Eighteen’s Bed Chapter 12.1

Their gaze is alive. If not, there’s no way it would be choking this vividly. No one is looking at , yet at the sa ti, everyone is.

In other words, since yesterday, I’ve beco a clown. The protagonist of a play perford in this small, square classroom for the amusent of thirty people. Of course, my play ends in tragedy. Unfortunately, I don’t have a Demian to protect .

The biggest sign that the atmosphere had shifted so aggressively was Park Haon and Im Yoonki.

I saw it coming. That’s why, when I entered the classroom and sat down, I deliberately didn’t greet them first.

“……”

Before sitting, I looked down at the two of them. Do they have eyes in the backs of their heads? Because it definitely felt like they were looking at . Eventually, Park Haon turned first and greeted . Im Yoonki followed, sneaking a glance in my direction.

"Hey."

"Yeah. Hey."

A short greeting. Only then could I sit down.

Still, the two of them occasionally turned their heads and spoke to during break ti. Most of it was trivial, pointless chatter. Just like always. But I could feel a subtle wall between us, and that made it painfully clear—they were keeping their distance from .

Ironically, the one who started talking to more actively was Oh Yeonjun.

Oh Yeonjun kept turning around to look at . He looked like he wanted to say sothing, but then, more than once, his gaze flickered toward the back of the classroom before hastily snapping forward again.

"…Idiot."

At first, I wondered why he kept glancing back. But realization didn’t co too late.

The very back of the classroom—that was Go Yohan’s seat.

"Pathetic bastard."

I muttered a curse under my breath, quiet enough that no one could hear. Jealousy burned hot inside .

Go Yohan was born to be loved, born to look down from above.

Of the three siblings, he was the one who took after his father the most. There are certain genetic traits you just can’t overco. Go Yohan resembled his father. Maybe that’s why people always flocked to him. Most wanted to be close to him.

Truthfully, there were plenty who envied Go Yohan. Most of them were jealous of his privileges. But I might have been the only one who hated him from the mont I saw him, for no reason at all.

Even Han Junwoo liked Go Yohan, didn’t he? That was the kind of inexplicable charm Go Yohan had.

Even so, I thought I had the upper hand in this class. I believed that being ranked first in the school could be a kind of power here. No—I was certain of it.

But it took too long to realize that being first in the school was no different from being a target. Because I had never been first before.

Unlike Go Yohan, I was cursed with bad luck when it ca to people. And that result had manifested itself completely today.

Why do the kids love Go Yohan, who ranks at the bottom of the class?

Go Yohan had done nothing in this classroom. He never tried to form a group, never made fun of a teacher, never picked a target to bully.

And yet, Go Yohan had beco the protagonist of this class. Unlike , his play was a cody.

Go Yohan never cared about what others thought. He could rip open a bag of chips with a loud crinkle and munch obnoxiously without being hated. And yet, sohow, he naturally sat at the very top.

Just as a creeping sense of inferiority took hold of —Go Yohan moved. And my play began.

A loud screech rang out as a tal chair scraped against the floor. Of course, the noise ca from the very back. In an atmosphere like this, the only one who could be so disruptive was Go Yohan.

Then, I heard footsteps. I heard people shifting away. The footsteps stopped diagonally in front of .

I already knew who the source of the commotion was, so I didn’t lift my head. I absolutely didn’t want to. But hearing was sothing I couldn’t control.

"What are you doing?"

He wasn’t talking to . I knew that because Im Yoonki, seated in front of , stamred in response.

"Huh? Uh…"

"Can you move?"

Through my blurry vision, I saw Go Yohan’s hand. The rosary was still there. A hand wearing a rosary, shoved casually into the pocket of his uniform pants.

I lowered my head further, pretending to study.

"Oh, uh! Sorry. Here, take the seat."

"Thanks."

What kind of position makes soone apologize for giving up their own seat?

And what kind of position allows soone to take that seat and receive an apology in return?

Go Yohan sat down in Im Yoonki’s chair, resting both arms on my desk. But he wasn’t done yet.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

A rustling sound. Soone moving hurriedly. All I could see was the shadow cast over my worksheet.

Go Yohan’s quiet voice dropped even lower.

"I need to talk to Kang Jun."

"Oh, sorry! Go ahead."

The chair scraped loudly again. A chilling, grating noise against the floor. Then I heard Park Haon and Im Yoonki’s footsteps trailing down the hallway, dragging slightly as if they were reluctant to leave.

At last, no one was around .

Only then did Go Yohan finally speak to .

"Kang Jun."

Kang Jun. My chest caved in.

Did he really have to say it like that?

My throat was tight, and no words ca out. I didn’t want anyone to see like this, crushed under such a heavy weight.

I didn’t answer. I scratched at my paper with my chanical pencil instead.

"……."

When I didn’t respond, Go Yohan’s shadow lood larger over my desk.

His warmth brushed against my ear, and he whispered softly, almost tenderly.

"Look at ."

"……."

I was nothing but a dog. A dog of hierarchy.

Why, even in a mont like this, did I have to obey?

Yet, like Pavlov’s dog, my head lifted on its own.

Even then, I didn’t want to look at Go Yohan, so my gaze stayed down.

The area beneath my eyes started throbbing. Hot, painful.

Go Yohan straightened up with a satisfied expression.

His hands clasped together on my desk.

Then, he spoke again.

"Kang Jun, what are you doing?"

If soone repeats the sa question twice, it ans they’re demanding an answer.

