Damn...
Didn't sleep a wink.
Tossed and turned all night.
Had some nightmare, but I can't remember shit about it.
Goddamn...
Sun's blasting my face through the window.
Today's the fucking day, huh?
I don't wanna do this cross-dressing waiter bullshit. Now that it's here, I'm scared shitless.
I only tried it to see if I could pull it off, not 'cause I'm into this crap.
This is freaking torture.
Please, don't let this get out...
Every time I think that, it's like I jinx myself and it spreads like wildfire.
Washed my hair, grabbed my shit, and dragged my ass outside.
Already feels like a fuckton of people on the way to school.
Hopped on the bus, and my heart's pounding like a goddamn drum.
Should I just... fucking bolt?
No, if I'm cross-dressing, it's supposed to be a "damn, I look good" moment, not a "look at me, I'm a fucking clown" parade.
"Next stop: University Square. University Square."
Yeah, no fucking way I'm ready.
Snapped out of it, and I'm already at the clubroom door.
Opened it with shaky hands, and a bunch of grinning assholes greeted me.
"I'm here..."
"You made it!"
"Didn't run away, huh?"
What the fuck...
Was running the smart play?
---
"Close your eyes, now."
Time's moving so fast I can't keep up.
Must be the nerves—every time I blink, an hour's fucking gone.
"Shit."
"Fuck."
Seniors popping in to check on us are making it worse.
Just look and move on, why the hell you gasping like that?
Meanwhile, Kim Myung-jun's getting dolled up next to me.
Not full cross-dressing, just some basic makeup.
Fucker. With makeup, he looks like a goddamn K-pop star.
Here I am, stuck with a wig, tape, and all kinds of bullshit.
He just slaps on some foundation and becomes a fucking heartthrob. Life's unfair.
Goddamn...
It's worse 'cause he's right next to me.
He's turning into a stud, and I'm turning into a chick.
Is this fucking right?
Whatever, second time doing this, so it's less weird.
First time, I saw myself in the mirror and nearly had a fucking stroke.
I sneak glances at the mirror and check the time.
5 p.m...
It's go-time soon.
"How's the other pubs doing?"
"They've got more menu items and cheaper prices.
I'm worried we won't sell shit."
"Liberal arts college has a ton of hot guys.
Can Myung-jun alone handle this?"
"It's that bad?"
Outside, it's all chatter and footsteps.
Sounds like things aren't going as smooth as planned.
I clench and unclench my fists, staring out.
Sun's setting fast.
Check my phone—no messages.
Juha's quiet, Yoo In-ha's quiet.
Fuck... what if they show up? They gonna see me like this?
I'm dreading their reactions.
But if I ditch, I'm fucked later. Shit...
"Don't touch your face."
...Fine.
---
"Come on in! Come on in!"
Fuck this!
I didn't need to cross-dress!
They're pulling customers like crazy without me!
Kim Myung-jun's face must've gone viral or some shit—girls are swarming.
"Good job, Myung-jun! Keep it up!"
"Raking it in, hell yeah!"
Other departments have hot guys too, but...
Myung-jun's got some kinda aura.
He's just different—people are drawn to his vibe.
Customers keep pouring in, and I'm speechless. Why the fuck did I go through this?
"Joonhyung, chill, take a break.
You're our wild card."
Wild card, my ass...
But maybe this is better?
Better sitting here than prancing around like a circus freak.
Every now and then, I catch eyes with some passersby.
They stare like, "What's this chick?"
I subtly point to our pub.
"...Wanna check it out?"
And it fucking works.
A couple of guys glance over and head into the tent.
...This okay? I'm not getting stabbed later, right? Hands are shaking.
"Atta boy, Myung-jun!"
Hot guys really are the ticket.
Crowds keep coming, and I'm just sighing.
Myung-jun's carrying this. Why the fuck did I cross-dress?
Sure, the guys at the school entrance doing tearful cross-dressing promos help too...
"Seniors! We're short on staff!
Need more servers, we can't clear tables!"
"But Joonhyung's our wild card!"
"We're seriously understaffed!"
Seniors look at me, all awkward.
Fine, I can't just sit here. Was gonna help anyway.
