episode_0010

10

Lee Hayoon walks inside, her ponytail swaying gently.

I stand there holding eight cans of beer, having received no explanation whatsoever.

Should I interpret this as what I think it means…?

…But she definitely said earlier that Lee Jiyoon was home.

“…….”

After a brief hesitation, I clutch the convenience store bag and plod after Hayoon.

If she lived alone in a spacious, luxurious house with great soundproofing, maybe I wouldn’t question it. But this is a shabby, barely-standing villa she shares with her younger sister.

Maybe she just wants to forget what just happened and literally have a drink.

…Eight cans of beer. I can’t tell if that’s enough for two or three people.

Hayoon reaches the second floor first after navigating the dimly lit villa hallway and stairs.

By the time I catch up to her, four beeps sound in succession before the door swings open.

She still hasn’t taken the bag from me and steps inside alone, so I assume that’s my cue to follow.

…Now that I’m actually here, I’m feeling a little nervous.

I roll my shoulders needlessly, careful not to rush ahead, and step inside.

Part of me wants to grab Hayoon’s wrist and drag her straight to bed,

but for now, keeping things at a comfortable distance—something between close sunbaes—is best.

That way, she’ll crumble on her own someday.

“I’m here, unnie.”

“…….”

“I said I’m here.”

“…….”

“Guess she’s too busy gaming to answer.”

Instead of paying me any mind, Hayoon slips into the one lit room.

Soon after, playful shrieks of “Kyaaak!” echo from inside.

Setting the convenience store bag down for a moment, I listen to the sisters’ squabbles as I take off my shoes.

Three pairs of shoes now cram the entryway where only two had been before.

As expected, Hayoon’s home is incredibly cramped.

Well, it’s bigger than my tiny studio apartment, at least—two whole rooms.

But for Lee Jiyoon and Lee Hayoon to live here together, it still feels a little tight.

If nothing else, just making the living room 1.5 times bigger would make a huge difference.

Either that or tossing out some of the useless furniture hogging space.

Ah. Changing the yellow-toned lights to bright white might also help liven the place up.

As I straighten my shoes and idly scan the apartment, the door Hayoon had disappeared into earlier swings wide open.

“Let’s drink. Drink.”

“What do you mean, drink? You can’t even….”

Dressed in white polka-dot pajamas and dragging her feet, Jiyoon stumbles out, still wearing her wireless headset.

The moment our eyes meet, her voice—which had been whining at her sister moments ago—shrinks instantly.

Wondering if she mistook me for an intruder, I quickly pull down my neck warmer to reveal my face, but her reaction doesn’t change.

She scrambles out of her sister’s arms, hides behind the wall, and peers at me with a look that screams, Why the hell are YOU here?

Compared to the Lee Jiyoon ten years later—the one called the Witch—her emotional range is much wider now.

“…You? Why? No, uh….”

She seems to have a lot to say, but unfortunately, she only has one mouth.

After stammering wordlessly, Jiyoon’s lips finally move—not to address me, but her sister.

Rather than cursing the person who cured her migraines, it seems easier to scold the sister she’s lived with for twenty years.

“…Lee Hayoon.”

“Huh?”

“Seo, Seo Woojin, was it? Why is he here? Did you invite him? Was he stalking you?”

“Shopping cart duty.”

“Shopping cart?”

“There. See the convenience store bag? He carried it back for me.”

Hayoon casually lifts the bag, and Jiyoon’s gaze rapidly shifts between me and it.

Judging by how her eyebrows furrow naturally, she seems to have a million questions.

But Hayoon ignores her sister, heading to the kitchen to pull out a tiny folding table.

A cheap, round table just big enough to squeeze three people around.

“Anyway, Jiyoon-ah. Wanna drink?”

“Me? Alcohol? With you and Woojin?”

“Yeah. I won’t ask for money back.”

“No, I mean, yeah, but… why? Seriously, why?”

“Just felt like it.”

“Huh…?”

Seems she doesn’t want to explain what just happened to her sister.

Still standing quietly in the entryway, I cautiously gauge Jiyoon’s expression as I walk toward Hayoon in the living room.

The floor is freezing—maybe they haven’t turned on the heater.

Hayoon looks like she wants to forget the earlier incident and just have a drink.

…Eight cans of beer. Hard to tell if that’s enough for two or three people.

“What do you wanna drink? Ah, I should’ve bought you something at the convenience store.”

“It’s fine. I don’t know much about canned beer.”

“Don’t know? Never had any? Well, you are only twenty now…”

“…Yeah.”

Because that bastard Yozora loved alcohol so much, I’ve only ever had soju and draft beer.

I can hardly say that, so I just play dumb.

At least this way, the reasoning doesn’t matter. The result’s the same.

“But you have had alcohol before, right? At bars?”

