Naturally, it may seem like a straightforward tale, but I can’t help but feel a deep sense of regret about labeling it as my “second dumbest idea. “
With the already-existing awkwardness between Hayoon and me, the thought of adding Iris into the mix seemed like it would only amplify the discomfort.
Nonetheless, we somehow managed to progress to a point where we could have somewhat meaningful conversations about future plans or tasks that needed attention.
This unexpected turn of events led to numerous discussions between us.
However, just because we were able to communicate better doesn’t mean that we were entirely comfortable being alone together in the same space.
Initially, despite attending the same school, Iris and I were not in the same academic class, and we never had the type of relationship that involved spending time together outside of school.
I’m likely not the sole individual experiencing discomfort in this situation.
Certainly, Iris must also find the current circumstances extremely uncomfortable.
Ultimately, we ended up seated across from each other, both unable to focus on anything else besides the awkwardness of the moment, avoiding eye contact.
Despite the tension, I pushed myself to brainstorm potential solutions.
What steps could I take to navigate out of this uncomfortable predicament?
Perhaps engaging in a little conversation could help alleviate the unease.
Hayoon seemed to respond positively to that approach.
Alright then.
In retrospect, that decision was ranked as the “third dumbest idea” I could have made.
Upon considerable deliberation, I ultimately settled on the alternative plan of action which involved swiftly washing up and departing the premises.
Our only option for cleansing involved utilizing a small basin positioned adjacent to the bathtub to pour water over our heads as a makeshift method of showering.
Due to the lack of a proper shower, this basic method was one of the limited options available to us.
To facilitate the process,
I filled separate basins with warm water on either side of the tub for each individual to utilize, providing a ladle in each for convenience.
The plan was to pour a bit of water over my head, use a small amount of shampoo, and leave as soon as possible—
“Jeong Jieun?”
Iris suddenly called out to me, freezing me in place as I was reaching out with my hand slightly raised.
“Uh… uh…”
My response was an awkward, ambiguous noise that barely qualified as a reply. I paused for a moment.
“Should I call you that, Jeong Jieun?”
“Doesn’t it sound… a bit weird?”
“Does it?”
Is she completely unaware of how strange it comes across?
I pondered the situation for a brief moment, reflecting on the unique nature of Iris as a character portrayed in the webtoon.
In the context of Korean culture, it was unusual for characters to maintain a polite demeanor using honorifics with their friends,
But considering the webtoon was based on magical girls – a concept inspired by subculture – it made sense.
The webtoon itself had a setting reminiscent of Japanese manga, giving it a certain charm that negated any potential criticism of such peculiarities.
Transitioning into reality, it was inevitable that Iris’s formal way of addressing others would seem out of place and intricate.
In a professional setting, like that of office workers, such a speech style wouldn’t raise many eyebrows.
It’s common practice for colleagues to uphold formalities, even among peers of the same age.
While some may gradually ease into a more relaxed communication style, it’s typical to maintain formality, regardless of age differences, especially with new employees.
Of course, not everyone adheres to this protocol, but those who don’t often become the subject of office gossip.
It’s not just about speech patterns; it’s a reflection of potential mistakes and social missteps that can impact one’s reputation in the workplace.
“Still, it’s odd to add ‘-ssi’ when addressing me,” I said.
Iris fell silent for a moment.
“What do others call you?”
“Well, the people I work with all have designated names for each other.”
Ah, right.
Magical girls all had assigned names—magical girl names.
When addressing Hayoon, there was no need to call her “Hayoon-ssi”; simply saying “Blossom” was enough.
Korean names might have various modifications, but English names feel natural when used without any additions.
But that left me with a bit of a question.
“Then, what about others?”
“Do I really need to call them anything?”
“Uh… well.”
It’s not like you have to use someone’s name to hold a conversation.
Moreover, Iris was a magical girl.
While she might not be as popular as Hayoon, there were undoubtedly plenty of people eager to talk to her to make a good impression.
And her parents were probably remarkable people, too.
“So, can’t I just call you by your name?”
“Should I call you Jeong Jieun Yang?”
“No, that feels even stranger.”
Using terms like “Yang” or “Gun” was even more unfamiliar than “Ssi.”
If I had a magical girl-style title of my own, I could’ve just asked her to use that.
