episode_0167

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So Ji-yoon didn’t actually have weird tastes after all!

That’s what I wanted to believe, at least.

But it wasn’t as easy as I thought.

My initial resolution had been this:

If Ji-yoon said she didn’t have those kinds of tastes, I’d stop prying and just accept it.

But now… what should I even say?

I asked, “It’s not you, right?”

And she replied, “Yeah.”

And then it felt like I patted her on the back and said, “Alright! Let’s do our best!”

“Ugh…”

I try not to dwell on it, but the thought keeps creeping up—what if?—and I have to beat it back down with a mental mallet before it resurfaces.

But now, two identical thoughts pop up elsewhere, and I end up just squeezing the innocent picnic drink I just bought.

If I grip it too hard, it might burst, so I have to control my strength—lightly, lightly.

Honestly, who actually answers honestly when asked about their porn preferences?

If Ji-yoon had asked me, “Noona, what kind of porn do you watch?”

I’d have buried the truth (“I only watch ones with huge dicks—”) deep in my heart and instead babbled something about romance, simplicity, sweating bullets the whole time.

“Haaa…”

Was asking her outright about her porn tastes too much?

Maybe next time Ji-yoon leaves the house saying she’s going to a PC bang with Woo-jin, I should just sneak onto her computer and dig around.

But now that I’ve brought it up, she’ll probably never leave any traces.

Plus, the way Ji-yoon whispered in my ear earlier felt kinda… lewd.

Now I’m the weird one for still obsessing over this.

But because she’s my little sister, I can’t help but care. It’s driving me crazy.

If I straight-up ask, “Lee Ji-yoon, are you a lesbian?!”

She’d probably look at me like I’m a bug and say, “Noona… were you thinking about that this whole time…?”

And I’d have to endure that disgusted stare for the next 300 years.

But if—

If, by some astronomically small chance,

Ji-yoon really was hiding those kinds of feelings…

…What then?

“I hate headaches…”

What if Ji-yoon, caught in her true feelings, starts doing weird things outright?

What if she barges into my room in the middle of the night with just a pillow, asking, “Can I share your blanket?”

Then clings way too close,

slowly reaches out her hand, and—

Then I’d…

That would…

…

Ugh, eugh…

Just imagining it makes me wanna puke…

“…What are you doing?”

“Gah!”

“Oh, you put the straw in backwards. Why are you drinking it like that?”

While I was trembling, gripping my picnic drink, a friend who’d just come back from the convenience store in the academy pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

Mid-to-low written exam scores.

Mid-to-high practical exam scores.

Average grades, but pretty in her own way.

Though her prettiness leans a bit more… mature? Glamorous?

Because of that, there’ve been rumors—she does compensated dating…, someone saw her going into a motel with someone…—that kind of shady gossip.

If it weren’t for the fact that she’s been dating her childhood friend, a third-year senior, for nearly ten years, those rumors might still be floating around.

But gossip is gossip—people do it for fun, regardless of how the person involved feels.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable drinking it like that…? Anyway, what’s up with you, Ha-yoon? You’ve been acting weird.”

“…Was I being weird?”

“Not weird, but… hm. Like, I have a problem, someone please listen to me—that kind of fidgeting.”

“Ah…”

She says I was squirming like a worm.

I didn’t realize, but I must’ve been unconsciously whining.

After a moment of hesitation, I gestured for her to come closer and whispered:

“Hey, Da-bin. You’ve gotten a lot of confessions, right? You have a boyfriend—that guy a year older than you.”

“Ah, confessions… Yeah, back in high school. Why? Did someone confess to you recently?”

“No, it’s not that, just…”

“Just?”

“…Hypothetically, just hypothetically—”

“Yeah?”

“Have you… ever gotten a confession from a girl?”

“…Ah.”

She grins, like she’s just had a mischievous thought, and starts smirking the way she always does when teasing someone.

Then, lowering her voice even further, she whispers:

“Ha-yoon, you got confessed to by a girl, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Your reaction says it all. Oh no, a girl confessed to me. What do I do? What do I do?”

“Stop—stop doing that weird impression! Your voice tone is nothing like mine…”

“Heheh… Well, anyway, I have gotten that kind of confession once~”

She rests her chin on her hand, grinning like she’s about to mess with me.

But… maybe she can help.

Still fuming, I lower my posture until we’re both practically lying on the desk.

…Her long red hair brushes against my cheek, tickling me.

“Really? You’re not lying?”

“Back in my second year? No, third year. A second-year junior dragged me out to see a movie.”

