Read Just Twilight Novel Translation Chapter 7

(Just Dawn | 그저 여명일 뿐 )

Romance, Drama, Slice-of-life, Josei, Mature

Original: Woo Jihye | Translation: Genie

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A short sigh escaped as Beomjin’s furrowed gaze landed on her. His hair was a mess, resembling a bird’s nest, and he shook his head in exasperation.

“Your jokes are just…”

“Better than claiming menstrual cramps,” Junyoung quipped with a smirk as she hopped off the last step of the stairs. She wielded her joke like a shield, unbreakable and triumphant.

Beomjin’s sharp jaw tightened as his gaze turned steely. His hand adjusted the chopsticks slowly, and Junyoung, sensing trouble, widened her eyes. She quickly shouted, “No, don’t!”

She dashed forward, but it was too late. The egg yolk had already burst, spreading into the broth. Junyoung glared at him.

“Hey!”

“You should shower. You smell like sweat.”

“I’ll shower after I eat.”

Beomjin made an exaggerated gesture of pinching his nose and leaning back dramatically. Shooting him a sharp look, Junyoung grabbed her chopsticks from the table.

As Beomjin’s chopsticks snuck toward her bowl with a sly smile, Junyoung smacked them away, shovelling ramen into her mouth with determination. As always, the ramen he cooked tasted great.

Having devoured her portion in record time, her next target was his towel.

Her tangled hair didn’t need a mirror to tell her it was a disaster. She could wash it in the sink with some soap, but drying it was another matter. The only towel available was the one he had brought.

As Beomjin placed the emptied pot in the sink, Junyoung seized her chance. Like a predator snatching its prey, she grabbed the towel sitting atop his bag.

By the time he turned to look, she had already draped the towel around her neck, tucking the ends neatly into her shirt.

“Let me borrow it,” she said nonchalantly, meeting his stunned gaze. Experience had taught her that acting confident around Beomjin worked better than appearing nervous.

His eyes flickered from the towel around her neck to the bulge it created under her shirt. Frowning deeply, he sighed and turned his head away.

“You’re so… not ladylike.”

“Well, you don’t need to wash your hair today anyway. It’s not like anyone at school dares to comment on your hair.”

Junyoung’s voice was clearer now, her energy returning. At her words, Beomjin slowly turned to face her.

“Who cares about your hair? Na Seungwoon?”

Junyoung’s smirk froze, her eyes widening. She stammered involuntarily, “Why… why would Na Seungwoon care about my hair?”

“Are you really not going home today?”

Abruptly changing the subject, Beomjin let out a short sigh as he scrubbed the pot with a soapy sponge. Watching him, Junyoung nodded.

“Yeah.”

“The water’s cold. Heat it up before you use it.”

Finishing the dishes in no time, Beomjin filled the clean pot with water and placed it back on the stove.

As always, Junyoung was struck by how meticulous and thoughtful he was—traits that didn’t match his tough exterior. Feeling slightly awkward, she dragged a chair closer but stopped when she saw him yawning softly.

“Go upstairs and rest for a bit. I’ll wake you after I’m done,” she offered.

Beomjin hesitated before letting out a long sigh and slumping into a chair.

“How am I supposed to sleep there with the smell of sweat everywhere?”

“I didn’t sweat that much!”

“Whatever. I’ll sleep, so don’t bother me.”

Beomjin leaned his head against the wall, arms crossed, and closed his eyes. Junyoung pursed her lips and stood at the sink. While she bent over to wash her hair, struggling and groaning, and later dried it with a towel, Beomjin didn’t open his eyes once.

*If he focused on studying with the same intensity he does when sleeping, my position as a top student might be at risk.*

Now that she thought about it, how were Kwon Beomjin’s grades, anyway?

The stray thought made her chuckle softly, but she quickly stopped when she noticed a familiar group approaching from the side street. Hyesoo and her friends were walking toward her.

As their eyes met, Hyesoo’s sharp gaze narrowed before she waved her hand mockingly.

“Yoon Junyoung, how’s your health?”

*Why is she asking about me? Suspicious.*

“Thanks to you,” Junyoung replied curtly, trying to walk past, but Hyesoo blocked her path. Her ribboned hair clip sparkled in the sunlight.

“You look too fine. Disappointing, really. I expected more. I didn’t think someone like you would resort to such childish tactics,” Hyesoo said, feigning a pout.

“What tactics?” Junyoung rarely paid attention to Hyesoo’s words, but something about this one stuck. She raised a brow.

Hyesoo scoffed, brushing her hair back.

“Fainting in front of Seungwoon just to get his attention? Honestly, that was hilarious yesterday.”

Junyoung let out a faint sigh, her expression impassive as she looked at Hyesoo.

“And why would I want Na Seungwoon’s attention?”

