Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 3

While walking up a low hill lined with similar-looking fences and rooftops, my shoes and bag got soaked, making my umbrella feel pointless.

The quiet residential street felt even more deserted in the rain—so still it was almost eerie. Once in a while, a luxury sedan in the same color as Dad’s car would glide past, but otherwise, there wasn’t a soul around.

As the sky grew dimmer, I quickened my steps out of instinctive unease. In the distance, I could finally see a dark brown wall surrounding a house with a black roof.

On the shuttered garage door, someone had spray-painted in red: “August, Get Lost.” Probably those fangirls from the rival fandom had been by again. A jolt of unease made me glance around. Thankfully, no one was there.

…Dad’s gonna freak again.

He said next time he caught them, he’d report the culprits to their school.

Not wanting to wait for someone to answer the intercom, I used my key to go in. Carefully stepping over the freshly sprouted green grass, I rushed toward the large standalone house.

Barely muttering a hello, I flung off my bag and headed straight to the bathroom. The moment the hot water poured from the shower, my whole body finally relaxed. As the warmth soaked me, it almost felt like the exhausting day was being washed away too. Only then did I turn off the water.

After slathering on lotion and quickly drying my hair, I headed to the kitchen. The smell of meat hit me, and my stomach growled violently. It reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything all day.

The half-set table already looked abundant. I pulled out a chair and popped a piece of fried sausage into my mouth.

“Stepmom, where’s Dad?”

“He said he has a business dinner tonight.”

It happened so often, neither of us asked further. Just as a large plate of bulgogi was placed on the table, my little minions burst in.

“Noona!”

One had just started middle school, the other was still in kindergarten and wore thick glasses.

Unlike the second-born, Mingyu, who tried to act mature now that he was in middle school, the youngest, Minjae, who wore glasses half the size of his face, immediately claimed the seat next to me. I put on my sternest voice.

“Hey, Glasses. What did I tell you about greeting your noona?”

“Gasp!”

The six-year-old gasped dramatically, slid off his chair, put his hands on his belly, and bent in a ninety-degree bow.

“Hello, New Noona! Welcome back!”

“Good.”

Grinning, showing off the two missing front teeth, Minjae laughed like a goofball, making Stepmom and Mingyu chuckle too. Even I cracked a smile.

“Look at this little wench, wanting to be treated like royalty by her younger brothers just ’cause she’s older.”

The sharp, cold voice cut through the warm air filled with steam from the bulgogi, dropping the mood instantly.

Grandma had arrived, dressed like someone from the 1400s—white hair in a bun held with a silver hairpin, wearing an ash-gray hanbok skirt and jacket. She never really lived in this century, let alone this one.

“Boys shouldn’t be raised to feel small. Just because you’re their noona doesn’t mean you get to lord over them. Show some respect. Why are you calling him ‘Glasses’? Got no manners.”

As she spoke, Grandma pulled the plate of bulgogi—closer to me—away and set it in front of Mingyu.

“Minjae, come here. Sit by Grandma.”

She looked ready to feed her precious grandsons one piece of meat at a time. Minjae hesitated, unsure. That’s when Stepmom gently stepped in.

“Mother, Minjae should start learning to eat on his own now. The kindergarten called, said he’s still clumsy with chopsticks… And I made plenty of meat. Yeonseo and Mingyu are both growing and studying hard, so—”

“You bought that meat with your money?”

Grandma’s eyes turned sharp as she glared at Stepmom.

Even though she married in as a single woman, raised another woman’s five-year-old daughter, and gave birth to two sons she doted on, Grandma treated her like she owed her something.

“Wasn’t it my son out there working his butt off for this money? Do you even know whose sweat and bl00d you’re spending when you waste food like that? He probably hasn’t even had dinner yet, still running around. If you don’t think of your husband, what kind of person are you?”

I couldn’t breathe. Over one measly plate of bulgogi…

Stepmom just sat there, mouth sealed shut, like she was guilty of something.

“……”

I reached out—boldly—to the bulgogi that had been pushed away and scooped a full bite onto my rice bowl.

“Grandma, I’m a junior in high school now, right? Studying really hard these days. I can’t waste all that money Dad’s earning for me, can I?”

Her wrinkled eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure out what nonsense I was spouting.

“I read a lot of history books. You remind me of the people on the first few pages.”

Like, page 70-ish. Somewhere between Goryeo and Joseon.

“The way you talk, the way you think—exactly like them. Oh, and your clothes too.”

Even someone like me, who refuses to fight women, has an exception: my grandma.

She’s the only woman I’ve ever gone after.

“But the weird part is, all those people in the history books are dead. Yet our Grandma is still alive.”

The wrinkles between her brows—always tight when she looked at me—deepened. Her face turned red, then blue, and finally she shouted.

“You little brat! You trying to curse me to die already?!”

Grandma’s silver spoon flew across the room.

***

“Seriously, why do you have to provoke her every time?”

Stepmom muttered as she dabbed ointment and stuck a small bandage on my forehead.

