Eighteen’s Bed Novel Completed - Chapter 193

Moreover, Edison wasn’t the bastard who invented the light bulb; he was the bastard who stole the invention of the light bulb and commercialized it. Our bug, whose only notable achievement was inventing the electric chair, a tool for execution, must have been happy nonetheless. Because Thomas Edison was loved.

Changing the neighborhood I’ve lived in my whole life changes a lot. First, the surrounding environment has become a dump. Looking at the school scenery, I can’t tell if this is a higher education institution or a sewage dump. My life may have been rotten to the point of being wasted, but this is too much.

It’s just the neighborhood’s level. A neighborhood where first-grade and fourth-grade water mix.

I didn’t like this neighborhood from the start. It’s disgusting. My eyes were slightly rotting and melting from the dog-pigs tangled like threads in the muddy water mixed with sewage. Look at the aquatic worms, living only in sewage, forming colonies and pulsing like rotten boils. Actually, as soon as that damn entrance ceremony or whatever was over, I threw up stomach acid in front of the school gate and left.

Looking at the faces of the kids passing by, it seems like it really is a hungry ghost hell. And the hungry ghosts seem to have a great camaraderie among themselves, as they greet each other as soon as they see each other.

“Fuck! You, aren’t you Choi Myungwoo? Right, you. You son of a bitch. Yeah, you! Aren’t you Ha Jinseok? That bastard used to buy me bread. You’re Jinseok’s friend, right? Jinseok talked about you a lot?”

“You… you Kim Minho? Kim Minho, are you in this class? Crazy, ah, this school year is ruined.”

“Fuck off! You bastard. Before you start talking shit.”

They’re like monkeys in a zoo, so it’s a bit entertaining to watch. How do you “talk shit” with your mouth? Do you do it with your mouth? How? Do you suck it? The bugs who were talking loudly among themselves subtly met my gaze. And they ask in a whisper that everyone can hear.

‘Hey, which middle school did that bastard go to?’

Fuck off, you sons of bitches. I can hear everything.

To the right, there are rows of sophisticated mansions, and to the left, a neighborhood that smells like a half-dried dishcloth. The place where I had to rot for three years was an old public high school. The chairs that made a creaking sound with every slight movement were terrible, but since the space of about 25 pyeong was filled with things more wicked than Satan, this level of terribleness was somewhat bearable.

I had never experienced regret in my life, but today was the first time.

Hitting Jo Jaewook was a mistake.

I didn’t know it would get this big. That I would have to leave the neighborhood. But I’m not despairing. It’s been a long time since my life went the way I wanted, so it’s also been a long time since I acted without thinking about the consequences.

“Why move just for that? They’re not crazy people.”

They said Jo Jaewook’s vocal cords were torn by just that one punch. Jo Jaewook, who would have to live making only metallic sounds for the rest of his life, was a comedy in himself, but District Assemblyman Jo Gyeongcheol seemed to have a slightly different sense of humor than me. He hardened his face and trembled in front of me. He said his son was afraid to go to the same school as my son and hoped our schools wouldn’t overlap, which made me want to die from how childish it was.

Then he should have educated his son better, you fucking bastard.

Still, the noble Catholic, who was full of spirituality, decided to back down a step. In the end, we had to move out of the district. I got a bit heated about that and said some harsh things on Christmas, but thinking about it now, it was nothing but bravado, and I don’t want to recall it again.

That day, Gorosa said something to me with a pale face.

‘You sociopath bastard. No one in this world will ever like trash like you, and you’ll never be able to love anyone in your entire life. You’ll live like that forever.’

A sociopath, she says. Where did that middle school brat get such fantasies?

No, but it’s true, isn’t it? What did I do wrong? He was the one who insulted me first, and I just acted in self-defense. Why should I be punished?

Ah, there’s one reason. Jo Jaewook’s parents loved Jo Jaewook so much that they stayed in their original place, and my parents hate me, so they didn’t even consider my pride. I just realized something obvious.

