Ten Tales At Midnight - Chapter 2
? Chapter 2 ? #First Story - Note (1)
This is something I experienced when I was in middle school.
I was far from being an exemplary student like the model student who was in the second grade at the time.
My grades were average, and I had no interest in studying. Kicking a ball with my friends was my priority.
Fortunately, I had good relationships with my classmates.
I was friendly with everyone in the class, and perhaps because of that, I was recommended as the vice class president.
That’s right. As a second grader, I held the position of vice class president.
It wasn’t a heavy responsibility compared to being the student body president or the class president.
I just carried out my duties half-heartedly, feeling like I was just ‘assisting’ the class president.
“Hey! Can’t you do your work properly?”
“I am doing it properly.”
“Do what properly? You messed up the school newsletter! It should be organized by number!”
The class president used to nag at me incessantly.
She was a petite and clever girl who was popular in the class.
At the time, she singled me out and picked on me more than anyone else. And I thought it was just because she didn’t like me.
Later, I found out that she actually had a crush on me.
I was completely oblivious back then.
My mind was filled with only games and soccer. My thinking was at the level of a single-celled organism.
I simply handled any signs of liking or disliking sent to me by someone in a straightforward manner.
Those were the times when I was still innocent.
? ? ?
Passing notes was all the rage in the class.
Although we had cell phones back then, there weren’t many big kids who would send text messages during class.
When the bell rang, we would exchange unfinished stories through notes during break time.
However, upon closer inspection, the contents were mostly meaningless chatter or doodles.
Passing notes was mainly popular among the girls.
Of course, if caught by the teacher, we would face severe punishment.
Corporal punishment was common at the time. I remember getting my palm smacked hard with a wooden danso1Danso is a traditional Korean bamboo flute that is commonly used in Korean folk music and popular music genres..
But you know how it goes – when someone tells you not to do something, you become more inclined to do it.
The more instances where people were caught passing notes, the more it became a trend.
“Vice president.”
“Yeah?”
“The class president wants to tell you something.”
During class, a girl sitting behind me handed me a note.
That fox-like class president was feigning ignorance.
When I unfolded the note, it said:
You idiot~
There was even a sticking-out-tongue emoji drawn on it.
I wasn’t angry. It was just another day or two of the class president picking on me.
I crumpled up the note and threw it away.
The class president refused to yield. She spent the whole day provoking me with notes.
Calling me ugly, a pig. It was nothing more than childish insults.
The class president, who was admired by the teachers and classmates for her good grades and cute appearance, had this whimsical side to her.
Of course, I didn’t bother responding. To be honest, it was just too much of a hassle.
Without even bothering to unfold the notes, I crumpled them up and stuffed them into my pencil case.
During break time, I would toss those piles of notes into the trash bin.
But by the sixth period, an all-out assault was underway.
Even the girls who were tasked with delivering the class president’s notes joined forces and started sending me notes.
It seemed like they found the class president’s pranks amusing.
“Hey, Vice President.”
“Ah, geez. Stop sending them.”
“Hurry, take it~. The teacher is coming.”
The girl behind me giggled and poked my back.
Unable to do anything, I turned around and reluctantly extended my hand, receiving not one, but seven notes.
Even I, who is usually insensitive, couldn’t help but feel my anger boiling at this point.
Should I just spill the beans to the teacher? That thought crossed my mind for a moment, but… I didn’t do it.
Instead, I turned around and scowled at the class president. It was a warning that said, ‘I’m angry.’
The class president seemed taken aback. It was extremely rare for me to show such an expression.
And just like that, the notes abruptly stopped, and I regained peace.
I found the notes too bothersome to deal with, so I lazily placed them on the desk and covered them with my arm.
Anyway, as long as I don’t get caught by the teacher, that will do.
Doze, doze…
However, now instead of notes, sleepiness started to overwhelm me. The boring class was not suitable for my nature.
I yawned, opening my mouth like a hippopotamus, and tried to support my heavy head with my hand… and I eventually dozed off.
Flick—!
And then, I received a finger flick from the teacher. It jolted me back to my senses.
“Aigoo. A punk like you as a vice president… Tsk, tsk.”
Reflexively, I covered my throbbing forehead with my hand.
My arm slipped off the desk, inadvertently exposing the notes I’d been hiding underneath.
There was no way the hawk-eyed teacher could have missed them.
“Huh? What’s this again?”
“Ah…!”
It was already too late. Before I knew it, the notes had ended up in the teacher’s hands.
I could hear the sound of the girls holding their breath.
Although I couldn’t see the class president’s expression, I’m pretty sure she was white as a sheet.
“These kids, talking during class… Looks like I need to give you all a stern lecture.”
The teacher brought the notes to the front of the class.
And one by one, she peeled open the notes as if unwrapping candy.
Once the teacher finished reading the contents of the note, the person who wrote it had to come forward to the front of the lectern.
“‘Sea anemone,’ step forward.”
One person.
“‘African Ape,’ step forward.”
One person.
