Two Ramen Packs and a Schedule

Junseo boiled two packs of ramen and pulled out a schedule.

The way he called his underclassman to the kitchen had stayed the same for three years. Demerit talk happened in the hallway. Schedule talk happened in the kitchen. And record talk happened nowhere at all.

Today he'd sat down to do the third kind. Before sitting, he'd boiled water twice. The second time hadn't been necessary.

"Eat first." Junseo pushed the bowl over.

Doyun sat. It was the third floor kitchen of the dormitory, eleven at night. If Junseo was in the kitchen at this hour, it usually meant he had something to say to someone.

"I heard about the basement." Junseo set down his chopsticks. "The Baek Jihun thing."

"Yes."

"You did well there. But you can't do it again." He tapped the schedule with his chopsticks.

"Why not?"

"Since yesterday, the student council's been managing the basement access log." Junseo unfolded the schedule. "Managing it means a record gets kept, and a record that gets kept gets seen by the registrar's office."

"Since yesterday?"

"Since yesterday."

Doyun counted. Team Seven had gone down into the basement two days ago.

"Because of us?"

"Could be because of you. Could be because of what you saw." Junseo said. "I only got the notice. No reason was written on it."

In that sentence, Junseo had also said, without meaning to, that he'd spent three years in a position where he only ever got notices.

Doyun looked at the schedule. The hours for basement access were marked on it. Two maintenance slots.

"Why are you giving me this." Doyun took his hand off the schedule.

"Eat first, and listen."

After saying that, Junseo used his own chopsticks to move some kimchi into Doyun's bowl.

Doyun watched the gesture. This person gave things for one of two reasons. When someone genuinely looked hungry. Or when he wasn't saying something.

"Sunbae."

"Yeah."

"You're not saying something right now." Doyun pushed the kimchi aside.

Junseo's hand stopped. Then he laughed.

"Where'd you learn that."

"From a teammate."

Junseo's key ring sat on the table. Dorm master key, kitchen, storage, and one more.

The last key was red. Not plating, a red coating like wax, and shorter than the others.

The moment Doyun noticed it, Junseo flipped the ring over. The red key went facedown.

It was a fast motion. A motion meant to hide something, and Junseo knew Doyun had seen him try to hide it.

Neither of them said anything for three seconds.

Doyun did the math during those three seconds.

If he asked for the key, Junseo would refuse. If refused, this person would give him nothing next time. If he stole it, he'd gain the key and lose the person. If he pressed, this person would answer as a student council staffer, and a staffer's answer is just regulation language.

And there was a fourth option.

"Sunbae, I want to ask for something else instead."

Junseo's shoulders dropped a little.

"Go ahead." Junseo took his hand off the key ring.

"The meal ticket records."

"Meal tickets?" Junseo's voice rose half a tone.

"The thirteenth seat, back row of the third floor classroom. If whoever sits there ate a meal, there'd be a meal ticket record."

Junseo set down his chopsticks.

"Are there cases where a meal ticket gets issued without a student ID number?"

"...There are." Junseo said. "Temporary issues. Transfer applicants waiting on approval, exchange students, and administrative errors."

"Can you see that record?" Doyun had brought paper, ready.

"Not officially. It's personal information."

"What about unofficially."

Junseo didn't answer the question right away. Instead he took a sip of the ramen broth. It had gone cold.

"Han Doyun."

"Yes."

"Why aren't you asking about the key." Junseo pushed the broth bowl aside.

Doyun answered honestly.

"If I ask, you won't give it to me. If I steal it, you won't give your underclassmen anything again."

"Is that a calculation?"

"It's a calculation." Doyun admitted. "But that's not all of it. When you flipped that key over, it was really fast. It looked like you'd done that motion for a long time."

Junseo didn't laugh at that.

He got up and went toward the storage room. Five minutes later he came back with a few sheets of paper. Paper still warm from the copier.

Five minutes was longer than copying required. In that gap, Doyun thought about what this person might have left out, and decided not to ask about what he'd thought.

If he took everything now, this person would have nothing left to give next time.

"These are copies made outside the rules. Not originals, and no access log is kept for them." Junseo set them down. "I didn't give you these. They were just left here."

"Sunbae."

"I'll speak as Na Junseo."

Doyun understood that sentence. It was a signal that this person was setting down his seniority.

"I'm a third year, waiting on graduation recommendation. I've worked student council staff duty for three years." Junseo pressed the paper with his fingertips. "During that time, eleven cases got processed as registry errors. I filled out the paperwork on all eleven."

"What does that mean?"

