Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 10

B side ◀◀

[I’m always so sorry to you. But… could you just understand one last time? Can’t you find it in your heart to feel sorry for your mom?]

I read the email—same words, same plea—out of habit, then closed the browser.

Sorry. Understand. Pity me.

None of it ever really hit home. Not even a little. I doubted I’d reply again today.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the practically empty fridge and downed it in one go. The only sound in this 20-pyeong villa—something my brother had practically bent over backward to afford—was the soft hum of the refrigerator.

He was barely ever home. Whether it was because he couldn’t or wouldn’t come back, I wasn’t sure. But either way, it didn’t matter.

When we left the family home in Apgujeong, we didn’t take a single piece of furniture with us—not the bed, not the desk, not even the couch.

No TV. Not even a sofa. Just a single dining table shoved against the kitchen wall.

The house looked just like me—empty and bleak.

At least the large desk and computer in the living room gave the illusion that someone actually lived here.

“Let’s put this here, Seokyung. We can’t forget, right?”

That’s what my brother said. Like someone who needed a reason to keep grinding their heart against something that wouldn’t forget.

A breeze floated in through the open balcony door, and on its tail came the sound of a child crying somewhere in the distance. My brow furrowed instinctively.

I quickly walked over and shut the door. The breeze had felt nice, but I closed it without a hint of regret. The crying stopped immediately. I couldn’t stand whimpering.

Lying down on the living room floor, I rubbed at my throbbing head. The coolness of the floor seemed to settle the overheated beat of my heart, which the crying had set off.

“Seokyung, I’m sorry.”
Mom’s apologies always seemed too easy.

“Say sorry. Then I’ll forgive you this once.”

There it was again.

Whenever my mind quieted and the emotions settled, Ji Yeonseo would drift back into my thoughts.

That small back of her head when she asked the P.E. teacher to switch partners. Her flushed cheeks when she bit back her anger, calling me fake. They played out one by one.

“Say sorry,” she said, her pale face trembling.

That expression lingered in my mind like a stain. And when I still didn’t say a word, she turned and walked away—shoulders so small, as if she couldn’t bear the weight of it all.

Why was it so hard for me to apologize?

Honestly, I didn’t feel the need to. I wasn’t afraid of what would happen if I didn’t apologize, or if I wasn’t forgiven.

It wasn’t because Ji Yeonseo was the one being isolated. It could’ve been anyone. Whoever hated or resented me—it meant nothing.

Apologies didn’t change anything. I never expected them to fix things or bring people closer. They weren’t a solution.

Things had already happened. What could “sorry” possibly fix now? To me, an apology was just a self-serving excuse, a way for the guilty to feel less guilty.

“Ji Yeonseo, absent again today?”

Another day, another excuse. She’d been skipping P.E. for a week straight now, hiding out in the nurse’s office.

So petty. So childish. So passively aggressive. Not even worth my attention.

“……”

Why did I even do that?

I wasn’t regretting it. Just… wondering. Why did I say those things? Why didn’t I just pretend I didn’t see anything—like I always did?

Her anger wasn’t wrong. I had been acting strangely—towards Ji Yeonseo in particular.

After months of feeling nothing—no interest, no curiosity—I had suddenly snapped.

Fine. I admit it now. I lashed out at Ji Yeonseo. Because she reminded me of Mom. Because she seemed to be mimicking her exact ways.

I took it out on her without even knowing her properly. I admit how pathetic and cowardly that was.

But why her, specifically? It’s not like she ever whined to me.

Even now, if I let my guard down for just a second, my thoughts wander to that small, pale face. Like I’m curious about what she’s doing.

Why…?

“Seokyung! I’m home!”

The sound of a key turning. My brother, Cha Wookyung, stepped in, smiling, kicking off his shoes. I stood up to help with the bags he was carrying.

“What’s all this?”

“I’m making you meatball spaghetti tonight. Sit tight—I’ll get started.”

He was oddly upbeat. Washed his hands, laid the groceries on the counter. Soon, the smell of meat cooking filled the house that usually smelled like nothing at all.

Sometimes he got overly cheerful like this. It was… jarring. I hovered around uneasily, and he just laughed and told me to sit.