“A little.”

“How much can you drink?”

“Uh….”

…Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk enough to stagger.

Yozora always got wasted first, and when she started acting up, I’d have to restrain her before she could bother everyone else…

But considering there’d be six or seven bottles of soju on the table by then, I must’ve downed at least half myself.

She’d always insist on pouring for me first, spilling it everywhere while claiming, “You gotta tap the glass first!”

“About two bottles of soju.”

“Two bottles? Of soju?”

“Yeah. Around that.”

Boasting about drinking too well might sound like bragging, so I tone it down to a moderate level.

Either way, all we have here is eight measly cans—combined, that’s like two bottles of soju’s worth.

“Sure about that? Your face isn’t gonna go all red after one beer, right?”

“Don’t think so.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I’ve never had alcohol.”

“So these won’t make you drunk at all?”

“Probably not. Shouldn’t. …Wait, why do you keep…?”

“…Never mind. Forget it.”

As I answer, placing a beer on the table, Hayoon wriggles out of her seat and heads to the corner of the kitchen.

She rifles through a cabinet before pulling out a few packs of instant ramen.

Breaking them apart haphazardly, she dumps the noodles into a large bowl and tosses it straight into the microwave.

The moment the humming starts, she shuffles back and plops down beside me again.

“Lee Jiyoon.”

“…What, what?”

“Not drinking?”

“…….”

“Then just us?”

A brief silence follows.

Jiyoon stares holes into the table between us before darting back into her room.

Hayoon, scratching her cheek, mutters, Guess she’s not drinking, and starts cracking open a beer—but stops.

The closed door swings open, and Jiyoon steps out, looking distinctly different than before.

“…….”

…Well, different meaning she took off her headset and threw a thin windbreaker over her polka-dot pajamas.

Unlike Hayoon, who sidled up to me, Jiyoon sticks much closer to her sister when sitting down.

Less of an equilateral triangle, more of a right triangle with Hayoon at the center.

“Unnie.”

“What?”

“Just one can, okay? If you can’t even drink, why’d you buy so much?”

“…Look.”

Jiyoon grabs an apple-flavored beer from the assortment on the table—probably her favorite.

Then, she turns to me.

“And you… Seo Woojin-ssi.”

“Yes.”

“If you’re thinking something weird, quit while you’re ahead.”

“…….”

“…! Hey, Jiyoon. I invited Woojinie here myself.”

Hayoon flinches slightly while refuting, but Jiyoon ignores her and keeps going.

“As someone who’s lived with my 21-year-old sister who’s never dated, I guess she got swept up the first time a guy treated her halfway decently.”

“What, what kinda nonsense is that? It’s not like that…”

“…I’ll be keeping an eye on you tonight.”

“…….”

Her gaze makes it pretty clear why she decided to join this little drinking session.

Confusion.

Suspicion.

Strange.

Ambiguity.

And, lewd thoughts.

A mix of similar emotions batters both Hayoon and me back and forth.

…Kinda fun, honestly.

“Anyway, just drink and leave. Got it?”

“…Sure.”

I nod and follow their lead, cracking open a beer and slowly raising it.

Clink.

A rough, cold sound reverberates through my fingertips.

Crunching on microwaved raw ramen while nursing our drinks, the lively chatter in the living room gradually dies down.

Hayoon, who had been animatedly recounting her convenience store misadventures (omitting the part about the armed robber), starts nodding off unsteadily.

Jiyoon, who swore to keep an eye on me, ends up spacing out while sipping hers.

And me? I’m just quietly matching Jiyoon’s pace.

The only sound left in the living room is the occasional clatter of Jiyoon’s empty beer cans as she sets them down carelessly.

She ragged on her sister for not handling alcohol, but seems Jiyoon doesn’t know her own limits either.

Well, she just turned twenty, so if she never rebelled as a minor, it makes sense.

…Probably one and a half beers in.

Thought she only took after her sister’s eye color and erogenous zones, but even her alcohol tolerance is a dead ringer.

If she thinks she’s never been drunk before, she might be in worse shape than Hayoon.

“…Hey.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you… ugh… can you toss the trash…?”

“Trash?”

“Empty cans… rolling around everywhere…”

“I’ll gather them up when we’re done and take them out.”

“…Mmmkay… thanks…”

“…….”

This is the fourth time we’ve had this exchange.

She started sliding in with these comments around the time Hayoon was telling the story about accidentally ordering 500 triangle kimbaps, so she’s been like this for a solid 20 minutes.

Meaning, alcohol has been melting Jiyoon’s brain for 20 minutes straight.

Left unattended, she polished off a second can, so now both sisters are thoroughly wasted.

“Unnie… why’d you drink two whole cans…?”

“…Haaah……. Pwah…”

Grabbing another piece of barely-nuked ramen, I stare at Jiyoon’s snow-white hair, lost in thought.

