The novel will be different from the manhwa regarding names, places and terms. Please be advised before reading.
1.
‘Even if life deceives you, do not be sad or angry.’
I think there was a saying like that, but what if life deceives me and I’m fucking bewildered?
***
The class reunion right after graduating from college had, with a bit of exaggeration, the feeling of a boys’ manga full of dreams and hopes. But within a few years, my grown-up classmates had either gained weight noticeably or lost hair.
Is that what growing up and becoming an adult is all about?
The guy who said he’d start a business at the last reunion had spectacularly failed and didn’t even show his face this time.
The one who claimed to be starting a new venture was clinging to people asking if they needed a water purifier, and the guy who had changed jobs was now selling insurance.
This is reality, I guess.
I thought you just automatically became an adult as you aged, but becoming even an ordinary adult required tremendous effort.
It’s bitter.
Everyone seemed to be washing down that bitterness with alcohol.
One drink while reminiscing about the times when we were brave and fresh from not knowing the world, another drink thinking about going back to work after the weekend and slogging away, another drink remembering a changed first love.
Drink by drink, finding reasons to keep drinking until getting drunk, then just one more drink.
The guy who was called a loser throughout school looked exactly the same as during those days.
Glasses, nerdy appearance, narrow shoulders with a protruding belly, slightly balding, skin still not great, but his laugh was the loudest.
A guy whose name I couldn’t remember—ah, I couldn’t recall his name but I remembered the back of his head. He was the one who always sat in the front row asking questions.
The guy who couldn’t hold his head up high throughout school had become a doctor and was bragging about his girlfriend 8 years younger than him—wait, that thieving bastard. 8 years? We’re 28, so his girlfriend is 8 years younger? Isn’t that illegal?
Not just him, but everyone who had something to brag about had their shoulders squared and laughed loudly. As if they’d been waiting for just this day, it was deafening.
So this is what a reunion at 28 looks like—no romance, just purpose.
A reunion without romance was purely instrumental.
Job solicitations, stock tips, selling products, bragging, filling self-esteem with pretension, handing out wedding invitations…
Even I only came because I heard Gong Pyeonghwa would be here, but it seems that was a false rumor.
About Gong Pyeonghwa, I have a lot to say.
We were in the same class from 10th to 12th grade, and I pride myself on having been quite close to him, but contact was completely cut off after graduation.
“By the way, didn’t they say Gong Pyeonghwa would come?”
“They say he’s too embarrassed. His family went bankrupt, you know.”
From what I heard, his family had gone bankrupt.
Gong Pyeonghwa was a guy so famous that there wasn’t a person in our school who didn’t know him.
First, he had striking looks, and even his alpha trait was unique. And above all, he was immature.
To what extent was he immature? Gong Pyeonghwa reminded one of an elementary school kid.
He popularized weird things. Like paper cup telephones, secret santa games, things like that.
For us who were dying from not wanting to study, these were sunny proposals we readily accepted, but honestly, when he suggested playing Red Light, Green Light in the hallway during self-study time, I thought he was crazy.
Of course, I still played. It was fun, actually.
We got caught playing paper football and were dragged away.
We even got caught sneaking into the broadcasting room to play music.
Huh? Wait. Come to think of it, did I fail my early admission because of this bastard?
Anyway, that’s the kind of guy Gong Pyeonghwa was.
Thinking about it again, what a jerk. I wonder if memories really do get beautified over time.
The guys who attended this reunion were probably split 50/50.
People who wanted to see Gong Pyeonghwa after a long time, and people who wanted to size up the aged Gong Pyeonghwa.
The former would be guys like me, and the latter probably…
“Being popular when you’re young doesn’t mean anything.”
“What matters is the present. I didn’t want to say it because it sounds like bragging, but this time I…”
Guys like that, I guess.
These guys who didn’t come last time but rushed over when they heard Gong Pyeonghwa was coming.
It had been 30 minutes since the reunion started, and since there was no sign of him, it seemed Gong Pyeonghwa wasn’t going to show up.
