The following evening.
The schoolyard was slowly emptying under the rays of the setting sun. The last groups of students were heading home, their laughter and conversations gradually fading in the evening air. The shadows from the tall trees stretched out, merging into long, dark stripes on the asphalt. Ming You and Sun Hee were exiting through the main gates, their steps involuntarily synchronizing—left, right, left—on the uneven slabs of the sidewalk.
Sun Hee let out a sigh, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. Her long chestnut hair swayed with every movement, occasionally catching on the buttons of her white blouse. She stole a glance at Ming You.
"Aren't our classmates so annoying, always shipping you and me…"
Ming You turned his head, his black hair swaying slightly from the movement. His eyes held a sincere bewilderment as he slowly uttered:
"Ship.. what? Ships? Do they think we are drug addicts?"
"You fool!" Her voice was louder than she had planned. "It's when people gossip that we, or any other two people, are supposedly a couple, but in reality, it's not true."
They stopped under a lamppost that had just lit up with a quiet click. The yellow light fell on Ming You, making his skin appear warmer than it actually was. He became thoughtful, his fingers involuntarily tapping on his backpack strap. Then he suddenly raised his eyes—dark, almost black, but with a strange inner light.
"Then, will you become my girlfriend? I think that will solve the problem with the 'shipping' or whatever it is."
"You are so straightforward…" Sun Hee said, turning her flushed face away.
Ming You took a step forward. Now there was no more than thirty centimeters between them. He wasn't smiling, but there was something insistent in his eyes.
"Is that a yes or no?"
Sun Hee took a step back, her back hitting the lamppost. She suddenly realized how fast her heart was beating.
"I don't know!" burst out of her, and she immediately regretted her indecisiveness.
Ming You tilted his head. His breathing was even, unlike her ragged breaths. He studied her face—her pinkening cheeks, her slightly parted lips, her dilated pupils.
"Are you attracted to girls instead of boys?"
"…What?…" Sun Hee practically jumped from surprise. Her eyes became as round as saucers. "No! What is that even about!?"
She pushed herself away from the lamppost sharply, but Ming You deftly caught her wrist.
"If not, then what's stopping you? Or do you not like me, and is someone else interesting to you?"
Sun Hee felt heat spreading across her cheeks. She tried to pull her hand away, but he didn't let go—not roughly, but firmly.
"…It seems I have no other choice but to agree…"
"So, you agree?"
"I guess so, you fool!" she snapped sharply and immediately bit her lip.
Ming You finally smiled—not widely, but enough for faint dimples to appear on his cheeks. His fingers released her wrist but immediately moved to her hand, intertwining with her fingers.
"Then, let's go fu…"
"Sun Hee!" A sharp female voice cut through the air like a knife.
They both flinched and let go of each other's hands. By the fence of the neighboring house stood a woman—her chestnut hair, slightly darker than Sun Hee's, was neatly cut to shoulder length. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and even from a distance, the tension in her posture was visible.
"So, this is why you're taking so long! And who is this boy?"
Ming You straightened up. His face became impassive again, but a strange determination remained in his eyes. He took a step forward.
"I'm her b—"
"We go to the same school," Sun Hee quickly interrupted, her voice sounding unnaturally high. She threw a pleading look at Ming You.
The woman—obviously Sun Hee's mother—narrowed her eyes. She slowly took a few steps toward them, and Ming You could make out her face—the same almond-shaped eyes as Sun Hee's, but with harder wrinkles around the lips.
"Let's go home!" she commanded, stretching out her hand in an imperative gesture.
"Okay…" Sun Hee sighed. She turned to Ming You, and her eyes glistened in the lamplight. "Alright, Ming, I have to go! Thanks for walking me home, see you! And tomorrow you'll tell me what we'll do, my parents will just kill me if I'm late, sorry!"
She dashed toward the house, her hair streaming behind her like a train. At the gate, she turned around—for a moment—and Ming You noticed her lips forming something between a smile and a grimace of embarrassment.
Sun Hee's mother studied Ming You for another second, then turned sharply and followed her daughter. The gate slammed shut with a metallic clang.
...
Ming You lay on his back, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm, his laughter gradually fading, turning into intermittent sobs. His fingers, sticky with congealed blood, twitched unconsciously, touching the cold skin of the corpse beside him. He felt it with his fingertips—no longer elastic, no longer alive, but loose, pliable, like thawed meat.
"Haha… ha…"
The last echoes of laughter dissolved in the musty air of the abandoned building.
"So, this was love? Does that mean I did love her after all?" The voice in his head sounded almost pensive, but with a slight sarcasm.
