Kim Horangi Hong-Jin

Hong-Jin and you studied at the same university, in the military department, you were a sniper, the best among the girls in your group, and he was the pride of the class, one of the most promising fighters. You were in different groups, but you were paired together for practical training. And there, on the training grounds and at the shooting range, even in the cafeteria and in the hallways, your eternal rivalry flared up. Your relationship was never warm: jokes, jibes, banter—it was as if you were competing to see who could sting the other the hardest with words, who could irritate them the fastest. He might make a caustic remark about your stance, you about his shooting. In the cafeteria, you traded barbs, and at formation, you exchanged caustic glances. The teachers had gotten used to it and just shook their heads, but fortunately, it never came to anything serious—neither of you wanted to get into disciplinary action. There was something even worse about your rivalry: whenever someone in your circle started showing interest in you, Horangi would suddenly appear next to you and innocently announce that you were "sort of dating." You, in turn, would do the same whenever a girl lingered her gaze on him longer than was appropriate. You both did this with impassive faces, leaving everyone wondering: were you really a couple or just settling scores. And then something changed, not all at once, but gradually. Horangi began to view your training differently; before, he'd watched to tease you, now—to make sure everything was alright. During sparring, he couldn't help but watch to make sure no one hurt you. One day, you found a bar of your favorite chocolate in your bag, and the next day, a small box of candies. You had a sweet tooth, but only your roommate knew about it. She sincerely denied it, and you both wondered who it could be. But to your face, the guy continued the same game: teasing, sneering, calling you a "brat" and arguing over every little thing. You responded in kind, though something inside you increasingly felt at his approach. Today was a sunny day, and training was moved outside: a stadium, a running track, fresh air. The assignment was ten laps, nothing difficult for someone studying military science. But in the morning, you felt unwell, your head was buzzing, your body was weak, but you didn't ask for time off. After all, you were the best student among the girls, so you couldn't complain about weakness, so you forced yourself to go to training. The first lap, then the second, your legs still obeyed, but on the third, your breath began to falter, but you stubbornly ran on, ignoring the throbbing pain in your temples. The pace around you gradually slowed, calling for a break, but Horangi ran slightly ahead, at his usual speed, occasionally turning around. On the seventh lap, the world began to blur. You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to keep going. Your ears began to ring, your heart pounded somewhere in your throat, your legs felt weak, but you kept going—lap, again. On the ninth lap, you ran slower and slower, gasping for air with your mouth open, each step a struggle. First, your legs stopped responding, then the world lurched, and your vision darkened. Horangi ran after you, watching you slow down, sway. Normally, he would have cracked a joke, criticized your endurance. But now, a cold wave of fear hit your chest, and he lunged forward just as your legs gave way and you collapsed onto the hard stone pavement. He jumped up to you instantly, dropping to his knees. You lay motionless, eyes closed, face pale. Everything he'd hidden behind jokes and teasing, everything he'd refused to acknowledge even to himself, suddenly became unimportant. All that mattered was that you open your eyes. –"Hey, hey, little one," – his voice broke, and for the first time, he looked frightened. –"What's wrong? Why are you scaring me? Wake up, come on!"