“Why are you asking me? Are you pretending we don’t know?” Hyesoo let out a mocking laugh, raising her voice.

“You like Seungwoon, don’t you? Always staring at him like that. What? Acting indifferent didn’t work, so you decided to change tactics? Embarrassed now that everyone’s caught on?”

Junyoung’s face burned as if it had been peeled away layer by layer. She wanted to laugh it off, but her face remained stiff.

*Me? Like Na Seungwoon? No way. I only looked at him because he seemed different… different in a way that’s so irritating…*

Suddenly, Beomjin’s rough voice echoed in her mind.

“Who cares about your hair? Na Seungwoon?”

Even if she tried to deny it, Hyesoo wouldn’t back down. Especially not now, when she could sense Junyoung’s hesitation.

“You really are such a gloomy person. If you like him, just say it. Although, I guess I understand why it’s hard for someone like you to be honest.”

Hyesoo’s sarcastic smile gleamed cruelly as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“It’s not your fault your mom is that kind of person.”

“…What?”

Junyoung’s shoulders stiffened. No, it wasn’t just her shoulders. Her entire body felt rooted to the ground, completely immobilised.

Hyesoo, clearly satisfied with Junyoung’s pale face, tapped her shoulder lightly with her finger.

“Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets. Well, most of the time.”

“What are you even talking about…” Junyoung’s lips barely moved as she tried to speak, but she froze when a voice called out from behind her.

“Junyoung-ah.”

She turned toward the voice, cutting herself off. Hyesoo’s face, which had been clouded with malice, suddenly turned prim and innocent as though her venom had vanished in an instant.

Junyoung heard the sound of a bicycle stopping beside her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn her head. Her fingertips, cold as ice, trembled faintly.

“Good morning. Are you feeling better?”

The voice was as soft as a spring breeze, but it didn’t feel warm at all. Hyesoo looked at Junyoung with a sly expression as though she had hidden daggers behind her smile.

Before Junyoung could respond, a clean-cut face entered her field of vision.

“Junyoung, are you okay?”

Startled, she stepped back and raised her head to meet Seungwoon’s concerned eyes. His dark brown gaze, full of worry, was exactly as gentle as ever.

“If you think you need to go to the hospital…”

“I told you,” she interrupted, her lips moving on their own. Hyesoo’s gaze seemed to guide her words.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Her voice was cold and detached as if it didn’t belong to her. Without another word, she walked away stiffly, the sound of Hyesoo’s mocking scoff lingering in her ears like an echo.

As Junyoung walked, she found herself locking eyes with Beomjin, who was standing ahead, watching her. His slouched posture and messy hair made her want to laugh.

And laugh she did—though the smile quickly faded, and the stiffness on her face crumbled along with it.

Beomjin squinted one eye as he looked at her, clearly about to say something, but Junyoung shook her head silently before he could speak.

As she passed him, she could feel his gaze lingering stubbornly on the back of her head. Her clenched fists trembled slightly, her shoulders quivering as she walked away.

* * *
Mom was not an ordinary person.

The truth is that Junyoung didn’t know much about her mother. She only knew that her mother was in excruciating pain and that sometimes, to endure that pain, she needed to lash out violently at her daughter in what seemed like uncontrollable outbursts. It was how she survived.

When had her mother stopped being able to hold a proper conversation? Searching through her memories, Junyoung thought there might have been a time, long ago, when they could talk.

It wasn’t exactly a warm or affectionate relationship, but she could recall following her mother around, chattering away. Occasionally, her mother would respond, and those rare moments would leave Junyoung feeling proud. That faint memory lingered in the corner of her mind.

Even now, when her mother wasn’t consumed by pain, she could communicate in short phrases. But no one would call it a conversation. And Junyoung no longer expected much in the way of meaningful dialogue.

Still… what did her mother think about all day?

There had been a time when Junyoung worried about her mother going out to work irregularly despite her frail health. But those worries faded over time—specifically, after the night her mother came home drunk, kicked her for no reason, and stomped on her repeatedly. While cleaning up the urine her mother had left behind, Junyoung’s concern drained away.

Her mother was thin and frail, but in those moments of rage, she was impossible to overcome by force. The best Junyoung could do was wait it out and hope it would pass.

They were poor. But poverty didn’t mean everyone broke down like her mother had. Junyoung assumed her mother carried an old, deep wound—one that was eating away at her body and mind.

Of course, that assumption didn’t bring her any comfort.

What exactly does Mom do?

Recently, her mother had started leaving small amounts of money in their cramped, musty room—a thousand won here, ten thousand won there. Days would pass, and the money would remain untouched. One day, Junyoung asked if she could take it. Her mother, lying on her side under a worn blanket, didn’t respond.

Junyoung used the money to buy second-hand books.

Her mother never retaliated for taking the money. Over time, the bills her mother left became Junyoung’s unspoken allowance.