, he had planned to separate the spirit from Hwan-young by any means necessary, to prevent him from being harmed and to stop anyone else from getting hurt.
“But that didn’t seem to be it.”
However, he was drawn to the peaceful scene and couldn’t take his eyes off it. The small smile on Hwan-young’s lips wasn’t a sign of passing time—it looked too serene, too comfortable. Mu-ryeong had never seen that side of him since they’d met.
Instead of speaking, Mu-ryeong had quietly observed. He watched for a day, then two, then three, until four days had passed. Throughout the week, he had helplessly watched from a distance. During that time, not once had he seen a malevolent spirit. Only the growing mystery surrounding Hwan-young had lingered.
“I said I wanted to try until I couldn’t anymore.”
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So why had he suddenly canceled the request?
It was clear that the calmness Mu-ryeong had witnessed seemed more like a break, but Mu-ryeong still felt uneasy. It didn’t seem like the situation had been resolved. Instead, it felt as though Hwan-young had given up, letting everything go with resignation.
“I think I’d regret it if I just gave up.”
Mu-ryeong, though perhaps meddling in things that didn’t concern him, was the kind of person who wouldn’t compromise on what he believed was right. If it didn’t harm others, he was willing to put in as much time and effort as necessary.
“Why are you working so hard for someone who doesn’t even like you?”
“Does Ki Hwan-young dislike me?”
Seung-joo sighed, and Mu-ryeong asked, confused, what he meant by that. Then, with a playful grin, Mu-ryeong added:
“He doesn’t dislike me.”
His smile was bright and confident. Seung-joo fell silent, realizing that he didn’t believe Hwan-young had canceled the request because he disliked Mu-ryeong.
***
After the assembly, Mu-ryeong immediately lay down to catch up on the sleep he had missed. He didn’t actually fall asleep but merely closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was already time for the second class. Still groggy, he looked up to see the teacher standing at the podium.
“Oh, I must have left it in the front class...”
The teacher for the second period was frowning, flipping through the textbook in search of missing materials. Mu-ryeong, covering his mouth, hid behind the back of his classmate’s seat and let out a big yawn.
“Class president, could you go to Class 3 of Year 2 and grab the printouts for me?”
“...Teacher!”
In an instant, Mu-ryeong sprang to his feet. It was as soon as he heard “Class 3” mentioned that his body reacted. The class president, who had been half-awakened, was so startled by the commanding tone that he quickly turned around.
“I’ll go get it!” the class president declared.
If asked why, there was no special reason—just the thought of casually checking in, seeing everyone’s face, and making sure that all was well. Seung-joo shot him a disapproving look, but pretended not to notice as he left the classroom.
[2-3]
In front of the familiar classroom, Mu-ryeong knocked on the door and swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t fathom why he was so nervous; when he pressed a hand to his chest, he could clearly feel his heart pounding.
“Come in,” a voice invited.
Click—the sound of the door opening rang out louder than usual today. Stealthily, Mu-ryeong peered into the room through the narrow gap, careful not to draw attention. As expected, Hwan-young was sitting by the window, gazing blankly outside.
“Hey, Mu-ryeong. What’s up?” Hwan-young asked.
“The teacher mentioned that some materials were left behind,” Mu-ryeong replied, his smile warm as he approached the teacher’s desk. For a moment, he thought Hwan-young had glanced his way when his name was called, but the latter had quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere.
“Is this what you mean?” Hwan-young inquired, nodding toward the heap of printouts neatly piled beside the desk—prepared in advance, no doubt. Their conspicuous presence made one wonder how they could have been overlooked. With both hands, Mu-ryeong picked up the printouts and greeted cheerfully, “Then I’ll go on my way.”
“Alright,” Hwan-young answered.
When Mu-ryeong looked up again, Hwan-young was no longer watching him. A small pang of disappointment tugged at him as he began to walk away. Even though the request was finished, it didn’t mean their connection had to end. Did it really have to be this indifferent? Maybe he should ask Hwan-young to have lunch together later. With that thought in mind, as he stepped out the door, his foot suddenly caught on the doorframe.
“...!”
Reflexively, Mu-ryeong extended his other foot and planted it firmly on the floor. Though his knee buckled as if he were about to fall, the printouts he carried remained safe.
He managed to regain his balance just in time, but the embarrassment that washed over him belatedly was hard to shake.
“Ah, Mu-ryeong, are you okay?” someone called out.
“Y-yes...” he stammered, mortified.
Oh dear—what was he to do? He was so embarrassed.
Blushing deeply, Mu-ryeong glanced back into the classroom. Most of the onlooking eyes were filled with concern, though he noticed a few students snickering. Among them, he suddenly spotted someone who had nearly risen from his seat; his eyes widened in surprise.
“...”
“...”
It was Hwan-young. He had gotten up from his seat, his eyes wide with alarm as he looked in Mu-ryeong’s direction, his hand resting on the desk as if he were ready to rush over at any moment—clearly distressed by the sight of Mu-ryeong nearly falling.
“Hwan-young, why did you get up? Sit down quickly,” Mu-ryeong urged.
Hwan-young said nothing and quietly settled back into his seat. Though he pretended not to notice and averted his gaze, Mu-ryeong couldn’t quite forget the expression he’d seen a moment earlier. Forcing his lips into a faint smile, he gave a small nod and closed the classroom door behind him.
...
What did Seung-joo say? That if someone truly disliked you, they wouldn’t be so worked up over a near-fall, wouldn’t act all nonchalant, nor watch you as you leave.
“Really, it’s not like that...” Mu-ryeong muttered to himself. If Hwan-young truly disliked him, he wouldn’t have reacted so dramatically just because Mu-ryeong almost tripped.
As he headed toward Class 7, Mu-ryeong couldn’t shake the memory of Hwan-young’s face from earlier. Why had he canceled the request? The unresolved question tormented him.
***
By the time lunch ended, a change had been made to the afternoon schedule. One class was dropped and replaced with Physical Education. Everyone was genuinely excited—students had scurried off to get their gym uniforms and put them on. Even Mu-ryeong, who always kept a spare uniform handy, eagerly discarded his dress shirt.
On the playground, students from other classes had already gathered in a noisy cluster, chatting animatedly. Following the lead of the PE team captain, Mu-ryeong lined up and glanced around at his companions: most were friends, some were students he recognized only by face, a couple he’d never even exchanged a word with, and there was even someone who always seemed a head taller than the rest.
“Looks like Class 3 has gym too,” Seung-joo remarked, draping an arm over Mu-ryeong’s shoulder. And sure enough, at the edge of his vision stood Ki Hwan-young, dressed in his gym uniform.