Ch.132132. Tutoring, Just the Two of Us

After a long trip to Japan, on the day we returned to Korea for lunch. After organizing our luggage and finishing all the household chores that had piled up, Hwa Nabi and I sat facing each other at a table spread out in the bedroom.

The reason we’re doing this without taking a breather right after coming home is, of course, to write a report to submit for our liberal arts lecture.

My body is tired since our schedule was tight from the morning, but travel reflections are best written when memories are still fresh. I thought it would be better to draft it now despite being tired.

“I’ve never written a report before, how should I write it?”

I don’t understand why she’s asking me with the premise that I know how to write reports when both Hwa Nabi and I are college freshmen.

Well, I do know how, so I’ll answer since she asked, but I really wonder what she would do without me when she’s so defenseless like this.

I picked up a pen and tapped the A4 paper in front of Hwa Nabi.

“The professor gave us a basic format notice, right? Just follow that format and submit it.”

The format isn’t anything special. Just as announced during orientation, as long as fifteen photos with the student’s face are included, there’s almost no other formatting requirements.

Basic information like name, student ID, and department goes without saying. Along with the photos, the essential elements would be reflections on the trip and brief explanations of the attached photos… but.

“Yes, that’s how you do it, but…”

Though I said it was simple, I immediately contradict myself because this isn’t as easy as it sounds.

First, having to write the entire report by hand is a burden, and on top of that, I need to write a travel review with my impressions and personal opinions in a volume of at least two A4 pages.

It’s hard enough to write more than three lines of everyday conversation, let alone compose an essay. And this isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning. Soon enough, reports like this will probably become routine. Both Hwa Nabi and I are in for a tough time.

“Siwoo, why do you look like that? Are you feeling unwell?”

“…It’s nothing. Shall we start writing now?”

“So I just need to follow the format and write whatever I want, right?”

Hwa Nabi asked with a puzzled expression as she looked through the professor’s notice.

She’s probably like this because it’s her first time writing a report, but when I told her to think of it like writing a college application personal statement like she did in her senior year, she nodded and said, “Oh, is that what it is?”

“Try writing like that first, and if you have any questions or don’t understand something, ask me. I’ll help you.”

“Okay, got it.”

With that brief exchange, we began writing our reports.

For a long time, in our home where conversation usually never stops, only the scratching sound of mechanical pencils could be heard.

We didn’t completely avoid talking, but since it was mostly Hwa Nabi asking questions and me answering, the conversations didn’t last long.

“How’s it going? Making progress?”

After what felt like thirty minutes, I casually asked how she was doing.

In response, Hwa Nabi lifted her head and confidently handed me her paper.

“Want to check it?”

“Wow… what’s with this confidence?”

Did she finish writing in such a short time? Maybe Hwa Nabi unexpectedly has talent for writing.

Seeing how she’s showing it to me, she must be quite confident in the content. I was curious to see how well she had written it.

So, with some expectation, I read part of Hwa Nabi’s report aloud.

“…And so, on the first night of our suddenly decided Japan trip. The night I spent with him at one of Tokyo’s top five-star hotels was incredibly hot. Right after checking in, he took my hand and headed to the indoor pool, and as soon as he confirmed no one was there, under the pretext of giving me a massage, he started touching various parts of my body. I couldn’t resist because I was wearing the bikini swimsuit he had recommended, and my top strings were undone, and getting more excited by this, he transformed into a beast. He reached out his predatory hands without hesitation…”

After reciting that far, I sensed something was off and abruptly stopped.

What is this? No matter how I look at it, this isn’t appropriate content for a report. I widened my eyes and examined the rest of the content.

It’s a storyline full of metaphors about how I lured Hwa Nabi to the pool, extended my predatory hands, and how she tried to resist but gradually lost her reason to the pleasure I provided. After that, only the rough breathing of a man and woman echoed… that kind of suggestive narrative.

“…Hot and hard, irresistible pleasure, excited moans and small trembling? What is this?”

I pressed my lips shut, not wanting to read more.

What? I extended predatory hands to Hwa Nabi? Dumbfounded and appalled, I put my hand on the back of my neck.

I asked her to write a report, but she wrote an erotic novel and even distorted the truth. At that time in the Tokyo hotel, the one who was pushing things one-sidedly wasn’t me but Hwa Nabi. I can’t just let this slide.

“Hwa Nabi, what is this?”

“What do you mean? It’s the report for submission.”

“…I’m not asking because I don’t know that. I mean, why did you write it like this?”

“Huh? I just did what you told me to do. You said to write it like a personal statement, didn’t you?”

“I told you to write a personal statement, not a personal novel?”