So how will I endure three years in this inescapable sewage? While I was pondering, early summer approached.

No. Hitting Jo Jaewook might have been a good thing.

As if someone had turned off a switch, my thoughts stopped. The broken radio repeated only one phrase. My throat burned hotly. A voice that couldn’t escape boiled inside my uvula.

I witnessed a white bird. A heron with long legs walked through the sewer, craning its neck. I had discovered an unknown white bird looking at me. I was clearly reflected in its light, tawny eyes. The moment I strained my eyes to see more closely, my surroundings turned black and white.

“…”

That bastard, he definitely said something to me.

Only that child shone in brilliant white. That child turned his head and whispered something to his friend, and the world stopped.

The conditions for the miracle were special. A slightly bent white neck from looking down at the heavily flawed tableware, or hands with faint blue veins, or a sharp nose, or thick double eyelids that appeared and disappeared with every blink, or plump, protruding lips, or a school uniform buttoned tightly to the last button, or ankles that were unusually prominent – only with these could such a miracle occur.

Seventeen, welcoming early summer. White snow fell in the cafeteria just as evergreens were about to bloom.

I still remember it vividly. That child, displeased with the tableware in his hand, kept frowning, then put it back in the cutlery holder and wrinkled the bridge of his nose. And still frowning, he took out the innermost spoon, placed it on his lunch tray, and even tiptoed, seemingly satisfied, glancing around.

“…Excuse me.”

The lunch tray I was holding fell to the floor in my anxiety, but I didn’t even hear the loud noise. I just fumbled with my hand. I had an obligation to know who that child was. As soon as I grabbed a firm piece of flesh, I hastily asked without knowing who its owner was.

“Him.”

“What?”

“Him…”

“What are you talking about, you fucking bastard. Let go. You son of a bitch. My pork cutlet almost fell. You dog.”

“Who is he?”

From the voice, it was Kim Minho. This rotten, dead-eyed pig wouldn’t know. I quickly pointed my finger at the child disappearing into the distance. Then Kim Minho, as if understanding, exclaimed and told me a name.

“That’s Han Junwoo. That bastard.”

“Han Junwoo?”

“That bastard’s pretty famous these days, isn’t he? Why, seeing him, are you a little intimidated?”

“…Han Junwoo. Han Junwoo, you said.”

“Why are you repeating it? Fuck, you shouldn’t not know him. Huh? I told you so many times. So many times! Hey, that bastard’s the most obnoxious guy in the East Wing these days. The King of Sex. He’s crazy about women. That fucking bastard.”

Han Junwoo. Han Junwoo. An uncomfortable nuance lingered on my lips. King of Sex? The snow that fell in early summer had melted. Only the unpleasant dampness remained on the playground, leaving behind a sticky feeling.

“Fuck.”

I didn’t think he was like that, but he was a thug. Living like a slut with that face that pretends to be so clean. My stomach churned with disgust at myself for having looked at such a bastard so intently. That dirty whore of Satan. That fourth-grade parasite living in the sewer.

My anger didn’t subside even after I finished eating lunch. I couldn’t even finish my meal; I just left my tray somewhere on the table and stormed out. My mood was ruined from seeing something so disgusting at lunchtime. Damn it.

Han Junwoo of the East Wing. The name that had bothered me since admission was etched into my mind. I had dismissed it a few times, but the constantly mentioned name was annoying, so I remembered it. Was the rumor that if there was Go Yohan in the West Wing, there was Han Junwoo in the East Wing? That he was on my level.

On my level? What the hell is on my level? To think that the bastard whose name was mentioned alongside mine was such a slut.

But other bastards misinterpreted my pure intentions as rivalry. This is a huge misunderstanding.

“Go Yohan finally asked me Han Junwoo’s name. That bastard, last time he called him Han Sunwoo? Or An Woojun? The bastard who pretended not to care finally asked? You’re feeling a sense of crisis looking at his face, aren’t you? That bastard looks pretty extraordinary.”