"Write it down as an error, and a person disappears. An error doesn't get a verification process." Junseo said the sentence like someone who'd prepared it for a long time.

Doyun tried to weigh what that meant, but the weight wouldn't settle.

"Eleven people?"

"Eleven cases. I don't know myself whether they were people or real errors." Junseo said. "But twice, I saw a face."

"Why didn't you report it."

"If I report it, the staff position disappears, and when it disappears, the next person sits in it. That person won't know about these eleven cases." Junseo said the logic with a face that clearly hated it. "I did that for three years. I know that's an excuse now too."

"The two faces you saw." Doyun asked.

"One was a second year. A kid who played soccer. An ankle injury kept him from going out to practicum, and the next semester he got processed as an error."

"The other one."

Junseo paused for a moment.

"A girl. Tall, I saw her often in the library." He said. "I should remember her name, but I erased the name field on the form myself. You don't remember someone you erased."

Doyun didn't write that down in his notebook. Writing it now, in front of this person, would mean making evidence. He decided to write it later.

Doyun took the papers. As he took them, he asked one more thing.

"That key, what is it."

"I won't say." Junseo put the ring in his pocket.

"Why not."

"If I tell you, you'll go." Junseo said. "And I haven't come up with a reason to stop you from going, yet."

Doyun didn't ask further. He decided to note the fact that he hadn't asked.

The copies were six pages.

Temporary meal ticket issuance history. The last thirty days. Four issuances without a student ID number.

Three of the four were transfer applicants waiting on approval, and their names were written down. All three got a formal student ID attached within two days of issuance.

The fourth had an empty name field.

The reason field for issuance had two words in it. Error.

A usage record was attached. Yesterday evening, six forty PM, second floor of the student cafeteria. Yesterday.

Doyun read that line three times.

A meal ticket issued as an error had been used yesterday. Errors don't eat.

Next to the usage time was a payment item. Rice plate, one. No extra soup.

Those four words hit Doyun harder than a name would have. No extra soup meant a person had chosen it.

There was a mark at the bottom of the meal ticket. Not printed, stamped, and it was red wax.

Doyun had just seen that red, five minutes ago, on the key Junseo had flipped over.

To confirm it was the same color, he'd need to look at the key again. If he asked to see it, Junseo would show him right now. And that would mean this person saying, today, the thing he'd decided not to say.

Instead, Doyun took a photo of the bottom of the ticket. The color comparison could wait for Mirae.

He looked at Junseo. Junseo was already looking at the same mark.

"...You didn't know about this?"

"I didn't." Junseo said. His voice was low. "When I copied it, I didn't look at the bottom."

"Sunbae."

"I'm seeing it right now too. That's the truth."

Garam would have been able to tell if there was a hitch in that voice. Doyun couldn't tell, and admitted he couldn't tell.

He sent the photo to Mirae fifteen minutes later. The reply came in two minutes.

That wax red isn't the academy's official seal color. The official one is vermilion. This is darker.

There was a line after that.

And it's close to the color of the third seal in the appendix. Confirming it needs the original.

That was the first time Doyun had heard the word appendix in that sentence. It was something Mirae hadn't said yesterday.

Things she hadn't said were coming out one at a time, and that was becoming how this team worked. Four clauses hadn't stopped that.

"I'll put this in the team log. I won't write your name."

"Write it."

"What?"

"Write my name." Junseo said. "If you don't, you'll come ask me for another favor next time. If you write it down, I become the person who gave you this, and then I can't back out either."

Doyun took the request. He also knew that taking it wasn't in this person's favor.

"About your recommendation letter."

"That's mine to calculate." Junseo stood up to wash the bowls.

As he left the kitchen, Junseo spoke from behind him.

"Han Doyun."

"Yes."

"I won't say what that key is for, but I'll tell you one thing." Junseo held the key ring in his hand. "I didn't receive it. Three years ago, the staffer before me left it behind."

Doyun repeated that sentence to himself twice outside. Left behind meant something different from handed over.

If it had been handed over, there'd be a transfer record. Something left behind has no record. Junseo had spent three years filling out paperwork while carrying a key with no record.

On the dormitory stairs, Doyun took out his notebook. He wrote down now what he hadn't written earlier.

Eleven cases. Saw two faces. One a second year in soccer, one a tall girl, library.

And a final line.

Sunbae Junseo told him to write his own name down. The reason was so he couldn't back out.

After writing that line, Doyun remembered the demand he'd made of Taeho on the first day. Write both copies for me.

It was the same kind of thing. Back then, Doyun had thought it was a demand that protected himself.