episode_0020

20

“……Sunbaenim.”

After a brief internal struggle, I spat it out.

The Yo-jora before me was grinning widely, but who knew what kind of sticky thoughts lurked behind that expression.

At first glance, it seemed like she had come back to tempt me again, unwilling to let go of a transcendental healer.

But the real problem came after.

If I refused, what would Yo-jora do?

Would she just knock back a few more shots of soju and leave?

Or would she resort to forcing something?

In this situation, outright negativity wouldn’t lead to anything good.

At the very least, I had to keep my tone compliant.

“Pffahaha… Since when am I your sunbaenim, Woo-jin-ah…?”

“I told you over the phone yesterday that I’d live a proper life from now on.”

Yo-jora tilted her head as if to say ‘what’s the big deal’ and stepped closer.

I instinctively retreated a pace or two—but realistically, my shuffling footsteps were no match for her persistence.

Soon enough, the familiar scent of alcohol tickled my nose again.

“A… proper life? So like, working some job…?”

“…Yeah.”

“Hmm. Well, you do have the skills to get hired anywhere… A government job, maybe? Or, say, the Hero Association….”

Yo-jora wagged her body happily, counting off on her fingers.

How was I supposed to reason with this drunkard? Was a logical conversation even possible?

As I furiously racked my brain—

“Ahh, whateverrr….”

“…….”

She suddenly wrapped her arms around me and rubbed her face against mine, leaving me momentarily stunned.

Is this woman actually insane?

“Sunbaenim, what are you—”

“Whaddya mean ‘what’…? It’s seduction. Se-duuu-ction….”

Still hugging me, Yo-jora tilted her head back slightly and grinned up at me.

Objectively—

Truly objectively—if I disregarded her drunken antics, personality, and other miscellaneous traits, and only considered her looks…

Yo-jora was the kind of woman you’d want.

If she were a hero, I’d have looked her up for background checks by now.

Her navy-blue hair resembled a star-studded night sky.

In contrast, her warm crimson eyes—whether during my villain days or now, as a school nurse—were enough to seize any man’s attention.

She never exercises, drowning in booze day after day,

and despite clinging to me like this, her face barely reaches my collarbone—

yet her figure is absurdly well-proportioned for no reason.

The softness pressing against me now was proof of that.

But the ‘miscellaneous traits’ I mentioned earlier were exactly why I didn’t want to get too close to Yo-jora.

This woman—

Her tastes in bed are the complete opposite of mine.

…Hence why I ignored her calls days before kicking the bucket.

A drunkard who always drank at bars suddenly calling me over to drink at her place?

Anyone could see right through that.

She wasn’t trying to get laid—

She was trying to lay me.

“Not happening. As I’ve said before, you’re not my type.”

“Nooo. No. Wait… guys all love boobs, right…? Just wait a little longer…!”

As if determined to seduce me no matter what, Yo-jora tightened her grip on my arm and deliberately rubbed her chest against me.

The soft flesh hidden beneath her bra pressed firmly against my skin, distorting invitingly.

“If you join our ‘company,’ Woo-jin-ah, I might let you feel something… even more vivid….”

“Not interested.”

“Don’t lie… A kid who just shed his uniform less than a year ago can’t hate touching a woman’s chest….”

“Sigh….”

At least it was just this much—nothing embarrassing would happen unless she actively grabbed my dick…

But more than anything, the alcohol fumes permeating my nose were seriously unpleasant.

Call it PTSD, maybe.

Because it reminded me of all the times I’d been dragged around to serve her drinks.

Mediating drunken Yo-jora picking fights with random people.

Endlessly pouring drinks into my glass—and not being allowed to refuse.

Hauling her over my shoulder—whether back to the ‘company’ or her apartment—once she passed out.

Dealing with her whining the next day to replace the phone she drunkenly smashed.

And so on.

One after another, memories of being shackled to this madwoman flooded my mind.

“…Sniff. Mm… kinda smells like another girl….”

“…….”

“Hmph. No wayyy… I already staked my claim on Woo-jin-ah….”

