Hexed Intention

Yoonmin stepped into a bathroom stall and blew his nose. The tears wouldn’t stop. Why was he so angry? Was “angry” even the right word to describe the feeling crushing his ribcage and stifling his lungs? Afraid that he might start sobbing out loud, Yoomin clamped his hand over his mouth.

His mind wandered to a memory of two years back. He’d been an even bigger loser than he was now, so immature and naive. He hadn’t fully understood the cruelty of the world, nor had he been able to accept what Haein did to him.

He’d held on to that glimmer of hope for too long, thinking there was no way Haein truly viewed him as a lonely creep. She wouldn’t reject him in front of everyone, would she? He felt so sure she would never think of him that way, not after they’d grown so close. Her new friends spent all their time babbling about pop songs, TV shows, idols, and YouTube. Haein didn’t care about that stuff. Surely, deep down, she still wanted to hang out with him, right?

It was these thoughts that prompted Yoonmin to tear a page from his notebook and write down a few lame jokes.

What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?

What do you call a fake noodle?

What’s red and bad for your teeth?

Why can’t a nose be 12 inches long?

Then, he folded the note and slipped it into Haein’s desk drawer. He thought Haein would write back with answers, laughing as she remembered the good times they shared, and that things would go back to how they were. He could forgive her for mocking him, for making him a target amongst the popular crowd. At least, that’s what he imagined.

The next day, the note was back on his desk. None of the questions were answered. At the bottom, in small handwriting, it simply said:

Stop doing this.

When Yoonmin saw that note, he cried. He sobbed uncontrollably in the back of the classroom.

He heard Haein’s laughter from the other side of the classroom, either not noticing his pain or not caring. Instead, she was chatting with her new friends about the latest, viral YouTube memes.

If only he had realized then. Realized that there was no going back to how things used to be with Haein. But how naive is a 14-year-old boy? Even though Yoonmin knew deep down it was hopeless, he kept clinging on. He wandered the halls, looking for a chance to talk to Haein. He waited at the school gate, loitered near her house, and hung back at the end of class, hoping.

Until one day, he heard one of her friends say, “What a creepy stalker. Stay away from Haein, you loser.”

Haein said nothing in his defense. That was when Yoonmin finally understood. To her friends, Haein was “our Haein.” The dorky Haein, who used to sit in the back of the class with him, laughing at stupid jokes, no longer existed. This was the person Haein had chosen to be, and she no longer wanted anything to do with him.

So, Yoonmin simply responded, “Okay.”

He went home and ripped up his notebook. He tore apart all the unanswered jokes and burned them. His mom slapped him on the back for starting a fire in the house. He cried in his room after that.

None of the jokes were funny. Not a single one. But it hadn’t been about the jokes. They’d only mattered because they brought him closer to Haein.

She seemed so happy now, without him. Watching her laugh with her friends, Yoonmin realized that was where she had always belonged. Haein was no different from any other girl in the end. She wanted to talk about pop songs, last night’s TV show, idols, and the latest YouTube trends, just like everybody else.

It had all been fake. The smiles she had given him, her jokes—everything.

So what are you doing now, Haein? Yoonmin thought as he wiped his eyes in the bathroom. Are you looking for a bit of fun? Bored with the same old conversations day in and day out? Is that why you’re messing with the school loser again? You really think I’m stupid enough to fall for that?

He washed his face and dried it with toilet paper before inspecting himself in the mirror. The cool water had reduced the puffiness around his eyes, concealing the fact that he’d been crying.

After taking one last deep breath, Yoonmin returned to the classroom. A hush fell over the room. Everyone was gaping at him. It was clear they had been talking about him just before he walked in. Of course, they had. The most invisible loser in the class had just thrown torn bits of paper at the most popular girl in school. In high school society, that was practically an act of war. His male classmates might come after him. He’d probably get pushed around and threatened for the way he’d treated Haein, but he didn’t care.

Let them come.

Yoonmin packed his books and pencil case into his bag. He was going to pretend he was sick and leave early. There was no way he could stay in school feeling like this.

