*Flip.*
The only sound in the quiet room was the rustling of paper.
I stared at the admission notice with a face like I'd just bitten into something foul.
Name: Ryu Sehwa
Age: 18
Country of Origin: Russia
Grade: 2
.
.
.
*Thud.*
I placed the document on the table and sank into the chair.
Closing my eyes, I let the creaking sound of the chair wash over me.
"Sasha… I hate you so damn much."
I really just wanted to punch someone.
"Yeah… the more I looked, the prettier he seemed. I'll admit it. I've never gotten a tattoo in my life, but I thought it didn't look half bad…"
(Why the hell does it have to be a minor, you bastard? Now I've got to go to school. How much trouble did you cause in your neighborhood to end up like this?)
School is a place of survival of the fittest.
The weak get devoured, and the strong survive…
(Wait… or is that just the delinquent school I went to?)
Then I remembered what the official had said.
They sighed while looking at where I lived, saying, "So that's why Sehwa's mother chose a house here," marveling at my mother's foresight.
It's probably because of the school district.
Gangnam.
The place where the elite children of this country and the nation's wealth converge.
Don't people think of Gangnam as that filthy rich neighborhood?
I pulled myself up from the chair and looked at the document again.
"It's on the outskirts of Gangnam, but… the kids there probably only care about studying."
It didn't seem like the kind of place where people would gang up on me like they did back when I tried to "challenge" them.
(Oh, right. this is gender role reversed world)
Well, there probably aren't any crazy guys who'd pick a fight with a girl.
But even if that's not the case, there's still a problem… I feel like I'm going to attract a ton of attention.
(By this world's standards… a pale-skinned guy with tattoos? No way that doesn't draw eyes. I must look like some mixed-blood delinquent, damn it.)
Or maybe the prim and proper kids will look at me like I'm some lowlife thug, with disgust in their eyes.
*Haa.*
Screw it all. Just thinking about it is exhausting.
As I got up, the worn-out chair let out a screech.
(Let's check the mirror again. I need to assess the situation and cover up what I can.)
Dragging my tired legs, I shuffled to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
A face that couldn't decide whether it was Caucasian or Asian greeted me warmly.
Get lost. I didn't come here to see you.
"Hmm, let's see."
My body, reflected in the glass, reminded me of an animal farm.
How much must someone love foxes and wolves to plaster them all over like that?
And as if they were running an orchard, there were flowers delicately placed around them.
Plus lettering, clouds…
Whoever did this was insane.
Anyway, enough admiring.
(Assuming I'm wearing clothes…)
I estimated which tattoos would be visible if I wore a short-sleeved shirt.
Left arm, collarbone, neck. And under my eyes. That's about it.
The left arm had tattoos down to the wrist bone, so even with arm warmers, it might be a bit risky.
Still, that's manageable. It'll do.
Next, the collarbone.
Thanks to the tattoos covering from my upper left chest to my collarbone, those are definitely going to show.
But a school uniform shirt should cover it, so that's a pass.
Now the neck.
(That can be covered with some skin-colored tape. It's not too big.)
Finally… under my eyes.
"Man, this one's hopeless."
With my already sharp, elongated eyes, the tattoos were drawn right along the lines.
"There's no hiding this, damn it… I'll just say it's a sticker."
Finishing my "avoid looking like a delinquent high school boy" project, I stepped away from the mirror and called Hayul.
The admission notice had just arrived, and I figured I should strike while the iron's hot.
Hayul answered the phone brightly, calling my name but sounding a bit puzzled.
"Hey, Sehwa. We just talked earlier… Did something happen?"
"No, noona, do you have time right now?"
"Huh? Wait, did you already get the high school admission notice?"
"Yeah."
Hayul made some hesitant noises, like she was thinking hard, before finally deciding.
"Sorry… I want to make time, but I've got a part-time job tonight."
Right, she works part-time.
"Sehwa, how about tomorrow?"
"Sounds good. See you tomorrow then."
"Okay. Thanks."
Her last comment made me chuckle it showed her kind personality.
What's there to thank me for?
(is this noona gonna get scammed someday? She's just too nice…)
Anyway, I said I understood and hung up.
Time to mess around on my phone and roll around for a bit.
____
**Finally, today's the day.**
My first date with Sehwa
I got ready hours in advance, showered, and put effort into my makeup.
But for some reason, the makeup wasn't sitting right today, and I grumbled a bit.
"Ugh, should I redo it?"
But there wasn't time for that.
Between doing my makeup, picking out clothes, and checking my appearance, the time for my meetup with Sehwa was already approaching.
Hayul smacked her lips, resigned, and stood in front of the full-length mirror.
