PROLOGUE

Whenever I recalled kissing him, it was strange how the smell was the first thing that came to mind.

It was a pungent mix of the cigarette smoke he carried, and, amusingly, the lingering scent of gum he’d just spat out, as if trying to cover it.

When he caressed my nape during our kisses, the smell of blood from the brawls he got into almost daily would waft into my nostrils.

And then there was the smell of Seoryeong.

From his firm chest pressed against mine, the acrid scent of the back alleys of Seoryeong’s red-light district, where he lived, rose up.

Though barely a high school student, that raw smell suited him remarkably well.

That’s why I detested you as much as I detested Seoryeong.

So, whenever you leaned in to kiss me, I always tightly closed my eyes, and you would laugh softly, calling my name, “Yiseo.”