Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 62

At that moment, whose low, deep sigh was that? Maybe it was just the wind—it carried the kind of chill that felt like it had been cooled by someone’s breath.

It came from where Cha Seokyung was standing, no doubt about it. While Yeonseo was thinking that, the weight in her hands suddenly disappeared.

“Oppa!”

Maybe it would’ve been better if he’d at least answered. Yang Jisoo called out to Seokyung with a face all twisted up, but he didn’t say a word. He just took the heavy pot from Yeonseo, held it like it weighed nothing, and walked off without a glance.

“…”

Now empty-handed, Yeonseo suddenly had nothing to do, and Jisoo shot her a resentful look. The way her face puffed up in frustration reminded Yeonseo of her own younger brother, so she couldn’t help but ask awkwardly,

“…Want me to help?”

As she rinsed a mountain of lettuce and perilla leaves under running water, Yeonseo thought, maybe she really was a bit of a pushover.

Jisoo didn’t bother hiding her bluntness. She ignored the offer and disappeared into the kitchen, only to come back less than five minutes later. She looked oddly proud of herself, holding a basket with maybe a dozen lettuce and perilla leaves in it.

“…Is this all the veggies we bought?”

Unable to take it anymore, Lee Jeongmin asked. Jisoo blinked, as if she didn’t get why that would be a problem.

“I’m not going to eat any.”

“……”

So basically—one leaf per person, minus herself.

“Seriously? Unbelievable.” Someone muttered under their breath, and Jeongmin, probably wanting to avoid an argument, gave Jisoo another push toward the kitchen. Go wash everything in the bag, he told her.

As Jisoo grumbled about how long it would take, Jeongmin looked faintly sympathetic. After all, he’d been the one to invite her here. Probably just wanted to make her at least pull her weight for the meal.

No one offered to follow her back to the kitchen. Not surprising, given the atmosphere. She was an uninvited guest, and on top of that, she had the nerve to act like she owned the place.

Yeonseo couldn’t just sit there and watch.

When Jisoo’s slight shoulders caught her eye as she carried the grocery bag toward the back door of the pension, Yeonseo felt that strange sense of déjà vu. Even with her attitude, Yeonseo could guess what might really be going on inside—because Jisoo reminded her, just a little, of her past self.

Of course, Jisoo was a lot more shameless.

“Ah, my nail parts fell off…”

While Yeonseo rolled up her sleeves and started giving the lettuce a full-on Cinderella-style wash, Jisoo leaned against the counter and fussed over the rhinestones on her nails—like some princess worried about her jewels.

Yeonseo didn’t even bother replying. It was just lettuce. She focused on rinsing the perilla leaves as fast as she could.

Koreans can’t eat grilled meat without wraps, so enough vegetables for fifteen people were piled up like they were prepping for a banquet.

The cold water had already reddened the skin under Yeonseo’s nails when a sharp, oddly-shaped comment rolled toward her like the missing nail gem.

“You got your nose done, right?”

“Huh?”

Turns out, she wasn’t even looking at her nails—she’d been staring at Yeonseo’s side profile. When Yeonseo turned her head, Jisoo’s gaze slid down from her nose to her chest.

“How much did you get put in there?”

“What?”

Her narrowed eyes traveled back and forth, as if measuring.

“Looks like over 300. Maybe 350cc? 370? Yeah, about that.”

“……”

“How’s the feel? Natural? Or kind of… you know? Looks fine from here though.”

Yeonseo glanced down at her own chest. Can you even call this harassment when it’s from another woman? Or is it more like… a product review? Why is everyone so interested in my b00bs today?

“I’m getting mine done too. Seokyung oppa likes girls with big chests.”

Her sly eyes skimmed Yeonseo’s face, then her neckline.

“Share your clinic with me, yeah? Looks really natural—like the real thing.”

She looked down at her flashy nails, dotted with little rhinestones, and kept going.

“Just hurry it up, okay? You didn’t actually want to help me anyway. No need to pretend. You already know the easy way, don’t you? You’ve had work done—you know pretty girls have it easier.”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence for Yeonseo to know where she was going with it.

The feeling was… strange. Not because she was being judged on her looks—Yeonseo was sadly used to that. She’d been hearing comments like that since middle school, high school, even as an adult.

Most of the time, they were framed as compliments, sometimes even awe. But they’d never been trophies in her life. If anything, they’d become the ruler people used to measure and define her by.

You’re pretty, so you can handle comments like this, right? You’ve got it easy because you’re pretty.

She’d never been okay with it. Never owed anyone the right to hit on her whenever they felt like it. And anyone who thought her life was easy just because of her looks… clearly had no idea. Those comments, no matter how casually tossed out, still tasted bitter and sour.

Yeonseo shut off the tap.

“I think you’re really pretty too, Jisoo sunbae.”

Jisoo’s eyelinered eyes flicked toward her. She wasn’t just saying it—Jisoo was genuinely beautiful. Seokyung noticing her was proof enough. Yeonseo smiled wryly.

“But you’re struggling to wash lettuce right now. So… I guess being pretty doesn’t make everything easy.”

Weird. For someone who’d been acting like she had the world figured out, Jisoo’s face flushed—like a kid getting scolded. It reminded Yeonseo of her little brother Minjae, and she went quiet for a moment.

“I’ll do it. You two, get out.”

