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I took one of the countless copies of my usual outfit from my wardrobe and changed into it. The moment I emerged from the bathroom, Ji-Yeong was sitting cross-legged on one of the beds, scowling at me, as though my very existence was a personal affront to him.
“You look terrible,” he said.
I turned to face him. I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything at all.
Ji-Yeong took that as a cue to continue. “Seriously! Bad enough that you’re presumably planning to sleep in your daywear, but your hair looks even more messy than it did before Jackie pushed you into the pool. I don’t understand you, Masayuki. You look and dress like you hate yourself.”
“I don’t hate myself,” I replied. “Frankly, I don’t feel any particular way about myself.”
“‘What’s the point? Whether I like or dislike myself, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still me.’” Credit where it was due, he wasn’t entirely off the mark. But he was no Ultimate Impersonator. I should know. “Is that about right?”
“I don’t sound like that,” I said.
“Yes, you do,” Ji-Yeong said, shaking his head. “But either way, you were definitely going to say something like that. You don’t see the point in having silly things like feelings, right?”
“Why do you care?”
Ji-Yeong frowned, and unlike Kokoro’s, his frown did reach his eyes. “Because I can’t sleep if I have to share a room with the Ultimate Wet Rat of all people.”
Not that it really mattered, but of all the twenty-seven Ultimate titles I had ever held, Ultimate Wet Rat wasn’t one of them. Regardless, I didn’t acknowledge that part of his statement.
“Can’t sleep, or don’t want to sleep?” I asked.
Ji-Yeong stared at me, studying me for a minute, before he swiftly got off his bed and made a beeline for the bathroom.
“Both. Don’t move. Stay right where you are,” he said, before entering the bathroom.
He emerged about a minute later, hairbrush in hand. “Alright, let’s see if this isn’t something the Ultimate Manager can manage.”
“What are you doing?”
Ji-Yeong rolled his eyes as he drew closer to me. “You really weren’t ever an Ultimate Detective, then.”
“I never said I was—”
Ji-Yeong hit me in the head with the brush. It didn’t really hurt, and I didn’t react.
Then he started aggressively attacking the tangles in my hair. I simply did my best to keep my head in place so he couldn’t jerk it around with how much force he was using.
“This really doesn’t hurt you?” he asked, almost disbelievingly.
“Are you trying to hurt me?”
“What? No!” He seemed offended, even though he had literally whacked me in the head two minutes ago.
Ji-Yeong went quiet for a moment, focusing on a particularly big knot in my hair. I didn’t see the need to fill in the silence. He would do that himself before long anyway.
“Do you even brush your hair, Masayuki?” Ji-Yeong asked.
“No,” I replied. “Why would I? It’s just going to get tangled again soon anyway. Besides, my appearance isn’t a big priority for me. Looks fade as you age.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t brush it,” he said. “Putting aside how much potential you’re throwing away, hair is really hard to keep clean if it gets to the point where it looks like a horse chewed it and spit it out.”
Funny that he should say that. I was the Ultimate Jockey at one point in my life, but I quit when the horse took a big bite out of me.
He continued, “And don’t just say something like ‘why bother keeping clean? I’m just going to get dirty again anyway’. Cleanliness is good for your health. And your roommate’s, too, for that matter. We’re in a killing game, aren’t we? I don’t want either of us to die because of your poisonous hair.”
As much as a part of me was tempted to respond that my hair wasn’t, in fact, literally poisonous and that realistically we were more likely to be murdered if we left our room during the night, I had to concede that Ji-Yeong had something resembling a point. I didn’t know if it was a good point, but it was a point nonetheless.
“It makes me mad, actually,” Ji-Yeong continued. “Your hair could be gorgeous if you didn’t just let it rot on your head. I know you don’t care about that, but then again it seems like you don’t care about anything whatsoever.”
“Of course not,” I replied. “Why would I? Emotional attachment would only serve to break my spirit, especially in a situation where tomorrow is never promised to us. Someone already tried to kill Kokoro the moment that penguin announced his killing game. Why bother getting attached to anyone when we’re inevitably going to kill each other?”
“That just sounds miserable,” he said. “I’d understand if you were just wary because of the killing game, but…that’s a horrible way to live.”
“Better than getting your hopes up only for them to come crashing back down the next day,” I said. “The higher you go, the harder you fall. You’ll understand it someday.”
Ji-Yeong sighed, as he began to braid my now de-tangled hair. “There you go again. I really don’t get you. I don’t understand you one bit. But I’ll crack you someday. Figure out exactly what makes you tick. Once I do, I don’t know if I’m gonna make you laugh or make you cry, but I’m gonna wipe that melancholy look off your face.”
He was welcome to try.