“But you said nowadays personal statements are like personal novels.”

“……”

Since I did grumble a lot like that when writing my personal statement in my senior year, I had nothing to say when she put it that way.

But that’s that, and this is this. Even so, isn’t this a bit much? Who submits a report written like this? Beyond the question of what score it would get, I wonder if normal grading is even possible.

“Well… personal statements are like personal novels, that’s not wrong. But you shouldn’t write reports like this. If you submit this as is, you’ll get an F.”

“No, why? I think I wrote it well. Do you think it’s poorly written?”

“No, you wrote it well. You wrote it well, but…”

It’s a matter of direction. This essay-like novel would be appropriate for submission to an erotic short story contest, not as a report for a class about learning the joys of travel.

“Anyway, this won’t do. We need to revise it completely.”

“Where should I start revising?”

It’s well-written, but it’s definitely not a report for submission. I firmly shook my head.

“From beginning to end. Just think of it as writing it all over again.”

“What? It took me thirty minutes to write this!”

“Don’t worry. Later when you’re writing your graduation thesis, discarding this much content will be a common occurrence.”

“You talk as if you’ve done it yourself.”

“…Anyway, write it again. This time I’ll stay with you and check it.”

*

After about an hour, we finally completed the draft of Hwa Nabi’s report for submission. Since we’ve established the overall framework, it will be clean enough with just some attention to readability.

Crack, as I lifted my head and stretched my neck, sounds came from various parts of my body. Maybe because I stayed beside her from start to finish providing edits, my whole body aches.

“You really… should be grateful to me.”

I barely had the energy to write my own report, but because of Hwa Nabi who couldn’t grasp the concept, I ended up writing two reports. More accurately, mine is still incomplete so it’s more like one and a half, but that doesn’t matter.

I tapped the back of my stiff neck with my hand. Then Hwa Nabi, who had been watching me cautiously, put down her pen, slipped behind me, and started giving me a massage.

“Siwoo, thank you. Was it hard because of me?”

“It wasn’t hard… no, let’s set a date for me to teach you how to write reports. This won’t work.”

As they commonly say, it’s better to teach someone how to fish than to give them a fish directly. I can help her now, but later when we’re both busier, we won’t have time to sit together leisurely and work on assignments together.

Squeeze, Hwa Nabi’s small hands pressed on my shoulder blades. Perhaps thanks to touching each other’s bodies here and there under the pretext of giving massages, her massage skills seem to be improving day by day.

But somehow… her hands seem to be moving to strange places? At first, she was clearly massaging my shoulders, but now Hwa Nabi’s hands were reaching and fumbling around my collarbone area.

“…Is this part tense too?”

The tips of Hwa Nabi’s fingers touched near my chest, more precisely, the upper chest area. I shuddered as goosebumps rose on my neck, and Hwa Nabi quickly backed away.

“Oh, a mistake. My hand slipped.”

“…Was it really a mistake?”

“Yes, of course. You don’t think I touched you on purpose, do you?”

As if she had no intention of hiding that it was deliberate, Hwa Nabi stared at me and offered an unconvincing excuse.

Honestly, it’s beyond ridiculous and even a bit embarrassing, but when she’s so brazen about it, I can’t bring myself to question her further.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

As I looked at Hwa Nabi, who was pretending not to know with a prim expression while subtly meeting my gaze, phrases from the report came to mind.

‘As soon as he confirmed no one was there, under the pretext of giving me a massage, he started touching various parts of my body.’

“…”

It’s something I think about occasionally, or actually quite often. Recently, Hwa Nabi’s skinship has become noticeably more frequent and aggressive.

Somehow, it seems like Hwa Nabi, a woman, initiates skinship more often than I do as a man.

“Um, Siwoo.”

“Ah, yes.”

As if she had seen through my thoughts about her, she called out to me at the perfect timing.

Startled, I stammered as I responded, and she looked at me with raised eyes.

“The new clothes I bought before our trip arrived, would you like to see them?”

“Uh… now? Why?”

“Since you worked hard because of me… I thought I’d give you a little reward.”

I was about to ask how showing me her new clothes could be a reward, but I stopped myself.

It didn’t seem right to ask.

“I won’t force you, so if you don’t want to, just say no.”

Why would I dislike my girlfriend showing me her new clothes?

But for some reason, I couldn’t answer hastily.

“Then, do you agree?”

“…”

While I was just swallowing hard with an inexplicable tension, she slowly got up from her seat.

Then, grabbing the doorknob, she flung it open to leave, but glanced back at me.

Those emerald eyes showing a strange ecstasy.

The meaning contained in them…

“…Heh.”