Runner-up's Revenge

Dowon set down the glass he had been holding and studied Dahye’s face. Everything around him seemed to ripple, like the liquid in his cup. He felt as though he were clinging to sobriety by his fingertips.

“Fallen hard?” he repeated.

Dahye, who had been tapping her glass with her chopsticks, lifted her head. Her eyes widened innocently, as if asking what he meant.

“What do you mean? I’m talking about that Korean teacher.”

He tried to connect the dots, to find a way for her words to make sense. “Oh, the Korean teacher?”

Perhaps she was drunker than he thought, because she wasn’t making sense. Seeing Dowon’s uneasy expression, Dahye glanced sympathetically at his glass.

“The Korean teacher,” she went on. “It seemed like he rushed into the marriage. He didn’t even properly end things with the English teacher. He looked like he’d seen a ghost when they ran into each other.”

“That’s… pretty rough.”

“Right? They were together for so long, but then he suddenly gets married to a different woman… Oh, please don’t go around telling people about this.”

Dahye gave a sudden laugh, clapping a hand to her cheek, as if realizing she had said something inappropriate.

“I must be drunk, spilling all these secrets.”

Dowon downed the rest of his drink. Dahye kept touching her cold glass and then pressing her hands against her cheeks, trying to cool the red flush. She looked so cute. Still clutching her face, Dahye suddenly let out an, “Ah!”

Dowon jumped a bit.

“Do you remember Seunggeon?” Dahye asked. “Weren’t you pretty good friends with him?”

“Seunggeon?” Dowon repeated, wracking his brain. “Who’s that?”

“I knew you wouldn’t remember if I used his real name. You used to call him TVB, tuna vegetable bibimbap, remember?”

The name TVB brought a memory rushing back. The guy who would fake sickness just before lunch if they were serving tuna vegetable bibimbap, so he could be the first one in the cafeteria—he was obsessed with it.

“Oh, yeah, that crazy guy,” Dowon chuckled. “The one who skipped entire classes just to get his hands on that bibimbap.”

“I still laugh when I think about it. I’m pretty sure the teachers knew and started making him leave last.”

“Yeah, probably. I remember them trying to stop him from going to the nurse’s office on exam days, too.”

The guy who thought tuna vegetable bibimbap was more important than grades, to the point of feigning illness on exam days. Dahye’s feet battered the ground as she laughed. Whether it was the alcohol, the food, or talking about old times, she was in a great mood.

“I met Seunggeon two weekends ago.”

“What? Really? That guy’s a—”

“A what?”

Dowon thought better of his comment and hastily said, “Oh, nothing.”

“Womanizer” was the word he’d almost said. Dowon never intended to meet up with Seunggeon, but it was clear why he had hit Dahye up rather than any of the boys. After all, his second favorite thing after tuna vegetable bibimbap had always been women.

“Seunggeon is working for the government,” Dahye informed him. “He started prepping for it right after graduation, while attending university.”

“…Seriously?”

Was he even smart enough to do that? Was that why he had slacked off in class? Dowon swirled his empty glass, feeling conflicted. Oblivious, Dahye snagged the last carrot from one of their dishes and continued.

“The funny thing is, the cafeteria at his workplace doesn’t serve tuna vegetable bibimbap. He said he’s disappointed.”

Dowon scoffed. “That guy’s nuts.”

“He says he’s going to have it at both his wedding and his funeral.”

Dahye’s laughter echoed in his ears, but Dowon couldn’t bring himself to laugh along.

Seunggeon Kim—When did he start preparing for the civil service exam? How long did it take him? Did he pass it on the first attempt? Did he not contact me out of pity, because he knew I was doing the same thing? And then he contacted Dahye just to show off?

Dahye seemed to notice he’d gotten lost in thought and poured him another drink.

“Seunggeon mentioned that you were getting ready to take the exam, too. Is that true?”

Damn it, I was wondering when that would come up. Dowon managed to smile despite the sudden slackness in his facial muscles.

“Uh… Yeah, I was.”

“Oh… Well, they say there’s a certain type of person who does well with those exams. Maybe Seunggeon did well because he’s got such a one-track mind.”

“Because he focused so hard on tuna vegetable bibimbap?”