"…Solving a problem."

"Ah—"

Go Yohan twisted slightly. His gaze shifted toward the middle of the classroom.

Then, as if genuinely curious, he spoke—not to anyone in particular, but to the whole class.

"Hey, guys. Did I do sothing?"

"No?"

A voice answered from sowhere, thick with interest.

"Then why… is everyone staring at ?"

But Go Yohan never gives people the answers they want.

Tipping his head to the side, he pointed at himself.

Then, his next words were unmistakably a command.

"I don’t want to be looked at."

A short laugh burst out. Ha.

Even in that mont, I kept my eyes down and stared at my desk in silence. Go Yohan’s body, which had been turned toward , shifted back to its original position.

Clink.

His rosary hit the desk.

"Kang Jun. I have sothing I want to ask you. Can you answer ?"

"……Yeah."

Like hell you’d let it go if I didn’t. I tried my best to keep the tremor out of my voice as I responded.

"Who do you eat lunch with these days?"

"Why do you care?"

"Kang Jun. You said you’d answer , didn’t you?"

Fuck. My grip on my chanical pencil tightened. Fuck, fuck.

"……I—I eat alone…."

"Oh, really?"

His tone suddenly turned ridiculously bright. Then he chuckled to himself—out loud, blatantly. A mocking laugh, dripping with condescension. A mont later, he covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to suppress it, waving the other hand in the air as if to excuse himself.

"No, no. I wasn’t laughing. It’s just, I haven’t eaten with you in so long, and I feel kind of left out, you know?"

"I told you. My foot hurts, my hand’s ssed up, and I don’t have enough ti to study, so I can’t go to the cafeteria."

A blatant lie.

I had no choice but to lie.

Because Go Yohan was crushing underfoot.

Told them not to look? As if that would stop them from watching. I could hear them whispering, their excitent practically tangible. My pathetic pride refused to die, no matter how much I wanted it to.

"Oh?"

"……."

I gripped my chanical pencil so hard it felt like it might snap, but I still managed to keep a fairly blank expression. My nineteen years of pretending were still intact.

But Go Yohan, who had made a hobby out of tornting others, trampled all over my expectations.

"When did you ever say that?"

"……Before. When I first got hurt."

"No way, I’ve never heard that before."

Go Yohan covered his mouth and smirked.

"What the hell? That’s the first ti I’m hearing it. Don’t lie."

"Maybe you just don’t rember?"

My frustration boiled over. If I couldn’t defend myself, I had to attack. The best defense is a good offense.

"And aren’t you way better at lying than ? Lying’s basically your hobby, isn’t it?"

"Exactly. So if you’re gonna do it, at least do it well. You’re way too obvious."

"I wasn’t lying. You just don’t rember. But fine, I’ll say it again—I’m busy."

"An unnoticed lie is harmless, but an obvious lie is a cri."

Go Yohan twisted his shoulders in a playful shrug and continued.

"You’re guilty."

Then, once again, he covered his mouth and laughed.

Does he really find this fun?

Fucking bastard.

My eyes burned. My hand shook as I clenched my chanical pencil.

But unlike , Go Yohan was perfectly relaxed. He reached out and ruffled my hair.

"From now on, I’ll buy your lunch, so just eat that. Don’t eat weird stuff, okay?"

"……."

"Say ‘okay.’"

His hand remained soft as he stroked my hair.

I kept staring at the floor. My throat tightened, forcing to swallow, but it felt like I was swallowing down my words instead.

I had to drag my response out from the farthest, most hidden corner of my mind.

"I don’t want to."

"……."

The hand stroking my hair ca to an abrupt halt.

Go Yohan, who had been smiling so smugly, turned cold.

The hand that had been shaking my head slid slowly down, tracing the curve of my ear before reaching my cheek.

I flinched when his fingers brushed the edge of my ear, and he deliberately circled back, his fingertips grazing my skin.

I dropped my free hand to my thigh and gripped it hard.

Fuck. Fucking bastard.

Go Yohan’s hand finally settled on my cheek. Then, he slapped lightly.

Sowhere between a joke and sothing real. Just enough to hurt.

"Do you really have to say it like that?"

"……."

"That stings, you know."

The one actually hurting was him.

I refused to respond.

Instead, I lowered my head again and stared at my useless worksheet, pretending to focus. Scribbling circles around numbers, drawing lines under letters.

Go Yohan sat there for a long ti, watching, thinking, unmoving.

Then, out of nowhere, he shot up from his seat and stord out of the classroom.

The door slamd shut with enough force to shake the windows.

My eyes shut tight in reflex.

The classroom remained silent until the next break.

I held back the overwhelming emotions with everything I had. It wasn’t until the other kids lost interest in the brief spectacle that I finally escaped to the bathroom.

The closer I got to that damp, secluded space, the faster my steps beca.

As soon as I swung the stall door open, I hastily locked the latch.

Then, I sank to the floor.

"……Ugh."

I wiped my tears away silently.

It was over for .

After Go Yohan left the classroom, not a single person asked if I was okay.

Instead, when he returned, a few kids imdiately gathered around him.

"What happened?"

"Hey, why’s the mood so weird?"

The mont I heard those words, I knew.

I really was finished.

"……Hhng."

Crouched in the corner of the bathroom, I choked back my sobs.

But I let the tears fall freely.

I didn’t wipe them away, afraid that rubbing my face would make it swell—afraid that it would be obvious that I had been crying.