Chapter 1: A Dazzling Flower Blooms in the Perfect Garden
***
Seonwook arrived in Seoul, his body covered in scars and tattoos.
With an old backpack slung over one shoulder and a skateboard tucked under his arm, he stepped off the train and walked slowly through the crowd. The station was bustling—it was three days before the last day of the year. A massive Christmas tree still stood in the middle of the hall, and the Salvation Army’s bell rang rhythmically.
As he stepped outside into the plaza, a cold wind rushed past, and the noise of passing cars flooded his ears. He glanced around at the large supermarket, coffee shops, police station, the wide red building, and the overlapping bus stops. His eyes lingered on the homeless people scattered around.
He didn’t have a single won in his pocket, and he had no idea where to go.
Maybe if he hovered around those people, something would work out.
Maybe he could find someone who looked kind enough to help…
While examining the faces of the homeless, Seonwook was jostled, and his skateboard clattered to the ground.
“Fuck, damn it!”
The sound of the board scraping against the floor echoed as someone shouted near his ear.
A man with unusually thick eyebrows—like two black caterpillars perched on his forehead—glared at Seonwook, pointing at his own foot.
Seonwook looked at the caterpillar man’s face, then at his foot, then at the skateboard lying on the ground before lifting his head.
Behind the caterpillar man stood two others—one with a shaved head, the other wearing a flashy patterned beanie.
“You wanna see someone’s foot get chopped off?”
The caterpillar man leaned in and asked loudly.
“Oh, shit, sorry, sorry!”
Seonwook quickly bent his creaking waist to apologize and reached for the board. There was no point in getting tangled up with someone who raised their voice in an unfamiliar neighborhood, especially when they had two friends backing them up.
The caterpillar man stomped on the middle of the board, causing Seonwook to drop it again.
“You shouldn’t be riding something with wheels like this in a crowded place.”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”
Seonwook bowed again. His body, still recovering, ached and creaked in every corner.
When the caterpillar man finally lifted his foot, Seonwook picked up the board and straightened up—only to flinch. The caterpillar man and his friends had surrounded him, closing in tightly.
“That’s why you get your ass kicked for riding something like that.”
The caterpillar man pointed at the bruises and burst wounds on Seonwook’s face.
“Oh, I guess so.”
Seonwook tried to brush it off and leave, but there was no gap in their formation.
“Nice shoes you’ve got there.”
The caterpillar man tapped the toe of Seonwook’s sneakers with his foot.
Seonwook looked down, then back up at him. Several possible responses flashed through his mind.
“They were a gift.”
“From who?”
“My late mother.”
“Bullshit.”
The caterpillar man’s group snickered, then closed in around Seonwook and started walking.
Shit, that didn’t work.
Seonwook stumbled forward, pushed along by them.
“Where are we—”
“Just wanna have a little chat.”
“Why not here?”
“We need a quiet place. It’s an important conversation.”
“Ah, haha.”
Seonwook forced a laugh, his eyes darting around. Despite the crowd, no one seemed to notice them.
The caterpillar man’s group led Seonwook down the stairs into an underpass. A group of homeless people sitting near the entrance stared blankly at them, but that was all.
As they descended, the bald man and the beanie grabbed Seonwook’s arms, one on each side.
“Did your mom really buy these for you?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d she know about this limited edition?”
“I begged her for it.”
“You said it was a gift.”
“I told her I wanted something nice for my birthday.”
“Oh, really? So your mom camped out in front of the store the night before, got a number under 200, and bought these for you?”
Seonwook quickly nodded.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
The shoes had actually been stolen by a friend, then stolen again by another friend, who gave them to Seonwook. He hadn’t even known they were that special.
The underpass was pale under the fluorescent lights, yet strangely colorful in a gloomy way. Halfway down, the caterpillar man’s group stopped and pushed Seonwook against the wall, surrounding him. Right next to his head was a button labeled “Press in case of emergency.”
What happens if I press that? Does the police come?
But is this even an emergency?
“Did she die like that? Camping out and getting sick?”
“Ah, there’s a sad story behind that!”
The caterpillar man suddenly slapped his own stomach, making Seonwook flinch. It felt like all his organs lurched up toward his throat at once.
The skateboard clattered to the ground again, kicked away by someone’s foot.
“Stop whining and take them off, you little shit.”
“O-Okay, I’ll take them off, I’ll take them off.”
Seonwook coughed weakly, mixing laughter with his words as he removed his sneakers. His organs, which had surged up, now settled back into place with a dull ache.
“Perfect, my size.”
The caterpillar man checked the size on the sneakers and grinned.
“Check the bag too.”
“There’s nothing in there!”
The caterpillar man slapped Seonwook’s cheek. Seonwook’s head hit the wall, and he collapsed to the ground, coughing. When he licked his lips, he tasted the metallic tang of blood.
The caterpillar man smirked down at him.
“Who asked you?”
The bald man and the beanie crouched down, grabbed Seonwook’s backpack, and unzipped it.
Seonwook sat slumped against the wall, swallowing the blood in his mouth as he watched them rummage through his things. Behind them, a man wearing headphones walked past, absentmindedly glancing at his phone.
A few clothes and an old pair of sneakers were pulled out—things he wouldn’t miss even if he lost them.
Then, a tattered Korean dictionary was tossed onto the ground. It had some sentimental value, but it wasn’t irreplaceable.
When the beanie pulled out a small notebook from the front pocket of the backpack, Seonwook’s hand instinctively moved toward his own pocket. Inside was a short pencil.
The notebook, with only one page written in the train, was more precious to him than anything else.
He felt the outline of the pencil in his pocket. The tip wasn’t razor-sharp, but if he jabbed it into someone’s eye, it would leave a decent wound and shock.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