"No... Joonhyung's the wild card."
Then fucking serve tables yourself, wild card this.
Tables are piling up, it's a shitshow.
I take a deep breath and glance in the mirror.
Self-loathing hits like a truck. Am I really going out like this?
No choice, though... If I keep quiet, it'll be fine.
"I'm here to help..."
"Joonhyung! Good timing."
Don't say my fucking name so loud!
Fanning my face, I check tables fast.
Everyone's cooking, so serving and cleaning's a mess.
Gotta clean this shit up quick.
"Not our Joonhyung!
You'll get kimchi broth on you!"
Shut the fuck up about me...
Clearing tables fast so others can sit, but I'm feeling eyes everywhere.
Oh, shit.
This ain't my imagination.
I've been a loser long enough to know when I'm being stared at.
Three years of dodging delinquent glares taught me that.
They're definitely staring.
"What's with her?" faces everywhere.
Fuck... fuck me...
"Hey, can we order?"
...
"Yo, we're ordering."
Me?
Three girls poke at me.
Hold up, this ain't good. I look around—everyone's swamped.
Fuck, no way out.
"W-What's your order..."
Voice barely a whisper.
Scared shitless they'll clock my voice.
"Egg rolls and two beers. Is the squid pancake good?"
"It's... good."
"Then that too."
"Okay..."
Phew, maybe I'm safe.
They didn't seem to notice anything weird.
Keeping my voice low helped, I guess.
"Seniors, egg rolls, squid pancake, two beers."
"Which table?"
"Table 15 over there."
"Got it."
Senior glances at me and smirks.
Why... why's he grinning? Stop that!
"Hey, take our order!"
"Yo, Joonhyung, they're calling. Go."
"Y-Yeah."
Fuck, I didn't come to take orders!
I'm here to clear tables!
"Chill, I got it.
Don't run in that skirt, dumbass."
"R-Right..."
"Go hand out line numbers.
Where the hell's everyone else?"
...Clearing tables sounds way better.
I grab the number stickers and shuffle forward.
Can't breathe. At least it's getting dark—silhouettes only, thank fuck.
"Here's your line number."
"Thanks."
Line's fucking long.
Not all 'cause of Myung-jun, though.
Early hype's pulling people like, "Why's this place packed?"
Guess it's partly his fault.
"Here's your number..."
"Thanks."
Handing out stickers is work.
Head's spinning.
While I'm passing them out, I hear some bad fucking news.
"Why's this asshole not picking up?"
"Dunno, probably busy."
"He dodging us on purpose?"
"Guess we spread he's a bitch boy."
No fucking way...
That voice...
It's getting closer. No, it can't be.
"You sure it's cool to party like this?
Didn't your allowance get cut?"
"Fuck it, I'll drink and die."
"Want me to crack a bottle over your head?"
"You nuts?"
No doubt, it's them.
My heart's racing like a fucking jackhammer.
There were no texts or calls earlier!
"L-Line... number..."
Heart stops.
Right in front of me, two figures I didn't wanna see.
Juha, clean in a white tee and jeans, not her usual vibe.
Yoo In-ha, decked out like always.
They're standing there, giggling, legs crossed, right in my face.
"N-Number... number..."
"?"
Can't... fucking... speak...
My hand's shaking, holding the sticker.
"Thanks?"
Yoo In-ha snatches it, looking confused.
What's with this chick? her face says.
...She didn't clock me? She turns away.
"Line number..."
"Thanks."
Scared she'll notice, I slide to the side quick.
But for some reason...
Juha's stare burns into the back of my head. She can't tell from my voice, right?
"Looks like someone..."
"Who?"
"The sticker chick."
"Like who?"
Thank fuck, Juha turns away too.
What do I do?
Handing out numbers, my legs are shaking like crazy.
Just run... run for it? Better than getting caught and mocked forever!
"Yo, Joonhyung."
Fuck.
Kim Myung-jun walks up, waving like a dumbass.
My veins feel like they're freezing.
"Line's gotta go this way."
As he gets closer, eyes turn.
Yoo In-ha, Juha, and every girl around.
Myung-jun blinks, all confused, like, "What?"
"...Joonhyung?"
You clueless fuck...