Chapter 2 — The Man from Building 102 - Part 1 (2)

As expected, the day finally arrived.

Chuseok. Not a single other holiday compares—not even close. Ever since I turned thirty, I've started dreading holidays like Chuseok and Lunar New Year.

Before I got a job, relatives would attack me with, "So, any job offers yet?" Now that I'm employed and settled into society, their assault has changed.

“When are you getting married? Do you even have a boyfriend?”

“Ugh, you really need to take care of your body. You'll end up with no boyfriend at this rate.”

Of course, I've built up resistance by now and fire back just as hard. For example:

“Have you started preparing for retirement? How many years left until you retire?”

“How's Cheolsu's mock exam score? Which university are you sending him to?”

And so on. Of course, I usually end up getting smacked by Mother later for it. But even I, who once boldly shot back with such bravado, have finally grown tired.

Eventually, I resorted to lying—claiming the company was so busy I had to work from home even during the holiday.

Mother gave me a suspicious look, but ultimately bought my desperate bluff.

Then again, maybe she let it slide because even if I did go home, all I'd do is scarf down the pancakes she prepared without lifting a finger to help.

That's why a person's everyday behavior matters. Hahaha.

Now I had two glorious days of freedom I rarely got to enjoy.

I could tie my hair up messily (of course without washing it), plop onto the couch, chew on onion rings like a ravenous beast, and watch TV without anyone nagging me.

I could stay up late on the computer, and most importantly, I could leisurely watch that foreign porn video I'd been saving—featuring that insanely muscular foreign actor with a royal crown tattooed across his abs.

As I savagely tore into my beloved onion rings like a jungle predator, I suddenly craved beer.

Unlike before, nowadays even convenience stores and neighborhood shops stay open during holidays—thank goodness.

As usual, I threw on a dress over my underwear, left my hair loose, and slapped a cap on my head. Just as I was about to step out, I felt a strange, uneasy sensation.

Could I run into that cute, handsome guy again? Nah, probably not. It's a holiday—where would he even go? But what if his family's house is big? What if we accidentally bump into each other?

Curious, I glanced at the mirror—and nearly recoiled. I looked like the neighborhood hag.

I quickly wiped my greasy skin, slapped on some BB cream.

I didn't need a full face, but at least basic coverage was necessary.

At first, I told myself I'd only do enough to not be embarrassed—but before I knew it, I was applying mascara with a curling wand.

What the hell am I doing?

Screw it. I'll just go.

I redid my hair, pulling it up again, swapped my Mickey Mouse dress (complete with faint kimchi soup stains—optional) for something slightly more wearable, though still not exactly "going out" attire, and stepped outside.

I expected it to be quiet, but the place was packed. Not just a few people—our apartment parking lot was completely full.

Worried I might run into him, I walked carefully, paying attention to my posture and expression.

The mart near my place was shouting "F*** holidays!" and doing brisk business.

I casually grabbed a six-pack of beer and my beloved squid-peanut snack, heading straight to checkout.

“Hmm?”

“Huh?”

Women's intuition really is incredible. I'd walked just one minute to the mart, BB cream freshly applied, and my instincts were already shining.

Just as I'd half-expected, I ran into that cute, handsome guy right at the checkout counter.

This time, he recognized me first, letting out a soft "Oh?" and flashing a small smile.

Ah… damn it, no matter how I look at you, I just want to ruin you.

“Oh. You didn't go anywhere for the holiday, I see?”

I asked, subtly sliding the six cans of beer behind my back. He was holding only a single can of cola.

“Yeah. My family's house is big, so I'm staying. We keep running into each other.”

“Yeah, we really do.”

I smiled shyly, confidently showing off my face—far from bare, but not overdone. But I noticed his eyes flicker to the beer cans I was hiding.

“Running errands for someone?”

No, cutie. All of this is for me to drink.

“Ah… yeah, something like that.”

“But you didn't go anywhere for the holiday?”

“No. Everyone else went. I stayed behind.”

“Why didn't you go?”

“I had some work, so…”

“Oh… I see…”

After checking out, we stepped outside. I watched him fiddling with his cola can and asked:

“You came just to buy a cola?”

“Ah… haha. Actually, my nieces and nephews came over in a group. It got so loud I came out. Got thirsty.”

“You didn't bring Seolgi with you?”

“No. The kids wouldn't let go of him.”

Oh ho. You came out because it was too noisy, huh? Heh heh. Our building was right by the security office, while his, Building 102, was further up the hill.

That meant our parting point would probably be right at the security booth. How could I stretch this out? How could I drag this moment longer?

“I see… To be honest, I've been really bored being alone.”

“Really? There should be some fun movies on for Chuseok.”

You idiot! Talking about movies? I gave you a signal…

He remained completely innocent, responding with pure sincerity. The more he acted like this, the more I wanted to corrupt him.