When had he arrived? Seokyung was suddenly standing beside the sink. He scooped up the lettuce and perilla leaves soaking in the basin with those big hands of his, rinsed them in the cold water, and tossed them into the basket with practiced ease.

Yeonseo glanced up without thinking, caught between a silent, unreadable Seokyung and a tense, glass-fragile Jisoo. Unsurprisingly, the first to speak was the woman.

“I’m not going home tonight. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to drive me all the way back to Seoul, oppa.”

Should she step aside? Her feet hesitated… but staying here didn’t feel like a good idea either. While she was still deciding, Jisoo turned to her.

“Hey, could you move?”

The tone was clear. ‘You’re the extra here’.

She couldn’t even argue. If Jisoo were interrupting a conversation between Seokyung and her, Yeonseo would’ve thought the same thing.

She’d just started turning toward the door when Seokyung shifted his body toward them. His cool gaze skimmed over Yeonseo before landing on the woman who’d been watching him all along.

“Yang Jisoo.”

His voice was stripped bare of warmth—colder than calling out to a stranger. Jisoo flinched.

“Don’t mess around.”

Just four syllables, but they hit harder than they should have. Yeonseo often said the same thing to Minjae or Mingyu, but from him, it sounded… humiliating.

Seokyung had a knack for this—making his meaning perfectly clear without spelling it out. I don’t even want to deal with you—that’s what it said.

Then his eyes moved to Yeonseo, sharp and displeased.

“Ji Yeonseo, you’re too soft. Get out of here.”

And with that, he picked up the basket of vegetables and walked out.

Too soft? What had she even done? It felt like getting caught playing with the “don’t hang out with that kid” friend back in elementary school.

While she was still watching his retreating back, feeling strangely wronged, a question pulled her back.

“Your name’s Ji Yeonseo?”

“Huh? What?”

It was so obvious, hearing it made her blink. When she turned, Jisoo was watching her with a faintly confused look.

“You’re Yeonseo? Didn’t you say Ji Minseo?”

“Oh, yeah… I changed it. Why?”

Her eyes lingered for a moment, then she shook her head lightly. Her curled hair swayed with the motion—reminded Yeonseo of Baek Hyeji for some reason. Must be a popular style.

“So I can sit and eat now, right?”

Translation: I’ve done my part, so we’re good? Before Yeonseo could answer, her velvet track pants were already heading out.

As Jeongmin once said, Jisoo was… unique. Put nicely, anyway. Ask the female seniors who didn’t like her, and they’d say something else.

“Zero social skills and totally insufferable. My pet parrot has more awareness than her.”

That sympathy Yeonseo had been feeling earlier didn’t last long. Over dinner, she struggled to keep the atmosphere from going completely sideways.

Jisoo’s way of speaking was… something else.

“If you’re breaking out this much as an adult, you need to see a doctor. Ugh, doesn’t it make you sad to look in the mirror?”

Or,

“You don’t work out, do you? Why not?”

And she’d actually look puzzled while asking. Then she’d add,

“Come to my dad’s clinic. Want me to make you an appointment? If you use my name, they’ll treat you until it’s gone.”

“Want me to introduce you to my trainer? I paid for 100 sessions but barely go—you can use them instead.”

She wasn’t bragging. She meant it, and if anyone said yes, she’d act on it immediately. One guy even accepted the trainer offer, and she texted the booking on the spot.

So no one could even complain—she was tactless, but not malicious.

Every time she spoke, Yeonseo swallowed hard and glanced around. Every time, her eyes met those of Eunjoo and Haemin, their pupils shaking like they’d been through an earthquake.

Some people took it as kindness, others as an insult, and so the whole dinner ended in this weird, unsettled space.

But the real surprise came after. Even though she was clearly the reason things had gotten awkward, Jisoo bounced back just fine. She started a drinking game and whined about how boring everyone was.

It was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d been sobbing with swollen eyes over her ex just a few hours earlier.

With a few people already gone to their rooms in a huff, the rest of them lingered awkwardly in the living room, drinks in hand. At least some of the guys were willing to play along, Yeonseo thought, glancing at Seokyung.

He and Jeongmin were at the dining table, deep in conversation over soju, like they were planning something.

Why isn’t he stopping her? Just letting her run wild? They’d dated for over a year—long enough for marriage talk, apparently. Now here she was, still hung up enough to crash this trip, but Seokyung’s attitude toward her was almost… indifferent. Not a flicker of reaction.

Honestly, if Jisoo started dancing in the middle of the room right now, he’d probably just keep talking.

Even now, with her laughing loudly enough for everyone to hear, he didn’t look once. Maybe that’s what’s left after the feelings are gone.

“If you’ve never seen the opposite s3x naked, put a finger down.”

The sound snapped Yeonseo’s thoughts back. They were sitting in a circle on the floor, snacks and paper soju cups in the middle. She already had four fingers down.

“Come on, hurry.”

The oldest female senior in the group, class of ’02, grinned mischievously. There were guys here too, but they’d already covered kissing, cheating, and other topics, so this was nothing.

Should she? She hesitated. These games always end up targeting the person with the fewest fingers left—and that was her.

Maybe she’d just take the drink and call it a night. It was past eleven anyway. She gave in and folded her last finger.

A cheer went up, and she threw back the bitter shot, making a show of looking wronged—only to have a cold, mocking voice cut into her ear.

“Why are you lying?”