GBH 96

Choi Se-kyung, who had been busy confessing his feelings that had warmed like a low fever all summer, cleanly backed off after being rejected. Yi-heon should have felt relieved, but he couldn’t shake off an uneasy feeling, as if he hadn’t finished wiping himself. He even glanced suspiciously at Se-kyung, wondering if this might be another of his sophisticated strategies, but Se-kyung’s usual smiling demeanor was as peaceful as a demilitarized zone.

Se-kyung remained as kind as ever, escorting Yi-heon to the counseling room for his turn to discuss college admissions with the homeroom teacher, and saying he would wait in the library for Yi-heon to finish.

While waiting in the empty counseling room before Jung Eun-chae arrived, Yi-heon wasn’t as nervous as before. His grade report was both his shield and weapon. Yi-heon proudly placed his September mock exam results, which showed fairly good grades, on the table, suppressing the urge to grin childishly as he leaned back in his chair.

As the weight shifted backwards, the chair teetered precariously on its back two legs, supporting Yi-heon’s weight.

‘Why is Choi Se-kyung acting like this… I need to get those 5 minutes from him…’

As soon as the sliding door opened, Yi-heon straightened his chair. 

Jung Eun-chae was out of breath, as if she had been running.

 “Sorry I’m late, Yi-heon.”

“It’s fine, ma’am.”

It was the busiest time for third-year homeroom teachers. She hurriedly prepared for the consultation, spreading out Yi-heon’s school records, mock exam trend charts, and printouts of domestic university indicators on the table without overlapping them.

Looking at the widely spread materials, Eun-chae began the consultation with praise, “You studied hard during the summer vacation. Your mock exam scores improved a lot.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Though he had worked his ass off, Yi-heon couldn’t use such crude language in front of his angelic teacher, so he politely bowed with his hands together. Although he dozed off during homeroom and his uniform became increasingly disheveled, his respect for the teacher remained unchanged.

“If you maintain this tempo until the CSAT, you could easily get into a Seoul university.”

“S-Seoul?”

The soul of the late-blooming student who had received an average of 7th grade in last year’s CSAT was deeply moved. Wondering if this was what they meant by ‘even a mouse hole has its day in the sun’, Yi-heon bit his lip to suppress a rising cheer.

“Of course,” Eun-chae proudly patted Yi-heon’s shoulder. “Since your mock exam grades are good, you should aim for regular admissions. But the most important thing is the department you want to enter. Have you decided?”

“No, well…”

“You need to choose carefully. Don’t just match your grades. Think about what you really want to do, if it suits your aptitude, and consider your career path after graduating. You know, a moment’s choice can determine your whole life.”

Unlike Yi-heon, who deliberately avoided thinking about the distant future as he had to hand over his body when the original Yi-heon’s soul returned, Eun-chae considered even the far future after university graduation.

“The early admissions period is coming up soon… Due to Yi-heon’s one big, um, mistake in his school grades, and lack of extracurricular activities, the places where you can apply might be limited… but it’s not a bad idea to submit some applications as a safety net.”

Scanning Yi-heon’s student record, Eun-chae tried to maintain a hopeful tone despite her increasingly gloomy expression. She then shortlisted universities from the domestic options where Yi-heon could apply with his current grades.

“Gyeonggi province or other regions aren’t bad either. I could even submit a recommendation for you. Do you have any places in mind?”

The college admissions counseling, which had always ended with just a suggestion to think about it, was becoming more specific and pressured. Even the usually gentle Eun-chae seemed determined to get an answer today, silently urging Yi-heon with her gaze.

“Well…”

His hesitant voice came out softly. Eun-chae had to lean towards Yi-heon to make sure she hadn’t misheard.

“There is a department I’d like to go to…”

“What is it?”

In Eun-chae’s mind, the special admission processes she could recommend for various universities were quickly organized.

“It’s…” As if the original Yi-heon’s soul had returned, he hesitated, unable to continue speaking.

Wondering if it was too presumptuous for someone like him, who had lived as a gangster, to have such a dream, Yi-heon tensed his trembling legs. Although he knew Eun-chae wouldn’t mock him and would provide realistic options, it wasn’t easy to reveal the secret he had kept deep in his heart since his days as Kim Deuk-pal.

Applying to university was a freedom anyone could enjoy, and having a dream wasn’t something to be ashamed of, but life had subtly taught him to limit himself. Circumstances, social perceptions, and age had become hurdles blocking new challenges.

“It’s okay, Yi-heon.” Eun-chae guessed that Yi-heon’s hesitation was due to his confidence being severely shaken by the school violence he had experienced. 

Even though he seemed to be coping well, the trauma remained. It stayed like an invisible hurdle, blocking new challenges, and Eun-chae hoped Yi-heon would overcome it.

