Chapter 12: The Seat Draw and the Sound of Frustration

When I got home, my eyes started to droop.

I mustn’t succumb to this drowsiness.

I take out the lunch box that had been stashed in the fridge and pop it into the microwave for 1 minute and 30 seconds.

“Siyeon… you need to wake up….”

As the microwave hums and the turntable spins, I wake Siyeon.

She resists with a brief groan and some futile tossing, but now that her mind is stirred, there’s no way she won’t wake up.

I prepare my secret weapon: tickling.

I find the perfect spot between her waist and armpit, an ideal opening for my fingers to dig in just for the purpose of waking her.

“Wake up!”

“Eek, yuck! Ugh…”

Just as Siyeon twists and squirms from the tickles, rubbing her eyes as she starts to wake, the microwave beeps.

The first lunch box is done. I take it out and put the second one in, setting it for the same time.

Once she’s washed up, fed, and dressed, I’ll walk her to school and…

‘Damn, I’m so sleepy.’

I slump over my desk, closing my eyes for now.

I’ll have to wake up once the first class starts.

Unfortunately, my seat is front and center, right in front of the teacher’s podium, a spot where it’s impossible to sleep unnoticed.

But today, just for today, I hold on to a thread of hope.

Because today is…

“Alright, everyone, come up front for the seat draw—”

Today is the day when I can escape from the tyranny of alphabetical seating that Kim imposed and grab one of the rare opportunities to pick a seat further back.

‘Please, God, Buddha, Allah….’

I pray to all the gods I never thought I’d believe in, hoping for a high number.

As I stick my hand into the box for the seat draw, I fumble around, pretending to consider my options.

The first slip, bad vibes.

The second slip, nope, doesn’t feel right.

The third slip, feels like it’s in the 10s range.

The fourth slip, this is the one.

There’s something weighty about this slip, it’s larger than the others.

This has to be it.

‘Pleeeease!’

With trembling hands, I pinch the slip of paper between my thumb and forefinger, carefully unfolding it.

The number written inside, the one that will grant me peace, is…

[3]

‘Damn it.’

Instead of peaceful solace, the number brings bitter disappointment.

I only moved one seat. Just one seat over to the left.

I went from sitting on the right side of the podium to the left side.

I should’ve just picked the first slip I grabbed.

But it’s too late for regrets.

Once everyone finishes picking their seats, we start moving our desks, the loud clatter echoing through the classroom before gradually dying down.

“Ah.”

To make matters worse, the boy who picked number 4…

It was that guy who had recently gifted my head with filthy mop water.

Until the seating arrangement changes, I won’t have to talk to the person next to me, I guess.

“Anyone who thinks they have poor eyesight and needs to sit in the front?”

The last chance to change seats.

This is the one thing where I could only hope someone else would raise their hand.

The trembling of my anxious legs resonated with the desk, teetering between the faint hope and the fear that this would be the end.

Please, the very back seat… No, I’d settle for sitting behind someone with a decently large body.

Somebody, please save this chronically sleep-deprived magical girl.

Oh gods who just abandoned me, I pray to you once more.

“No one? Got it, then.”

In vain, the teacher’s words sealed the fate of the seating arrangement.

“God is dead.”

I unclasped my hands, which I had desperately folded in prayer.

Despair over prayers that had been utterly useless.

I muttered in my mind with bitter emptiness.

God is dead.

It’s probably not the original intent of the phrase, but it was the perfect two words to sum up the current situation.

If gods exist, at least I could be sure they’re indifferent to me.

How can the world be like this?

“Or maybe not?”

I twisted my earlier thought around and considered the possibility that it wasn’t indifference. Maybe the gods actually hate me.

Did I upset them by praying all at once?

So now they’re personally coming to mess with me.

…I guess I’m thinking all sorts of things because of the lack of sleep.

“So this is how people go crazy.”

Setting aside those ridiculous thoughts, I just waited for the fifth period to end, counting down the hours.

Even on the way home, I half-closed my eyes, dozing off as I trudged towards my apartment.

When I finally reached the entrance, I noticed the cat food bowl and box that had been there were gone.

