I Became the Childhood Friend of a D*ug Dealer

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The problem was a can of tuna.

I don’t know the exact date, but it was a long time ago.

It’s a laboratory.

They seemed to be studying how much medicine needs to be used for regeneration without leaving scars.

I don’t know why they’re doing that to my body.

“Is there something you want to eat?”

The researcher asks.

“I think I’m hungry.”

Were they asking me?

“Me?”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

The researcher, who was staring at the computer screen, turns their gaze toward me.

“Does it know how to talk?”

“They say it talks sometimes when prompted.”

“Really?”

It does know how to talk. It just stays quiet because I said it was noisy.

And there aren’t many people to talk to either.

It is a being that everyone avoids.

No one asks questions to a bloodied creature.

“I’m asking what your favorite food is.”

What was it again?

Let’s think.

“It doesn’t talk.”

“No, it should. Favorite food.”

There were a few people I liked.

The kind ones.

“What do you like to eat?”

Eating.

I like to eat a lot.

What was it again?

“Do I have to say ‘eat’ for it to understand?”

Not much comes to mind.

“Hmm…”

“Oh, it speaks.”

“Canned tuna…”

“It says canned tuna.”

The canned tuna I used to eat with Si-Hoo.

It’s at home.

It’s delicious.

It’s quite expensive, so I couldn’t eat it often.

The triangle kimbap with tuna was also tasty.

I had to go to the city to eat it, though.

I also remember when Si-Hoo opened a can and cut his hand.

It didn’t end well.

There was blood.

There was blood.

“Uh-huh?”

What is going on?

What is going on?

They’re doing something with a knife.

It’s a pocket knife.

They lightly slice my lower abdomen.

Like drawing with a pencil.

“Let’s note that you like canned tuna.”

“Leave a scar?”

“Huh.”

What are they talking about?

“No, should I draw it instead? You said you’re hungry.”

I never said I was hungry.

What does drawing have to do with being hungry?

“It’s canned tuna.”

“I can’t put it in your stomach, but I can draw it for you.”

What on earth are they talking about?

The scar experiment ended up on my arm.

I’m trapped and can’t move.

I’m too weak to resist anyway.

There’s no way to stop them.

I still don’t understand properly.

What are these people doing to me?

“Show it when you meet your friend.”

They say this with a smirk.

“What do you want to eat? Just show it.”

“Uh, ugh.”

What did they do?

I don’t like it.

“Isn’t it a good thing? It’s not like you can talk well anyway.”

What are they saying?

What are they talking about?

I want to close my eyes, but for some reason, that’s not easy either.

An unpleasant sensation from my stomach.

Canned tuna?

My memories are being desecrated.

I don’t want to eat canned tuna anymore.

Eating it with Si-Hoo was nice.

But why are they doing this to my body?

Ah.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

I don’t like canned tuna.

Don’t write on me.

What are they doing?

“I drew it wrong. Drawing an oval is difficult.”

“Write it in words, then.”

“It’s hard to do it with a knife. What should I write?”

I don’t like canned tuna.

But it was delicious when I ate it with Si-Hoo.

No, but I don’t like it.

But canned tuna is tasty.

I like tuna.

But why write on my body saying it’s tuna?

Why?

I don’t get it.

“Ugh…”

Am I a tuna or a can of tuna?

I asked Si-Hoo to eat together.

I’ve also had tuna ice cream.

I like that.

Si-Hoo bought me lots of canned tuna because I liked it.

It was delicious.

But there’s no reason to write on my body.

Si-Hoo knows already without me saying anything.

No one would know even if I wrote it here.

“But why canned tuna?”

“Did someone give it as food? Like feeding a cat.”

Why are they doing this?

With Si-Hoo with Si-Hoo.

There isn’t much rice or ramen at home.

So sometimes when I take one out to eat.

It’s tasty.

I like it.

I shouldn’t have said I like it.

I shouldn’t have said I like it.

I shouldn’t have said I like it.

What are they doing?

A sense of powerlessness envelops my mind.

“Heh.”

Something snaps in my heart.

No.

It’s okay.

I don’t care what they do to my body.

Anyway, no one will know.

I can just not show it to my friends.

I like canned tuna.

That fact doesn’t need to be written down.

It doesn’t.

Phew.

A small dose of medicine is administered.

If a minimal recovery effect is shown, a scar will remain.

A scar was left behind.

There are words and pictures written intricately.

I like canned tuna.

It is written like that.

There’s no way I would do this.

Who did this to me?

Yoo Seo-Ah?

Who is she?

Who, who, who?

I don’t think it’s me.

Ahahaha.

Time has passed.

Yet the scar hasn’t disappeared.

The supervisor of today’s experiment will drink coffee in the morning, they say.

Is that so?

The researcher told me tomorrow’s shopping list.

It seems they’re buying a lot of vegetables.

And fruit.

To be exact, a bundle of napa cabbage, five radishes, and a box of apples and pears.

Oh, and they’ll buy cereal too.

It seems they’re getting beer as well.

It must be an errand list.

They should write things like that down on a notepad.

People aren’t notepads.

Even if they’re too lazy to find a pen and paper.

Most scribbles are written on the back.

It seems they write on their backs since words don’t go well on the abdomen.

Will this scar erase?

I also discovered the initials of the researcher’s name.

What was it… something starting with K.

They wrote that on my shoulder.

Was it practice for a signature?

I don’t know why they’re doing it with a cutter knife.

They’re probably just doing it out of boredom.

Fortunately, there are more things that haven’t been left as scars.

There are plenty of wounds that healed perfectly because the medicine was good.