“If you go back now, you'll just get swarmed by your nieces again, won't you?”

“Yeah. They're climbing on my back, jumping on my stomach—it's chaos.”

Normally, I'd play a little coy, leaving just enough space for him to make a move.

That might work if he were my age, someone with average dating experience who knew how to play the game.

But this guy? He seemed like the kind who needed half the moves fed to him.

Searching for the right line, I said casually, almost elegantly:

“Well then, since I'm bored… want to grab a beer?”

“Huh? Beer?”

“It's not like you're going back in anyway… and I'm alone tonight too.”

Did he catch the implication in my "alone tonight"? He chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh. Maybe?”

“You were supposed to teach me about raising a dog, remember?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. But I wonder if any places are open today.”

You idiot! Worrying about that? Our apartment complex had plenty of shops, and someone was bound to be open during the holiday, targeting families looking to bond over drinks.

Sure enough, the chicken joint near my place was booming, shouting "F*** holidays!" at the top of their lungs.

We went in and ordered draft beer and fried chicken. I was a little self-conscious since it was close to home, but whatever.

“But what kind do you like?”

“Beer? I like beer. I don't drink soju much—I'm weak to alcohol.”

I said it shyly, though my coworkers would faint if they saw me—this was the same woman who downed six bottles of soju at company dinners.

He gave an awkward smile in return.

“No, I meant dog breeds… since you said you were getting one.”

Shit. How embarrassing.

“Oh—dogs. Haha. Sorry. You asked after ordering drinks, so I thought you meant alcohol. I… I like poodles.”

“There are different kinds of poodles, right? Toy, miniature, standard…”

Oh god, I don't know, you idiot. I mean the one that looks like wavy ramen, you know?

“T-toy poodle.”

“Oh, I see.”

And just like that, he launched into a long-winded explanation about toy poodles—their temperament, characteristics, care tips.

I sipped my beer as it arrived, listening while gazing at him with deep, intense eyes.

Head slightly tilted, lower lip gently bitten red—I made sure he knew I was interested.

“Haha. I talked too much about dogs. Sorry.”

Finally, my cute guy picked up on my sultry vibe and wrapped up the boring dog talk.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Me? Haha. No.”

“Really? That's surprising. When did you break up?”

“Hmm… last year?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

I almost shouted "Yes!" out loud. A twenty-five-year-old, fresh, firm-bodied cutie was asking me.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

I considered shaving off a year or two, but lying would only backfire and make things awkward, so I went with the truth.

The cutie politely said, “Wow, you look young!”

You idiot, giving me lip service. I'll make you pay for that with a little chest thrust.

We started chatting at the pub. The more I listened, the clearer it became—he really had almost no dating experience.

He said he'd just returned from the military and was preparing to go back to school.

I subtly tilted my head, showing a little cleavage, and he started gulping down his beer like crazy. It was so cute I wanted to bite him.

Heh heh. You're mine tonight.

Beer glasses piled up on the table.

I turned my head slightly, my cheeks flushed, and gazed at him deeply.

My eyes, full of seduction, made him surprisingly talkative.

We shared stories about past relationships, talked about our ideal types.

When I said, "I like tall guys with good bodies," he subtly puffed out his chest—adorable.

You idiot! I see everything, you know.

“Wow. We've had a lot. Should we head out?”

“Yeah.”

We left the pub and started walking home. I pretended to stagger slightly and grabbed his arm.

Oh. Solid. Like stone.

Our pretty boy works out, huh? I gently pulled his arm closer, pressing it against my chest.

I felt him flinch.

“I'll… walk you home!”

He said it bravely, though his voice trembled.

Ah, that cute face, that rock-hard body, and no experience at all? I can't let this perfect hardware go to waste.

Even though we lived in the same complex, he insisted on walking me all the way. My cute guy even followed me to the elevator.

“What floor?”

“Fourteenth. You don't have to…”

“It's not safe.”

Pfft. You idiot! I'm the most dangerous one here.

I leaned into him slightly, gazing up at him. I didn't rest my head—my hair wasn't washed, after all.

I tilted my head up, met his eyes, and slowly closed mine.

Just as I expected, the pure, innocent boy lost control and crashed his lips onto mine. Yes!

“Mmm…”

I let out a soft moan as I kissed him, and he immediately pushed me against the elevator wall, kissing me fiercely.

Oh ho. So you've studied, huh?

His clumsy kiss. The smell of beer. His firm chest under my hands. Most of all, the hard pressure of his lower body against my thigh made my whole body tingle with anticipation.

Ding.

Yet, his inexperience hadn't completely vanished—he startled and pulled away as the elevator chimed.

I gently wiped my lips and looked at him.

“I'll… go now.”

What? Where do you think you're going, you idiot?

“Don't go…”

I gently tugged his hand and lifted the beer I'd bought earlier at the mart.

“Come in and have one more drink?”