“What a waste… That pretty forehead of yours. That temper of hers is something else. What if she really hurt you?”

I wasn’t even that upset, but Stepmom’s voice trembled.

“So she’s allowed to talk crap, but I’m not allowed to respond? That’s not fair. She needs to understand—if you hurt someone, you can get hurt too.”

“Tch… Can’t even say anything to her.”

She pinched my cheek gently. Her pale, slightly wrinkled hands were folding my pajamas from where I’d thrown them on the desk.

That’s when I brought it up.

“The kids… said my mom’s a mistress.”

The hands folding my T-shirt paused for a beat. Then, without a word, they kept folding.

“So I told them the truth. My real mom’s not a mistress—you are.”

“Tck…”

Stepmom clicked her tongue like she was completely exasperated.

“How am I a mistress? I gave birth to two kids, and I’m legally registered as the wife. You should’ve told them—your dad’s second and third wives were the actual mistresses. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, not even in front of your mom.”

I knew. That’s what made me feel guilty. I didn’t even know what the actual definition of a mistress was—I just blurted it out in anger. Still, I couldn’t help but feel bad.

“Those awful little brats…” she muttered, then looked carefully at me.

“So, were you… embarrassed?”

“…Not really.”

I just rubbed at the floral pattern on the blanket with my finger.

“You and that boyfriend of yours, still doing okay?”

“……”

I told him no, that we should stop, but Kim Eunho insisted—walked me home once, just once. As luck would have it, we ran into Stepmom and Minjae on their way back from kindergarten. Still one of the most annoying memories of my life. Even worse was that I couldn’t bring myself to tell her we’d already broken up because she was so happy about it.

“He must’ve been popular. Wasn’t he the best-looking guy at school?”

And that’s when I suddenly thought of Cha Seokyung.

The one who erased any lingering admiration I had for Kim Eunho’s looks, even after all that clingy crap.

His face—so clean-cut, those broad shoulders.

I’ve never even seen him up close, yet I know he’s handsome.

Twenty steps.

That’s the closest I’ve ever been to Cha Seokyung. And yet, every line of his face, every detail of his figure always stood out so vividly to me.

I know you.

But I wonder if you know me.

Even knowing how painful it is to be known, a small part of me wanted him to know who I was. And that surprised me. It’s pointless, tiring even—but still.

How could someone like Cha Seokyung know someone like Ji Yeonseo, the outcast of Myeongwon High?

I laid my head on the pillow. Still, I couldn’t help but think—unless I answered it, I wouldn’t feel at peace.

“…Yeah. There’s someone better-looking than Kim Eunho.”

When I closed my eyes, I saw his back.

Cha Seokyung’s broad, straight back.

***

By the time I opened them again, the ceiling was faintly bright.

“…Ugh, first period should be illegal…”

Felt like I’d only slept ten minutes, but it was already morning.

I fantasized about grabbing the person who came up with early morning classes by the collar as I jumped up.

After a shower and a quick towel dry, I got dressed in my uniform. Stepmom hurried after me, telling me to eat even just some scorched rice.

I waved her off, stepped out into the yard. 6:58 AM.

I crossed the lawn, stepped down four stone steps, and placed my hand on the iron gate latch. I paused, letting the cool April air fill my lungs. Then, I slowly pushed the gate open.

Clunk.

As the gate closed behind me—6:59 AM.

And then—

Whirrrr.

The smooth sound of bicycle wheels rolling from somewhere across the alley. Just like it had for the past month.

Someone big, wearing a crisp white uniform shirt and a black backpack, rounded the corner and pedaled toward me.

The bike, ready to speed down the hill, always passed me like I was a statue.

Cha Seokyung. He passes by.

That clean, calm forehead cutting through the wind.

1 second. 2 seconds. 3 seconds.

Three seconds to see that indifferent face.

Roughly twenty steps away.

Every morning, almost every day for the last month.

To know someone is to know the parts no one else does.

No one but me knows the three seconds of Cha Seokyung on his way to school in the early morning.

Only I get to see him like this—at 6:59 AM, mysterious and quiet.

So yeah, I say it shamelessly.

I know Cha Seokyung.

The three seconds pass in a blink. His familiar back rides down the hill.

I, too, start my descent. Just another school day, just like all the others. I’d bet a strawberry milk on it.

But exceptions always come in the most ordinary disguise.

The bike screeched to a sudden stop.

The figure paused like he was thinking about something—

Then ditched the bike and started striding back.

Twenty steps, ten, nine, eight…

The distance we always had? Shattered.

Cha Seokyung was coming toward me.

Finally—five steps away.

Standing there, he looked like one of those tall plane trees near school. So big, so solid, like he could swallow everything beneath his shadow.

I was caught off guard—totally unlike me—and that’s when it hit.

A low voice, unfamiliar and close to my ear.

It was the first time I ever heard Cha Seokyung’s voice.

And what he said caught me completely off guard.

“Hey, your forehead…”

“………”

“Was it that bastard yesterday who did that to you?”