After grinding her face against my chest once more, Yo-jora grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the shared hallway.

I had already given up resisting.

If she used her abilities, dragging me along would be trivial.

“Here. Password.”

“Sunbaenim. Let’s stop here.”

“Don’t be like thaaat… I even brought drinks….”

“Save your effort. My heart’s already made up.”

“That’s why I came to change your mind!”

“…And your grand plan was seduction?”

“Yup.”

“…….”

This was giving me a headache.

Arguing would only result in the alcoholic’s inevitable victory.

Yo-jora could babble whatever nonsense she wanted—

I was powerless to counter it.

What could I possibly do?

As the irritation simmered inside me—

An idea flickered through my mind.

What if I just took her to any bar and drank until she passed out?

Now that I thought about it…

It was a surprisingly plausible idea.

If Yo-jora’s stomach was soaked in alcohol, she’d naturally slump over the table and twitch into deep sleep.

Of course, doing so would mean daily visits eating into my wallet—

Or worse, having to relocate entirely to escape her—

But compared to being bitten by a rabies-infested dog…

“…Sunbaenim.”

“Hmm?”

“You went out of your way to come here, so I’ll at least hear you out.”

“Hear me out…?”

“But instead of my place, how about we go to a bar?”

“…A bar?”

“Yeah. Drinking at my place means I have to clean up afterward.”

“Hmmmm… But I already bought drinks… So you won’t back out…?”

Briefly shutting her eyes, Yo-jora seemed to deliberate.

“…Ahhh, whateverrr. Just order expensive side dishes.”

Fortunately, she turned away from my apartment without much reluctance.

Though relieved for a moment, I remained helpless as Yo-jora tightly gripped my wrist and dragged me behind her.

Perhaps because of the time.

By the time Yo-jora led me into the bar, it was already packed shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Y’know that guy we talked about last time? He—”

“Excuse me, we placed an order ages ago?”

“Ugh, this bastard keeps hoggin’ the side dishes!”

“Holy shit, this guy’s already wasted.”

Navigating through the noise, we were seated at a table by a server.

A slightly secluded spot—perfect for private conversation.

…Though if that were really necessary, we wouldn’t have come here in the first place.

“Sooo… what’s it gonna take?” Without bothering to ask my preferences, Yo-jora ordered several of her favorite sides.

Already slurring slightly, her half-lidded eyes swam as she raised her voice over the din.

“How can I get you to work with me…? Anything you need, just say it….”

“I’ve told you repeatedly—I’m not interested.”

“But the pay’s insane…? If Namho-ssi snags a nice wallet, the promised amount even gets an extra zero…?”

“No thanks. I just need enough to live comfortably.”

“Huuuh…?”

“Hence why I said I’d live a proper life.”

I took this school nurse job to prey on heroes.

Since ‘teacher’ sounded odd for someone my age, the actual title is ‘health committee member.’

Of course, I couldn’t say that—so I tiptoed around the truth.

Come to think of it…

This place serves decent rice crackers.

Munching on a couple of the complimentary snacks, Yo-jora resumed her pitch.

“Soooo… how are you gonna live that ‘proper life’…?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘proper’—upright, steady. What kinda work were you thinking?”

“…….”

Was she probing for weak points?

Trying to tempt me by suggesting her side would suit any lifestyle better?

Her intent was unclear—but my answer was set.

School nurse at the Academy.

Which meant aligning with heroes, not villains—risking souring the mood.

A popular hero’s sidekick—the most common path for transcendental healers like me.

Same issue.

No need to provoke Yo-jora unnecessarily.

Only one option remained.

Plastering on a poker face, I accepted the 1000cc beer mug brought by the server and spoke.

“Gonna do volunteer work.”

“Volun—what…?”

“Yeah. Domestic or overseas.”

Both hands clutching her mug, Yo-jora stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

…Getting that look from an airhead whose brain runs on booze—

Somehow, that stung.

“So you’re ditching bonding with me to… volunteer?”

“It’s fulfilling. Meaningful. Feels good.”

“But—there are truckloads of patients willing to fork over millions just for your healing—”

I knew.

