Chapter 8: Sulking
As she opened her mouth to ask if this was supposed to be fun, the firm and springy tent fabric was suddenly sucked into her mouth.
Worried she might suffocate, Yua struggled with all her strength, and the fabric that had wrapped around her was quickly pulled away.
“So stubborn.”
Maybe she should’ve packed heavier stuff inside the tent.
Yua shrank under Lee Jun’s cold gaze. It was her mistake and her fault, but his gruff expression made her feel nauseous with frustration.
“You could’ve just made something more comfortable and easier to set up.”
“Did you even read the manual properly?”
“Of course I did.”
…Did she?
Because of Lee Jun’s firm tone, Yua even felt sorry for lashing out at the wrong person.
With a shrug, he threw the scattered luggage from the gravel into the tent carelessly.
Thanks to the gear he tossed into each corner, the tent was able to hold its shape somehow.
“Most people who contact customer service do the same thing. They force the poles outward, or blow up the air mattress by mouth instead of using the pump and then complain it takes too long. Or they stake the tent in the direction of the wind and blame the product.”
Yua stayed silent.
“Just like you, Yoon Yua.”
Yua had said any orange tent was fine, so Lee Jun deliberately gave her a professional-grade one. It was only natural that a beginner would struggle with it.
To him, this level of mischief was something Yoon Yua deserved—for making him feel like a defective, worthless guy.
“Either way, I wish it had been easier. I’ll go back and read the manual again.”
“I don’t think you’ll have time for that.”
“Huh?”
Lee Jun nodded toward the sky. Dark, inky clouds rolled in quickly overhead, chasing away the wind.
The two looked at each other as shadows engulfed them.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
“What?”
“Looks like it’s going to rain. You should head back while you still can.”
Was she really planning to sleep in the tent?
Lee Jun raised an eyebrow as he watched the zipper of the oval-shaped tent open and close.
Rain was going to pour soon, yet stubborn Yoon Yua seemed determined to stay inside with just a tarp to ward off the cold.
“Suit yourself.”
Thinking it would be better to leave, Lee Jun turned to go.
He had planned to say what he hadn’t said earlier at the car, but that thought vanished. He remembered how she looked at him like he was some kind of pest and how she drove him away with those arrogant eyes. The goodwill he’d been holding onto evaporated. And then—
Ziiip!
The zipper flew up in a flash, and even before the entrance could fully open, a pale, long arm reached out.
As Yua grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, Lee Jun turned back in shock, just as dry lightning flashed nearby.
“Did you see a ghost? What’s with your face?”
Yua’s face, visible through the small gap, was pale.
“What is it?”
Did she suddenly get scared?
Lee Jun clicked his tongue and knelt down to meet her eye level.
“I won’t know unless you say something.”
He seemed to think she was scared and softened his voice with patience.
With tear-filled eyes and a pale face, Yua showed him her open palm.
“Why… why is this in here?”
She had opened the gift bag Lee Jun had given her as a housewarming present, hoping to find a flashlight.
But her fingers brushed something small, round, and unfamiliar. Her shoulders stiffened at the strange texture.
She knew exactly what it was. Sejin had once brought home a flyer from preschool about making a time capsule. She had asked Yua to prepare a small container for her tiny note.
Sejin had cherished the tiny capsule from a toy vending machine that contained a monster keyring, insisting she would use that to store her note.
“How… how is this in what you gave me?”
It belonged to a child who no longer existed.
Sejin, who had just begun to learn Hangul by awkwardly copying her teacher’s handwriting, wasn’t here anymore. Was this her way of saying Don’t forget me, I was here?
Yua would never forget the yellow capsule buried under the jujube tree the day of the accident.
It was still vivid—as if it happened just yesterday.
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I didn’t put it there.”
Lee Jun looked indifferent, even frowning a bit, but he didn’t seem to be lying.
Yua rubbed her forehead with her palm, trying to calm her overreaction.
When she muttered a soft apology, Lee Jun opened the tent completely and stepped inside.
“W-What are you doing?”
“It’s raining outside. I’ll go once it stops.”
“Director…”
It was still a light drizzle—she could walk through it.
It hadn’t started pouring yet, so it would’ve been perfect to leave.
But Lee Jun didn’t seem to have any such intention. Tossing the round capsule up and down, he said,
“Don’t be so cold. The umbrella’s in the car.”
“Then if I give you an umbrella, you’ll leave, right?”
Swooooosh.
The drizzle became a downpour. Yua had only just managed to find the umbrella by overturning her luggage, but the torrential rain made her effort meaningless.
If she kicked him out in this weather, she’d really be heartless. Yua let out a deep sigh.
“Open it.”
“What?”
“We’ve got nothing else to do. No electricity in here either. Or are you not even going to offer a guest a cup of coffee? So stingy.”
Yua rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, complaining about no Wi-Fi and no hospitality.
Why did it always have to come to this?
He was the uninvited guest, yet she was the one being called stingy and cold. She glared, and he smirked, leaning in playfully.
“So, how about living in a house with 24-hour electricity, heat, and running water?”
“……”
“Let’s live like real civilized people using modern technology, Yua.”
He was clearly not going to miss this chance—offering a life free of water and power worries.
“Haa…”
Was this some kind of proposal?
As he stared at her with furrowed brows, demanding an answer, Yua sighed deeply.
The tent that had felt roomy when she was alone now seemed cramped with Lee Jun inside.
When his shoulder—damp from the rain—brushed hers, Yua noticeably shifted away.
“Give it here.”
She snatched the toy capsule from his hand like a child, then, heart trembling, took a deep breath and slowly opened the lid.
Lee Jun, now behind her, tilted his head curiously but didn’t try to peek. Yua propped up her knees and shielded the contents from his view.
[Please help my mom and dad get along.]
The multicolored paper with shaky, childish handwriting stung her eyes. She unrolled the paper, and there was more text at the bottom, hastily scrawled in pencil.
“For Christmas, I want—”
“Don’t look.”
When had he gotten beside her?
Startled, Yua quickly turned her head as she held up her flashlight. Lee Jun silently studied her sensitive reaction.
“…Is that what you want? What a cheeky little thing.”
Before she could read the rest, the paper crumbled.
Like a candle snuffed out, it weakened and disintegrated in her palm like dust.
“No, no!”
Panicked, Yua scrambled to collect the remnants, crawling on the floor trying to salvage even a speck of the paper.
Her frantic movements stirred nothing but dust, and Lee Jun tilted his head and said,
“It’s over. Don’t bother.”
“……”
“It must’ve been treated with something. You know, the kind of paper that disappears under light or after a while.”
Just like back then.
His cold voice, devoid of any emotion.
“Stop it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Move. Sejin is just sleeping. Kids sleep a lot at this age. She’ll wake up when I call her.”
“…It’s over.”
Yua’s nose stung. Her eyes welled up, her lips trembled, and her mind went blank.
She still felt stuck in that time—as if she always would be.
She hated that he, with the same face and same words, had said it again.
“What do you know?”
Eyes red, brows furrowed, she lowered her flashlight and looked around.
Where had the capsule gone now?
While searching, she must’ve kicked the flashlight—it rolled away and turned off.
In the ensuing darkness, silence settled in. Then Lee Jun’s voice pierced it:
“I don’t know why you’re so angry, but it’s dangerous. Don’t move. Let me get the—”
“Ah!”
They both stood at the same time and bumped heads, groaning in pain.
Thinking it was better to just go out into the rain than stay cramped in this space, Yua had tried to get up, only to fall flat.
And then Lee Jun climbed on top of her, his thumb gently wiping the tears from her damp cheeks.