He served a steaming plate of spaghetti—noodles, sauce, and meatballs all tossed together.

“Let’s eat!”

The presentation was fine, but the food was terrible. The meatballs crumbled, the pasta was undercooked, the store-bought sauce was too sour. Still, I ate without complaining.

He talked fondly.

“Remember when we lived in Boston? Auntie Shi used to make this. You’d always have seconds. I still laugh thinking about you with sauce all over your cheeks.”

He smiled, poking at the meat with his fork. But I knew the truth.

The meatballs weren’t made by Auntie Shi. They were made by our mom. For us.

He knew that too. But he pretended not to remember. Pretended it never happened. He twisted the memory on purpose.

Was he trying to make me remember? Or forget?

Wookyung was always like that. Hesitant. Like a kid who couldn’t decide whether to throw away a half-melted ice cream or keep eating it.

Just a moment ago he’d been cheerful, but now the gloom had crept back onto his face. Like it always did these past two years—slow, heavy, and impossible to shake.

“Seokyung, you know…”

The clatter of my fork on the table cut him off. He looked up, eyes dim.

“Don’t go there, hyung.”

“….”

“I said stop saying stuff like that.”

Please. Haven’t we had enough of that? Do you even mean it?

I was tired of him. Tired of my older brother always clinging to me for comfort, for sympathy, when he was supposed to be the strong one.

But the words didn’t come. Anger boiled inside me, but had nowhere to go. It just evaporated, filling me with something bitter and suffocating.

I couldn’t even get mad properly. I was pathetic.

And then, Ji Yeonseo’s face came to mind. The one person who didn’t deserve my anger, but had to take it anyway.

“Sorry. I did it again,” he said, rubbing his face like he was wiping away cobwebs of sadness.

He tried again, cheerful this time.

“So, how’s school? Made any friends?”

“…Same as always.”

“Still talk to anyone from Boston?”

“No.”

“Or your old school?”

I cut everyone off. Deleted all the contacts. No messenger, no numbers. Nothing left to reach me.

Maybe I did it so Wookyung could survive. Or maybe… I just needed to do it for myself.

He glanced at me, then changed the subject.

“Cha Seokyung, do you know how stiff you were as a kid?”

“…”

“Don’t pretend you don’t. I’m your big brother—I know. You never played along unless I begged. No fun at all. Always holed up on the couch with a book. Well, except when you ran around. You had killer stamina back then.”

He smiled, poking at the pasta.

“Still, you’re only eighteen, Seokyung.”

I looked up.

“I hope all this stuff didn’t take that away from you. Your eighteen. I know some of that’s on me…”

He gave me a sheepish smile.

“Sorry for always dumping my crap on you. But Seokyung…”

He looked me straight in the eyes—like he used to, back when everything was okay.

“I really think we’re getting better. Both of us. I’ll keep trying too. So… don’t get too cold.”

“….”

“You can be cold to me if you want. But not to the whole world. Okay?”

“….”

“I just hope you don’t turn into someone too hard.”

What, so I should go easy on you? Feel sorry for you?

Normally, I would’ve thought that.

But for some reason… a different face came to mind. One that I might’ve already been too hard on.

***

Right after lunch break began, the school store was a battlefield.

I was standing just outside that chaos, following a few classmates who didn’t like today’s cafeteria menu. Not wanting to squeeze into the crowd packed in front of the snack shop partition, I waited near a wisteria bench for it to clear up a bit.

That’s when I saw Ji Yeonseo.

She was hesitating in front of the long line spilling out of the store—maybe too timid to squeeze in. The toes of her white sneakers tapped the ground twice, as if weighing whether to go in.

But really, it wasn’t a place she couldn’t enter. Plenty of girls were in that crowd too, laughing and pushing and holding their own. The difference was, they weren’t alone.

Her eyes happened to meet mine. The moment they did, the sparkle in them faded quickly. Her gaze brushed past me like I was some unfeeling object. Just like every other time we passed each other in the hallways, stairs, the teachers’ office, or in the field. Meaninglessly.

Suddenly, I felt something unbearable stir inside me.

I wanted to stop her—ask her why she kept getting under my skin.

