Chapter 33: Happy Birthday

The convenience store’s automatic door chimed. A calico cat leaped down from an outdoor AC unit, rubbing against Kang Jae-hoon’s trouser leg to beg for a can of food.

As he peeled back the lid of a tuna can, his peripheral vision swept over a soju advertisement outlined in neon tubing—the smiling face of Bae Suzy holding a bottle of soju appeared particularly glaring in the twilight.

Kang Jae-hoon stared at the slightly upturned corners of her lips on the poster for two seconds, then turned and headed back toward the checkout counter.

Four bottles of Chum-Churum soju clinked crisply inside his plastic bag with every step he took.

Upon reaching his front door, Kang Jae-hoon propped the soju bottles against his knee, freeing his hands to tuck a cake box tighter against his chest.

"Click."

The motion-sensor light flickered on as the door opened.

Kang Jae-hoon stashed the dumbbell gift box under the bottom shelf of the coffee table and hid the soju in the deepest, darkest corner of the cabinet. He placed the six-inch cake box neatly into the refrigerator, pushing Lee Sung-kyung’s usual celery juice to the edge of the shelf.

Once everything was handled, he began to tidy up.

Nine o'clock.

Kang Jae-hoon slumped on the sofa, watching television. The weather reporter was gesturing toward a typhoon’s trajectory. Kang switched the remote from SBS to MBC, then muted it.

The shadow of the drying rack on the balcony swayed across the floor with the night breeze. Suddenly, a Kakao notification pinged.

Kang Jae-hoon pulled out his phone—it was a weightlifting video from Kang Ha-neul, with the caption: "Hyung-sik says if you finish this workout, you can knock out Kim Woo-bin with one punch."

Kang Jae-hoon’s thumb hovered over the chat box for a moment before he finally replied in the group chat with a rabbit emoji saying "Good luck."

Ten-oh-seven.

As Kang Jae-hoon wiped the already gleaming surface of the coffee table for the sixth time, the rhythmic tapping of high heels finally echoed through the hallway. He scrambled to grab the remote and turned up the volume.

The sweet voice of the SBS late-night news anchor perfectly drowned out the sound of the key entering the lock.

"Finished with the ad shoot?"

He heard the soft clink of a metal hook at the entryway.

"Yeah."

Lee Sung-kyung kicked off her heels and hung her bag strap on the coat rack.

"Did you eat dinner?"

"Just the light meal the agency ordered."

"The water heater in the bathroom is already set."

"Thanks."

The moment the showerhead started running, Kang Jae-hoon sprang up, opened the fridge, and carefully retrieved the cake.

The number candles "24" stood firmly between the cream-piped words "Roommate."

As the sound of a hairdryer filled the bathroom, he hurriedly struck a lighter to ignite the candles and reached out to turn off the living room ceiling light.

In the darkness, only the hum of the refrigerator remained, save for the hairdryer. The flickering candlelight cast delicate, shifting shadows across the cream.

A moment later.

Lee Sung-kyung pulled open the bathroom door, her hair half-damp, and suddenly froze at the edge of the light and shadow—Kang Jae-hoon’s silhouette was projected onto the wall by the candlelight, swaying into a distorted exclamation mark with every flicker of the flame.

His birthday song cut off at the first note—the candles were extinguished by the breeze from him moving the cake forward.

"..."

The moment the flame was relit, Lee Sung-kyung’s eyelashes cast dense shadows beneath her eyes. She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.

"This routine is as cliché as a supermarket promotion."

Kang Jae-hoon stood there holding the cake, caught in a dilemma.

"The birthday girl has two choices: make a wish or ruin the mood."

The tips of Lee Sung-kyung’s slippers ground against the floorboards, finally stopping at the edge of the coffee table. She closed her eyes and blew out the candles so quickly that Kang Jae-hoon couldn't even tell if she had put her hands together.

"What did you wish for?"

"If I say it, it won't—"

"Won't come true, I know."

As Kang Jae-hoon felt his way toward the light switch in the dark, Lee Sung-kyung suddenly kicked his ankle. "Don't turn it on."

"Eating cake in pitch black?"

"Turn on the light, and I’ll throw it away."

As Kang Jae-hoon fumbled his way back to the sofa, his knee struck the edge of the coffee table hard. In the darkness, there was the delicate sound of a plastic knife cutting into cream, mixed with Lee Sung-kyung’s stifled laughter.

