WTFUDLS 58

Chapter 58

[ Jiwoo: Ugh I wanna smash some seafood pancakes with makgeolli right now. ]
[ Noeul: LOL, that stuff’s so good. ]
[ Jiwoo: That place we went to last time was amazing. Near the market. ]
[ Noeul: Right? That’s like the #1 seafood pancake place near campus. ]
[ Jiwoo: Wanna go again? I’m free tonight. ]
[ Noeul: Ah, I already have plans today, sorry. ]
[ Jiwoo: ㅠ… Who with? ]
[ Noeul: High school friends. ]

“…Tch.”

Jiwoo dropped her phone onto the table.

Hansol had said she wasn’t feeling well today, and Noeul already had plans.

Why was everyone so busy? Was Jiwoo the only one with free time?

Jiwoo suddenly thought, “Am I just living too lazily?”

Everyone else was busy with classes, contests, and extracurricular activities, while Jiwoo wasn’t doing much of anything. She felt like a sloth trudging along among running deer and sprinting cheetahs.

“But honestly, I kinda look like a sloth.”

Jiwoo giggled and searched up sloth pictures. She saved one cute photo and set it as her chat wallpaper. She didn’t change her profile picture—it always had to be her own face. Not using such a pretty face for her profile would be a waste, after all.

On a whim, she took a few selfies—biting her straw and winking, turning her head to the left, then to the right, making funny faces.

“Heheh… hehe. So stupid.”

Her laughter faded as she looked through the photos.

Sigh… What am I even doing.

Why didn’t she feel a sense of urgency? She never really panicked about falling behind or thought she had to be doing something. She always figured things would work out somehow.

Jiwoo scooped up a bunch of whipped cream with her straw and ate it.

Maybe because she wasn’t doing much, she often couldn’t join in on Noeul and Hansol’s conversations. It didn’t happen all the time, but whenever the two talked about something she didn’t know, she’d feel awkward—stretching or checking her phone to fill the silence.

It felt like there was some invisible bond between Noeul and Hansol that Jiwoo couldn’t quite share.

Maybe it had always been that way. Even when she laughed and chatted with friends, Jiwoo always felt a step behind. Like there was always something she didn’t quite get—something that said, “You wouldn’t understand, Jiwoo.”

Of course, Jiwoo knew that you can’t be equally close with everyone. Some people are closer, others less so. But still…

Why was Jiwoo always the “less close” one?

She stirred her drink with the straw. The leftover whipped cream floated on the mint chocolate like tiny icebergs.

“……”

Jiwoo lifted her head toward the window—and met someone’s eyes.

That someone waved at her.

Jiwoo smiled back.

Junki. But next to him…

There was a girl clinging tightly to Junki’s arm.

Didn’t he say he liked me?

Well, whatever. People can like someone else later—it wasn’t her business. Not that it felt particularly great to see, though.

The girl looked into the café and met Jiwoo’s eyes.

The faint smile on her face disappeared.

She gripped Junki’s arm even tighter and said something to him.

Junki looked uncomfortable.

Then, the two of them walked into the café.

What the hell? Why are they coming in here?

Junki awkwardly came up to Jiwoo and said,

“Uh… she wanted me to introduce her to you.”

“Oh… really?”

Jiwoo smiled politely while thinking,
Who does she think she is, asking to be introduced to me?

The girl smiled, too.

“Hi, I’m Junki’s girlfriend.”

She emphasized the word “girlfriend.”

Jiwoo forced a polite laugh.

“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Junki’s classmate.”

“Ah, I see! I’m a freshman in the dance department.”

The girl smiled sweetly with her eyes.

Jiwoo smiled back.

What does she want me to say? Nobody asked.

She wished they’d just leave already.

“I see. Well then, enjoy your date.”

Jiwoo turned away and looked back out the window.

She heard them leave the café.

Seriously. What was that? Saying “girlfriend” like she was declaring war—what, did she think I was some love rival? It’s not like I dated Junki, or even liked him. What would I do with a boring guy like that anyway? He’s like some kind of squid bodyguard—nobody even wants him, but he’s guarding like his life depends on it.

Jiwoo picked up her phone.

[ Jiwoo: Oh okay, can’t be helped ㅜㅠ ]
[ Jiwoo: What are you doing tomorrow? ]

She sent the same message to both Noeul and Hansol.

Neither replied.

Jiwoo kept checking her phone, then slumped over the table.

“Heeeng…”

“……”

“……”

No car horns. No motorcycle engines.

It was as if God had taken away all the world’s sound for a moment.

Noeul said nothing.

Hansol wanted to see what kind of expression Noeul was making, but she didn’t have the courage to look.

Hansol’s eyes were fixed on the photo album.

In the 3×4 photo slot was Hansol in a school uniform.

Nineteen-year-old Hansol.
The real Hansol.

