forget-me-not || lee dohwa

𝐈𝐟 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐀𝐭 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟

If Everything Goes to Hell, At Least I Can Become a Thief

Gyeoul was a ghost in this world.

Her footsteps disappeared. An object moved from here to there by her would go back to its original state. A folded piece of paper in her palm would unfold itself. Anyone she would talk to would walk five steps away from her and then forget she even existed.

She assumed that the uber expensive shampoo and bodywash bottles that she stole—borrowed from in the girls' locker room refilled themselves using the same logic.

At night, though she had seen several beds in the school infirmary, she was forced to use the library sofa to sleep on since something blocked her from leaving. On the few occasions where she was allowed to step out, Gyeoul would explore the school and the city. The stores were high-end, the cafes were expensive with food names she had either never heard of or couldn't pronounce, the streets were missing their usual protestors and drunkards, and, if she made it far enough, Gyeoul would find the population dwindling until she was the only one in the area. It was an ideal setting for a cliche comic book centered around rich teenagers and one misfortunate girl.

Not too fond of being alone in an unfamiliar place, Gyeoul stuck to the crowds. She ducked her head, avoiding all the food stalls but her nose caught a whiff of hotteoks and it made her stomach grumble at an embarrassing volume.

Wanting a change of clothes and wanting to avoid looking at food, Gyeoul entered a thrift store. The store assistant, a bored-looking middle-aged man, nodded at her in acknowledgment. However, after every few minutes, he'd snap his head in her direction, as if he had no idea someone had even entered his shop.

Halfway through sifting for shirts, she patted her pockets to find that she had nothing more than two coins on her. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment but she decided to try out a simple outfit anyway.

The assistant jumped when she approached him to ask where the changing room was. "Ah..." he blinked rapidly in confusion, "Sure. It's, um, it's that way."

When she stepped out in a powder blue v-neck and a pair of loose, dark jeans rolled above her ankles, the man blinked at her again. "Did you not find what you were looking for, miss?" He asked and suddenly Gyeoul forgot all about the price tag scratching against the nape of her neck.

She put on Kyung's jacket over her new outfit and lied without actually lying, "I think I'm satisfied with what I have right now."

Heart thumping insanely in her chest, Gyeoul all but threw herself out of the store, leaving her old clothes lying on the floor of the changing room. The guilt was there. Oh, the guilt was so much there. But she had worn those clothes for more than a week, if she went by what Kyung had said, and she couldn't stand it anymore.

Besides, a very, very small, logical part of her had said that since this was a comic world and all the characters who mattered were in school, her stealing a bunch of clothes didn't really make any difference.

Her stomach rumbled again. Gyeoul stopped mid-step, right outside a bakery, and patted her pockets again.

The two coins were there. One ₩500 and the other ₩10.

"Well, it can only get weirder from here, I guess," she said to herself, sighing as her stomach cried, this time at the aroma of freshly baked bread.

The large bakery had all sorts of bread, buns, and pastries arranged in baskets and shelves for display. Gyeoul's mouth watered, I have died and gone to heaven. Pretending to look around, she picked up a red bean bun from the basket. Turning away from the counter and the customers, she tore through the bun, scarfing it down in less than three seconds. She could practically hear her mother reprimanding her.