GBH 97

The altered present was the work of Kim Deuk-pal’s soul. It was because he was Kim Deuk-pal’s soul that he was able to handle situations where the original Song Yi-heon would have been dragged along by reality and unfairly treated.

Even if the original Song Yi-heon’s soul returned, it wouldn’t be able to handle the changed reality. If that’s the case, it might be more beneficial for both parties if Kim Deuk-pal lived on behalf of Song Yi-heon’s soul.

His increasingly dark pupils were consumed by greed. Falling into vile rationalization, he coveted Song Yi-heon’s body. It would be easy. Even if Song Yi-heon’s soul returned, he could pretend not to know, and no one would find out. Even if it were Choi Se-kyung, he wouldn’t know whether Song Yi-heon’s soul had returned or not.

No one knows. Even if he continues to live in Song Yi-heon’s body, pretending to be Song Yi-heon, no one would know.

Even in the moment of facing the mirror, he was becoming tainted with the desire to steal Song Yi-heon’s life.

Slap-!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh was as merciless as a whip striking hard. Song Yi-heon’s head turned as he slapped his own cheek. The vile greed disappeared from the boy’s reflection in the mirror.

“You crazy bastard.”

‘Crazy bastard, stone-cold bastard, son of a bitch…’

Between each comma as he cursed himself, he fiercely slapped his cheek. Even though he was hitting his own cheek, he didn’t loosen his hand. His cheek, unable to withstand the force, turned red, and a tangy taste spread in his mouth. Only when his heated cheek lost sensation did he turn on the cold water and splash it on himself. Even as the cold water hit his wounded cheek, spreading a stinging pain, he didn’t whine.

Although he had only hit his cheek, his rough breathing echoed off the bathroom tile walls. Song Yi-heon, wiping the haphazardly flowing water from his chin, looked in the mirror and heaved his swollen back. 

And he implored, “You just need to come back.”

He firmly nailed it down so that Song Yi-heon’s soul, floating somewhere, couldn’t think of anything else.

“Don’t think of anything else, just come back safely. Understand?”

He hadn’t yet felt the sense of loss of the body and soul disconnecting that he had experienced when Kim Deuk-pal’s body burned. It meant that this body and Song Yi-heon’s soul were still connected. Song Yi-heon’s soul is somewhere. Whether he’s not mentally prepared to return to reality yet, or if there’s something more he wants resolved, his intentions were unclear, but Song Yi-heon’s soul was definitely there.

“Make sure you come.” He implored again. It was a warning to himself and self-imposed shackles to prevent him from coveting the boy’s body.

* * *

If there was a small change in Song Yi-heon’s monotonous daily routine of eating and studying since the second semester began, it was that instead of playing a game of soccer after lunch, he had to go to the manga club room.

The manga club students ultimately had to recreate the panels. Since the students weren’t restoration experts and couldn’t restore the drawings painted with dark-colored paint, they had to scrape everything off and draw anew. Song Yi-heon, the culprit behind the incident, volunteered to help with the coloring.

Laughter could be heard through the open door of the club room.

“You’re here?” Se-kyung, sitting like a flower’s stamen at the center of the laughing group, waved his hand. 

Se-kyung, who had made his pretty face widely known on campus as the student council president last year, was mingling comfortably with the club kids with her characteristic kindness.

“Why are you here?”

“Just visiting?”

Even though Song Yi-heon asked bluntly, Se-kyung just smiled like a flower.

Choi Se-kyung, whose confession was exposed in the library, remained unchanged in his kindness. He helped with studies and patiently explained how to use the kiosk machine when he stumbled, without making fun of him. He would put an arm around his shoulder but avoided excessive physical contact. Since the confession in the library, any mention of liking him had disappeared like a midsummer night’s dream.

While feeling bewildered, Song Yi-heon partly thought it might be for the best.

Se-kyung’s influence was part of why he coveted Song Yi-heon’s body. It’s fun being with Choi Se-kyung. The joy of improving grades was satisfying, and he could act comfortably since his true identity was known. As his desire to maintain a good relationship with Se-kyung grew, it somewhat connected to the greed of wanting to possess Song Yi-heon’s body.

When he’s with Choi Se-kyung… he doesn’t want to leave.

As awareness struck, he first resolved to distance himself from Se-kyung. Song Yi-heon also acted as if Se-kyung’s confession had never happened. Although he was curious about what Se-kyung was up to, he didn’t ask. Curiosity easily led to interest, and when interest crossed over into understanding or empathy, people generally called it affection or love.

It would be enough if later, Choi Se-kyung, when old, could tell his grandchildren, “When I was in high school, there was this peculiar classmate…”

Song Yi-heon lifted his chin strictly, trying to draw a line with Se-kyung. Unfortunately, Song Yi-heon didn’t have a stern impression, so a female student scurried over and lightly pressed the gauze covering Song Yi-heon’s cheek, surprised. It was a wound Song Yi-heon had inflicted on himself by slapping his own face.