Today had felt like a dry, miserable desert, but now, it was as if a seed planted last night had bloomed, and a single drop of rain had brought me some relief.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The gods weren’t so harsh after all, I chanted in my mind over and over, and I wanted to toast to the disappearance of the cat’s shelter.

As I approached the spot where the food and water bowls had been, I noticed a new paper, different from the one before, stuck there.

“To the goddamn bitch who keeps putting cat food here.”

“Oh wow.”

As soon as my eyes landed on the note, my drowsy eyes flew wide open.

The thrilling and intense opening line caught my attention immediately.

Beyond the unspeakable profanity, there was a sliver of reason.

It said something about if you feel sorry for the stray cat, take it in, and a warning that if they catch you placing food bowls again, they won’t let it slide.

I could feel the palpable rage coming through the paper.

It seemed like the person who posted the note had removed all the food and water bowls too.

If there’s someone in the apartment this aggressive, the cat problem will probably be dealt with soon.

With a strange sense of relief at their intensity, I returned to my home.

The Only Problem Left Is Noise Between Floors.

“Here we go again…”

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud — the sound from the upstairs apartment continues to reverberate.

Short footsteps, pitter-patter.

From the sound of someone running upstairs, it’s undoubtedly a child who has just started walking.

I can’t keep living like this, so I’ve decided to talk to them first.

From the data I’ve gathered from various online communities, this probably won’t work, but still.

Standing in front of someone else’s apartment door, a place I thought I’d never have to visit in my life.

“Sigh…”

I stood there, letting out a deep sigh that no child should ever be capable of.

The person I’m about to talk to might be more of an animal in human form.

Act like you’re a bit unhinged, but do it in a way that matches your age.

I am a young elementary school student.

I am a young elementary school girl.

Time to temporarily turn off the part of me that knows complicated words and swears.

With the innocence of a child who never lies.

Behave in a way that any decent person would feel guilty.

“Deep breath in… and out…”

I took another deep breath.

At the end of that breath, I stretched out my arm and knocked on the door.

The sound of two heavy knocks echoed through the steel door, followed by a voice.

“Who’s there?”

The voice, muffled through the steel door, sounded more like a man’s than the hostile woman’s voice I had expected.

The door opened without even checking who was outside.

A man in a greyish short-sleeve shirt and loose pants appeared.

“Hello!”

I greeted him brightly before he could even say anything.

My voice was awkwardly high-pitched, sounding appropriately naive for my age.

The man looked around, seemingly confused.

“Uh, hi. Who are you?”

“I live downstairs. The footsteps are a bit loud.”

“Oh, um, is that so?”

He seemed surprised, probably not expecting a child to be the one bringing up the issue, his face showing hints of confusion.

Beyond the crack in the door, I could see inside the apartment.

The layout was, of course, the same as our apartment, and as expected, a child too young to even be in kindergarten was running around.

Whether the child was running or not, the woman sitting in the living room, presumably the mother, paid no attention, absorbed in watching TV, not even glancing at the child who was munching on something.

“Um, sorry about that. I was thinking about putting down a mat soon…”

“It’s okay.”

The conversation ended with that.

After a slight bow, I returned to my apartment, feeling a sense of satisfaction that it had been resolved so easily.

The man, who appeared to be the child’s father, at least seemed like a reasonable person.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“Hey, the kid from downstairs just came up for a second.”

As I walked down the stairs, the unpleasant voice of the middle-aged woman grated on my ears.

A few days had passed since that day when I thought the noise between floors had been resolved…

Thud, thud, thud-thud-thud.

The big data from the community was not wrong.

The one who was wrong was me, and the ones who were right were them.

‘It hasn’t gotten any better at all.’

Siyeon and I are still living with earplugs in whenever we go to sleep.

The sound of the child’s energetic footsteps has only increased in frequency.

It not only supports the argument of innate human evil,

but also makes me regret my brief foolishness in trusting humanity.

“Hey, bear.”

Finally, I called out to the teddy bear lying on the cushion, having made a big decision.

“Yes?”

“Let’s just buy a computer and some speakers.”

If I’m going to live as a victim, I might as well live as the perpetrator.

The resolution I made was firm.

Read the next chapter.