Thanks to pickpocketing those people, I even scored my own studio apartment.

But I feigned ignorance.

Pretended to genuinely strive for a brighter world.

Emitting the most hypocritical words—

“Money’s just material. I’d rather see terminal patients smile—”

“You insane bastard…!”

Before even I could finish my own bullshit—

Yo-jora set her beer down and muttered under her breath while rubbing her temples.

“Are you joking…? You joined our company admiring villains for being ‘cool and honest, unlike hypocritical heroes’… Now this? Volunteering…?”

“…I was immature back then.”

“Immature?! The hell does—”

“…….”

“—Ugh. If you really hate money… I’m right here, y’know?”

“…….”

“Being a healer, we’ll have plenty of alone time together… Surely even that’s appealing…?”

“No.”

“…….”

Was her pride wounded?

Or was she frustrated by my deliberate idiocy?

Yo-jora’s usual lazy smile tightened into a slight frown.

The only other time I’d seen that expression was when I raided her company’s Haagen-Dazs stash.

She should just dismiss me as irredeemable trash.

My housing… eh, I’d hunt down a new place tomorrow.

Whether she’d track my new address remained to be seen—

But Academy Headmaster might back me up.

Yo-jora’s ordered dishes gradually arrived.

First up: butter-grilled squid lips.

A staple of hers—she loves anything butter-grilled.

Time for a toast.

Recalling her usual ritual, I idly toyed with my glass when—

“…Ahem.”

“…?”

“…If you joined us….”

“…?”

“…We secretly could do… this kinda stuff…?”

“…….”

Under the square table, a smooth foot began tapping against my shin.

Bare, devoid of socks or stockings—her pale toes protruded from jet-black dolphin shorts.

The issue?

We were in public—

Surrounded by crowds—

Any passing server—

Or the college students loudly chatting right beside us—

Unlike fiction, where table antics go unnoticed—reality guarantees humiliation.

“Sunbae.”

“Heehee….”

My flustered expression only widened her grin.

Ignoring the toast, she downed her beer straight—and grew bolder.

Her foot, previously teasing my shin, now knocked against my knee.

Then, wedging insistently between my thighs—

Her icy toes crept upward, brushing inner skin before nestling snugly.

Damn, her feet are cold.

Then again, dressed like that in winter—no wonder.

Her perpetual drunkenness probably dulled the chill.

Now nestled snugly between my thighs—

Yo-jora’s foot began squirming.

Teasingly.

Like testing how flustered she could make me.

“…….”

“Sooo…? Now wanna work with me…?”

Pranks follow universal logic—

The reaction is the reward.

Thus, the ultimate counter is indifference.

Awkward-level indifference.

So I—like Yo-jora moments ago—ignored the toast, silently chugged beer, and chewed butter-grilled squid.

“…….”

“…….”

I assumed she’d eventually quit—

But forgot just how dense Yo-jora really is.

Mistaking my indifference for encouragement—

“…Heheh… You like this, don’tcha…?”

“…….”

“C’monnn, a recent high-schooler couldn’t possibly dislike it… Mhmmhm….”

“—Sunbae.”

Too late.

Her foot had already wormed deeper—

Now purposely prodding my crotch.

Press. Press.

…Squish…?

Press.

After seven or eight attempts—

She paused—

Tilted her head curiously—

Then squished again.

…Does she find it weird I’m not hardening despite this effort?

I shelved the analysis—

First, checking neighboring tables for spectators—

“…Yah!”

“—Stop.”

—then pinched her toe in retaliation.

Too many eyes around for this nonsense.

“Anyhow, I’m not rejoining.”

“…….”

“Understood?”

“…Huh? …Yeah.”

“Money won’t work. Neither will these… antics. Just quit.”

“…….”

Had it gotten through?

Yo-jora stared blankly before nodding.

Unlike the boisterous crowd around us—

We drank in silence.

Yo-jora’s face flushed crimson—whether from alcohol or frustration.

Occasionally clinking glasses with the now-unusually-quiet woman—

As she began slurring, mixing soju into her beer—

Gulp. Gulp.