“Oh no, what happened to your cheek?”

Song Yi-heon had already been feeling uneasy about this on his way to school. Usually, Choi Se-kyung would have removed the gauze to check the wound, but he only asked if he was okay without any other reaction, which couldn’t have felt worse.

He knew that removing the gauze to check the wound would be an unusual act, but becoming ordinary to Choi Se-kyung was more unpleasant than expected.

“I got a little hurt.”

Not welcoming the girl’s concern, Song Yi-heon tried to brush it off and lightly kicked Se-kyung’s indoor shoes.

“If you’re done playing around, you should go.”

“Ah, hyung. Why are you treating Se-kyung sunbae like that?”

“I’m ‘hyung’ to you, but why is he ‘Sunbae’?”

If we’re being technical, Song Yi-heon, with his older soul, should be the one addressed with respect. However, the male student just grinned cheerfully.

“Hehe, it’s because we’re close, hyung. Why would I be so formal with you?”

In short, he called him “hyung” because he felt comfortable with him. After ruining the panels and making them redraw everything, Song Yi-heon felt guilty and secretly ordered delivery food a few times when the teacher wasn’t around. Despite their initial shyness, they quickly became close enough to use familiar terms.

Thinking it would be ridiculous to demand respect from high school students, Song Yi-heon responded casually and looked for a brush. His assigned task was the simple labor of coloring in the faintly penciled areas under strict supervision, lest he ruin things again.

The boy who kept calling him “hyung” scurried over and crouched next to Song Yi-heon. “Color quickly. The festival is coming soon. Today’s quota is from here to here.”

“Hasn’t it increased?”

“Oh, hyung. You noticed. Sharp, aren’t you?”

Such a small kid already knows how to boss people around. While Choi Se-kyung’s group was like a school drama with all their laughter, this side felt more like a real-life work experience. As Se-kyung’s laughter grated on his nerves, Song Yi-heon tried to follow the boy’s instructions. However, this “real-life experience” felt more like manual labor.

“Hyung. Do it properly. Don’t mess up like before. If you color the dark colors first, they’ll mix. Ah, hyung! What are you doing coloring there again!”

The boy, who was apparently preparing for art school entrance exams, skillfully scraped off the area Song Yi-heon had colored incorrectly with a palette knife. Unlike regular paint, the thick textured paint used on the panels was cleaned off, but the boy, now enjoying his nagging role, stuck close to Song Yi-heon, testing his patience.

“Hey, you.”

Unable to bear it any longer, Song Yi-heon tensed his eyes and thrust his face close to the boy’s. Being right next to him, their nose hairs were almost touching.

“Y-yes…?”

Unlike earlier when Song Yi-heon’s attempt at sternness seemed trivial, now that he was growling fiercely, the boy became intimidated.

The close proximity was part of the reason. Up close, Song Yi-heon’s irises were pale and clear. Thinking that his skin, which showed no visible pores, must be soft, the boy gulped. Song Yi-heon had created such an intense atmosphere that even swallowing required caution.

“Cut me some slack. It’s because my eyes are blurry.”

Though Song Yi-heon’s body was young, the complaining nature ingrained in his soul slipped out. 

The relieved boy also whined playfully, “Ah, what’s with you? You really scared me.”

As the boy rubbed shoulders with Song Yi-heon in a friendly manner, Song Yi-heon thought he might escape this “real-life work experience,” but another obstacle appeared.

“Do-young, teach me too. How do you do this?” Choi Se-kyung approached, calling the boy’s name who was rubbing shoulders with Song Yi-heon. 

Se-kyung put his arm around the boy’s shoulder and squeezed into the narrow space, pushing Song Yi-heon to the side. 

Grumpily, Song Yi-heon tried to shoo Se-kyung away. “You go back and continue playing.”

“How can I when my friend is working hard alone?” The kind Se-kyung used a way of speaking that made the person trying to chase him away seem like the bad guy.

“Then go do it over there. It’s cramped here.”

“Do-young, can you give me a brush?”

“I said go away.”

“Do-young, this paint is unusual. Can you show me how to handle it?”

“Hey, can’t you hear me?”

“Yi-heon, sorry, but can you move over a bit? It’s cramped here.”

Although it was Choi Se-kyung who had squeezed into the narrow space between Do-young and Song Yi-heon, he was now unreasonably asking him to move. It was a friendly request, but it clearly meant he had no intention of moving. Not only was he ignoring his words, but his unnecessary stubbornness felt like a challenge. 

Angered, Song Yi-heon slammed his fist down.

“Hey!”

That was all. He had only slammed his fist on the panel, but for some reason, the flat brush he was holding flew through the air. And as if Murphy’s law was at work, it flew right at Choi Se-kyung. The bristles of the brush, covered in paint, stuck to Se-kyung’s chest before falling onto his uniform pants.

“……”

Both Se-kyung with his droopy, puppy-like eyes and Song Yi-heon with his upturned, cat-like eyes stared at each other with wide eyes.