234 A Bug On His Forehead 2 (1/2)
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
”You don't think it'd eat hard-boiled eggs, do you?”
”I'm not sure. It doesn't look hungry, though.”
Looking in Juho and San Jung's direction, the insect turned away from the egg and crawled toward the young author's fingertips.
”Maybe, it'll fly off if we force it to eat something.”
”Probably,” Juho said.
The insect balanced itself on the tips of Juho's fingers, looking adorable with its set of legs bunched up together on a small s.p.a.ce. At the same time, it looked as though it was about to spread its wings open, ready to fly off at any given minute. At that, Juho sensed an imminent farewell and was reminded of how attached he had grown to his tiny friend.
”I think it knows it landed on a bad spot,” San Jung said quite accurately. The insect was getting ready to fly off to where it belonged.
”Mr. Choi, I think you better prepare yourself. It looks like it's about to fly off.”
”This way?? You mean this way!?”
”Who knows? That'd be up to this tiny fella here.”
”Make it stop! Do something!”
”How am I supposed to do that?”
Juho had no power to keep it from leaving, or to set the direction in which it should fly. The young author would take the direction he wanted to, and similarly, the insect would fly in the direction it wanted to.
”Huh,” the young author let out, feeling a faint vibration on his fingertips. There was a distinct sound coming from the insect, resonating at the tips of his fingers. With Sang's terrified scream in the background, the insect shook its abdomen and rubbed its wings against one another. Then, out of nowhere, something turned up from its sides, revealing its shape for a split second. It was as if a door was opening. 'Are those wings on its sides?' Before Juho had time to confirm, the insect flew away.
”It's fast.”
”It didn't even look back or anything,” Juho said, brus.h.i.+ng his hand down against the palm of his other hand for no apparent reason. The young author had a feeling that his former lover had been like that insect, with which he had had a short friends.h.i.+p. She, too, hadn't been afraid to part ways with Juho, and what was left at his fingertips was a sense loss, something he was all too familiar with. He could've sworn that she had acted charmingly around him, seeking his protection. However, to his dismay, that had been all a delusion. Similarly, the insect was more than capable of living on, with or without the young author. It had flown toward a bigger world. Love, insect, sky, delusion, and farewell.
At that moment, a splash of water came up Juho's face, clogging his nose. Then, wiping his face, the young author opened his eyes and saw Sang standing tall and proud, with his hands wet.
”What was that about?”
”I was was.h.i.+ng the poison off your face,” the romance writer said. However, it felt a tad too spiteful for it to be as good-willed as he claimed. It had to be an act of revenge. With that realization, Juho stood up, barefooted and soaking up to his neck, and started walking toward the romance writer through the cold sand and pebbles on the ground. It wasn't long before a water fight broke out. The two authors splashed at each other relentlessly, paying no attention to their clothes getting soaked. With the exception of San Jung, who was watching from the distance while eating her hard-boiled eggs, everything around them became wet. The dragonfly shook off the moisture on its wings, and the gra.s.s hung limply from the weight of the water. As always, revenge had a futile and unfortunate ending.
”I'm soaked! This is incredibly unpleasant,” the young author said, feeling the weight of his wet clothes. No matter how much he squeezed them in order to get the water out, it seemed to make hardly a difference.
”I didn't bring any extra clothes with me. This isn't good,” he said, realizing just how wet his clothes were.
Then, hearing the young author was in a predicament, Sang sneered at him, ”Well, good thing I brought mine.”
”You carry an extra set of clothes with you?”
”I can't stand borrowing clothes from other people.”
'How often does that even happen, though?,' Juho wondered, impressed by how prepared Sang was.
”In that case, I'm sure you also can't stand lending your clothes to other people, right?”
”Sorry, but I only have one extra set of clothes.”
It started to look like the young author would have no choice but to stay in his wet clothes. 'Eh, it's fine. This was supposed to be a day trip anyway, and my clothes will eventually dry if I sit in the Sun long enough. But what about the car seat?' As the young author pondered the idea, San Jung chimed in, ”It's OK. I have some extra clothes back at the studio.”
”You do?”
”Yeah. My brother comes over every now and then, so he leaves some of his clothes at my place,” she said. It was a stroke of good luck. Then, after the three returned to the house, Juho received a sweats.h.i.+rt and pants. Although their colors didn't match at all, and the rubber band around the waist felt slightly loose, they were quite comfortable.
”Those must have been sitting in the bag for a while,” Juho said to Sang. It was obvious that the clothes had been put away for a long time, and there were folding lines all over the s.h.i.+rt and pants. Nevertheless, with a content look on his face, the romance writer brushed his dry clothes while letting his wet clothes dry beside him.