Dahye burst into raucous laughter. Just because someone focused on one thing didn’t mean they’d succeed. That wasn’t the reason Seunggeon Kim had triumphed. He had just been lucky. Dowon forced another smile.

Dahye, spotting the expression, said, “Actually, they say people who really excelled in academics often struggle with exam prep, because they don’t have the same drive as someone who had to work hard.”

Dowon’s elbow slipped off the table, but Dahye didn’t seem to notice and continued talking. It almost sounded like she was saying that Dowon failed because he lacked drive.

He tried to tell himself she didn’t mean that—it was just his inferiority complex warping her words.

“Maybe it’s because you were so good at everything, Dowon. You had so many choices.”

He dropped his gaze. “No, not really.”

“Come on, you don’t have to be a government official. You’re smart.”

Dahye looked up at Dowon, her expression serious. Her cheeks were still rosy from the alcohol.

“It’s just a job,” she said, shrugging. But it wasn’t that simple. Not passing that exam had left Dowon working at a convenience store, sitting on a plastic chair at the cost of his wages. He couldn’t even pretend to offer to pay for dinner.

Maybe she was right. Dowon hadn’t fully committed because he’d relied too much on his intelligence.

Top of the class, a graduate of Seoyeon University—just with those prestigious titles, Dowon thought it would take only a few months of light effort to prepare for the exam. Meanwhile Seunggeon Kim, who had always been far below him academically, passed the exam. Dowon had wasted so much time savoring memories of his own glorious past.

“Ah, talking with you is so much more fun now than it was in high school,” Dahye said cheerily.

The only thing 27-year-old Dowon had over his high school self was an extra 3 centimeters in height. Thanks to being seen in public with the stunning, successful Dahye, he had one more thing to add to that list. But Dowon was no longer having fun chatting about the past. Rather, he was enduring it by rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re really wasted, Dahye.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not drunk at all,” she protested. “You’re the one who’s drunk.”

“Me?”

Dahye suddenly leaned in close. The scent of her perfume tickled his nose.

“You’ve been looking pale for a while now. You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

He snorted. “No. Who do you think I am?”

“You look like the type who’d suddenly throw up into a trash can even though he looked perfectly fine two seconds before.”

“There’s no trash can here. Oh wait, does this count?” Half joking, half serious, Dowon gestured to her expensive-looking handbag.

“Not my bag!”

She seized the purse, hugging it and laughing. How much did that nice bag cost? Dowon briefly wondered about the salary of employees at Hanban Bank.

“You’re really drunk, Dowon,” she insisted.

“Ugh, no, I’m really not. I’m totally fine. Watch, I can do a handstand right now.”

“Just saying that is proof you’re drunk.”

“I’m really not!”

Dowon reached for her bag just to mess with her but ended up knocking his chopsticks to the floor. Dahye leapt onto the opportunity to tease him, flinging question after question at him, claiming to be gauging his level of intoxication. The more Dowon heatedly denied it, the more he felt drunk.

“Ugh, okay, maybe I am a bit drunk,” he conceded.

“Should we get going?”

Dahye stood up stretching, saying she needed to go to the bathroom. Dowon knew what she was actually going to do. She was going to sneak off to pay the bill. Somehow, she seemed to think he wouldn’t notice the wallet in her hand.

I wonder how much the bill is.

But this was a restaurant where it was impossible for him to insist on paying. Payday was still too far off. As Dowon awkwardly tidied the table and got to his feet, Dahye waved at him from the entrance.

“Thanks, I’ll pay next time,” he told her, face now hot with embarrassment.

“Hey, if I asked you out for dinner, I should be the one to pay.”

Dahye giggled as they walked down the street. Her face, softened by the alcohol, was pretty enough that people glanced at her as they strode by.

But Dowon silently wished for the time to pass faster. Dahye was being so kind, trying so hard to make this enjoyable, yet here he was, feeling pathetic for wanting to ruin such a nice evening.

“How about round two?” Dahye asked. “Let’s get something refreshing.”

“A second round?”

“How about we grab something cold? I’m really craving pineapple sherbert. Let’s go to that place by the station—”

“Dahye.”

What kind of conversation would come up if they went to yet another restaurant? Would it be stories about classmates who got into prestigious companies? Who would pay this time?

