Expecting a quiet evening at a pub, Heeyeon instead found herself at a lively pork intestines restaurant filled with the pungent smell of grilled meat. Although it wasn’t unusual for two women to visit such a place, Heeyeon had hoped for a quieter venue to soothe her gloomy mood.

However, as they grilled a few pieces of meat and downed some shots of soju, the setting felt somewhat appropriate. The restaurant was bustling, filled with smoke not fully sucked away by the ducts, and noisy enough that Heeyeon could vent loudly without anyone paying mind.

“Ah, who would’ve thought it would turn out like that in such a short moment?” her colleague, Hwasoo, chimed in as she flipped the meat.

“Exactly. Honestly, if I were you, I couldn’t have done anything else. You can’t just tell a crying, injured child to go to the infirmary alone.”

The solidarity of a colleague was indeed powerful. Hwasoo’s supportive words invigorated Heeyeon.

“The vice-principal keeps going on about safety, but then why didn’t they install intercoms in the classrooms? Like, ‘Hello, is this the infirmary? This is Class 1-3, we have a student injured, please come and treat them.’ Like that?”

As Hwasoo wrapped a piece of meat with lettuce, adding garlic, pepper, and a dab of ssamjang, and fed it to Heeyeon, the gesture was noted with a thumbs up—’consideration,’ Heeyeon thought as she savored the bite.

“But what did the vice-principal say about disciplinary action? Are they really going to hold a committee?”

Heeyeon’s face reddened as if she had bitten into a hot pepper.

“Can you believe it? What grounds do they have for a disciplinary committee? How am I supposed to know whether Hyungoh has hemophobia? How could I know that his mom hadn’t told me anything about it? Am I a mind reader? Why was Gyeong-eun getting up during class? Who said they could wander around? They should’ve stayed seated quietly even if I was out of the classroom. What did I do wrong?”

Her grievances became more heated with each sip of soju.

“And that vice-principal should be protecting fellow teachers, not just covering his own back, saying all the responsibility is mine. He probably pushed for the disciplinary committee too. Damn it.”

Hwasoo didn’t try to stop Heeyeon from venting. If both spiraled out, it would be hard to manage later. She knew when to let someone unload.

“And the parents, too. They fawn over us when they need something, but as soon as something goes wrong, they’re all over you, questioning your qualifications. I’m just their gum, aren’t I? Chewed up and spit out when they’re done. That’s why I’ve lost all affection for them. You should see their faces when they bring gifts for Teacher’s Day. If my mom did that, I’d be mortified. And what do they give? Body lotion. I swear, with all the lotion I’ve received over the years, I could moisturize daily for a decade. Then they say what? ‘The teacher’s got all this free time but doesn’t care about our kids.’ Have they ever tried spending a day with me, seeing what I do? After morning classes, do they think I just play? I have lesson logs to write, supplementary materials to prepare; I’m swamped. Ugh, it’s so disgusting, I should just quit.”

It seemed like a good time to intervene. As Heeyeon was about to continue, Hwasoo took the bottle to pour her another drink, easing the situation.

“You gotta hold on. I hear similar things sometimes, and I just bear it. Honestly, it’s like having to report every single thing we do in class as if they had CCTV watching over us. Some parents act like they own us. If you keep allowing favors, they start thinking it’s their right.”

They continued to share and empathize with each other’s stories over drinks. Meanwhile, the meat on the grill had charred as they paid no attention to it.

On the last day before vacation, the children came to school lightly, listened to a brief admonition, and left with even lighter steps. Although one classroom had an emergency parent-teacher meeting planned, causing the teacher to look distressed all morning, the children were unfazed. After all, it was vacation—a time for unbounded freedom and joy.

But for Julian, it was a somewhat regrettable day. The library wasn’t open. Although it would reopen next Monday, this meant he couldn’t use the school library until then, prompting him to ask the childcare workers if he could visit the city library.

“I’m sorry, but you’re still too young for outings without supervision. I’d take you if I weren’t so busy,” said the caretaker apologetically.

Perhaps if there were enough students interested, they could organize a group visit to the library, but no childcare facility would allow a newly minted first-grader to go out on his own.

“Why don’t you ask the older kids if they have books to share?”

Julian had considered this before but had always found the school library sufficient. Plus, he wasn’t the most forward person.

Resolving to overcome his shyness, he headed to the room of an older student.

“Hey, what’s up? Julian coming to my room?”

Hyung-geun, a tanned sixth grader with a square face, was active and often seen playing soccer. Known for leading groups at the orphanage, he was approachable, which is why Julian had come to him first.

“Books? I don’t really have any left. I passed on all my textbooks from last semester. Oh, I can lend you this from first semester if you bring it back before the next term starts.”

“Do you not read during vacation?” Julian thought, accepting the book and then searching for another potential lender.

He decided against approaching Cheol-yong, a soccer enthusiast who seemed unlikely to have any books.

Knock, knock.

He waited in the hallway after knocking on an open door.

“Julian? What’s up?”

Jeong Da-young, a fifth grader with playful eyes and a lively spirit, quickly welcomed him. She had always shown affection towards Julian, often trying to sit next to him, although he found her forwardness a bit overwhelming.

Unexpectedly, it was not Da-young but So-mi, one of only two sixth graders, who gave him several books. Known for receiving books and other gifts from her father during weekend visits, she casually offered Julian three novels she had finished.

“Just take them. You like books, right? I’ve read these already.”

They looked barely touched, which made Julian smile in gratitude as he thanked her.

“Come by anytime if you want to borrow more books,” she offered.

With several books in hand, Julian left feeling somewhat burdened—not just by the weight of the books, but by a sense he might not return to this room again. The past was too pungent with memories he preferred to leave behind. The smell that So-mi carried reminded him of a disagreeable figure from his village who had been harshly expelled. The unpleasant mix of odors, like overripe garbage, was distinctly repulsive to him.