But she turned around, giving up just like that. That’s when I realized something. I’d never once seen her in the cafeteria. And more importantly, I’d been looking for her—subconsciously—during those everyday, ordinary moments.

“Seokyung, it’s clear. Let’s go.”

Called by a voice, I turned and followed the others into the now-clearing snack bar. If she’d just waited a little longer, she could’ve gotten in too. Was it really that hard? So what if people stare. She’s already someone who stands out—why shrink away the moment she actually needs something?

“What do you want, Seokyung?”

“What’ll it be, our pretty boy?”

The snack lady teased me in her usual playful tone. I grabbed my usual sports drink and a random pastry, then added, almost grudgingly.

“…And one strawberry milk.”

Just that. But for some reason, my throat felt dry.

Why did I buy this?

The little pink carton was cold in my hand, still fresh from the fridge. I knew the reason—I just didn’t want to admit it at the time. This was impulsive.

I don’t even like strawberry milk. But I couldn’t just throw it away, either.

How could I give this to her without causing a scene? Without it being misunderstood? No matter how sorry I was…

Because, yes, I wanted to apologize. For what I said. For how I said it. And this was just an extension of that apology.

Thankfully, lunch wasn’t over yet. Ji Yeonseo was sitting on the stadium steps, probably planning to try the store again once the crowd cleared.

She sat in the shade, resting her chin in her hand, staring blankly at the field.

Clearing my throat unnecessarily, I wandered near the gym platform.

Climbing up and glancing to the side, I saw her still lost in that faraway gaze. Two seats away from her sat a boy, sketching some busty character into a notebook. A few passing students shouted insults at him.

“Ugh, smells like pig!”

“Freakin’ loser!”

I watched, annoyed, as the rowdy group moved on. Then, unexpectedly, I heard a voice from below.

“I don’t care what they say.”

It was Ji Yeonseo. Her eyes toward the boy were gentle—like she was trying to comfort him. God, why are you like this.

The boy suddenly snapped back, his voice trembling in anger.

“Well, I care! They probably meant you anyway. Freakin’ loser.”

Either he didn’t own a mirror or had zero shame. Embarrassed by his own words, his face turned red as he glared at her. Ji Yeonseo’s face was caught in that strange place—neither laughing nor angry. Just awkward.

Then, for whatever reason, the boy’s voice rose again, shaking.

“What, you gonna go tell Kim Eunho? Gonna snitch?”

Like he’d wet himself if she did. Still, he kept up the bravado.

Ji Yeonseo let out a quiet scoff.

“Hey, I don’t even need to go to Kim Eunho. I can handle you myself. Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

She never said what rumors, but the boy instantly backed down.

Even I was curious what those rumors were.

She waved her hand at him like shooing away a fly.

“I’m giving you a chance—get lost, yeah?”

At her threat, the boy scrambled away with his heavy body.

Tch. What a mess. Ji Yeonseo muttered to herself, then checked the time and stood up. She dusted herself off and climbed the steps.

“…Hah.”

I laughed. For the first time since transferring here, I genuinely laughed—because of Ji Yeonseo, who cared about someone else’s ashes while her own feet were already on fire.

The cold strawberry milk was still in my hand as I watched her long black hair sway with each step.

Once I make up my mind, I don’t go back on it.

I still don’t want to get to know Ji Yeonseo. And yet—

“Ji Yeonseo.”

She turned. Between the quiet trees and school buildings, her white face framed by swaying hair turned toward me. Her hair shimmered, dancing in the sunlight.

I held out the still-cold strawberry milk. Her puzzled eyes landed on me. Something about seeing myself reflected in those eyes made me… content.

“…What is this?”

“Just… saying sorry.”

“Sorry?”

That was all.

Even though it’s obvious she’s dealt with worse, she didn’t seem suspicious at all. She looked at me, then at the milk, and finally, with a hesitant hand, took the pink carton from me.

That was it. Mission complete.

I turned and walked away at my usual pace, not looking back. I rubbed my ear with the cold hand that had held the milk. For some reason, my ear was burning hot.

It was all because of what my brother said.

“Don’t be too harsh.”

That’s all it was.