WWBU - 7

“Just as long as I do well, just me...”  

Muttering quietly to himself, Hyun-soo stood awkwardly next to Guk, his eyes wide with tension. In an individual race, he might have been able to handle it alone, but in a team event, he couldn’t afford to be a burden. However—  

Every time the line ahead of them cleared, his heart pounded so hard he thought he might die.  

“Hold onto my waist.”  

“Huh?”  

“I said, hold onto my waist.”  

“O-Okay.”  

Already dizzy with nerves, the thought of wrapping his arm around Guk’s waist made Hyun-soo feel nauseous. Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed the hem of Guk’s shirt. Guk let out a deep sigh.  

“Are you kidding me?”  

“Why...?”  

“Like this. Hold on tightly. Like this.”  

Before Hyun-soo could protest, Guk took matters into his own hands. Grabbing Hyun-soo’s wrist, he pulled her arm firmly around his waist. Then, without hesitation, he wrapped his own arm around her shoulders, pulling her close into his embrace. In the blink of an eye, Hyun-soo found herself half-leaning against him, their bodies pressed tightly together.  

“Do we really have to go this far...?”  

“Shh. It’s our turn.”  

“Huh?”  

It was true. Before they knew it, their pair was up next.  

“Get ready.”  

Peep!  

“One, two. One, two. One, two.”  

The chant echoed from all directions as pairs synchronized their steps. Guk and Hyun-soo joined in, chanting “one, two” as they began to move forward. Well, at least they tried.  

“Uh, uh? One, wait—uh, one, two! One, two! Hey, why are you—why are you doing that!”  

“What do you mean, why am I doing this? What about you?!”  

It was a disaster. Even a newborn animal wouldn’t stagger this badly. Their wobbly, uncoordinated movements were so precarious that spectators held their breaths in anticipation of a fall. Naturally, they quickly fell behind in the rankings.  

“What do we do? We’re last place—I’m going to end up dead last again. Ugh.”  

Hearing Hyun-soo’s whining, Guk glanced down at her.  

“You don’t like being last?”  

“Is there anyone who likes being last?”  

Having always been first, Guk probably had no idea how it felt to be at the bottom. Sniffling, Hyun-soo opened her mouth to say more when suddenly, Guk tightened his grip around her waist.  

“Hold onto my waist tightly.”  

“What?”  

“I said, hold on tight.”  

“Why, eeeek!”  

And with that, Guk surged forward. Lifting Hyun-soo slightly by the waist, he charged toward the finish line at full speed. From sixth place to second—a shocking comeback from last place.  

Hyun-soo, who had been carried like a sack, barely touched the ground before doubling over in dry heaves, choking on the sudden rush of sandy wind she’d inhaled.  

As expected, the other students’ voices rose in protest, accusing them of cheating. But Guk paid no attention. With an attitude that screamed, “So what?” the complaints eventually fizzled out. Meanwhile, Hyun-soo rolled her eyes and hid behind Guk, checking the room nervously.  

“Dodgeball is next. Partner dodgeball. You all know the rules, right? Protect your partner.”  

As the commotion died down, the gym teacher announced the next game.  

If you fail at one thing, you’ll likely fail at ten. Just as Hyun-soo struggled with running, she was equally hopeless at ball games. She thought maybe she could just get hit quickly and sit out—but partner dodgeball? In a team event, she couldn’t exactly choose to lose on purpose.  

Peep!  

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. Hiding behind Guk’s large frame, Hyun-soo found herself relatively safer than the others thanks to his size. If she stuck close and he played decently, she might survive longer than expected. Or so she thought.  

But something seemed off about the balls flying toward their team. More specifically, the balls aimed directly at Hyun-soo.  

During a brief pause in the game, Hyun-soo peeked out from behind Guk’s back—and sure enough, Song Tae-yeon’s burning gaze was fixed on her. When their eyes met, Tae-yeon began gathering the kids around her, issuing instructions. The nods of agreement from the children sent chills down Hyun-soo’s spine.  

Peep!  

The game resumed.  

Like baby birds following their mother—or worker ants protecting their queen—the loyalty of the children transformed into merciless spikes hurtling toward Hyun-soo. Time and again, Guk narrowly avoided hits or blocked the balls, saving her at the last second.  

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”  

“No, because of me...”  

“Just stay close.”  

It wasn’t a group lynching, but with all the balls targeting Hyun-soo, Guk ended up working twice as hard to protect her. Feeling guilty, Hyun-soo clung tightly to his shirt, unable to even lift her head properly. Perhaps that was why—  

“Ah!”  

A powerful spike hit her squarely on the backside, and she fell gloriously out of the game.  

“I’m sorry...”  

Hyun-soo flinched as she apologized, but Guk simply turned to look at her. Wiping off sweat with his damp gym clothes, he tossed her a water bottle without saying much.  

“Drink some water.”  

“Mm.”  