"Dairy cream?"

"You said vegetable cream has too much trans fat."

"You use your memory for the strangest things."

The sweet, cloying sensation of the cream melting on his tongue reminded Kang Jae-hoon of Bae Suzy’s smile on the convenience store poster, but the way Lee Sung-kyung’s lips tightened in the moonlight made him even more nervous.

"Almost forgot—"

He suddenly remembered something and reached under the coffee table to drag out the beautifully wrapped gift box.

In the crisp sound of the gift ribbon being torn, Lee Sung-kyung’s voice suddenly shifted in pitch: "What is this?"

In the relit candlelight, Kang Jae-hoon saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

"You said the pink dumbbells were too girly."

"...Thanks."

"I knew you’d like them."

Lee Sung-kyung stared at the ribbon on the dumbbells, her throat bobbing, but she didn't say a word.

"Want a drink? Buy three get one free on the soju."

Kang Jae-hoon stood up and placed the Chum-Churum soju he had hidden in the cabinet onto the coffee table.

"It causes bloating."

"But you look good even when you're bloated, Sung-kyung. Besides, the birthday girl has privileges, right?"

"...This is the last time."

Moonlight leaked in through the balcony screen, casting diamond-shaped patterns on the wooden floor.

The motion-sensor light beneath the door gap flickered on and off with the footsteps of neighbors returning home, throwing fence-like shadows onto the baseboards.

As the soju slid down the rim of the glass, Lee Sung-kyung turned the stem of her glass twice, then suddenly tapped the bottom of it against the image of Bae Suzy on the bottle:

"The spokesperson is much easier on the eyes than you were in drag for that play."

Kang Jae-hoon’s hand, holding his soju glass, paused.

"Did you just say... in drag for a play?"

"A news clip played on the convenience store TV last month."

"I didn't even have a performance last month."

"Maybe I remembered wrong."

"Have you been watching my plays—"

"The cake is too sweet."

Lee Sung-kyung suddenly grabbed the bottle and took a large gulp, the dumbbell box bumping against her waist with a dull thud. "I'm going back to my room."

"Hey, you haven't even—"

"Tastes bad."

When the door was two-thirds closed, Kang Jae-hoon suddenly spoke toward the gap: "Sung-kyung-ah."

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday."

The moonlight happened to illuminate the hand Lee Sung-kyung had on the doorknob. The nude-colored polish on her fingertips shimmered with a pearlescent luster, ten times more pleasing than the diamond manicures of some actresses at award ceremonies.

The edges of the dumbbell box pressed painfully into her waist through her robe.

Lee Sung-kyung stared at the silver line cut in two by the moonlight on the floor, and a "thank you"—softer than the popping of sparkling wine—spilled from her throat.

The door closed a beat slower than usual.

When Kang Jae-hoon turned on the light to clean up the cake box, he discovered that the cream-piped "Roommate" section had been scraped completely clean.

Inside the bedroom.

Lee Sung-kyung gently tucked the dumbbell box into the bottom of her closet, but as she turned, she caught a glimpse of a card edge peeking out from a gap in the box. The gold-stamped signature shimmered in the moonlight:

*To the future supermodel of the Republic of Korea:*
*May this shade of Roland purple become your spiritual pillar when lifting, so that with every squat, you remember that someone has shared the weight of life with you.*
*From. Kang Jae-hoon.*

Lee Sung-kyung’s fingertips traced the gold-stamped texture of the card, understanding the subtext in just a few words.

This man was clearly saying: *Think of me when you lift, just as I have carried the weight of life alongside you.*

"Idiot..."

She let out a soft snort, but her cheeks flushed coral in the darkness.

She couldn't tell if it was the lingering heat of that sip of soju or the fluttering heartbeat of having her secret heart touched.

The Samsung phone on her nightstand suddenly lit up with a breathing light, and the lock screen displayed the sunset photo the two of them had snapped on the balcony last year—at that moment, he was holding the phone, and she was reaching for the sun hat blown away by the wind, the setting sun stretching their shadows long.

Rustling sounds of cleaning the cake box drifted from the door gap, and Kang Jae-hoon’s footsteps wandered in the living room.

She pulled her thin blanket over her head, the blue light of her fitness tracker blinking on her wrist:

The heart rate monitor displayed 112 bpm.