Transmigrated as the Side Top used as an Emotional Trash Can - Chapter 19.1
“If you’re full, you can leave some, Allen-ah-.”
Allen didn’t even mix the rice with his spoon. He ate it little by little, then set down his spoon after a reasonable amount. His attitude felt refreshing because it was clearly different from Lee Seojun, who unhesitatingly mixed the egg, rice, soy sauce, and sesame oil together and shoveled it into his mouth. If I had to distinguish them, Lee Seojun resembled Kim Jihwan’s prickly side, while Allen resembled Kim Jihwan’s sensitive and quiet side.
The world really did revolve around Kim Jihwan. Now, even my standard for judging people had become Kim Jihwan.
“Allen-ah, do you happen to have a brother? With black hair.”
If this guy had an older brother, it seemed plausible that he might be the main top. It was unlikely there were many people in Korea, especially around Kim Jihwan at this point in the story, with enough wealth to ride a customized motorcycle that cost tens of millions of won at base price and could reach the hundred-million-won range after maintenance and everything else.
Chaebol families tended to be connected behind the scenes, so if things went well….
“Ghk, pfft, cough.”
“Agh…!”
Lee Seojun suddenly sprayed rice grains all over my face. I roughly wiped them away with a tissue, handed another tissue to the guy who couldn’t get himself together, and continued my question.
“……Do you have an older brother whose Korean name includes something like Cha, Mu, Gwon, Hyeok, Tae, Ju, or Pil?”
The main top was always called Director this and Director that in the story, so I couldn’t clearly remember his actual name. I simply listed syllables that sounded masculine and obsessive-main-top-like.
Wouldn’t combining any of those words create a main top’s name easily enough?
“None.”
“Then what’s your Korean name?”
“None.”
After answering that he hadn’t been in Korea for long, Allen closed his mouth again at his own pace.
I see. His Korean was poor, so he spoke little and went blank every time I talked because he was translating my words.
“But Allen-ie really does have a refined face. He looks like a scholar.”
“He’s a black-haired foreigner.”
“I know-.”
Lee Seojun criticized my impression by calling Allen a black-haired foreigner.
When I looked at him while keeping in mind that he was seventeen, his overall appearance was completely delinquent. But his features themselves were neat, and his calm, subdued gaze gave him the feeling of an East Asian ink painting.
“But what was Cha-Mu-Gwon-Hyeok-Tae-Ju-Pil? Was that Tae-Jeong-Tae-Se-Mun-Dan-Se or something?”
“Yeah, there is. It’s a collection of names I hate.”
Lee Seojun made a dubious face as though asking why I would even hate names, so I exaggerated slightly and replied that anyone with one of those names would probably be unlucky for five hundred years. Because he was an obsessive main top and a regretful top who tormented Kim Jihwan nearly to death. The ‘regretful top’ keyword was enjoyable to read about, but experiencing it up close would be nothing short of horrifying.
“Then do you have names you like?”
At the abrupt question, I thought carefully about whether there was one.
What did I like again? Something I liked.
My mom. And….
“Garam.”
The name my mom gave me.
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“I didn’t get their phone numbers.”
I muttered as I looked at the empty bedding. Lee Seojun and Allen had somehow disappeared without a trace. They could’ve at least told me they were leaving. We had spread out the blankets together and talked until we fell asleep, but I had slept so deeply that when I woke up, I was left all alone.
Realizing it belatedly made me feel needlessly hurt.
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* * *
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During morning Swimming Club practice, we tackled interval sets and intense lower-body weight training.
The weather was gradually shifting between warm and humid as true early summer began. The students displayed the season’s variety through their clothes, wearing summer uniforms, casual school uniforms, and spring-and-autumn uniforms.
“Wow, my legs are completely destroyed, and it’s only morning.”
“We break a new record every time. For real.”
The Swimming Club members, utterly drained by the intense lower-body workout first thing in the morning, poured out their complaints.
“If it weren’t for the instructor, I would’ve slept through every morning class.”
For the sake of us Swimming Club members who had been flattened by the grueling training, the instructor demonstrated his well-honed workplace diplomacy. He had obtained permission from each homeroom teacher so we could attend classes starting from second period.
“But you slept even before you joined the Swimming Club.”
“Shut up.”
The first- and second-year Swimming Club members sat beneath a pavilion in one corner of the field, eating ice cream and enjoying their rest.
“But if we don’t win a medal at the competition in July after all this, how are we supposed to attend school without dying of embarrassment?”
“Seriously. We’re even skipping classes and making a huge spectacle of ourselves.”
“We’ll just have to trust Jihyeok-ie. Ace! We’re counting on you, okay?”
Jihyeok-hyung nodded shyly and quietly said he would do his best.
“I heard the world junior silver medalist in the fifteen hundred meters is competing this time too.”
“Holy shit, are they coming to slaughter amateurs…?”
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