Eighteen’s Bed

At those words, Yohan lifted his head and looked at me. He shoved both hands into his pockets. Leaning lazily against his chair, he spoke slowly.

"Not really."

As if it had nothing to do with him. As if he couldn’t care less. The moment I heard that, the happiness that had been pounding in my chest, ready to burst, crumpled like a piece of discarded paper. I wasn’t the only one taken aback—Lee Seokhyeon, looking even more flustered, let out an awkward laugh and squeezed Yohan’s shoulder.

"Did something piss you off today?"

"No."

He snapped his head up and shot a glare. It was so obviously a lie that anyone could tell.

"Did you two fight or something?"

"Not really."

This time, I denied it. I kept my eyes on Seokhyeon, not bothering to look at Yohan’s expression. I didn’t want to. Wasting energy on confirming reality and getting upset about it was pointless. I’d learned that lesson well, thanks to Han Junwoo.

"Maybe he’s just mad his grades weren’t good enough."

He said it as if he knew what he was talking about. Of course, that was exactly the interpretation I wanted people to have. At the same time, it was a subtle way of rubbing salt in the wound. A smirk crept onto my lips before I could stop it. Depending on how you heard it, it was just a guess. Or it could be taken as actual information. I liked using language with built-in escape routes.

"You really think Yohan cares about his grades? Kang Jun, say something that makes sense."

"He does. He cares a lot."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious."

Yohan must have done a damn good job hiding the fact that he studied if even these idiots thought it was impossible. Even I felt like I should give him some credit. Fine. It pissed me off that he looked down on me, but I could let it slide this once. A few months ago, I had nearly fallen into the abyss of this pyramid because of Han Junwoo. Yohan had, in his own way, pulled me up. This was my way of returning the favor.

"Yohan ranks pretty high in our class. He studies hard."

"You're in a good mood, huh? So you’re messing with us now? Cut the crap. You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying."

"Wow—at least tell a lie that’s somewhat believable. Yohan, good at studying? Get lost, man."

"Yeah, Kang Jun, even for you, that was a stretch."

Seokhyeon tapped the back of my shoulder with his knuckles. Out of nowhere, Park Dongchul appeared behind him, nodding along with his scolding. These dumbasses, acting like they knew anything. Blood rushed to my head.

"You guys seriously don’t know shit—"

"You don’t know shit, you fucking bastards."

I had been about to argue back when, at the exact same moment, Yohan spat out his own curse from behind me. A gust of cold air hit my back hard. I heard the sharp screech of a chair being pushed back. The subtle shift in pressure against my back told me Yohan had moved.

I swallowed and slowly turned around. The moment our eyes met, I instinctively looked away, stupidly pretending to stare up at the ceiling.

Ah, fuck. This is embarrassing.

The fist resting on my knee curled up tightly.

"Don’t lump me in with losers like you."

Yohan raised his hand above my head. His long fingers tangled with my hair. The moment I felt the weight of his hand pressing down, I almost thought the contact was burning hot. His warm palm ruffled my hair, making it sway with the movement.

"I’m so fucking pissed off I can’t stay here anymore."

"Trying to act dumb to hype up Kang Jun again? Hey, you two, just get lost. You’re both boring as hell."

Seokhyeon teased me playfully. Yohan took it way too seriously. As he walked past, he threw a punch into Seokhyeon’s shoulder—harder than necessary. Seokhyeon staggered slightly from the impact.

"Ah… fuck, Yohan, you asshole."

Yohan didn’t seem to care about whatever was happening behind him. Without even bothering to sling his bag over his shoulders, he just carried it in one hand and walked out of the classroom. I didn’t get up. Instead, I reached out and steadied Seokhyeon, who was still wobbling.

"You okay?"

Even now, I made sure to act concerned—for the sake of my reputation. Seokhyeon, who had been looking in the direction Yohan had left with a complicated expression, turned his gaze back to me.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Be careful. Don’t trip or something."

"Kang Jun, you seriously need to fix that goody-two-shoes way of talking. Jesus, I got chills."