"Back then, you just wanted to have sex with her, and you were thinking not with your heart, but with your friend in your pants, heh."
Ming You rose up on his elbows, his gaze sliding towards the corner where the knife lay. The blade, gleaming dully in the weak twilight, was covered in a dried crust of blood and thin fibers of flesh. He crawled over to it, his fingers clasping the handle—sticky, warm from his own sweat.
"But that's also love, isn't it?"
"In that case, if you had simply raped her without any warning, that could also be called love."
Ming You sat down next to the body, his eyes slowly sliding over the mutilated remains. The chest, once firm, was now a bloody mess of torn muscles and exposed ribs. The neck—deeply slit, with protruding shreds of the trachea, dark and shriveled like a deflated balloon. The face… if it could still be called a face—was reduced to exposed muscles, with crushed eyeballs and torn lips baring the teeth.
He ran his hand over what used to be a cheek. The flesh under his fingers was cold, gelatinous, with a slight trembling—perhaps from the last nerve impulses or simply from the flies that had already begun their feast.
"But I didn't do that… besides, she agreed…"
"When you suggested she spend the night at your place? Supposedly under the pretext of a simple game of chess and homework, was it?"
Ming You took the knife and pressed it against the corpse's stomach. The skin here was still unbroken—pale, almost bluish, with a slight bloating caused by the begun process of decomposition.
The blade went in easily.
Tch-r-r-r-k.
He guided the knife slowly, feeling the skin part, how beneath it a layer of yellow subcutaneous fat was revealed, resembling softened butter. Further—the peritoneum, a thin, almost transparent film, which tore with a barely audible pop.
And then the entrails gushed out.
First—loops of intestine, pinkish-gray, slippery, with a slight greenish tint from the begun fermentation. They spilled out onto the thighs, still warm, pulsating from residual spasms. Then—the stomach, slightly distended, with veins of blood vessels resembling blue threads.
Ming You thrust his hand inside, his fingers sinking into the warm, viscous mass. He found the liver—smooth, dense, already losing its elasticity.
"Everything is like that…"
"But different plans were spinning in your head."
He left the knife near the waist, his fingers again reaching for the remnants of the face.
The skin, muscles, shreds of lips—all of it was cold, but in his memory it was still warm, alive, laughing.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
…
The room was empty and devoid of character, like a forgotten corner of the world where neither sounds nor colors reached. The white wallpaper, faded with time, blended with the ceiling, creating a sensation of infinite emptiness. In the midst of this silence stood only one bed with two nightstands on either side; their wood had darkened with age, and the handles were slightly loose, as if someone had tugged on them too often in a hurry.
On the floor, right in the very center of the room, a soft mat was spread out—the only hint of coziness in this cold space. Ming You and Sun Hee sat on it, surrounded by scattered textbooks and notebooks. The pages were filled with neat lines of writing, but right now, knowledge seemed unnecessary to them.
Sun Hee, pushing aside a math textbook, reached for the chessboard. Her fingers slid over the smooth wooden surface, and she was just about to open the lid to set up the pieces when Ming You unexpectedly touched her cheek:
"Before we play, maybe we could have some fun a different way?"
Sun Hee sharply averted her gaze, feeling heat spreading across her face. Her fingers involuntarily clenched the edge of the chessboard.
"…How exactly?" She whispered, and her voice trembled.
Ming You smirked and, without hurrying, pulled a condom from his jeans pocket. He held it in front of her eyes, as if displaying a trophy, then winked:
"Get undressed."
Sun Hee felt her heart begin to pound wildly. Her palms grew damp, and a strange fear tightened in her chest.
"…I-I'm kind of scared… isn't it too early?" She barely forced the words out, feeling a blush flood her face.
Ming You slowly leaned back, supporting himself on his hands, and his expression changed. His gaze turned cold, his lips twisted slightly into a contemptuous smirk.
"Well, if I'm so repulsive and you dislike me that much, then do as you wish, I understand you perfectly. Get out the board, let's play and then go our separate ways."
His words hit Sun Hee like a slap. She jerked her head up, her eyes wide with fright.
"N-no! You are very handsome, it's just that I'm not ready yet…" She began to babble hurriedly, but Ming You cut her off sharply, and now his voice sounded like a blade.
"Stop making excuses. If you think there's no need for us to love each other, then I can support that, so let's just play and part ways peacefully."
Silence hung in the room. Sun Hee clenched her fists, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She didn't want to lose him. Not now. Not like this.
"I-I love you. O-okay, let's have fun your way…" Her voice shook, but she was already reaching for the buttons on her blouse.
Ming You watched her, and his cold expression gradually shifted to curiosity. A barely perceptible smile appeared at the corners of his lips.