The shredded paper he had thrown was gone. Someone must have cleaned it up while he was in the bathroom. Just like the paper, the impact of what he did today would probably vanish soon, too.

“Wait.”

Ignoring the voice, Yoonmin grabbed his bag and headed toward the door.

“Wait, Yoonmin. Let’s talk, okay?” Haein grabbed his wrist, her soft fingers wrapping around it.

“Talk?” Yoonmin asked harshly. “Do we even have anything to talk about?”

“We do! We have a lot to talk about! So please—”

Yoonmin yanked his wrist away and said, “I’m nothing more than an insect to you. Right? Who talks to an insect?”

Haein stared at him, lips parted, unable to respond.

Of course.

As Yoonmin left the classroom, he could hear Haein sobbing behind him.

***

“Ahh, I wish I could just become a desk,” Yoonmin sighed. “Is there a black magic spell to turn into a desk?”

He lay sprawled on the yoga mat in Jiyoo’s room. He felt good about snapping at Haein, but the sound of her unsteady, hitching gasps kept echoing in his ears.

Why was she the one crying? Shouldn’t he be the one crying? Was she frustrated that she didn’t get her way? Did she think he cared that she was upset?

The endless spiral of thoughts left him dizzy.

“If you’re going to be a desk, I’ll be a chair,” Jiyoo said.

“Do whatever you want.”

“No, wait. I’ll be a drawer instead. A drawer attached to the desk.”

“A drawer? Isn’t a drawer considered part of the desk? Would that even be a separate object?”

“Who cares? It’s not like we’re actually going to become furniture.”

“I guess… Fine. I’ll be the desk, you’ll be the drawer.”

Jiyoo sat up on the edge of her bed and prodded Yoonmin’s side with her foot.

“Something happened at school, didn’t it?” she said.

“No.”

“It’s because of that girl again, isn’t it? Haein Ju?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You say you hate her,” Jiyoo grumbled. “But you’re always crying over her and letting her get under your skin. If you keep obsessing over her, you’re letting her win.”

“I said nothing happened!” he snapped in frustration.

Why doesn’t she listen?

“Yoonmin Seo… Did you just yell at me?”

Yoonmin blanched. “No.”

“You did. You’re angry. I can tell.”

“No,” he protested. “I just raised my voice a little.”

“That’s what being angry is!” she shot back. “You come over to my house and think about Haein Ju all day! Does my existence annoy you?”

“No!” Yoonmin said, panicking now. “Why would I be annoyed with you, Jiyoo? You’re always helping me out. You’re my only friend.”

It wasn’t a lie. What would he be doing without Jiyoo right now? If he didn’t have her to talk to, he’d be lying in his tiny room, staring at the ceiling.

Jiyoo eyed him suspiciously. “You’re sure you’re not angry at me?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Yoonmin breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“You’re grateful to me?” she continued, eyes oddly intense. “Grateful that I’m always here for you?”

He blinked at her. “Of course I am.”

“Then drink this.”

Jiyoo opened her small fridge and pulled out a plastic bottle of dark, murky liquid. Yes, Jiyoo even had her own fridge in her room. When Yoonmin first saw it, he remembered thinking, Wow, rich people really are a totally different species.

But how did Jiyoo go from asking if he was grateful to demanding he drink something? On the other hand, it wasn’t like Jiyoo’s behavior was any stranger than usual. She was always weird.

“What is it?” he asked, looking at it apprehensively.

“It’s good for you.”

Some kind of health tonic, he guessed. But why did it look like that? The color of it did not look right. Pushing his skepticism aside, Yoonmin put the bottle to his lips.The moment it touched his mouth, a wave of nausea hit him.

“Hey, Jiyoo Im,” he choked. “What is this? There’s no way this is safe to drink”

“Drink it!” she insisted. “I’m telling you, it’s good for you!”

“Seriously? This is supposed to be good for me?” Yoonmin fought back a gag.

“You don’t trust me?” Jiyoo whined. “You always say we’re friends, but you think I’d tell you to drink something that wasn’t safe?”

“I do trust you,” he muttered. “But, um…”

What was that smell? It was like the stench of pig liver multiplied by 100. Or maybe the odor was closer to blood.