“‘Jjangsirom2???(? ??), means ‘hatred’ or ‘to really dislike something’ etc. ? is a slang expression for ‘boss’, ‘the leader’ but also means ‘very’, ‘really’. lolol,’ step forward.”
And yet another person.
A dazzling display of childish insults aimed at me. And the girls, with their faces flushed, stepping forward to the front of the lectern.
It was a kind of public execution. Somehow, even my face started burning up.
When the teacher saw the last note, her eyes widened.
“‘I like you’…?”
For a moment, I doubted my ears. ‘I like you’?
Among the numerous insults directed at me, there couldn’t possibly be such a sweet sentence mixed in.
I wondered if the teacher had misread it, but the teacher, as if conducting an interrogation, showed the notes to the class.
“Look at this. This is the real state of the educational authority in Korea. I can’t believe you’re flirting in class.”
On the note, it indeed said ‘I like you.’ If one looked closer, they would have realized it was the class president’s handwriting.
In fact, even without confirming that it was the class president’s handwriting, it was easy to deduce that the class president was the one who wrote the note.
Because among the children standing in front of the lectern, the main instigator of this whole affair, the class president, was not there.
Why would the class president send me such a note?
Maybe she was trying to use the confusion to confess. Or maybe it was just a prank.
There was no way to know a girl’s complicated thoughts.
“Come forward quickly. Who wrote this?”
The teacher was cruel. He was trying to find the girl who told the boy, “I like you.”
The class president seemed stubborn.
“Why aren’t you coming out quickly? Huh?!”
The teacher’s face started turning red like a tomato.
He threatened, ‘There will be no break until you come out.’ and ‘I won’t let you all go home.’
I wished I could go out in their place. The kids must have been going crazy.
But in the end, the class president didn’t step forward to the lectern.
She was a proud child. She wouldn’t come out even if a knife was in her throat.
The bell rang, indicating break time.
However, the teacher didn’t leave the classroom. He crossed his arms and waited for the culprit who said, ‘I like you.’
Sighs of relief escaped from various parts of the classroom.
Yet, there was no one who blamed the class president. It revealed the power and status she held within the class.
The teacher’s mouth remained firmly shut. He didn’t seem to have any intention of backing down. He wanted to see the showdown.
Drrring.
That was the moment. We heard the sound of a chair being pushed back. All eyes turned in that direction.
I also turned around. The class president finally stood up, I thought.
” … Huh?”
But it wasn’t the class president who stood up. It was another girl.
She walked slowly through the frozen children and approached the lectern.
“Did… did you write it?”
The teacher stammered as he asked, and the girl nodded silently.
The teacher hesitated for a moment, then simply left the classroom without saying anything.
He skipped the scolding and punishment.
It was a hurried exit.
His footsteps seemed like he was running away.
? ? ?
The girl’s name… Well, it’s an old story, but I’m a bit hesitant to mention her real name.
For convenience, let’s call her 15. Just to clarify, 15 was her assigned attendance number.
15 was a peculiar child.
She was excessively quiet compared to other kids her age.
To the point where one might wonder if she had no tongue… It could evoke such a misconception.
Looking back now, it was definitely a clear indication of some psychological issues.
15 always had long hair. It covered her forehead, making her eyes barely visible.
Her hair was always tangled, as if she never combed it. That sight somehow gave off a ghostly aura.
Her face never lacked bruises. Her skin was exceptionally pale, and the purplish bruises that covered her face were noticeable even from a distance.
Everyone in the classroom knew. They knew that 15 was a victim of domestic violence.
The teachers knew as well, but no one extended a helping hand.
And why would they? After all, 15 was a peculiar child.
Her mother was a shaman.
And 15 herself carried an unsettling aura befitting a shaman’s daughter.
Because of that, all sorts of rumors circulated about 15, such as seeing ghosts, being cursed when talking to 15, or dying within four days of making eye contact with her.
Perhaps even the teachers were avoiding 15.
She was a complete outcast in the class.
There was no physical torment, but the fact that no one spoke to her was a form of psychological torment.
There was a time when I tried talking to 15.
She completely ignored me, not even pretending to listen.
It felt like I had become invisible. I regretted speaking to her…
An unsettling feeling crept in, and since then, I refrained from initiating any conversation with her.
The class president despised 15 intensely. It wasn’t just indifference or ignoring, but almost a level of contempt.
Though she never directly harmed 15, she often gossiped about her.
I’m sure 15 was aware that she was disliked. She just didn’t show it.
But what was the reason she came forward to the front of the classroom?
Why did she claim to be the owner of the uncomfortable note? What was it all about?
Was she being threatened by the class president? Or was it a sacrifice for the whole class?
I don’t know the details either.
After the teacher hastily left the classroom, an awkward silence hung in the air for a while.
When I turned around, the class president had a puzzled expression on her face.
As if nothing had happened, 15 calmly returned to her seat.
As I glanced at her profile, I caught a glimpse of her eyes, which I had never seen before.
Deep, deep eyes that seem to have no end.
Suddenly, I felt like I was looking into the abyss.
Translator