"Damn, he's so fucking considerate. I bet once he gets into college, he’ll be a total lady-killer."

I ignored the offhand comments from the peanut gallery and lightly patted Seokhyeon’s arm. But all I could think was—Idiots. Acting like they’re even going to make it to college. You think I’m like you?

After the usual chaotic end to the school day, I went to my tutoring session, then my cram school, and finally collapsed onto my bed. A thought drifted into my mind.

The way I treated Yohan—it was eerily similar to how I used to treat Han Junwoo.

But I immediately shook my head.

No way.

A sick feeling churned in my gut. I felt uneasy. Pulling my blanket over my head, I squeezed my eyes shut.

The next morning. Like always, I got to school and opened my locker. I was just about to grab my textbooks.

But inside, there were strange objects that weren’t supposed to be there.

A white flower, its stem snapped and its petals plucked off.

A crushed, dead cockroach.

One of its wings was sticking out. Some of its legs were still twitching.

And beneath it, a neatly folded white note.

"……."

What the fuck is this?

I turned my head toward the classroom. Eight students were inside. None of them seemed like the type to pull shit like this. Slowly, I reached out and grabbed the edge of the note, pulling it free. A streak of brownish liquid stained the paper, making the crushed cockroach shift slightly as it clung to it.

Fucking hell. Fuck.

Disgusted, I let go, and the note dropped to the ground with a soft thud. I really didn’t want to touch it. The sight alone made me want to vomit. Carefully, I pinched it between my fingers and pulled it out from between the locker doors. The inside of the note was now visible.

Jun-ah, congratulations.

…What the hell is this?

****

Think.

Morning grogginess faded as my mind sharpened. Honestly, childish harassment like this didn’t bother me. It didn’t itch, it didn’t hurt. But the fact that some arrogant bastard was lurking nearby, feeling bold enough to pull this kind of creepy stunt—that was unacceptable.

First, I casually tossed the note into the paper trash bin. Then, keeping my usual pace, I walked to my seat and crossed my arms. Let’s see. Who in this class hates me enough to pull something like this? Someone who'd go this far.

At first, I thought it’d be easy to narrow down the suspects. But when I actually started sorting through them, things got complicated.

First, Kim Minho. He definitely disliked me, but lately, his resentment seemed more directed at Lee Seokhyeon and Yohan rather than me.

Second, Choi Taejun or Hong Hwijeon. They were close to Han Junwoo and, at the beginning of the semester, held a decent amount of power in the class. They might have hated me for betraying Junwoo and switching sides. But wouldn't they resent Park Dongchul more than me? And suddenly pulling something like this now felt… off.

Third, An Jisu, who lost first place to me. But that theory was quickly discarded. No way.

"…Then, no way—"

The last option was Han Junwoo.

My face instinctively twisted in disgust. Realistically, this made the most sense. Petty, childish, emotional, and someone who would only hate me. My arms tensed as my nails dug into my skin. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even realize I was scratching up my forearm. The fact that I once liked Han Junwoo—it was humiliating. If I was going to like someone, why the fuck did it have to be that piece of shit?

But even that theory collapsed quickly. There was no way Junwoo would send me a message like this.

And then there was the content of the note.

‘Jun-ah.’

Han Junwoo had never called me Jun. Not even once. It was always Kang Jun. Kang Jun. That fucking Kang Jun. He acted like he’d catch a disease if he called me Jun. Thinking about it now, it was a weirdly stubborn quirk. Thanks to him, even at school, my name had become Kang Jun, not Jun.

With that in mind, there weren’t many people who called me Jun.

Teachers? No way. A teacher wouldn’t pull something like this unless they were completely out of their mind.

Or Han Taesan.

The moment his name popped into my head, an overwhelming wave of irritation crashed over me. That round-faced bastard transferred in at the worst possible time, flipping mine and Junwoo’s lives upside down. Even though my infatuation had ended, my resentment toward Han Taesan remained. People are naturally petty. Once they form a belief, they rarely change it.