Lately, Kim Minho started acting up. He keeps mentioning a name I don’t want to hear and acts like a lunatic. Now he keeps waving his stinky hands in front of my face, and it’s getting out of hand. However, I kept my mouth shut, tormented by the certainty that struck me the moment I saw Han Junwoo. I’m dying of embarrassment. I was so angry that I couldn’t bear the thought that I had thought such things about that bastard.

“Anyway, he’s a flashy guy, that Han Junwoo. They say he drops his pants as soon as he sees a woman. They say he’s been having sex since before he grew pubic hair? His positions are fucking fancy too. Doggy style, reverse cowgirl, scissoring, he’s a master at fucking women.”

“Does that bastard have any semen left?”

“Look at his face, man! Huh? Ah, damn it. I don’t usually admit this, but that bastard is quite handsome. He’s got a face that makes you want to put it in even if it’s not hard. He probably folded even soft clay well and put it in.”

“Ah. Fuck. I imagined it. That would hurt like hell.”

Folding his dick like clay and putting it in? With that face? What a crazy bastard… On closer inspection, Han Junwoo was a pervert overflowing with reasons to hate him. That shameless bastard made a fool of me. I’m sure our eyes met. But he ignored me and pretended not to, just looking at that damn spoon. It was intentional. It was intentional.

Let’s make sure. Whether that slut was looking at me or not. Why was he looking at me? I can’t stand not knowing. No, it’s not that he wasn’t looking, he was looking. I just need to confirm that that son of a bitch saw my face. It’s the third period break now. Just one more period, just one more period. Then, as soon as class ends, I’ll go down like last time. Then I’ll be able to witness that bastard looking at me.

Then? If I see him? Then what? …I’ll smash his face in. As payback for screwing with me. To that dog-bastard who dared to be mentioned alongside my name while whoring around.

“Yohan, don’t you have a big dick too? Shouldn’t you take a tour of the bathrooms for your reputation?”

“He’s ignoring you now, isn’t he? You’re completely blown off, Kim Minho. So pathetic.”

“Blown off what? Huh? Huh, look at this bastard. Oh, fuck. He’s making me furious. Huh? Hey, hey! What do you take me for, you fucking bastard… No, I’m not!”

“Hey, hey! Move. The bell rang.”

“That dog-bastard is acting coy like a fucking ball sack. Brrr! Brrr! Don’t do that, go when the teacher comes, huh? Hey, can’t you sit next to me in class today? Aww, aww!“

“Stop bullshitting and get lost. Ah! Move! Let go! I have to go to my seat!”

Now one more period, just one more period left.

I cracked my neck. A refreshing feeling came with a popping sound. Ah, finally my head is working a bit. Yeah, that bastard’s face was decent. But I originally hate those kinds of bastards. The ones who stick their dicks into every hole, the ones who are easy. I feel like I won’t feel relieved until I see that face crumble somehow.

Class? I couldn’t even hear the class. All I heard was the sound of time passing. It was truly surprising and yet not surprising at all. The sound of time passing was just like the sound of turning pages. My pages are smeared with yellow highlighter, though. Damn, the ink’s run out.

“I’ll let you out 5 minutes early today. Wait a bit and leave when the bell rings.” As soon as the English teacher finished speaking, I threw the highlighter. It seemed to have fallen somewhere on the floor, but it wasn’t my concern. I spread my fingers wide and placed them on the desk. The yellow ink smeared between my middle and index fingers was annoying.

“Yohan, are you leaving early today too? Let’s leave a minute early. You don’t have to listen to the English teacher, do you?” I nodded at the words, not knowing who said them.

The English teacher had no intention of monitoring us anyway. She just dutifully announced the time. Just 5 minutes. Every time I thought about that bastard for those 5 minutes, my vivid memories faded.

