“Jjang Nayun. When we debut, let’s eat three chocolate cream buns each.”
“We probably won’t be able to eat stuff like that once we debut, will we?”
“We’re going to eat them. What, are they going to cancel our debut just because we had some chocolate bread? I don’t want to eat alone and feel guilty, so you have to eat too, got it?”
“Okay. Then I’ll eat six in front of the CEO so you don’t have to feel guilty.”
“What is that supposed to be? Six? That’s just being a pig.”
They used to laugh all night, dreaming of the future together.
“Jjang Nayun. When we debut, let’s wear matching heart-shaped sunglasses and go hang out in Garosugil. If someone recognizes us, we’ll just say it’s not us.”
“Sure.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“You just say yes to everything.”
“I like everything you want to do.”
They were the kind of friends who promised to do everything together.
“...You awakened?”
“Yeah. They said I’m A-rank.”
“Wow. That’s so Jjang Nayun. You made it. Congratulations...”
But then, as soon as Nayun turned nineteen, she awakened—and between her high rank and her pretty face, public attention flooded in. That was when they started to drift apart.
Nayun tried to calm her racing heart.
She was so happy just to see Romi’s face again, even if it was like this. She wanted to run up and hug her right away, tell her how much she’d missed her.
But Romi’s face was tight with disapproval. Her voice came out cold.
“What are you doing here? Why’d you come?”
“Romi... I didn’t think I’d see you here. I even dropped by your agency a few times, but they kept saying you were busy. You should take care of yourself, you’re not that strong, remember?”
Romi clenched her teeth and turned her eyes away, folding her arms across her chest.
From the moment she saw Nayun again, it was like a fire ignited in her chest. She was furious.
Shin Nayun hadn’t changed at all. Not back then, not now. Still the same—still saying things that sounded kind, but without realizing how sharp they actually were. Still so clueless.
“Don’t tell me you shamelessly came here just to see me?”
“Oh, I came with someone I really care about. My little sister and Wooju met at the amusement park and got close. Can you believe that? Isn’t it crazy how they met like that?”
Nayun just kept smiling brightly, completely missing the sharp edge in Romi’s voice.
That unchanged, innocent face. It turned Romi’s stomach. She couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“What, you care about people now?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t care about anything. You’re only good at throwing things away.”
“What? That’s not true. There’s a lot I care about. Like you...”
Nayun’s gentle response made Romi’s lips twitch with contempt.
Nayun never understood. Never realized when someone’s words were laced with barbs.
“...What?”
“Why do you think I gave up singing to become an actress? Our debut team fell apart after you left. And now you think I’d want to see you?”
They had both been stuck in a small agency, just getting older while waiting for a debut that never came.
The company’s plans were constantly shifting, and when Nayun left, it gave them the perfect excuse to cancel the whole project.
“Nayun was pretty and danced well. She gave everything her best shot, so she stood out more. You need that kind of star power to debut successfully. But then she awakened, and poof—left without a care. That put the rest of us in a really tight spot.”
The CEO rambled on like that, even though Romi hadn’t asked. Something about business decisions and tough times. She didn’t bother to listen to the rest. She couldn’t.
The day Nayun left, Romi’s dreams ended too.
Everything they’d stayed up dreaming about... was gone.
“What are you even talking about...”
“You came to the agency? Said I was busy? Busy with what? I lost the debut and had to work part-time jobs. But you kept coming by. That’s why I told them to say I was busy.”
At first, it was embarrassment. She didn’t want to be seen like that—just some nobody—by Nayun, who was now basking in the spotlight. So she avoided her.
But as Nayun kept showing up at the agency’s door, what she started to feel next... was resentment.
Maybe she didn’t believe everything the CEO had said. But when you’re stuck in a hopeless place, it’s easy to pick up anything and twist it into a reason to justify your bitterness.
“I—I didn’t... I never meant for that to happen...”
Nayun blinked, those big eyes of hers fluttering in confusion.
Seeing that expression, a low, ugly thrill rose in Romi’s chest.
She sharpened her voice even more.
