Against Time | k.th. ✔

六 : like a gullible moron

"You're misreading my words, sir. I didn't intend to humiliate you at all—" Yeseul was cut off by her own phone ringing for the umpteenth time. Cursorily scouring her vision over the screen, she could not refrain from fuming menacingly once she recognized the caller ID.

"What the fuck do they want now, Yuna?" Yeseul yapped, startling the reposing detective before her. The said man could not help but wonder at the terrifying girl's ability to contain herself the entire time when he was obliterating her. He even mentally prayed to the heavens out of gratitude.

"They're accepting my script now? I knew those bitches will come and grovel at my feet eventually, I didn't expect that to happen this soon though. They really have no shame left, do they?" A derisive chuckle erupted from Yeseul. Poor girl became so lost in celebrating her ephemeral victory, that she ended up not realizing the investigating officer glowering down at her as if she were his prey.

Not in time, at least.

"Care to explain, miss?" The detective growled, but calmly.

"Did something go wrong just now? I'm sorry I didn't quite get yo—"

"What was that about a script, on the phone?" The man would fleetingly shift gazes to his pen, and then to Yeseul, every time he put forward a query. He, for one, was thoroughly aware of the art of cracking an intricate probe.

"Ah, that," Yeseul exclaimed incredulously, "I'm a part of the writing club of my college. I write scenarios. And the one I was talking to, that was my friend. Actually, us and the dramatics kids... we have beef with each other. But as unavoidable as it is, they have to use our scripts for their performances. Basically, they know they aren't better than us so they have to cave in every single time." 

Out of all the things to suspect about Yeseul, the detective chose to delve into the club-level feud that she had herself willfully described to him. Indeed a very disappointing deduction by him.

He raised a brow, clasping his hands together as he hunched forward towards Yeseul, "So you were making up random stories spontaneously. Do you have an idea that deliberately misleading or misinforming police also counts as a legal offence? I bet you're now, in case you weren't." The detective displayed a curveless smile, indicative of the rumbling anger inside him.

"What? No! I swear I came across that infiltrator. Please trust me, sir!" Yeseul defended at a pitch so unbearably shrill.

"Alright, then. Tell me the theme of the scenario that you wrote for that rival club of yours. After that only will I decide whether you were speaking the truth or not—"

"I've got no problem with that! My story's set in the forties, the time Korea was colonized— Okay, I can somewhat figure out what's the problem here..." Yeseul's voice faltered when she could finally fathom what precisely had made her sound like an unreliable source of information to begin with.

It was that weird coincidence of her writing a piece about colonial Korea, and fortuitously encountering a man who could pass flawlessly as the main lead of that story. As absurd as circumstances were turning out to be right then, Yeseul had not pictured getting herself so awfully extirpated by them. Like a gullible moron she blabbered, and wound up making it as easy as pie for the detective to put two and two together and dump the blame on her instead.

"You do? Oh, great that you got your senses knocked back into yourself before things went out of hand. You wouldn't have liked seeing your otherwise clean record being blemished with a charge so degrading, trust me. So, do you know the way towards exit or should I lead you up till there, miss?" Being chastised by a cop had never come off as this much mortifying to Yeseul. She would not second guess about lying low for a month or two now and continually regret her attempt at outwitting the force.

That was her worst mistake ever.

"There's clearly a misunderstanding but I don't think I'll be able to untangle it for you—"

"Get out, right now!" The detective yelled, jolting Yeseul to abandon her seat forthright and gracefully accept the rather demeaning treatment that she was being offered at the moment.

Relax Yeseul, you brought this upon yourself anyway.

The female made one last, brisk bow apologetically and headed herself out of the police station without wasting another single moment.

🔹

The previous day was still vivid in Yeseul's memory, and no matter what she did to reboot her brain, a trivial vestige—come what may— would manage to stay clung to torment her for the rest of the day nevertheless.

Two bad days straight, what a life to lead.

Yeseul sighed dramatically, abetting everyone around her in a way to cast aside the chores that they had been rendering and instead concentrate their uninterrupted attention on her. It was only when she scampered her eyes— owing to the sudden silence that fell— that she savvied herself receiving the heed that she was exceptionally loathing due to the tragic experiences that she had been undergoing since the last day.

"What?" Yeseul barked, abstractly jarring the onlookers to whisk their heads into any direction but hers. One more occurrence of anyone annoying Yeseul and she would snap so bad that her victim would forever remain traumatized of what took place with him.

Disgruntled, Yeseul decided to disdain the jobless swarm surrounding her— that would rather be concerned about her life than doing what they ought to— and bimbled towards the exit gate of the subway station mindlessly. As she aimlessly roamed her eyes around, her vision got stuck at a particular head. A capped head, to be more precise.

Yeseul found her feet racing involuntarily towards that strange yet familiar dressing. Prodding her elbows out to make way for herself every once in a while as she swerved through the never-ending multitude of office-going humans, she could identify herself moving ever so closer to that worn-out beret cap with every single step she advanced.

Grinning satisfactorily to herself, Yeseul tapped on the figure's shoulder, steering him to take a look at his uninvited guest.

"We meet again, weirdo." Yeseul blurted out only to contradict her initial attitude, "What the hell happened? Why are you crying?"