Dusk (BL Light Novel)

“Just align the sight with your eye so they’re in a straight line,” Gang Jaegyung said, his voice low and calm. “Now, try shooting.”

Following his instructions, I lined up the sight with the target board and slowly squeezed the trigger. The gun jerked back slightly, and a hole appeared in the target — 7 points.
“Not bad for a first shot,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Keep going.”
Emboldened by his words, I adjusted my stance just like he’d shown me and kept firing. Some bullets landed in the 2-point or 5-point zones, and a few even went completely off the board. But with each shot, I gradually started to get a feel for it, adjusting my aim to reduce the number of misses.

By the time I fired my last three rounds, I hit a 9, then a 10, and another 10.
When the magazine was empty, the employee came back and reeled the target board in. The paper was riddled with bullet holes, torn and tattered around the edges, but the two perfect 10-point shots in the center made me feel pretty damn proud.
“You might have a knack for this,” the employee said, eyeing the target. “Most people get lucky and hit a 10 now and then, but hitting it by skill alone? That’s pretty rare.”

I knew he was probably just blowing smoke up my ass, but it still felt good. Not just because of the high scores, but also because the whole mood had shifted after that military talk earlier. Gang Jaegyung hadn’t crossed the line or pressed me about it. He’d just moved on naturally, as if it didn’t matter.
Either he was good at reading the room, or he just got lucky. Either way, he had this uncanny ability to steer conversations away from uncomfortable territory right before they got too heavy.
“Hey, this is actually fun. Let’s do it again,” I said, feeling a bit too enthusiastic.

“What do you want to shoot this time?”
“A handgun.”
I was on a bit of a high after the first round, so I handed back the rifle and started scrolling through the kiosk for a handgun. I wanted to choose one myself this time. After scanning through the options, I saw a familiar name — Glock. I selected it and paid, while Gang Jaegyung watched me with a faint grin.

“Guess I’ll try too,” he said, swiping his card.
When we got our guns, he walked me through the grip.
“With handguns, it’s best to use both hands. Hold the grip as high as possible, like you’re giving it a firm handshake. That way, you can control the recoil better. Right finger goes on the trigger, but don’t rest it there when you’re not shooting. Instead, keep it along the side of the gun or on the trigger guard. Like this.”

I adjusted my grip, copying exactly what he did. In movies, it always looked so natural, but in reality, holding the gun felt awkward as hell.
“You can keep your arms straight or bend them slightly,” he said. “Whichever feels more comfortable.”
I decided to bend my elbows a bit, and as soon as I did, he tapped my legs and said in a soft, almost teasing tone, “Spread your legs a bit.”

I widened my stance obediently, trying to gauge what shoulder-width apart actually looked like. He nodded approvingly and told me to step forward with my left foot.
“Now, hold the gun centered in front of you. Just like with the rifle, line up the sight and fire.”
Once he was done adjusting my stance, he stepped back. Shooting a handgun felt way different. Without the stock pressed against my shoulder, it was harder to steady my aim. I lined up the sight, held my breath, and pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit the 5-point area to the left.

“Ugh,” I muttered.
“It’s okay. First shot,” Gang Jaegyung said, trying to reassure me.
I took a breath, adjusted slightly to the right, and fired again. This time, it hit 8 points.

With each shot, I adjusted a little more, slowly getting used to the recoil. By the end, I was consistently hitting 8s and 9s, and even managed to nail a few 10s.
Thirty shots went by faster than I expected. When I saw the final target board, I couldn’t help but grin. Damn. Maybe I was meant to be a sharpshooter.
“Hey, I should’ve become a marksman,” I said, puffing out my chest a little.

Gang Jaegyung snorted, shaking his head as he stepped up for his turn. The employee came by, replaced the target board, and handed him a fresh magazine. I watched him as he took ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) my place, raising the gun with a casual confidence that didn’t suit someone who supposedly hadn’t shot in a while.
“Wow, that gun really suits you,” I said, pretending to be impressed. “Totally your personal color.”
“I think I’d look better with something like a CheyTac sniper,” he said with a grin, his eyes fixed on the target.

CheyTac? What the hell is he on about?
Before I could ask, he raised the Glock, extended his arms smoothly, and fired.
Bang.

10 points.
“Oh.”
He didn’t even seem to be aiming that carefully. Yet, without any hesitation, he pulled the trigger again.

Bang.
Another 10.
“What the hell are you?”

“A current bodyguard who aced the shooting practice in my security studies program and is now finally getting to show off those skills at a shooting cafe.”
He said it casually and fired another shot. Another 10 points.
The shots kept coming, one after another, and every single one hit dead center. I stared at the target board, eyes wide, as he continued to rack up 10s without missing a beat.