She didn’t want to see the students’ white star-like potential fade away without shining, and the white star-like potential that Jung Eun-chae thought of was actually something that everyone, regardless of age, carried within them.

“There’s a lot of talk about college admissions, but there’s always an awareness to make it fair. Especially the mock exam, everyone took it under the same conditions. Regardless of age or what you’ve been through, it’s a fair test of potential. If you did well there, it’s because of your ability, Yi-heon, so you can be proud.”

She pushed Song Yi-heon’s September mock exam results. The high grades were the result of studying day and night for two years, including last year. 

Encouraged by Jung Eun-chae, Song Yi-heon hesitantly gathered courage, “Um, here. I’d like to apply here…”

His unsure fingertip hesitantly pointed to a spot on the domestic university index.

“Oh, this is–” Jung Eun-chae’s smile became ambiguous as she confirmed the university Yi-heon had indicated.

* * *

Song Yi-heon, who had left at dawn when the stars were out, returned in the morning when birds were chirping. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead under the hood of his zip-up jacket, which he had pulled down low.

“Whew, whew…”

Having skipped his morning exercise for the past few days due to studying, he felt out of breath faster than usual after running for the first time in a while. Maintaining a regular breathing pattern to avoid overexertion, he jogged to the spring water station and back, causing the white undershirt he was wearing to become soaked and stick to his skin. Despite the discomfort, the refreshing feeling from the intense movement prevailed.

When he entered the house, the living room felt empty. At this time, Song Min-seo would usually be sitting on the living room sofa, blankly staring at the garden. As he looked around, he heard the sound of water coming from the kitchen. Following the sound to the kitchen, Yi-heon rubbed his eyes in disbelief, unsure if the person wearing an apron was really Song Min-seo.

She was preparing a foreign vegetable that looked like a green gourd. As she cut it in half, revealing the round seeds inside, Song Min-seo raised the kitchen knife high with her characteristically lifeless eyes, seemingly trying to remove the seeds. A bluish light glinted off the sharp knife.

Yi-heon, terrified, rushed over. “Your hand, your hand!”

“Oh my, madam!” The housekeeper, who had been anxiously hovering nearby, also lunged forward. 

But as if mocking their concern, Song Min-seo’s swinging blade accurately pierced the seed. Twisting the blade, she cleanly removed the seed and placed the avocado on the cutting board, slicing it diagonally. The knife blade narrowly missed her fingers by a paper-thin margin, making it more nerve-wracking for the onlookers.

Song Min-seo, who had been cutting mindlessly, looked at Song Yi-heon, who had collapsed on the bare floor with his legs giving out, as if he were pathetic, and barked, “Wash up.”

“…”

“We’re eating.”

It was a refreshing morning filled with the irregular sound of the cutting board.

* * *

Song Yi-heon went upstairs to the second floor and entered the shower room, taking off his top and tossing it into the laundry basket. His lean muscles rippled with his movements. He also threw off his training pants that hung on his protruding hip bones, and as he was about to enter the shower naked, the mirror at the sink caught his attention.

A boy who looked temperamental, as if glaring even when still, was staring back at him.

Being surprised by his reflection was a thing of the past. He had become so accustomed to Song Yi-heon’s face that he would be more startled if Kim Deuk-pal’s face were to appear instead. The face with the shaggy bangs he used to have had completely disappeared from his memory. He stroked his jaw on both sides, sensing a subtle change.

When he first entered Song Yi-heon’s body, his eyes weren’t this fierce, but perhaps because he had been going around seeking revenge against various people, his eyes had become upturned like a cat’s from the constant tensing. Staring back at his tense gaze as if in a staring contest, he muttered as if possessed:

“…I want to live like this.”

As Song Yi-heon, he wanted to live just as he was now.

Everything was going well. School was fun, and his grades were improving. Although applying for early admission might be difficult, he had heard hopeful predictions that he could be accepted into a Seoul university through regular admission. Song Min-seo’s condition was also improving, causing no issues in daily life. If things continued this way, the worry-free college life he had dreamed of seemed all but guaranteed.

No one would know. Now that everyone just thought the timid Song Yi-heon had changed, all he had to do was maintain this changed state. The only one looking for the original Song Yi-heon was Choi Se-kyung, and even Se-kyung might have turned a blind eye.

Choi Se-kyung had said he liked the soul inside Song Yi-heon, not Song Yi-heon himself. And he said he was anxious that the soul inside Song Yi-heon might leave. If he said nothing and acted as usual, he wouldn’t rush to ask when Song Yi-heon’s soul would return.

The reason, blurred at the boundary between Kim Deuk-pal and Song Yi-heon, had lost sight of the line that shouldn’t be crossed. The soul, muddied by the blurring of its own identity, coveted what it shouldn’t have.

A viscous desire raised its head.