But he wasn’t the culprit. That coward wouldn’t have the guts to pull something like this.

That left only one person.

"Ah, fuck! Another cockroach on the floor! This shitty, rotting school, fuck! It’s practically the Amazon in here."

Behind me, Kim Minho shrieked. He had nearly stepped on a cockroach. There was the sound of aggressive stomping, and then that voice followed.

"You love it."

"The hell? Love what? The cockroach? Me?"

"Yeah."

"This motherfucker… are you insane…?"

I turned around. I barely shifted my gaze, but only one person came into view.

Ears already riddled with too many piercings. Needlessly long limbs. The hem of his uniform slightly shorter than before, revealing a pale wrist. And on that wrist—a rosary.

Yohan casually picked up the shredded remains of the cockroach with his bare hands. That alone was bad enough. But then he walked right up to Minho—who was already recoiling in horror—and dropped the disgusting corpse straight into his pocket.

"If you like it, you should keep it."

Then, as if to seal the deal, he patted the bulging pocket twice.

Minho let out an even louder, more panicked scream and started hopping around, frantically trying to shake it out. Yohan ignored him entirely. Instead, he strolled over to me with long, unhurried steps.

"……."

Our eyes met. His narrow, chilly gaze swept over me before shifting away. The chair beside me scraped against the floor. Yohan sat down.

He didn’t say a word.

I stared blankly at the air in front of me, my thoughts racing.

No way. It can’t be. It’s not.

That clumsy attempt at deduction stayed with me until the end of the school day. The only time I stopped thinking about it was during lunch, when I had to come up with an excuse to eat separately from Yohan.

Luckily, I didn’t need to.

For some reason, despite sulking the day before, he suddenly sat next to me again. He didn’t say anything. Not a single word. But whatever had pissed him off before seemed to have subsided, at least a little.

My so-called "investigation" finally came to a halt during cleaning duty. I never figured out the culprit.

But I did discover something far more shocking.

It happened when I went to the incinerator to throw away the recycling. On my way back, shaking dust off my hands, I ran into the last person I ever wanted to see.

Huddled near the incinerator building, hands shoved inside his sleeves, Han Taesan.

What the hell is he doing here? That building was connected to the cooking classroom—there’s no reason for him to be there.

The way he stood there, shivering, it almost felt like… he had been waiting for me.

Now that I thought about it, Han Taesan had a history of pulling this kind of creepy shit. I nearly gagged.

I decided to just walk past.@@novelbin@@

Until Taesan suddenly lifted his head.

I miscalculated the timing. I failed to look away in time. My jaw tensed as I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Shit.

There was no one else around. If I ignored him now, it would be way too obvious.

Fuck. Guess I had no choice but to acknowledge him.

"What are you doing here?"

His eyes crinkled slightly at my question. Fuck.

"Oh, I was just getting some fresh air."

"…You’re not even wearing a proper jacket. Go inside."

"It’s fine. I’m not that cold."

Bullshit. Don’t fucking lie to me.

"Why here, of all places? This place smells like shit."

"Uh, well… because you’d be passing by here…"

"……."

"Ah…"

Han Taesan’s face paled as he looked down at the ground.

"Sorry…"

"It’s not… something you need to apologize for."

That’s what I said.

But my face, staring down at his bowed head, was twisted in pure disgust.

Why was he waiting for me here?

The thought made my skin crawl. He had avoided talking to me in crowded areas—probably out of concern for my reputation. Fine. That, at least, made sense.

Even I could acknowledge that Han Taesan wasn’t a complete idiot. He wasn’t dumb.

But to go this far?

To deliberately follow the path I’d be walking and sit here, waiting for me?

That was fucking creepy.

My entire body tensed with revulsion, but I worked hard to keep it from showing.

"I just happened to pass by…"

His nervous, hesitant expression was revolting.

I quickly forced my expression to soften.

"Wait. Your face is completely chapped."

His round, youthful face was red. Something about it gave me a weird sense of déjà vu. I narrowed my eyes, staring closer.

And then I noticed something.

"What the hell is this?"