He looked really short. A loser who looked shorter than average, and he talks about sex. Crazy. What’s he thinking? He looks like he’d cry immediately if I punched him once.

A rough hand grabbed my shoulder and pulled. Normally I might have asked what it was, but I just blankly followed along and stood up. “Go Yohan, run!” Strangely, the pigs were smiling brightly today, and they ran down the hallway, their heavy footsteps thudding. I usually hate this kind of thing. I hate seeing them act like crane flies obsessed with food. Maybe it’s because I hate it. My heart pounded fiercely every time I ran down the stairs.

“Fuck, we’re first-come, first-served! It’s pork ribs today! You bastards, you know you get meat in your bowls, right? All you bastards who get meat in tiny bowls are dead. Huh? Got it?”

Finally, there were only about thirty people in the cafeteria. I quickly scanned the faces, but Han Junwoo wasn’t there. Not there. Really not there. My fiercely pounding heart gradually quieted, then became silent as if it had never pounded at all. Fuck, then why did I run here?

Actually, to confirm that the bastard was watching me, I didn’t even need to come here now.

“What the hell, fuck.”

I roughly shook my head. What am I doing, running like a dog-pig? My mind gradually returned to a place where disgusting food smells mingled. My appetite’s gone.

The moment I lifted my hand to grab a lunch tray, the messy yellow ink caught my eye. At that moment, I fell into a tank filled with the water of ‘reality realization.’

“What did I do?”

“Exactly! What are you doing? Hey, hey, hey! Don’t block the kids’ way, just hurry up and get your food. Can’t you see the kids can’t eat? The third-years are coming soon, so hurry up and get a seat, huh? You son of a bitch. This bastard has no manners. You should get it super fast like me. Super fast.”

Damn, when did Kim Minho get here? And he even had all his steaming hot side dishes on his lunch tray. And what was Kim Seokmin doing behind him, greedily scooping up rice? Seeing such a pathetic sight made my stomach churn even more. I stuck out my tongue and turned away, feeling like I was about to vomit.

“I’m just not going to eat lunch.”

“Hey, you fucking bastard—! Don’t you come here! You bastard, do you want to get beaten?!”

“…Minho, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

The perfectly straight wire in my head instantly crumpled. I’ve always felt this, Kim Minho. He’s always been so annoying. Hurting friends, you know. Subtly talking down to people he considers lower class, his way of speaking is disgusting, and he subtly elevates Han Junwoo… he’s just annoying.

“Yeah, you, you bastard. I even put a seat in front for you. What? Not eating?”

“Minho.”

I turned my body back around and walked in front of Kim Minho. He was the same height as me, so our eye level being the same was annoying, and his manners were rude.

“I’ve been thinking since the beginning of the semester, why are your words so harsh? You hurt the kids.”

Friends should get along, you bastard. Of course, I’m not his friend.

I leaned even closer, bringing my face right up to his, almost touching foreheads. Kim Minho’s warmth was unpleasantly close, but I could tolerate the disgust because it was fun to watch his arrogantly shining eyes gradually dim. With my hand stained with yellow ink, I grabbed the edge of his lunch tray and pulled it down.

“…”

“…”

The hand tightly gripping the lunch tray swayed, unable to withstand my strength. The tilted lunch tray spat out hot soup, staining his shirt, which looked like it hadn’t been washed in days, brown. It must have been hot. That made my lips twitch with pleasure. I watched Kim Minho without blinking. His eyes, which had been glaring defiantly, wavered once and then looked down.

Ah, what an idiot. Only then did I openly curl my lips and poke Kim Minho’s lunch tray with my finger. It was even more amusing to watch him clumsily try to avoid the sloshing soup spilling out.

“Even if we’re friends, you should still have manners. What kind of talk is that? You hurt people, you bastard.”

“No, if you weren’t going to eat, you should have said so beforehand… you bastard…”

“Why should I? Are you my mom?”