Yoonmin glanced at Jiyoo. Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation. There was no way Jiyoo would give him something bad, right? Maybe it was some fancy, expensive health drink that only the upper class consumed. Now that he thought about it, his neighbor once told him she drank badger oil for her health. She said it tasted horrible, but it was worth the benefits. Maybe it was something like that.

“Fine, I’ll drink it. Here goes nothing.”

Holding his breath, Yoonmin gulped down the liquid in one go. Was this what it would feel like to drink the blood of some abyssal fish?

“How was it?” Jiyoo asked eagerly.

“It tasted like hell.”

“No, that’s not…”

Something like the stench of rotting corpses seemed to rise up his throat. He thought rich people must have it tough in their own way, if they had to drink stuff like this for their health.

“…How do I look to you now?”

The question took Yoonmin off guard. “Huh? You look fine. Is this stuff so good that it improves your vision instantly or something?”

“No, you idiot, that’s not what I meant.” She leaned forward, her face so close, Yoonmin jerked away.

Jiyoo grabbed his collar and said, “What do you think when you look at me right now?”

Yoonmin’s face felt hot. “Uh… Um… You’re… cute?”

“Cute?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm…”

Jiyoo moved back slightly, deep in thought. Then she nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“Okay. What should we have for dinner? Should we order stir-fry hot pot?”

Yoonmin was bewildered by her sudden change in topic. “I thought you didn’t like that. Didn’t you say the spices were too strong for you?”

“Today, I suddenly feel like having it. Besides, you like it, don’t you?”

“Well… Yeah, I do.”

“I’ll order it then. Oh, do you want to lie down on the bed? I’m going to sit and read.”

“Uh… Sure.”

What’s going on? Why is she being so nice all of a sudden? Yoonmin wondered as he climbed onto Jiyoo’s bed. He expected to catch a whiff of fresh bed linens, or maybe Jiyoo’s perfume, but all he could focus on was the lingering stench rising from his throat. What the hell had been in that drink?

As Jiyoo read her book, she kept glancing over at him.

What’s up with her?

Regardless of Jiyoo’s bizarre behavior, Yoonmin had a pleasant dinner with her and went home.

The next day, Yoonmin got an intense stomach ache and spent the entire day groaning in bed rather than attending school.

Maybe I got sick because I drank a supplement meant for the bourgeoisie. My guts weren’t made for that.

***

The following day, Yoonmin was well enough to go to school. The classroom was the same as usual. Nobody asked him, “Are you feeling better?” He hadn’t expected it anyway. Did anyone even notice that he had been absent yesterday?

He put his backpack down and dropped into his seat. Haein hadn’t arrived yet, thank god. He didn’t want to see her face or hear her voice.

He didn’t want to think about anything at all. He just wanted to become a desk. So he lay his head down on the cool, laminated wood surface. He could hear the chatter of his classmates socializing around him. Their voices sounded faint and distorted, as if coming from a distant world. In truth, their world was distant from his own.

Yoonmin’s thoughts drifted to curses. What kind of curse would ease his mind now? If Haein died, would that be enough? He imagined a scenario where Haein was dead, and all his classmates were mourning. In the middle of it, he pictured himself, unsure of what expression to wear, feeling out of place.

What if I died?

Things would probably stay the same. The other students would keep laughing and chatting, and Haein’s friends would still be talking about last night’s TV shows. Maybe Jiyoo would shed a tear for him.

He was lost in those thoughts when someone jabbed the back of his head.

“What?!” Yoonmin said irritably, raising his head.

Jian, his former dodgeball partner, stood looming over him. He’d never noticed how tall 170cm looked from a sitting position.

“Yoonmin Seo, come with me for a second.”

“What for?” he asked, distrust coloring his tone. When she didn’t answer, he sighed and stood, not wanting to cause another scene so soon after the last one. He followed her out of the classroom, fairly certain she wasn’t going to ask about his health.

It can’t be about the paper-throwing incident, can it?

Jian didn’t speak until they were in the disused west stairwell.

“What did you do to our Haein?” Jian asked, voice low.

Yep, it’s about that.

Our Haein.