Just to be clear—Hansol didn’t regret her choice. Even if she could go back, she’d make the same one.

No one had the right to tell her to live as her past self—not when they didn’t understand even one percent of her pain. No one had the right to say things like “Don’t obsess over looks, it’s what’s inside that counts.”

Not even her closest friends. Not even her parents.

The people who said, “You were born with glass shards in your heart, so you must live like this,”—who tried to stop Hansol from pulling those shards out—how could they be right? If that’s what they believed, they could live that way themselves. Conviction should come from sacrificing yourself, not others.

Hansol suddenly slammed the album shut. She stood up, shoved it back into the bookshelf.

That should be enough for Noeul to see.

What would Noeul say? Curse her? Whatever. Hansol no longer wanted to feel guilty—for her face, or her choices.

She turned around.

“……”

“……”

Noeul’s face was grim, her brows furrowed.

Hansol had said it wouldn’t matter, but seeing that expression made something sting deep inside.

Don’t shrink. Don’t shrink. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Noeul finally spoke.

“Hey.”

“……”

“Did you show me that just to rub it in?”

…What?

Hansol stared at her cautiously.

Noeul flopped onto the bed with a sigh.

“I thought you like—had a face transplant or something. Ugh, what a fuss. This is why—this is whyyy I can’t stand pretty people. They freak out over a single pimple like it’s the end of the world. They look the same as yesterday but go, ‘Ugh I’m so swollen today, I look hideous~’ It’s so annoying.”

She really did sound annoyed.

Hansol blinked, confused.

Noeul went on.

“So all you did was lose weight and get jaw surgery. You already had that face to begin with. That’s why your friend still recognized you. Ugh, I didn’t think of that. Damn it, I’m so mad.”

“……”

“What are you staring at? Never seen an ugly person before? Oh right, you probably haven’t.”

Was she serious? Or trying to comfort her?

Still, if Noeul could joke like that even after seeing Hansol’s old face, maybe that was enough. It meant she still wanted to stay friends.

Suddenly Noeul sat up.

“Look, what I mean is… you’re like a pearl. But that pearl was covered in a ton of mud. Like, straight out of a swamp, all caked in muck. And then you scraped all that off. The point is—you had to be a pearl first, to have something left after scraping. But me? Even if I scrape everything off, what’s underneath is just a cicada shell. Honestly, it looked better when it was still covered in dirt. At least then I could say, ‘Oh this? It’s just unpolished.’”

“Pfft.”

“…Are you laughing?”

“No… it’s just—the cicada shell part was funny…”

Noeul’s voice was so sincerely indignant that Hansol tried not to laugh—but the more Noeul fumed, the lighter Hansol’s heart felt. She couldn’t help it.

Hansol chuckled softly.

Noeul looked at her in disbelief.

“If I were you, I’d have done the surgery too. If that’s all it took to be perfect, who wouldn’t? It’s not like my face can be fixed, so I just live with it. And yeah, if it were me, I’d have hidden it in college too. No need to tell anyone—if you keep quiet, nobody ever has to know.”

Suddenly Hansol’s smile disappeared.

A wave rose from her chest, up her throat, into her eyes.

She swallowed it down and said,

“I wish… someone had said it like that to me.”

Her eyes stung.

“My dad… he’d sigh whenever he saw me. ‘Do you like it? Now that you’ve torn your face apart? How can anyone love you if you can’t love your real self? You think changing your face makes you a better person? No. You’ll fix one thing and hate another. You’ll never learn how to love yourself…’”

Hansol’s voice trembled like a goat bleating.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“‘You’ll see when you’re older. All those drugs will build up, your jaw and cheekbones will stop working, everything will melt… Haven’t you seen those celebrities who get surgery and end up looking like monsters? It’s a disease, an addiction—you can’t stop once you start. Being natural is best…’ That’s what he’d always say.”

Her throat tightened. She sniffled.

“Even then, I couldn’t give up wanting to be pretty. So I decided—fine. I’ll just live as a monster obsessed with looks.”

“Hey, you’re not some monster obsessed with looks. You’re just normal.”

“……”

Hansol bit her lip and lowered her head.

Maybe that was exactly what she’d needed to hear. That everyone feels that way—that everyone wants to be beautiful. That she didn’t have to suppress it. That holding it in is what’s truly hard.

If someone had said that to her when she was younger, maybe she would’ve turned out better.

Tears dripped down her face.

Noeul muttered,

“What the hell. I’m the one who should be crying. It’s always like this. Ugh, whatever. I’m crying too. Huuueegh. Huuuueeehhhh.”

Hansol laughed through her tears.

Sniffling, she asked,

“What should we have for dinner…?”

“…Sweet and sour pork.”

Hansol cleared her throat.

“Okay.”

“You’re buying.”

“…Of course.”