Chapter 75: Blindfold Splint (1)
Part 1
At the peak of lunchtime, when other restaurants were bustling, I slipped into Youngjin’s bakery during a quiet moment. Youngjin, at the counter, started to greet me like a customer but relaxed into his usual lazy expression upon recognizing me.
“How’s your health?” he asked.
“Not exactly healthy, as expected,” I replied.
“So, healthy then. Exercise a bit, and you’d be totally fine, right?” he teased.
“You’ve never been frail, so you wouldn’t get it. When your body’s this weak, you can’t just say that,” I shot back.
His cackle rang out, and I grinned, lifting the corners of my mouth. Taking off my cap, the air conditioner’s cool breeze soothed my scalp. I hadn’t noticed, but my hair, pressed under the cap, had trapped quite a bit of heat.
“Whoa… makeup, suddenly?” Youngjin said.
“…It’s barely anything, but everyone seems to notice,” I replied.
Right after, as I moved past the counter to greet Youngjin’s parents and change, his voice stopped me. I let out a deflated sigh. The doctor would notice since he deals with patients, but was I wrong?
“Lipstick stands out,” he said.
“It’s a super light shade,” I countered.
“Still not the same as natural color,” he said, his tone hesitant.
I almost touched my lips but stopped just in time. Smudging it and getting it on my fingers would be a hassle while helping with displays or handling cards.
“Does it not suit me?” I asked.
“…Uh, well,” he mumbled.
His lips opened and closed, struggling to answer. Right, asking him—or the other three—this is probably awkward. To them, I’m still just “Yoonseo,” neither fully guy nor girl.
“I know it looks great, so you can praise me honestly,” I teased.
“…Huh?” he blinked.
I didn’t want to voice their inner conflict. Saying it might sound like, “I’ve accepted it, so treat me like a girl!” That’s not what I wanted—not to be pampered like a queen or treated chivalrously.
“Pfft… your face looks so dumb right now,” Youngjin laughed.
“Hey, this Yoonseo—” I started.
“Nothing’s changed. I’m the same Yoonseo—your buddy who cries and curses when drunk and sucks at games,” I said, cutting him off and taking a step forward.
His expression was complicated. Maybe brushing it off wasn’t ideal, but he wouldn’t grill me with complaints. I leaned on the kindness we’d always shared, believing it was better for both of us.
“No need to overthink. Just see me as I am. I might look different, but inside, I’m mostly the same,” I said.
“…Huh,” he exhaled.
“Gonna change,” I said, stepping forward again, glancing at his deflated expression.
The post-lunch rush on a weekday was busy enough, and the weekend was creeping toward those grueling work hours.
Part 2
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
“About what?” Youngjin replied.
“What I said.”
“Which part?”
“The other TS patient,” I clarified.
Sprawled exhausted over the counter, I brought it up. A short “Ah” came from Youngjin. The shop had been swamped, with popular items selling out, causing inventory headaches. I’d overheard bits while moving between the counter and displays. Now, post-rush, Youngjin took over the floor, giving me a breather. Naturally, I mentioned the doctor’s unsettling request.
“It’s basically asking one mental case to meet another, right?” he said.
“I’m not a mental case,” I protested.
“Aren’t you?” he teased.
Ugh. His comeback left me unsure.
“…Anyway, honestly, meeting them won’t fix anything. I’m not even sure I’m okay myself,” I admitted.
“You look like you’re cross-dressing?” he asked.
“Not anymore. I can’t deny it forever—it doesn’t even feel that awkward now,” I said.
“Your way of talking’s kinda cheeky,” he remarked.
“Yet I’m too charming to hate—fear me!” I joked.
The knuckle he rapped on my head hurt. My punches are cotton, but getting hit feels twice as painful now. Unfair.
“…Anyway,” I said, rubbing my head.
“They said it’d be nice if we could meet regularly, just to talk. I couldn’t answer right away,” I explained.
“That’s surprising,” he said.
Wincing from the pain, I pouted, but his response caught me off guard. My eyes widened.
“Surprising how?” I asked.
“I figured you’d say, ‘I don’t know if it’ll help, but I’ll try,’ given your personality,” he said.
“…I did think that at first,” I admitted.
“Any reason you can’t?” he asked.
I recalled the consultation. It’s embarrassing, but I usually don’t refuse to help someone if it’s not a big deal.
“Frankly, I say I’ve understood and accepted it, but that’s just resignation, right?” I said.
No reply. Youngjin’s silence was his clumsy way of being considerate. Propping my chin on the counter, I thought, I’m getting used to this job—slacking like this when it’s empty.
“Being dissatisfied with your situation means you’re still fighting, in a way,” I continued.
“…Probably,” he agreed.
“If that fight’s almost guaranteed to yield nothing, does putting me in front of them to call it pointless really make sense?” I asked.
If I thought it’d help, I’d have agreed despite hesitation. But would my presence actually help? Or would it crush someone clinging to defiance?
“That’s a question for someone philosophical like Sungyoon. I’m just a community college grad who bakes,” Youngjin said.
“…Fair point,” I conceded.
“Now I’m annoyed you agreed so fast,” he grumbled.
The sun, though hours from setting, was slowly dimming. Are days getting longer? They seem to rise and fall without me noticing.
“…Either way, isn’t just doing what feels right the answer?” he said.
“That’s too simpl—” I started.
“If meeting you changes their mind, their resolve was weak enough to be swayed by a stranger’s words, so don’t sweat it. If not, no talk will change them. Either way, no harm done. It’s their choice, right?” he explained.
My jaw dropped, unable to close. Youngjin, staring blankly out the window, noticed my stunned face and froze.
“What’s that look?” he asked.
“They say creative jobs breed philosophy—I guess it’s true,” I said.
“My parents are bakers too, you jerk,” he snapped.
“No, I wasn’t mocking—!” I protested.
A thud—not a tap—rang out from his knuckle. Something’s wrong with that sound.