Chapter 4: Unease
"…Alright then. I'll bother you a little longer."
"It's fine, really. As long as you don't mind."
Julian replied politely and turned into the tiny kitchen that could barely fit one person, tying on the grease-stained apron.
He was already starting to regret it. The polite invitation had slipped out before he remembered his rather mediocre cooking skills.
He carefully measured the oil and salt, sticking to dishes he was decent at. For once, he didn't skimp on portions, determined not to make the meal too embarrassing.
He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. That itchy sensation on the back of his neck made it seem like Margaret was staring at him the entire time. But whenever he glanced up, her reflection in the window showed her calmly reading.
Refusing to entertain any delusional thoughts, Julian chalked it up to paranoia and focused on the food.
It had been a long time since anyone had visited. He couldn't afford to be a bad host. Luckily he had splurged on a bit of meat recently, so the meal wouldn't be completely pathetic.
More than ten minutes later, three dishes were on the table. Julian scooped two bowls of rice, placing one in front of Margaret with chopsticks already resting on top.
She was still absorbed in her textbook. In that moment of concentration, she looked breathtakingly beautiful—elegant, refined, the kind of beauty that made people instinctively admire her.
"Food's ready. My cooking isn't anything special, so please don't mind."
Julian felt a bit self-conscious, unsure about the seasoning.
"It's okay." Margaret set her book aside, tasted a bite, and nodded. It was a little salty, but edible.
Julian normally went very light on oil and salt. This time, in his nervousness, he had overdone it.
"It's pretty good. I didn't know you could cook, Julian."
"No need to flatter me. I know my own limits. I was honestly worried it would taste terrible and I'd lose face."
Julian didn't hold back. He was always honest with Margaret. Her warmth and gentle nature made him feel like he didn't need to hide anything.
The table fell quiet again. Margaret ate slowly and gracefully. Julian, usually casual, found himself eating more properly than usual.
Having the prettiest girl in school eating at his house was enough to make any teenage boy's heart race. Julian was no exception. Yet the restless feeling in his chest didn't seem to come only from that.
He couldn't quite place it. This vague unease was blurry and without clear source—like being watched from the shadows while standing in the light.
When he lowered his head to pick up more food, he stole a glance at Margaret. She was the only unusual element in this room, yet nothing about her behavior seemed off.
"Do you usually cook for yourself?" Margaret asked after finishing, setting down her chopsticks and looking up.
"Yeah. I'm used to my own cooking. As long as it's edible, it's fine."
"Then… how about I teach you sometime? I'm pretty confident in my cooking skills. I could show you a few things."
The offer was sudden but reasonable. It caught Julian off guard. After thinking for a moment, he politely declined, "Thanks for the offer. Maybe some other time when I'm free."
"Alright. Just let me know whenever you want."
"Yeah." Julian nodded, noticing her empty bowl. "Want another serving?"
"No, I'm full."
Julian finished his last bite as well. His appetite was small too. He set his chopsticks down and glanced at the table. There were leftovers—enough to cover dinner later.
"I'll wash the dishes," Margaret offered, reaching for his empty bowl.
"No, no. You're the guest. I've got it."
Julian cleared the table, wrapped the leftovers, and headed into the kitchen to wash up.
The cold water flowed over his hands, carrying away the grease. These hands had done every kind of housework out of necessity. They were slender but strong, often developing calluses or small cuts.
When he came out, Margaret had already wiped down the table and neatly stacked his books.
"I'll head out now. Just message me if you need tutoring again."
"Sure. Thanks again." Julian dried his hands and followed her a couple steps to the door. "Want me to walk you out?"
"No need. I know the way."
Margaret waved goodbye and headed down the stairs, her figure disappearing around the corner.
She really did have the personality that made everyone like her. Even with someone like him, she showed just the right amount of kindness—never crossing any lines, making it feel comfortable and natural.
He pulled the door closed, but paused to look at the apartment across the hall. The black door was covered in old advertisements and peeling couplets. It had been nearly ten years since anyone lived there. The tenant had vanished like smoke, leaving the place completely empty, sealed off from the world, slowly rotting away with time.
Once the door shut, Julian returned to his room. Fatigue washed over him. He collapsed onto the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to catch up on the sleep he had missed.
Night shifts and using lunch breaks for homework had destroyed his midday rest for a long time. Today he finally had the chance.
He fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The strange feather-light unease that had been bothering him seemed to have left along with Margaret, making her the prime suspect.
Julian couldn't identify what this feeling was. It teased at the edge of his mind like floating dust, impossible to pin down.
He suspected Margaret, but there was no evidence and no reason. Besides, she had shown him nothing but genuine kindness and treated him like a real friend. Suspecting her felt incredibly rude.
Pushing the wild thoughts aside, his consciousness began to drift.
A phone notification interrupted his rest. Annoyed, he picked it up and lit the screen. It was a message in the class group chat from the class president tagging everyone.
"Next Wednesday we're having a basketball game to help the seniors relax before exams. Anyone from our class can join. If you're interested, message me privately or find me at school. Let's get good participation!"
The chat exploded with comments, mostly guys joking around and nominating their friends.
It had nothing to do with Julian. He rarely participated in these things and was only average at basketball. He usually only played when they needed extra bodies in PE class.
He turned the screen off and set the phone aside, trying to sleep again.
Another notification.
Vincet Torres, his troublemaking desk mate, had tagged him and dragged him into the conversation. A few other guys joined in with teasing praise.
"Julian looks pretty suitable. Does he want to do it?"
That message came from Hannah Reeves, the class president, giving her approval and making it harder for him to refuse.
"Yeah yeah, Julian's so handsome. If he shows off on the court, it'll bring our whole class some glory."
"Julian rarely says no when asked, and his skills aren't bad. He'd be fine."
"Just sign him up directly, Class President. He definitely won't mind."
…The usual male way of hyping each other up and throwing friends under the bus. Unfortunately, he had become the center of attention.
"Really? @Julian, should I sign you up?"
"Sign him up, sign him up. It's fine, Class President. Even if he doesn't want to go, we'll drag him there."
Julian tapped the screen and replied, "Give the spot to someone else first. If we still need more people later, you can ask me."
"Okay. Noted. Anyone else interested?"