As she grabbed the cold, dewy bottle, its chill seeped into her warm palms. She hesitated, wanting to say something more, but instead just fumbled with the cap. However, her hands were too weak from gripping his shirt tightly throughout the dodgeball match.  

“What’s wrong?”  

“It’s nothing, my hands just feel weak...”  

“Give it here.”  

“I’m fine.”  

Still overheated, Guk approached her, flapping his shirt to cool down. He lightly took the bottle from her, twisted the cap open in an instant, and handed it back. Accepting the opened bottle, Hyun-soo muttered a quick “thank you.”  

“By the way, next is the group jump rope.”  

“Huh?”  

Gulp, gulp. Drinking water while glancing sideways, Hyun-soo responded half-heartedly.  

“I think I can manage that one.”  

“Eugh...”  

Truthfully, she had no confidence.  

“Do your best. For my sake, too.”  

“Phooft!”  

Cough, cough. Startled, Hyun-soo choked on the water, spraying it everywhere. The liquid stung her nose and eyes. What? “For my sake, too”?  

When she wiped her wet face and turned around, he was already sitting in the shade of the stairs, resting. A small crowd of kids had gathered around him, making it impossible for her to approach and ask what he meant by those words.  

“Do your best. For my sake, too.”  

He had definitely smiled when he said it. Right?  

No, it probably didn’t mean anything special. Shaking her head firmly to dispel any lingering thoughts, Hyun-soo slapped her cheeks. Rubbing her sunburnt face, she forced herself to turn away without looking back.  

Just then, Yeong-mi and Joo-yeon appeared, walking toward her. Hyun-soo waved enthusiastically, pretending to be cheerful as she greeted her friends. There was no particular reason—she figured chatting with them would help her forget about the strange comment soon enough.  

---

Hyun-soo wanted to cry. She was now faced with having to do the one thing she hated most in front of everyone.  

Ever since she was little, she had been terrified of group jump rope. The thick, heavy rope spinning menacingly through the air made a terrifying whoosh, and the force with which it struck the ground, kicking up clouds of sand, frightened her. Most of all, she dreaded the piercing stares she’d get if she tripped over the rope while everyone else jumped smoothly.  

Perhaps that was why she not only feared it but also despised it—and naturally, she was terrible at it. So, she usually avoided participating whenever possible. But now, she found herself standing in front of the entire class, first in line to attempt the dreaded activity.  

“Teacher, do I really have to do this?”  

“Of course! Everyone else is doing it—are you going to be the only one sitting out? Hurry up and get in there!”  

“But I’m scared...”  

“Stop whining and go! Start spinning the rope!”  

Whoosh, thud. Whirr, thud.  

Even in the sweltering heat, her spine tingled with dread. She didn’t want to do it—not one bit. But with the gym teacher glaring daggers at her from behind, there was no way out.  

Everyone except Group 1, including Hyun-soo, sat under the shaded awning of the stairs. Among them was Yoon Guk, sipping water while keeping his gaze fixed on her.  

“Teacher... please, I really—”  

“Enough!”  

In the middle of another plea, Hyun-soo turned around only to receive a harsh scolding and was forced to return to her spot. There was nowhere left to retreat.  

Whoosh, thud. Whirr, thud.  

“Do your best. For my sake, too.”  

Whoosh, thud. Whirr, thud.  

“Do your best. For my sake, too.”

It was strange. Why on earth was that voice echoing in her mind right now?  

“Hurry up and get in there! The kids spinning the rope are going to tire out!”  

Ugh, never mind! Realizing she couldn’t delay any longer, Hyun-soo tightly shut her eyes and leaped into the middle of the spinning rope. It was an act of great courage—but that was precisely the problem. Why had she closed her eyes so tightly?  

Because she had squeezed her eyes shut, Hyun-soo completely missed the timing. Her forehead and the top of her head collided hard with the thick rope. Thud. She fell backward from the impact.  

“Hey, what’s wrong with her?!”  

In an instant, the sky came into view. Her head felt dizzy and heavy. As her vision began to fade, Hyun-soo closed her eyes.  

Hyun-soo fainted, and the children swarmed around her in a panic. The flustered gym teacher raised his voice.  

“This is the first time I’ve seen someone faint during jump rope. Hey, whose partner is she?”  

At the teacher’s call, Yoon Guk pushed through the noisy crowd and stepped forward.  

“It’s me.”  

“You take her to the infirmary.”  

“Yes.”  

“Do you think you can carry her by yourself?”  

“Yes.”  

Without hesitation, Guk knelt down, offering his back to lift Hyun-soo onto it. A few classmates who understood his intention helped move her limp body onto his back.  

“Alright, take her there carefully. Let me know if anything seems off.”  

“Yes.”  

After bowing politely to the gym teacher, Guk carried Hyun-soo across the field. Despite her small and slender frame, carrying someone under the scorching sun was no easy task. Yet Guk remained calm, walking steadily as if it were nothing.