- [203X103] Leakage Responsibility
The sound of dripping water echoed—drip, drip—as Seongjun stared blankly at the bowl filling up. A cold droplet had landed on his sleeping face, and the dampness still lingered on his cheek. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling. The yellowed, water-stained wallpaper continued to drip.
What kind of nonsense was this—water leaking from the living room ceiling? At least it wasn’t near the light fixture, so there was no immediate risk of a short circuit. Or so he hoped. He’d dealt with leaks before during his many moves, but this time, his frustration was unusually intense.
“Haaah…”
Seongjun sighed deeply, running his hand through his disheveled hair. What grudge did the man upstairs have against him? The thought alone made his brow furrow. He’d confronted the man in 203 at least five or six times, always because of the thudding noise from above. At first, he’d asked the building manager to intervene, but eventually, he’d lost patience and stormed upstairs himself. The first time, he’d nearly been hit by the door swinging open. The man from 203, broad-shouldered and dark-skinned, had flinched at the sight of Seongjun before flashing an easygoing grin and apologizing.
It must have happened at least ten times in the past six months. The noise wasn’t constant—just often enough to be infuriating. Each time, Seongjun would march upstairs, ring the bell, and end up with the same apology from the same man. Why did a grown man run around like that? And now, because of all that stomping, a pipe must have burst. Seongjun was certain the leak was his fault. Just thinking about facing that man again—his clumsy, apologetic grin—made his head throb. He needed the manager.
Still in his loungewear, Seongjun slipped on his sandals and headed straight for 101, the manager’s unit.
Ding-dong.
No answer. He pressed the bell again, but there was no sign of movement inside. The manager was a college student, after all—probably out enjoying his Sunday afternoon. Seongjun stood there, debating whether to call, when he realized he’d left his phone behind. As he turned to drag himself back to 103, the door to 102 swung open with a clatter. A familiar face froze upon seeing him. The manager, flushed red, stammered out an awkward greeting.
“Hello!”
Seongjun blinked. Why was the manager coming out of 102? Had he moved? No, someone else had just moved in there recently. Before he could ask, the manager cut him off.
“Uh, I’m late! See you later!”
And with that, he bolted past Seongjun and out of the villa. Bewildered, Seongjun glanced at the slightly ajar door of 102. A hand reached out to close it, pausing when it spotted him. The man inside—someone Seongjun had seen a few times—nodded politely. Seongjun returned the gesture. The door clicked shut. He had no idea what was going on, but that wasn’t the priority. The priority was the water leaking into his apartment, and the overwhelming likelihood that 203 was to blame. And now the manager had vanished.
Grumbling, Seongjun trudged up the stairs. He’d chosen the first floor to avoid stairs, yet here he was, climbing them again because of 203.
He reached the door and pressed the bell, stepping back. After a long moment, a loud thud echoed from inside, followed by the sound of the lock clicking. The door flew open—so abruptly that if Seongjun hadn’t stepped back, he would have been hit again. But the face that greeted him was nothing like usual. The man’s usual carefree grin was gone, replaced by a look of utter despair. His sun-kissed skin seemed even darker, drained of color. The unfamiliar expression startled Seongjun.
Then he noticed the man’s clothes—soaked through.
“Uh… hello. Did I run around again?”
The man’s voice was weary, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, drenched from head to toe.
“What happened?”
Seongjun’s question came before his actual errand. The man nodded toward the inside of his apartment.
“The pipe burst…”
The small space was a lake. Water spread across the floor, seeping toward the entrance. Wet belongings were haphazardly piled on the soaked two-seater sofa. Rags and large bowls were scattered everywhere. A fierce gush of water could be heard.
“You didn’t block the burst pipe?”
“I can’t.”
The helpless reply made Seongjun’s jaw drop. He pushed past the man, kicking off his sandals and stepping into the flooded apartment. The cold water squelched under his feet. He rushed to the sink, where water was shooting up like a fountain.
“You have to block it first! Just mopping won’t do anything!”
Seongjun grabbed a soaked rag from the floor and stuffed it into the gushing pipe. The pressure fought against him, but he forced the rag deeper until the flow reduced to a trickle.
“Why is the faucet… gone?”
The entire faucet had been ripped out. There was no sign of where it had been placed. As he loosened his grip to inspect it, the water surged again, spraying his chest. He quickly pressed both hands back over the opening and shouted:
“Turn off the main valve first!”
He turned to see the man from 203 staring blankly at him. Before Seongjun could repeat himself, the man’s eyes welled up—and then he started crying.
“Hey! The valve—”
But the man was already sobbing, leaving Seongjun no choice but to stay put, his hands still pressed against the gushing water.
***
“Are you calmer now?”
Seongjun’s question earned a nod from Jinho. After pulling the crying man aside and plugging the pipe himself, Seongjun had found and turned off the valve, then moved the soggy items from the sofa to the table. He’d even had to console Jinho, who was still sniffling, his nose red.
“I’m sorry. I’m just… really clumsy.”
Once he started talking, the words poured out.
“I’m easily distracted, and I break things a lot. When I panic, my mind goes blank, and I don’t know what to do. So I end up running around, making things worse. I only calmed down when you rang the bell. I’m always sorry for the noise. And today…”
A quiet “thank you” followed, and Jinho bowed his head. Seongjun let out a small laugh. He’d assumed the man was just being careless out of spite, but it turned out he was just a walking disaster.
“Oh! Right! I should at least offer you tea!”
Jinho suddenly jumped up, but Seongjun grabbed his arm.
“Jinho, look at this place. Does it look like we can have tea?”
Jinho’s eyes were still damp as he looked down at Seongjun. The sight was oddly endearing. Seongjun pulled him back onto the sofa.
“Forget the tea. Let’s clean up first. The water… Ugh. Looking at what you’ve done, this is going to take forever. I’ll help.”
The apartment was a mess. Everything—furniture, curtains, even the books—was soaked. Jinho had tried to wring out the rags using pots and bowls, but it was clear he was in over his head. The floor was still wet, but at least the water hadn’t reached any exposed outlets or power strips. If it had, there could have been a serious accident. Seongjun decided to turn off the circuit breaker just in case.
“No, it’s okay…”
“Just do it. Let’s handle the electricity first.”
Ignoring Jinho’s protests, Seongjun flipped the breaker. The room darkened slightly, but the afternoon light kept it from being pitch black.
“What are you doing? Start mopping.”
Jinho stood there, unsure, as Seongjun began barking orders. Seongjun had completely forgotten about the leak in his own apartment.
Without Seongjun’s help, Jinho would have never finished cleaning. Even in his own home, Jinho fumbled, dropping wet books, tripping over bowls of water, and soaking the sofa with a dripping rag. He nearly knocked over the TV and broke a power strip. Seongjun sighed. This wasn’t just clumsiness—it was a curse.
Time passed, and the room grew darker. What should have been a quick job dragged on. Exhausted, Seongjun finally plopped down on the damp floor.
“I’m sorry.”
Jinho’s face was on the verge of tears again. Seongjun forced a smile. That carefree grin was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it only appeared when he was embarrassed or apologetic. Seongjun had always hated that expression, but now, he realized it was better than this miserable look.
“It’s fine. But the power’s been off for a while. I’m worried about the fridge. You said there wasn’t much in the freezer, right?”
“Yeah, it should be okay for a couple of hours. Oh! Right! Ice cream!”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