As it became apparent that Gong Pyeonghwa wouldn’t come, people started gossiping one by one.
Those not interested in Gong Pyeonghwa stories were rummaging through their bags, looking like wedding invitations would appear on the table any moment.
I should leave before getting fleeced for congratulatory money.
“I’m going for a smoke.”
I came with nothing but myself, so I could just leave as is.
I’d eaten enough to justify the membership fee, so I had no regrets.
I’d smoke just one cigarette in the smoking area and then go home to lie down. And never leave the house again.
As I put a cigarette in my mouth and made brilliant plans to just breathe at home all weekend, my lighter seemed to be out of fuel and didn’t even pretend to light.
“Excuse me, can I borrow a light?”
“Sure.”
I borrowed a lighter from a guy who I vaguely remembered taking classes with, but his seemed to be in a similar state as mine.
Despite turning the wheel enough to wear out my thumb print, only sparks flew.
Is someone performing a ritual to stop me from smoking? Today must not be my day.
But does he think that will stop me from smoking?
I went back to the table to borrow another lighter.
As I got up quickly to avoid being slipped a wedding invitation, at that moment, I saw the light.
“Huh…?”
“Whoa…!”
Everyone lost their words.
I was so surprised that I dropped the lighter.
Even though the lighter rolled on the floor, no one picked it up. Understandably. Even I didn’t think about picking it up.
Because something too shocking appeared.
“Waah! Waah!”
A newborn baby at the reunion? That would just be a little surprising because babies are cute, not shocking.
“Is our Iseul hungry? Hungry?”
But what if the baby’s parent was someone I knew?
What if a friend I hadn’t contacted in nearly 10 years appeared at the reunion with a baby carrier on their front, holding hands with a man? And if they were wearing couple outfits? If they were lisping and shaking a rattle?
Wouldn’t that be shocking?
That’s me right now.
Completely unaware of my feelings, Gong Pyeonghwa pretended to know a classmate nearby with a friendly face.
“Oh my- who is this. Isn’t it Mansu?”
But he wasn’t Mansu.
“Ah, no, I’m Kang Yunseong.”
Right. He’s Yunseong.
“Ah- I know. I know. Just kidding.”
The guy tapping the other’s shoulder pretending to be friendly had a calm voice but his pupils were shaking severely.
Everyone in the room knew that Gong Pyeonghwa was pretending to know a classmate he couldn’t even remember.
Still, no one challenged him or gave him a hard time.
Because there was something else they were curious about first.
Gong Pyeonghwa who had disappeared without a trace, Gong Pyeonghwa who everyone at school knew, the handsome, immature, overgrown child—he still looked glossy on the outside.
His skin seemed to glow, and he was tall to begin with, but he seemed to have grown even taller, looking imposing.
Despite the dishonorable labels attached to Gong Pyeonghwa—that his family went bankrupt, that he went to prison, etc.—he seemed the same.
He still laughed openly, still seemed playful, still seemed immature, still seemed like Gong Pyeonghwa.
No, he looked better than the Gong Pyeonghwa in my memory, better than when he was a green boy.
It’s certainly nice when a friend you meet after a long time appears unchanged. Well, it is nice, but…
“Waah! Waah! Waah!”
But why the baby?
In the midst of confusion, my eyes met Gong Pyeonghwa’s. After passing by Kang Yunseong, he immediately pretended to know me with delight.
“Oh! Who is this! My beloved friend, Ujeong, isn’t it?”
Wow. This guy really hasn’t changed at all.
“Not Ujeong. It’s Seonwoo Jeong. Single character, you bastard.”
“Ujeong and Pyeonghwa. I still remember.”
“That’s a wrong memory.”
Actually, it wasn’t completely wrong.
At the time, due to my nametag having no spaces between the characters, we had the paradoxical nickname of the “Peace and Friendship” gang.
I was right that I failed my early admission because of Gong Pyeonghwa.
“You still have the same face. Good to see you. How long has it been?”
I had so many questions for Gong Pyeonghwa.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