I wonder why doodling is so popular.

Should I also doodle on other creatures besides me?

Maybe the researcher who wrote ‘tuna’ caused a rumor to spread.

“Eek.”

What if Si-Hoo sees it?

What if my friend sees it?

What will they think of me?

What did they say last time?

Think carefully.

At the end.

Didn’t I hear something pretty harsh?

Did they call me a rag?

No, it can’t be.

How do I prove this now?

People just doodle and leave.

Heehee.

Why did it happen?

Do you want to do it too?

What should I do, what should I do?

People will think it’s weird to look at it.

What should I do?

Do you like canned tuna?

No.

Then why is it written so much on your stomach?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Those people did it.

They said it was a break time in the laboratory.

I didn’t do anything.

Why does it say I should buy a few vegetables on my back?

I don’t know.

Those people bought it.

They probably use it as a notepad.

There’s a phone number written here.

Is that so?

I understand.

But I don’t.

If I want to keep writing notes in the future, it’ll have to be clean, so they said they’d erase it with medicine.

Did it get erased?

It should have.

I could check with a mirror, but I’m scared to look.

I’d rather pretend it didn’t happen.

To pretend it didn’t happen.

I didn’t want to show the original scars on my arm.

But I could show it to my friend.

I don’t understand the scar that says I like canned tuna.

What if I get caught?

Will I be treated like a psychopath?

Will they overlook me as a bit slow?

This thing right here.

I said I liked canned tuna, and they drew it.

Isn’t it pretty?

Heh.

“It can’t be true.”

Yep.

Say something sensible.

“Heh…”

In this room, it’s just me, after all.

No one else will see me.

“Ahahaha.”

Even if I slightly lift my clothes, the sloppy drawing of a canned tuna is visible.

It says I like tuna.

“Hehe…”

I laugh because I don’t understand.

I just.

I just wanted to eat it together with Si-Hoo.

When they asked what food I liked, I just answered.

“Hehehe…”

The medicine made me feel good.

But I keep feeling something is off.

What if it’s something I don’t know?

One day, we might get along like before.

“I want to pretend it never happened.”

I don’t like canned tuna.

So there’s no reason to say it’s my favorite food.

So there’s no reason for me to be doodled on.

But wait, does liking something mean I get doodled on?

I don’t really like vegetables that much.

Why did I write something like an errand list?

What if my friend sees it?

“Anyway, I’m not leaving here, right?”

I can’t go out.

I shouldn’t go out.

“I don’t have friends anymore anyway, so it’s okay.”

They’re all people I can’t meet again.

And even if I do, I probably won’t recognize them.

Whatever.

I didn’t even plan to meet them.

I just want to observe.

The protagonist will take care of everything, so I’ll just watch.

“Forget it, it’s about letting it go.”

I’ll forget it.

There’s so much I’ve forgotten until now.

I will forget.

I will forget.

I will forget.

“Ahahaha.”

But I can’t remember anything important.

“… [I’ll forget it.]”

And so, I truly forgot.

Until the doctor made me imagine it just now.

*

Hyperventilation.

“Ha—haah, haah.”

[394 hours 12 minutes]

Apart from the effectiveness of the medicine, it feels like trauma has set in.

Now, the scar is gone.

The doctor wrapped the bandage tightly.

It was just enough to cover the lower abdomen, but that was sufficient.

“Haah, haah, haah.”

Breathing is difficult.

In the end, the fundamental problem hasn’t been solved.

It wasn’t overcoming; I was simply forgetting.

I have been forced out of the happiness of oblivion.

I’ve just been doodled on a bit.

It’s a trivial prank.

“[It’s okay.]”

Is that so?

I feel a bit more at ease.

My breathing settles down.

“[Don’t worry.] It’s just doodling.”

Is it?

That’s right.

I feel relieved.

“Oh, and I have all the experiment recording videos.”

“……”

Video records.

Is that recorded too?

“Don’t worry; your friends won’t need to see the videos.”

I wonder how much the doctor knows.

If they saw the video of the experiment table.

If they knew the actual experiment was taking place.

If they knew I was trapped in such a place.

Why didn’t they come check on me?

They’re a good person, right?

They are a good person.

But I don’t even understand how I ended up in such a place.

When did this become a laboratory?

The doctor said it was as if I chose it, but I have no memory of that at all.

“I’ve collected all the footage from the surveillance cameras.”

Anyway, it’s a happy ending.

Everyone who tormented me was killed.

They made me the same way.

I really couldn’t last even 30 seconds.

Should I have asked what I like?

“Only I know that Seo-Ah is a murderer, and no one else.”

No one knows.

No one.

“… Huh?”

Murderer?

“You have destroyed the research facility. If this is revealed, you’ll effectively be treated as a villain. If I hadn’t been here, that is.”

Does the doctor know everything?

I can’t imagine what would have happened if there wasn’t a doctor.

Certainly, they are a good person.

“I plan to keep the recovered videos for a while. I think the experiment records will be needed, so I’ll keep them safe, so don’t worry.”

There’s no way anything will be needed.

Is this a threat?

“Oh, it’s not a threat… It seems you don’t remember at all.”

The doctor continues, seeming to struggle.

“There’s a beneficiary. Someone owes a huge debt to Seo-Ah. Do you remember?”

Debt?

Beneficiary?

I don’t understand what they’re saying.

I don’t know at all.

“There’s someone called the Saint, who is now living happily after forgetting everything…”

The doctor adjusts my clothes neatly.

“We need to collect the debt.”

They take my hand and lift me up from the bench.

“It’s windy. Shall we go talk?”