[Ongoing] [BTS Jimin's Bing-yi-geul] You in a Midsummer Night, and Episode 1

✎ Author: Seo Woo-ju

★ Rating: 10 points
⚇ Views: 1,283

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A rumor.

When summer comes and it seems like it will pour down rain,

At one school, it is said that a boy is seen every night.

In none other than the music room, as if waiting for someone.

It is said that the student who made eye contact with that student entered the music room as if possessed and played the piano until the next day when other students came.

***

"Ugh, I'm late!"

That person who frantically runs around the room in the morning, hurriedly preparing for work is me. You might think I haven't been working here for very long, but in fact, I've been working at the same company for over two years, and yet I do that every morning.

Even I think I'm a very early sleeper. When I was in high school, I thought I was already automatically on the list of latecomers. But at some point, I stopped doing that. Why was that? Wait a minute, why was I doing that?

"I'll be back!"

"You have to eat breakfast before you go!!"

"I'm late! I'm going out."

I left the room, begging my legs not to be late. But there was no way. The clock was already pointing to 8:30. Oh no. It takes 30 minutes to get to work. If I'm late again today, I'll be fired and have to dive into the Han River.

I left the house, repeating “I’m sorry” a hundred, a thousand times, while thinking about my mother’s nagging that I couldn’t even hear. Oh, it’s my default option to go back in because I put on the wrong shoes.

***

"No, that's why I came wearing new shoes. I guess I'm just too used to wearing sneakers."

"Or maybe it's because of this crazy company that only demands that their female employees wear heels. This damn company, I really need to get out of here."

"You've been saying that for 1 year and 6 months now. You've been here for 2 years and you still don't get it? You're saying you're going to be here forever."

"You came in because you wanted to, right? Didn't you want to do music?"

What kind of conversation is this? It's just a conversation between perfectly normal, ordinary office workers who are venting their complaints that have been building up for two years. Normal people who just open their mouths to say they're quitting.

To be honest, everyone will become like me when they enter the workplace. The iced Americano I get every morning at the cafe in front of the company is like my lifeline. If you work with a coworker who is a total idiot and has a sexually harassing team leader, that is.

I'm having a sweet lunch with two friends from the next department, and they seem to think I came here because I wanted to. No, who the hell goes to the place they want to start their career? I guess they did. Seriously, I'm jealous.

Anyway, the reason I applied to this company is... •••. Huh? That's right. Why did I apply here? I have no talent for music, nor am I interested in it. But why did I apply here...? Oh, I have no memory. Poor thing.

"Oh right. Did you guys hear the news? They say there's a ghost at our school. It hasn't even been 30 years since the school opened, and already rumors are spreading."

"That's right. Doesn't it seem like our school has become a bit famous, ugh!"

"Again. Are you going to keep talking nonsense? Do you want to go back to your high school days?"

"No. Really, not at that time. I thought I was going to die trying to figure out what he was thinking."

No, why are they talking behind my back in front of me? No, maybe they're talking in front of me. But they're watching my reaction...? Did something happen to me.

"Me? Why are you watching me?"

"... You really don't remember? We were at that time, Park-."

"Do you keep doing that? Stop mentioning that kid's name in front of Yuna."

"By the way, don't you really remember? When we were in high school."

Actually, I don't remember much about high school. At most, my freshman year? I don't remember anything from my second year. What was I like in high school? Was I a punk? But my first year was normal. Except for being a little late.

"Yeah, really. Did something happen?"

"..."

The two of them shut their mouths at the same time, as if they were really writing a script for a drama. What did I do wrong? Was I really a gangster? Did I just smoke cigarettes and go clubbing?

"Yoon-ah. Do you still have the stuff you used in high school?"

"Aside from the graduation album, there's something like the diary you used to write in, right?"

"Uh... there's probably still some left."

"Would you like to find it today and take a look? It might help you find your memories."

"Hey, that's what I used when that kid was around. Are you going to hurt Yuna again?"

"Then you're going to live your whole life not knowing? Yuna, you should know now too."

I've never written a diary before. Oh, I think I've been writing a diary since my second year of high school. But I'm not the type of person to write diaries. I decided to go home and check.

***

"The diary... oh, I found it!"

As soon as I got home, I threw my bag down and took out the box containing the memories of high school that I had been curious about for half a day. It said, "Don't open it if you don't want to get hurt again." I think I wrote it, but it suddenly made me afraid to open it.

But if I give up here, I’m not Min Yoon-ah. I opened the box right away. Inside were my graduation album, the writing utensils I used back then, old notebooks and textbooks that I had worn down to the point where the corners of the books were worn out. There were sticker photos I took with my friends, a diary, and a mysterious USB.

It was a plain notebook, as if it came straight out of a DeO note. Judging from the absence of any doodles or stickers my friends had made, I must have treasured this notebook quite a bit.

There was a post-it note stuck on the front page of the diary that looked like it was written by me. It looked like I was holding back tears, but I guess I couldn't hold back in the end. There were tear stains left. The message that my past self tried to convey to me while holding back tears

'Don't open this. You'll regret it. Please don't remember that child.'

It was. It was the same for me in the past, and for my friends. Who on earth was that child? And what kind of person was that child to me that I cried just thinking about him.

I carefully opened the diary. Then, with a thud-. something that looked like a picture fell to the floor inside the diary, and I picked it up without thinking. At that moment, like the object that fell to the floor, my tears also fell to the floor with a thud-.

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry that I only remembered now."

It was something I hadn't expected. No, I guess everyone else had expected it. It was a photo of that child. That child, the one I should never forget. It was beautifully preserved in the photo.

I shouldn't have forgotten. I shouldn't have kept it in a box like this and written a warning to prevent anyone from opening it out of curiosity. I shouldn't have lost my memory because that moment was too painful. I had to remember it for the rest of my life. No matter how painful it was, I had to carry that pain with me.

But what can I do? That child is no longer with me. I wished for it to be like the phrase written on the back of this photo. More earnestly than anyone else.

Do you know that my feelings back then, when I held back my tears and ran away to put your photo in my diary, the feelings I had as I stuck your photo in my graduation album, denying the truth while lost in sadness, all of these feelings that I am only now belatedly recalling, are all because I miss you.

Perhaps you only knew the happiness of the moment when this photo was taken. Because you stopped at that moment. Because only I continued to pass time. Forgetting you.

The words you wrote on the back of the photo and your handwriting were enough to break me down. Because they clearly showed your beautiful heart. Because I can never see that heart again. Because it didn't come true as you wished. Because you were never by my side again.

In my beautiful moments, I always want you by my side.

- JM-

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