“…And?”

“And? What do you mean and? After the movie, she confessed. Obviously, I turned her down nicely.”

“Did she… seem like a lesbian? Was it obvious?”

“Hmm? I don’t think it was obvious.”

“So she was… normal?”

“Yeah. Just a slightly closer junior? That’s about it.”

“Ugh…”

“So… which girl confessed to you?”

“No one did…!”

“Someone from the academy? A coworker? Or…”

“Ugh… Nooo… And I like guys too…”

“Guys? What kind? Is he in Class A here?”

“Gah…!”

“Don’t tell me it’s a first-year junior?”

“Eek…!”

Unfortunately,

I didn’t really get anything useful.

—

167

Just because I’d gotten a little closer to Han Su-ah didn’t mean my daily life changed.

No “Are you awake?” texts in the morning.

No visits from Su-ah during the infirmary’s quiet hours.

In fact, it felt so much like yesterday that I wondered if I’d dreamed it.

Well,

the fact that all the photos I took of Yozora were gone proved

at least that part wasn’t a dream.

“Phew…”

Ah, the full story behind “I’m hotter than Yozora, you know?” was something I pieced together while washing up with her.

If I understood correctly,

it wasn’t “If we keep doing this, I’ll become a sex addict and spend all day fucking.”

but more like “I’m hotter than Yozora. What if you stop being satisfied with her because of me?”

She said it was less embarrassing than admitting the real reason.

Hearing it then and thinking about it now,

I’m not sure if this can even be called innocence.

Wouldn’t stupidity be more accurate?

“…Well.”

If Su-ah were smart, she wouldn’t be at this academy—she’d be studying business or something.

I’m not exactly a genius either, so I can’t really judge, but seeing someone dumber than me does boost my self-esteem a little.

…Just how far can I corrupt her?

What kind of fantasies would people have if they saw Su-ah’s outwardly pure facade?

I’m kinda looking forward to it.

“…”

I wonder if I called Su-ah now, she’d come up with an excuse to visit the infirmary.

Leaning back in my chair, idly fiddling with my phone—

Knock knock.

I glance at the clock—10:17—and let out a deep sigh.

“Come in.”

It’s not like I’m disappointed it’s just a regular injured student and not Su-ah.

Lunch is still about two hours away.

It’s not like I’m drowning in free time, but there’s not much else to do during these floating hours.

Since the principal announced he’d “crack down harder on the students,” there are cases where I have to personally attend to serious injuries during sparring.

When I occasionally run practical classes across different grades, the infirmary gets packed for about an hour.

But of course, it’s not always like that—there are plenty of slow, drowsy days like this.

So why not just call anyone to the infirmary for some fun?

Well, for one, as demonstrated by that random student earlier, this isn’t exactly a private space.

It’s perfect for locking the door occasionally, but doing it too often would raise suspicions.

“…Is this cut on your forearm the only injury?”

“Ah, yes.”

In short,

I wish I had a proper place to slack off.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s my job.”

But does this academy even have such a place?

Forcing a smile as the male student leaves, I stretch my stiff shoulders and mentally map out the academy’s layout.

Thanks to wandering around with coffee and rushing to calls, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with the place.

The main building where I’m stationed,

the gym and training center where non-superhuman (i.e., normal) nurses handle emergencies—I know those well.

After exploring the buildings, the only spare spaces left are club rooms.

But I don’t exactly fit in with clubs.

Most students treat me as the infirmary teacher, not a first-year—except for a few weirdos who insist on calling me unnie.

“…Bringing a bed in there would be weird too.”

Of course, if there’s no tooth, you chew with your gums—I could use a desk as a makeshift bed, but I’d rather not.

For one, it’s way less comfortable, and the girls complain it hurts.

Maybe I should just lock the infirmary door when the timing’s right.

As for boredom, maybe I should start a mobile game or something.

Would a decade-old game even be fun?

Mid-yawn, another knock sounds.

“Come in.”

The person who slips through the door is… unexpected.

“…Got a minute to talk?”

“…I do, but.”

“Five minutes. No, one.”

“What’s this about—”

“It’s about Yozora.”

Long, bluish-white hair that nearly touches her hips.

Eyes painted in a similar hue, strangely sharp-looking.

Somehow reminiscent of Su-ah.

Somehow just as dumb-looking as Su-ah.

“That girl’s currently marked as an unauthorized absence on my records.”

“…”

“Know anything about it?”

Baek Seo-yeon had come to the infirmary.