“Hey, lower your arm and shoot again,” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling it down.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Maybe he’d just gotten lucky and hit the sweet spot a few times. But nope. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Gang Jaegyung raised his arm again, took aim, and continued to shoot nothing but perfect 10s.
“Are all security studies grads like this?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was the only one in my class who got a perfect score.”
He was smiling that smug, punchable smile, openly bragging about it. God, he was so damn annoying. Even that whole “I wouldn’t know” line was just a thinly veiled attempt to act humble. Look at his face, completely devoid of any humility. No wonder people called him Gang Jae-soo — the king of smug.
“Hey, do you know how insufferable your face looks right now?”

“I’m doing it on purpose,” he said with a grin.
“Jae-soo King.”
In the end, he shot all thirty rounds, hitting 10 every single time. Even the employee watching from the sidelines couldn’t help but be impressed. “Wow, you’re really good,” he said, looking almost starstruck.

“You good with other guns too?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not as good with rifles as I am with handguns, but I can manage. As for snipers… I’m not too sure.”
“Shoot a rifle. Let me see how you do.”

“What about you?”
“I’ll go after you.”
I pushed him forward, making him pick up a rifle. Just like me, he chose the M16 and loaded up. He shot thirty rounds in quick succession. His aim wasn’t as consistent as it had been with the handgun, but even so, he didn’t score below 8 points once.

Holy shit.
“Alright, now try a sniper,” I said. “You were crazy good with snipers in the game.”
“Game and real life are different.”

“Ohhh… so you can’t shoot a sniper in real life?”
“Who said I can’t?”
I’d said it in the most disappointed tone I could muster, and it worked. He scowled and immediately swiped his card for a sniper rifle.

That was too easy. This guy normally acts all cool and laid-back, but scratch his pride a little, and he’s ready to throw down every time.
The employee handed him the sniper, and Gang Jaegyung took it, walking over to the shooting stall. Unlike with the other guns, he hesitated a bit as he tried to get into position. He really wasn’t as comfortable with snipers. But once he settled in, he took a deep breath, brought his eye to the scope, and fired.
Bang.

10 points.
I blinked and turned to look at him. He seemed just as surprised as I was, his face briefly showing a look of “Huh?” before he quickly composed himself and turned to me, all smug again.
“Told you,” he said, smirking.

“Who asked? Keep going. Come on.”
I tapped his shoulder to get him back to shooting. He let out a pleased little laugh and resumed. Whether it was luck or just pure skill, he kept racking up high scores, with most shots hitting 10 or 9.
Is that even possible? Shouldn’t this guy be representing the country in some shooting competition? Even if it’s just a shooting range and the targets are relatively close, this level of accuracy is insane.

His last shot landed in the 9-point zone, and he finally lowered the rifle, beaming with pride.
“Well, I slipped up at the end, but not bad, right?”
He looked like he was waiting for a round of applause or something. As impressive as it was, his smugness was too much to stomach, so all I said was, “Yeah.”

Still, that was enough to make him happy. He sidled up next to me, grinning from ear to ear, going on and on about how he hit six perfect shots in a row, how he scored four consecutive 10s, blah blah blah.
“…Hey,” I said, interrupting his endless self-congratulation. “Be honest. All the guys who come out of the army and go into security work, they’re all this good, right?”
“Thanks for trying to say I’m exceptionally talented in a way that doesn’t make me feel like I should be embarrassed,” he said, his grin widening.

What the hell is he talking about?
I just raised an eyebrow and looked at him, watching him laugh like an idiot.
“Wow, I tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t make you feel like a pompous ass, but you went ahead and shoved it in my face anyway,” I muttered, glaring at him.

And now I was getting pissed off all over again. Maybe because I didn’t get to fully vent my anger back at the cafe earlier. I couldn’t punch him then with all those people around, and it felt like the frustration had just been festering.
I glared at him, my brows furrowed so hard they probably formed a single line. He flinched a little, his eyes darting away.
“…I told you, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice small.

He didn’t look genuinely sorry, though. More like he was trying to gauge whether I was still mad and if I was willing to let it go. If he has friends outside, why does he keep trying to hang out with me like this? Isn’t playing Dusk together enough for him?
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
His voice was quieter this time, his expression all sulky and pitiful. Why was he going this far? It didn’t make any sense.

But then, an idea popped into my head. A way to make him pay for all that smugness. A way to get back at him for all the tea-bagging he did earlier.
A perfect way to exact my revenge.