Unfortunately, the only title I had right now was the placeholder “Black Magical Girl.”
“Just call me Jieun.”
“Jieun?”
“That’s fine.”
“Then, Jieun, I have something I’d like to ask you.”
Somehow, that still felt a bit odd to me.
It reminded me of the awkward phrasing often heard from a foreigner who had just begun learning Korean.
Despite this, her pronunciation was notably better than mine, being clear and precise in her delivery.
However, I decided not to dwell too much on dissecting titles any further, as it would only serve to keep us at a standstill in our progress.
“Why did you join Noir Corporation?”
Once again, I found myself filled with regret for deciding to accompany Iris to this place.
It appeared that she was seated in a way that she wasn’t facing me, given that her voice didn’t penetrate the back of my head directly.
It crossed my mind that perhaps she was feeling just as uneasy about the whole situation as I was.
While I was contemplating ways to make a quick exit, Iris seemed to perceive this as a chance not to be missed.
I couldn’t fathom why she viewed it that way.
“Why… are you asking?”
“Just curious.”
She fell into thought for a moment after my question, and silence followed.
This time, though, I didn’t think about running away.
In many ways, I was genuinely curious about the reason behind her question.
“Can I ask another question?”
Would it be completely unrelated to the previous one, or would it serve as a lead-in to explain her earlier curiosity?
I wasn’t sure how she interpreted my thoughtful silence, but without waiting for my approval, she asked her next question.
“Are you the one who pointed out the underside of my skirt during that fight?”
I stayed silent.
What was I supposed to say to that?
Granted, I was pretty desperate back then.
I was genuinely fighting against magical girls, though not for any noble reason or to achieve some grand goal—just sheer stubbornness.
Not that I even wanted to win.
I just wanted to land a single hit.
That day, I failed.
This time, however, Iris stayed quiet, perhaps waiting for my answer.
Feeling torn between wanting to escape the discomfort and satisfying my curiosity about her question, I finally gave in.
“Yeah, that was me.”
“And you continued appearing in battles after that.”
“Yeah.”
“And the soldier who specifically blocked my path in those fights was also you.”
“…So what?”
Iris fell silent again after my response.
This time, the prolonged silence began to annoy me.
“Is that a question that matters?” I asked.
“Whether it’s important… I’m not sure myself.”
Her answer caught me off guard, not because of its content but because her voice sounded somewhat troubled, almost pained.
“I just… wanted to confirm.”
I left my mouth slightly open, unable to respond for a moment, then asked,
“But how did you figure that out?”
Iris seemed momentarily at a loss for words, unable to answer my question right away.
She claimed before that she recognized me by the scratches on my helmet, but I didn’t buy it.
I hadn’t even kept using the same helmet I had when I first met her—it got upgraded every time a circuit failed.
By all rights, she shouldn’t have recognized me at least twice.
“Just… a feeling,” she replied vaguely.
A feeling, huh.
Well, I suppose magical girls might have that kind of intuition.
Like how detectives sometimes get a hunch about a suspect.
Though, to be fair, those “hunches” have likely caused plenty of innocent people to suffer.
“But why is that important?” I asked.
Iris seemed to regain a bit of composure, possibly because we’d circled back to her original question.
“Typically, when soldiers see us, they lose morale. They usually flee the moment they come under attack.”
That was true.
The pay wasn’t terrible—it was actually quite decent.
After all, many of the soldiers came from distant planets specifically to earn money.
But that didn’t mean anyone wanted to fight while breaking bones or getting injured.
It’s not the kind of job where you’d get heavily criticized for running away, nor do you get significant bonuses for standing your ground and fighting to the end.
There probably aren’t many people with the loyalty or determination to stick it out and fight.
If I was the only one left in such a situation, I suppose it would be noticeable.
Not only did I stay, but I also charged in, trying to land at least one hit, which must have made me an eyesore.
“I wasn’t the only one who stayed until the end, though.”
If that’s the assumption, then I have something to say too.
PangPang, for example, held their ground until they were knocked out.
If they had run away the moment the fight started, they wouldn’t have gotten as severely injured in the terrorist attack that day.
Well, PangPang’s personality being what it is, I never really understood their true intentions.
Still, some squad leaders didn’t run away until they were incapacitated.
Speaking of which, I wonder if PangPang is doing well.