What now? Seeing you hurt is actually fun.
“Even with all that success, you still don’t know how to read a room, huh?”
“...I’m sorry.”
I don’t want to see your face anymore.
Thinking about all the attention that had been focused on Nayun earlier made her feel pathetic again.
That was the gap between them. A gap that still hadn’t closed.
Romi rubbed her chipped thumbnail.
No matter how hard she clawed her way up, Nayun’s place still felt far out of reach.
What am I supposed to do?
“You’re exactly the same. Not a single thing has changed, Jjang Nayun.”
Truthfully, the mission Teacher had given Romi was the easiest thing in the world for her.
Because I’ve known you since middle school.
Because I probably know you better than anyone else in the world.
Taking something from you was easier than stealing candy from a baby.
All she had to do was choose the right words—the ones that would hurt you the most.
“Do you know why your nickname was Jjang Nayun back in middle school?”
Just a little more...
Nayun lifted her head, her eyes meeting Romi’s.
“It’s because you were annoying. That’s why they called you Jjang Nayun.”
Nothing had ever been difficult for Nayun.
A life without struggles, without worries—no stress about grades, no complicated family history, no concerns about the future. Every day was simple, happy, effortless.
But to kids who were all going through their own tangled, difficult adolescences, someone like that was... alienating.
“You didn’t even know you were an outcast, did you? That’s why I had to drag you around.”
For a long moment, Nayun couldn’t speak.
It was a look Romi had never seen on her face before. Not once, in all the years she had known her.
“Romi... You really thought that?”
Nayun remembered the way Romi had always called her Jjang Nayun back then—so naturally, so casually.
That tiny dorm room with the beds crammed side by side. The dance studio, where they collapsed side by side, drenched in sweat. The nights they had shared a single pair of earphones, one bud in each of their ears.
“This song is amazing. I hope we get a debut song like this.”
“We could just ask for something similar, right?”
“Oh, come on. Do you think life’s always gonna be that easy? Ugh, you’re such a Jjang Nayun... Wait, what? Why are you smiling?”
“I like it when you call me that.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we’re the only ones who use that nickname. It makes us look like best friends.”
“God, you’re so simple. Fine, if you like it so much, I’ll keep saying it. Jjang Nayun. Jjang Nayun. Jjang Nayun.”
Romi finally spoke.
“Yes.”
Nayun’s hand instinctively pressed against her chest.
Her heart had plummeted, like it had dropped straight into her stomach.
People often told her she lacked fear, that she didn’t get nervous enough. It was something that actually made her a strong Hunter—helped her make calm, rational decisions in combat.
But when it came to personal relationships, it was a flaw.
It meant she didn’t always pick up on the nuances of situations the way other people did.
It meant she wasn’t as sensitive to the emotional undercurrents in a room.
And right now, her mouth felt dry, as if it had been stuffed with sand.
“I always hated you, Jjang Nayun.”
[Skill ‘Black Leaves in the Mouth’ has been activated.]
[Entering critical debuff state.]
Her entire body locked up, as if she had stepped into a thick, sticky swamp.
Her tongue felt like a stone in her mouth.
Then, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} suddenly, she felt it—her mana draining out of her, pulled away like a thread unraveling.
The swamp rose up to her throat, suffocating her.
I... can’t move.
For a split second, Romi actually looked startled.
And then—
A woman’s voice echoed in Romi’s mind, laced with soft, rippling laughter.
—Your friend... has such a wonderful body.
A voice as smooth and delicate as glass beads rolling across a silver tray.
Teacher?
Romi knew instantly.
Even without seeing her, she knew that the voice belonged to Teacher.
Nayun blinked in confusion, but before she could process what was happening, Romi stepped closer—reaching out to tilt her chin up.
“You must be that Nayun. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Nayun stood frozen, her eyes locked onto Romi’s lips as they moved.
But this wasn’t Romi.
The voice was Romi’s. But the way she spoke, the way she looked at her—it was completely different.
A chill crashed through Nayun’s head like a hammer.
Something was very, very wrong.

Comments

Loading...