The time was 6:32 PM, and the slightly warm budae jjigae was cooling down.
With the sound of the door opening, Shiyeon returned home.
“I need to bring up the money issue.”
At this point, I had already cleaned up everything that had been eaten and finished the dishes before going into my room.
It felt a bit awkward to go into her room and start talking.
The bank accounts I was managing so far.
The withdrawal records were practically non-existent; there were virtually only deposit records in the account.
Even with the few withdrawal records that existed, I had taken money out and put it back in every time I felt it was getting dangerously close to becoming a dormant account since it wouldn’t be used for a long time.
The large amount of around 500 million won in Shiyeon’s account, which had not been touched at all.
Even though she had taken quite a long break in between, it was the result of nearly seven years of magical girl labor.
However, just handing this over completely and saying, “You take care of it,” made me worry that she might spend it recklessly without self-restraint.
In fact, the unit of “hundred million” felt sufficiently detached from reality.
It’s surprisingly common to hear stories about someone who became famous after winning hundreds of millions in the lottery and then ended up “broke a few years later.”
So, I decided to increase her allowance starting from middle school.
“Your allowance is now 500,000 won a month.”
“Ah, okay.”
The necessary conversation was kept brief and to the point.
I mustered as much courage as I could to poke my head just a little out in front of Shiyeon’s door to announce the allowance increase.
Compared to the 100,000 won a month she used to get in elementary school, it was now five times that amount.
In fact, as she reached this age, the places to spend money generally increase significantly, so even a fivefold increase might not seem like much.
Prices always rise, and the money received really doesn’t increase.
Still, it wasn’t a small amount from the beginning, so I was satisfied with it.
Now that I consider the living allowance and other factors, it might seem small, but seven years ago, it was quite generous to give this much.
“I wonder if she’s getting along well with her friends at school…”
I came back to my room without asking anything about the school Shiyeon attended.
Is a girls’ middle school similar to a boys’ middle school?
She said she was going to a girls’ middle school to follow a friend, so they probably ended up in the same class.
I wondered how the class atmosphere was and if she had any new friends.
There were many things I was curious about, but I let the day pass with just curiosity.
The next morning greeted me just like that.
“Shiyeon, wake up…”
The only time I could enter her room without hesitation and start talking was in the morning before school.
The budae jjigae I had cooked and eaten alone the day before became breakfast.
Since I had made a lot, there were enough leftovers for dinner with ramen added after having some for breakfast.
Perhaps because it was early in the morning, Shiyeon hadn’t even finished all the rice she had put in her bowl.
Reluctantly, I ended up combining my rice with hers and finished it off with the budae jjigae.
After finishing her meal, Shiyeon went into the bathroom to get ready, while I also finished my meal and did the dishes.
It was customary for me to go into the bathroom as soon as she came out.
The only sounds were the water and the utensils being put away, without much necessary conversation exchanged.
When Shiyeon packed up her mascot and went out, I was given about 20 minutes of spare time.
It was a hassle to dry this long hair after coming out of the bathroom.
When I was a boy, I thought it looked nice, but I never realized managing it would be so troublesome.
Should I just cut it short?
“Time to go.”
With a weary step, I headed to school.
I left the boiler in the “out” state, turned off all the various light switches, and headed out the front door.
Gomtaengi was smart enough to have gone into my uniform jacket pocket before heading to school.
At least since it was a jacket, it wouldn’t be obvious that something was inside, but what would happen in the summer?
Having a stuffed bear in my pocket at this age felt a bit strange.
I continued to ponder where I should keep Gomtaengi while I walked to school without any incidents.
Such worries would be dealt with by my later self after school.
…With a lazy mindset, I enjoyed the brief time left with my smartphone at school.
The time could be roughly gauged by the number of students who had entered the classroom.
With about 80 percent of students present, it meant there were about 10 minutes left until the homeroom teacher arrived.
“Hey! Kim Mari, what are you doing?”
“Just playing.”
Since one acquaintance was in the classroom, more students could call out with “hey” or “you” as they gradually increased.
“Touch me, and you’re dead.”
“Hooh.”
The problem was that all the students I could have a conversation with were boys.
Even if I got to know them a bit, they would hit the game skill button and run away like this.
“Damn it.”