…They’re both drunk. Should I make my move?

…Or would it be better to leave a good impression now and wait for next time, since they’ll remember tonight?

“Take out… the trash….”

“…….”

Instinct screams for the former, but the rationality still clinging to me calmly chooses the latter.

If I were drunk, I’d probably have dragged Hayoon or Jiyoon to the bedroom by now.

Would’ve overpowered them, taken compromising photos, and kept them as blackmail material.

Then, when they came to me despairing the next day, I’d use those photos to threaten them into a secret affair.

Or, turn it around and assault Hayoon first, then use those photos to blackmail Jiyoon.

…Neither option satisfies me.

Forget the risk of them reporting me to the police.

What I want is a hero who abandons even her most ardent fans, sneaking into my apartment to kneel willingly at my feet.

Forcing them into compliance like that would dull the thrill entirely.

A hero chanted by crowds of adoring fans.

A hero who plugs her ears to their cheers and seeks out a quiet studio apartment alone.

…And inside that apartment, a hero who barks like a bitch, utterly ruined, yet happier than ever.

When things are already going well, there’s no need to rush and ruin the payoff.

For now, it’s best to keep building this favorable relationship.

No point lingering now when there’s nothing left to gain—

“…Wait. Hold on…”

“…?”

“Gotta pee…….”

Setting down her empty can, Jiyoon wobbles to her feet and disappears into the bathroom.

Click. The door shuts.

Now it’s just Hayoon and me alone in the living room.

Maybe the house’s soundproofing isn’t great.

Not long after Jiyoon enters, the faint sound of running water reaches us.

Quietly.

Quietly.

Amidst the steady trickle, Hayoon, who’d been dozing beside me, suddenly stirs and leans against my shoulder.

But her movements feel unnatural—too deliberate for someone asleep.

Moments ago, she was about to faceplant onto the table from drunken exhaustion.

Now, the second Jiyoon’s out of sight, she suddenly sidles up to me and rests her head heavily on me.

“…….”

“…….”

In other words,

Hayoon is awake.

In other words,

Hayoon is pretending to sleep while clinging to me.

In other words,

Hayoon wants something from me while Jiyoon’s gone.

The sound of running water from the bathroom hasn’t stopped.

She must’ve bottled this up because she couldn’t say it in front of Jiyoon.

Probably held back while keeping an eye on me.

Does she think I haven’t noticed?

Now she’s rubbing her cheek against my shoulder like she’s sleep-talking.

The urges I’d been suppressing with rationality start bubbling up furiously.

If Hayoon wants this too, why not just do it while Jiyoon’s away?

You remember all her sensitive spots, don’t you?

Later, someday…

Wouldn’t you love to see the sister jealous of her sibling?

Or the sibling jealous of her sister?

Slowly.

I lower my head.

At the same time, I grip Hayoon’s chin and tilt it up, forcing her to face me.

Her body twitches violently when I touch her—clearly not asleep anymore.

Ignoring her adorable reaction, I lean in and press my lips to hers.

The faint scent of beer lingers on her breath.

A bland, malty taste—utterly unremarkable compared to some sugary sweet kisses I’ve had.

Savoring it, I take it a step further.

My tongue slides between her lips.

Not deep—just enough to brush against them, damp with our mingled saliva.

…Every swipe makes her lashes tremble.

Her hips jerk instinctively, as if trying to escape the kiss.

Instead of groping her in her most vulnerable spots, I slowly drag my fingers down her exposed thigh.

Above, I steadily feed her mouthfuls of my spit.

Below, I caress only her thighs.

I already know all of Hayoon’s erogenous zones.

I know exactly what kind of play she likes.

Just as she starts squirming under my teasing—

The sound of running water stops.

“…….”

“…….”

I pull away, severing the thin strand of saliva still connecting us.

Unlike me, she’s still dizzy, lips slightly parted as she pants heavily.

Part of me wants to record every second of this, but there’s no time.

After a brief hesitation, I quickly maneuver her into hiding beside me—just as the bathroom door opens.

Luckily, the loud flushing sound covers any noise.

As I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and grab an empty can, Jiyoon emerges from the bathroom.

Had she been even a little faster, she’d have seen me cleaning up.

“…Leaving? For home?”

“Yeah. We’re done drinking anyway.”

“Kaythen… unnieee…”

“…….”

Always thinking of her sister first, Jiyoon grunts as she wedges her hands under Hayoon’s armpits and hauls her up.

Hayoon, who I’d hidden under the table moments ago, comes into view.

“What’d she eat to get… so heavy…”

“…….”

…Hard to say if it’s the alcohol.

Or another reason entirely.

But Hayoon—red from ear to cheek—

plays dead as Jiyoon drags her away like a ragdoll.