Mint Is Pure Love - Chapter 63
The words twisted like a pretzel, laced with a sneer. Yeonseo had always been fascinated by how some people simply couldn’t hide their expressions, and right now, Jisoo’s face was practically dripping with mockery.
“So you’re twenty-four? And you’ve never done it? God, that’s hilarious. What’s your deal, some kind of act?”
She laughed like a bratty kid, smacking the arm of the senior guy next to her, practically doubled over from her own joke.
Instead of answering, Yeonseo stared down at the glass in front of Jisoo. How many times had it been refilled? Her face was flushed red, and she was obviously drunk. Maybe the others noticed too, because someone told her to stop and go get some sleep. When they tried to pull her up, she jerked her arm away, swaying—clear proof she was gone.
“Let go! This is fun, why stop? It’s funny, isn’t it? Even I’ve seen enough naked guys to be sick of it, and I’m only twenty-two!”
“……”
“Minseo—wait, no, Ji Yeonseo, you’re telling me you’ve never seen a naked guy? Seriously? Not even once? Really?”
Her drunken insistence had a strange desperation to it. Like she couldn’t believe it, but also hoped it was true.
“Get up, Yang Jisoo.”
The low, warning tone instantly froze the air. Seokyung’s gaze swept over the circle of bowed heads like a winter wind.
“Go back to Seoul. Now.”
When she didn’t move, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up.
“Oppa, wait—! Why do I have to leave? No! I’m not going!”
She was too drunk to resist, her limbs limp in his grip. Her voice trailed off into the night as he dragged her outside.
“Shouldn’t someone go after them?” someone asked. Jeongmin scratched his head.
“Nah. Seokyung hasn’t had a drop, he’ll take her home. I shouldn’t have invited her just because I felt bad… Now, Minseo got caught in the crossfire. Don’t take it to heart.”
“It’s fine, everyone’s drunk,” Yeonseo said, waving it off.
The group began cleaning up—scattered soju bottles, chip bags, cup noodle containers—when Yeonseo spotted a flip phone on the floor. Hot pink, with the initials “JS” spelled out in tiny Swarovski crystals.
She hesitated. A phone wasn’t like a sweater or a bag—you couldn’t go long without it. And even though Jisoo had just made her uncomfortable, returning it didn’t feel like a big decision.
Besides, she wasn’t angry. Surprised, sure, but not resentful. Somehow, Jisoo wasn’t the kind of person she could hate. Instead, Yeonseo felt… something else. Something she’d never felt before.
Before she could think it through, she slipped on her shoes, phone in hand, and headed outside.
She was almost at the front gate when she froze. Through the iron bars, she saw them—Jisoo and Seokyung—standing by his car. The back door hung open, mid-argument.
“This is because of her, isn’t it? Ji Yeonseo?”
Jisoo’s voice was sharp, almost accusing him like a cheating boyfriend.
“Yang Jisoo, get in the car. You’re crossing a line, and you know it.”
Yeonseo imagined, just for a moment— If she and Seokyung had never broken up six years ago. If they’d grown tired of each other, emotions thinning out until they faced an inevitable goodbye… Would he still sound this cold?
“Crossing a line? Yeah, maybe I am. But who made me like this?”
Her voice softened, edges blunting with moisture.
“No matter what I did… you never said anything. You were okay with everything. You took it all.”
The sharp, hissing-cat energy was gone. Under the moonlight, tears slid down her jaw.
“Seokyung oppa… am I not pitiful to you anymore?”
“……”
“Is that why you’re letting me go?”
Yeonseo’s fingers tingled, her heart thumping hard once, then skipping into shallow beats.
“Why do you even want to date me?” Jisoo asked.
“…Because you looked so helpless.”
Ah. There it was again, Cha Seokyung. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?
“It’s fine if you pity me,” she said. “It’s fine if you see other women. Just… don’t…”
Jisoo broke down, crying like a child—raw and unfiltered, the kind of crying that made you ache to watch.
Seokyung’s face was hidden from Yeonseo’s view. All she could see was his broad back, the one that had once easily carried her. Her eyes stung. She turned away.
Back inside, most people had already passed out where they sat. Yeonseo climbed the stairs to the women’s room, dragged a futon over, and lay down.
Somewhere outside, a car engine started. Probably Seokyung’s, with Jisoo in the passenger seat, eyes still wet.
“……”
Above her, the ceiling bore faint water stains—probably from summer rains. She chewed her lip without thinking.
Her heartbeat felt foreign, like watching a lit fuse burn toward dynamite at her feet.
Where would they go? To Jisoo’s place in Seoul? It was past midnight. Seokyung probably wouldn’t make it back to Gangchon tonight. Would he head home after? Or…
The sting in her lip spread. When she licked it, she tasted metal. That was when she realized what she was feeling—unease, and impatience.
Not because she didn’t trust Seokyung’s promise—all seasons, only you, Yeonseo. But because she didn’t trust the six years they’d spent apart. Those six years had changed him.
Even if he later told her, Forget what I said, forget the offer, she had no claim over him. They weren’t anything.
She unlocked her phone, typed, deleted, typed again. Every word looked awkward and weak. Still, she couldn’t close it without sending something—because if she didn’t, she knew she’d regret it.
[Seokyung, call me when you get back.]
She stared at the sent message for a long time, knowing he wouldn’t reply right away.
She imagined where they might be—already in Seoul, just leaving, halfway there. But the phone stayed silent. No headlights crunched over the gravel outside.
So he wasn’t coming back tonight. The certainty hit first, then the disappointment. Sleep finally pulled her under.