"Alright… this is good enough. Have some confidence, Hayul."
She was feeling a bit down inside but tried to psych herself up as she headed to the meeting spot.
(Why do I feel so off today?)
"Are you waiting for someone?"
"Huh? Oh, yes…"
"Waiting for your boyfriend?"
"Oh, no, he's not my boyfriend."
"Can I get your number then?"
"Sorry, I, uh, have someone…"
Hayul felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
Back when she attended all-girls' middle and high schools, she thought she'd never have any interactions with guys, but now she was getting hit on.
In truth, it was probably because of her old glasses that covered half her face and her lack of fashion sense, but Hayul firmly believed it was because of her all-girls' school background.
(How many is that now? Even if it's a lively area, this feels nice.)
After sending off the guy who asked for her number, Hayul sat on a chair, waiting for Sehwa.
---
____
A wardrobe so old it's a miracle it's not moldy.
Inside, a few pitiful pieces of clothing hung limply.
"Looking at this, I can tell how I used to live."
Sasha and I are, like, 98% alike in taste and personality.
Still, there was no need to agonize over picking one of these rags.
The reason I, who usually just wore a tank top and sweatpants, was trying to wear something new from this pile of rags was simple.
"I'm going to a crowded place after a while, so I want to feel good."
Fresh from a shower, wearing just underwear, I rummaged through the wardrobe and picked out something that could pass as clothing.
A plain white T-shirt.
A pair of slim-fit jeans, ripped at the thigh like they'd been clawed by a bear, reaching down to my ankles.
(Yeah, this is human enough)
Without a full-length mirror, I couldn't see my whole look, but glancing down, it seemed fine.
I closed the wardrobe door and stepped outside, where the blazing sun attacked my eyes.
(Ugh, damn it…)
Shielding my eyes with my hand, I checked my phone and saw the meeting time was getting close.
(Gotta hurry.)
I rushed down the stairs, hopped into a taxi, and arrived at the meeting spot with a bit of time to spare.
Stepping out of the cool, air-conditioned car, I was greeted by the stifling heat and the bustling streets of Gangnam.
A city filled with corporate skyscrapers.
Cars that would be considered fancy elsewhere were just standard family vehicles here in this insane neighborhood.
But even in this cold, corporate city, there were places for people to have fun.
The spot I was in now was a bustling area born from the desire for more than just work.
Even in this sweltering summer, plenty of people were out and about.
Proof? The couple coming out of that café and the group of high schoolers pouring out of a PC bang.
As I walked toward Hayul, listening to the honking cars on the road flanked by sidewalks, an unpleasant sensation hit me.
(Man, how long have I been out here, and I'm already sweating?)
Feeling my white T-shirt getting damp, I knew this wasn't good.
I need to grab a cold coffee. No, two.
(Last time, noona asked me to buy her a coffee… Oh, I need to send her money too.)
I walked into a café from a brand I used to love in my past life.
Conveniently, it was nearby.
*Ding—.*
"Welcome to XXbucks!"
The enthusiastic greeting from the staff hit me as soon as I walked in.
I nodded in acknowledgment and went to the counter, glancing at the menu out of habit.
Next to me, people escaping the heat were also checking the menu.
Whatever. I already know my go-to order, so I stepped up to the counter.
The staff member hesitated, casting a glance at someone nearby and whispering.
"Hey, noona…"
"Yeah?"
"I can't tell if this customer is a foreigner or not. If they speak English, can you handle it?"
The "noona" staff member looked at me and nodded vigorously.
(So that's what it was…)
"One Java Chip XXpuccino. No, make it two."
"Oh, would you like whipped cream on both?"
"Yes, both."
When I ordered in Korean, the "noona" staff member looked disappointed.
(Yeah, I'm disappointed too. I was ready to stumble through some English. But you know what? I suck at English too.)
How's a Russian supposed to learn English?
They had a whole Cold War with America, so, you know, pride and all.
(Right, Sasha? If you'd learned it, I could've been trilingual. What a shame.)
I successfully placed my order and waited for my sweet coffee.
I could already imagine it.
The condensation on the cup, the cool sensation when I hold it.
That sweet, non-bitter taste that makes you realize you've already downed half of it.
"Two Java Chip XXpuccinos ready!"
I grabbed the coffees from the staff and headed to the meeting spot.
From a distance, I saw Hayul getting hit on by some guy before sitting casually on a chair.
(noona's pretty popular, huh.)
For some reason, I felt happy and smiled.
Then I snuck up behind her and pressed the cold coffee against her exposed neck.
"Eek! Cold! Oh… Sehwa?"
"Hey, noona."