Honestly, they were the type of people I wanted to smack with a mop handle.
There was hardly any common ground with the girls, so there wasn’t much to talk about either.
“Do you use cosmetics?” or “Did you date a guy named Taehyun in elementary school?”
When I had something bothering me that needed comforting, I could only circle around it, and much of the discussion was just gossip about girls I didn’t like.
Of course, among the girls I didn’t like, there were some who were genuinely interesting to talk about, so that part was somewhat engaging.
Anyway, after ruining a round of the game, I stuffed my smartphone into the big bag that the homeroom teacher brought.
Of course, there were some who cheated here too.
Submitting a dead phone was standard practice, and those obvious delinquent types who looked like they could smoke wouldn’t even submit theirs.
“Well, at least they showed up to school on time, which is a relief.”
I shook my head at the students in the back who were brazenly pulling out their smartphones the moment the teacher left the classroom.
Compared to the elementary school classes that had mostly held onto basic common sense, middle school lessons were slowly drifting away into the realm of commonly used knowledge in daily life.
The diligent Kim Mari ceased to exist around this time.
In language class, it was all about understanding the speaker’s intention.
Why should the reader have to understand that?
In math, they would say something like probabilities and statistics are used in daily life.
The calculator does all the work.
With everything being said in class, deep in my heart, a rebellious feeling arose that money was ultimately what mattered in the world.
As these seemingly meaningless class hours passed, recess finally arrived…
“Omok game?”
“Sure.”
Students deprived of the digital world began to play in the old-fashioned analog way.
Among these, playing omok with a notebook was representative, along with other various topics.
“Anyone want to help buy some snacks from the store?”
Additionally, there were also group activities for buying snacks that took place among smaller groups.
Often, those in the lower hierarchy engaged in nerd talk, while those in the middle would partake in snack-buying or for some reason run around the corridor.
Ordinary students would gather together to discuss games or enjoy board games.
It wasn’t quite clear whether this should be called the upper or lower tier, but even some who would sneak out to smoke before coming back.
The fact that they sprayed perfume or something to hide the smell was quite amusing.
Of course, there were also some students who were anomalies, like those who were at the top of the class but would still join in on nerd talk.
Taehyun belonged to the moderately ordinary student tier, so I naturally began to follow that group.
What these moderately ordinary students typically talked about were game discussions or having a quick round of omok during the short break.
“It’s no good!”
“Wow, this guy clearly just eats and plays omok all day; he’s really good.”
There are always strong players in even the simplest board games.
Those who took it seriously and studied board games would often take the number one spot in class omok rankings.
In particular, board games like omok that are so accessible would even attract interest from the students who would usually smoke quite heavily.
In many ways, it was an easy environment to make friends across a variety of tiers within a class.
Honestly, by casually giving up on the studying aspect, it was a relatively enjoyable life.
The problem began with the appearance of the monster.
“Ah, shit…”
Whenever the signal from Gomtaengi pressed firmly on my stomach during school, deep curses bubbled up from within.
Typically, Gomtaengi’s signal was quicker than the usual alarm.
From that point on, things became quite troublesome.
If I raised my hand to say I was going to the bathroom, the alarm would definitely go off within three minutes.
There would later be a monster alarm as well, but the reactions from teachers and students would be apathetic.
“Teacher, aren’t we supposed to evacuate?”
“Oh, the magical girl will handle it, don’t make a fuss; just sit down.”
They provide training like fire drills and evacuation procedures for monster appearances, but in reality, this is how it goes.
It’s awkward to even think about going to the bathroom during class, and if it goes off during break, students are often still wandering around the bathroom.
As the alarm faintly buzzes outside the window, a timid hand would reach out.
“Teacher, I need to go to the bathroom…”
“Not now, sit down.”
With the chalkmaking harsh sounds, the teacher instructed to hold it for the last five minutes of class.
This situation is the most hopeless of all.
Having to go, but receiving no permission.
It was a point in time where having a simple “I need to go” from elementary school wouldn’t cut it anymore, and I needed to find a different excuse.
Having heard something from somewhere, I ended up blurting out a disease that came to mind.
“I have irritable bowel syndrome…”
“Oh? Then you should have said so earlier, quickly go.”
That short phrase and action became the trigger for me to be nicknamed “poopy.”
…Life, damn it.