Dowon suddenly stopped in his tracks. “I have work tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re working on the weekend…” Dahye looked down at her toes before nodding. “Okay then. Take care!”

After returning her nod, Dowon turned on his heel and strode away, practically fleeing. Should he ask to be transferred to another convenience store? He had begun plotting how to get himself moved to a new location when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Dahye Yoon: I had a great time today. Hope to see you soon :)

Did you still have to go to the store to change your phone number these days? Dowon shoved his phone back into his pocket, and lost himself to his musings.

***

The next day, Dowon didn’t head for the convenience store or his own home. He briefly worried that Dahye might show up at the store, catching him in his lie, but he didn’t stop walking.

He found himself standing in front of a familiar door. He punched in the code on the keypad and pushed the door open, a wave of warm air hit him as he entered.

The sight of trash bags filling the floor and spilling out into the hallway, moldering in the stale air, ironically gave Dowon a sense of comfort.

“Hey, Hana Baek. Where are you?”

There was no answer.

“Hana.”

If he stepped carefully, he could find bits of clear floor between the trash bags. But one wrong move, and something would come oozing out to soak his socks. Dowon clenched his toes and began to pick his way through the trash bag minefield.

“Hana, are you okay?”

Still, no one responded.

“This place is a mess,” he muttered, finally making it to the bedroom.

Dowon peered into the room, steadying himself on the door frame.

“Woah, did it actually get better in here?”

A voice finally spoke up. “Great, right?”

“Did you actually clean up?”

“A little…”

The dark bedroom was filled with trash bags, leaving no room to put your feet. The only light in the room came from the TV screen, dimly illuminating the space.

On the bed, Hana lay there panting, wearing a spaghetti-strap top and shorts, without even a blanket covering her.

“If it’s that hot, why don’t you turn on the air conditioner?” he asked, raising an eyebrow

“You, Dowon Lee, last time…”

“Last time what?”

“You turned off the AC and put the remote way over there…” Hana groaned, stretching her arm to its fullest extent and furrowing her brow. The spot she was pointing at was just a few paces away, where a side table stood. On it sat the air conditioner remote.

“I left it there thinking you’d move to grab it if you got too hot.”

“I can’t move when I’m like this. You know that…”

Hana turned over to face Dowon, sweat pouring down her brow. He stood silently in the doorway.

How long has she been indoors if she looks that pale in the dark? Dowon wondered.

As Dowon slowly began cleaning up the room, he studied Hana’s face. Her hair was chopped unevenly, probably cut with kitchen scissors, and her skinny arms were red from scratching.

Amid the chaos, Hana was beautiful. Even women fueled by sheer determination and wielding a mountain of makeup would be hard-pressed to achieve a face like Hana’s. Although she was just lying quietly on the bed, Hana made the trash bags around her look like flowers.

“Still, I’m impressed you even thought about cleaning the room. I’m really proud of you.”

“I tried…”

“I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But Dowon…”

Hana buried her face in her pillow, then turned her head, pouting. She hadn’t even showered, let alone put on makeup, yet her lips were so red. It made Dowon curious how she managed it.

“What?” he asked.

“Why didn’t you come over last night?”

“I was working last night.”

“I thought you’d still come by…” Hana’s voice took on a whining tone. Did you just not want to, or was there something else?”

Dowon’s mind flashed to the previous night he spent drinking with Dahye. Dahye, who was just as beautiful as Hana, but who came with that suffocating feeling, like he was drowning on dry land as long as she was near. Dowon took a deep breath of the musty air in Hana’s room. He felt at ease.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked.

“Yes!”

Hana’s big eyes were full of curiosity.

Dowon grabbed the two largest trash bags, one in each hand, and said, without a moment’s hesitation, “I’ll tell you after you take a shower.”

“Ugh…”

Hana buried her face in the pillow, groaning.

“You jerk… I hope only drunks come to your convenience store…”

“Yeah, thanks for the kind words. Drunks tip well.”

“I hope only old men who smoke ancient cigarettes come in, and you get cursed at because your boss never has them in stock.”

Dowon didn’t bother replying and continued his methodical cleaning. With each trash bag he cleared, it felt like the memory of drinking with Dahye was slowly being erased from his mind.

Dowon was smiling until he noticed his phone vibrating, reminding him of last night’s notifications.