Chapter 10

“What should I do?”

Her heart swelled, embarrassment and tangled emotions tormenting her.

She rested her gaze on the broad shoulders of Iseong and mumbled,

“Avoiding seems best… for now.”

Click. With those words, her emotions got into the car.

Gamjeong, who had always been honest about her feelings, turned away from him with an icy stare.

Vroom. The sight of his car driving off felt like Gamjeong’s rejection.

Sigh. Was it a mistake?

Unable to control his surging instincts, he had crossed a line. Thirty years of friendship might now be severed.

“Ugh… seriously… I’m losing it.”

Alcohol flooded Gamjeong’s veins, its intoxication needling at him little by little.

Today had been life-shattering, and even Gamjeong—drunk out of her mind—should have no reason left in her head.

Yet, despite knowing that, he had responded to her.

Because his wicked heart saw it as an opportunity.

Because Gamjeong’s pain and heartbreak brought him relief and hope.

But now, caught up in Gamjeong’s reckless actions, he had made a mistake.

That relief and hope had turned hollow. A mistake that might even destroy the trust and friendship built over thirty years.

“Avoiding seems best… for now.”

Right now, Gamjeong’s eyes were betraying him. Not them—just him. A gaze that wanted to escape, to distance itself from him completely.

Why had he let himself be swept up in Gamjeong’s recklessness?

Sigh. Probably because of foolish hope.

Because Gamjeong had never just been a friend to him.

Because to him, Gamjeong was a woman.

Ever since they hit puberty, since their bodies began changing into those of a man and a woman, he couldn’t see Gamjeong as anything else.

It must have been their first year of high school. There had been moments before when his heart dropped, but there was one defining moment.

When they were seventeen, Gamjeong and he were freshmen in the same class.

During a warm June P.E. class, the boys were absorbed in soccer while the girls played dodgeball.

As usual, his eyes searched for Gamjeong.

It was a familiar habit, looking for his best friend. But Gamjeong was nowhere in sight.

She had been suffering from a summer cold—one so bad even dogs didn’t catch it. Maybe she had gone to the nurse’s office?

“Hey, didn’t you see? Jeongie went back to the classroom earlier.”

Hearing that from a friend, he made an excuse about needing the bathroom and headed to the nurse’s office. He needed cold medicine anyway.

But the classroom was empty except for Gamjeong. At the window-side desk in the front row, she was slumped over, fast asleep.

Should he wake her and give her medicine? Or let her sleep?

Overthinking, he sat beside her.

Under the June sunlight, Gamjeong’s profile was vivid.

Her thin eyebrows were neatly combed, her closed eyes hiding large pupils behind long, fluttering lashes.

Suddenly, Gamjeong’s brows furrowed—the sunlight was too bright.

He picked up the literature textbook on the desk and held it over her face, adjusting the angle to block the sun.

Only then did her frown soften.

Her small nose was just prominent enough, and below it, her lips were unusually plump. Glossy, as if she’d applied lip balm, with a lively pink hue.

Something felt strange. A peculiar sensation lodged in his throat. His gaze kept drifting downward.

Her hair, cascading to her shoulders, had slipped behind her neck, revealing a slender nape so delicate it seemed he could hold it in one hand.

The soft arms extending from her short sleeves were smooth, barely any hair on them.

Unlike his own muscular, thick arms, or the rough, hairy ones of the boys running around outside.

It was bizarre. The sunlit breeze from the window seemed to flutter in his heart. No—it was like a gust piercing his chest, stirring something awake.

That wind carried Gamjeong’s scent to his nose. Shampoo? A fragrance he’d caught hints of before.

A strangely tickling aroma that made his throat itch, as if he might cough any second.

Ironically, it was Gamjeong who coughed. Then her big eyes fluttered open.

What’s this? Her mischievous gaze seemed to ask.

Her dazzling eyes, glowing under the sunlight, felt like they were squeezing his heart.

What… is this feeling? What’s this throbbing pain in my chest?

Pushing the unfamiliar sensation aside, he scolded her like usual.

“You should’ve gone to the nurse. Sleeping here won’t fix anything.”

“…Why are you here?”

He pulled cold medicine and ssanghwa-tang from his pocket and set them on the desk.

“If you’re sick, take medicine. Don’t just lie there.”

“Wow~! You’re actually being considerate for once!”

Gamjeong tore open the pill packet and downed the ssanghwa-tang in one gulp before flopping back onto the desk.

“Ahhh—perfect for a deep nap.”

This time, she turned away so he couldn’t see her face.

He stared at the back of her round head before lying down the same way. Then, suddenly, Gamjeong turned to face him, their eyes locking.

Her radiant pupils, glowing in the sunlight, widened endlessly before she slowly sat up. He followed.

Gamjeong fanned her flushed face.

“The sun’s crazy hot today.”

He reached out naturally, pressing his hand to her forehead.

Normally, he’d focus on her temperature, but today, the warmth of her skin against his fingertips sent a jolt through him. His heart lurched.

Keeping his voice casual, he replied,

“I think it’s just you who’s hot.”

Her sparkling eyes narrowed at him.

“Hey, that’s against the rules.”

“…?”

“Face attacks.”

“Hah.”

“Don’t open your eyes like that, don’t just touch a girl’s forehead to check for fever, got it? I’m letting it slide because it’s you. If you do this to other girls, you’ll be an arsonist setting hearts on fire.”

The words that would’ve made him scoff before no longer felt funny.

Then why do you let me? Am I not enough to make your heart race? How long will you keep enduring?

Does your heart never burn for me?

Questions like smoke filled his chest, suffocating him.

That question still lingered in his heart and mind, trampled like seeds.

Even as Gamjeong went through three relationships, he watched her with that same question. Am I just a friend to you?

At twenty-one, when Gamjeong got her first boyfriend, jealousy drove him straight into the military.

Out of sight, out of mind? But at twenty-four, Gamjeong brought a second man before him.

Maybe the jealousy burned itself out. What settled in his heart wasn’t resignation—just reluctant acceptance.

Maybe he convinced himself that her fleeting relationships didn’t matter. That staying by her side as a friend was more meaningful.

He tried to look away, to ignore Gamjeong dating and breaking up.

Until the third man—Go Do-hoon—appeared.

A college friend and classmate, Go Do-hoon became Gamjeong’s third—no, final—boyfriend.

While he had been stuck with the friend title for nearly thirty years, Go Do-hoon, who had known Gamjeong just as long, claimed the boyfriend title at twenty-seven.

He had become the man who wasn’t just a friend.

It was a shock.

A shock—but he endured it. Because what else could he do, standing before two people who had already chosen each other?