I don’t know how much I waited for that one day a week when I could come down to town. There might have been another reason I wanted to come down, but I couldn’t remember it clearly. I stared blankly at the old exterior of the hole-in-the-wall shop, then turned my head toward the back. The entrance to the mountain trail was visible.
I passed by the shop and started climbing the mountain path. My mother and I had lived alone in these mountains. If I went up the road where cars could drive, there was a fork only my mother and I knew about—if I pushed through the thicket, I’d find the house where we used to live.
I traced my old memories as I climbed the path. Then, at the fork, I hesitated and stopped, confused. Everything had been exactly as I remembered until now, but the path had changed. I didn’t know what had happened in the time I’d been away, but the overgrown trail had been neatly cleared. Maybe the house had already collapsed.
Anxiously, I stepped onto the fork. If it had all crumbled and disappeared by now, I’d feel so empty. Fortunately, I spotted the old hut in the distance and felt relieved. I didn’t know who had cleared the path, but it had been so long—maybe someone else had moved in. As I got closer, I could see more details. The flat, wide clearing and the flower bed were still the same, even though I’d worried the house might have been torn down and rebuilt. The blue gate and the single window were unchanged, though the rose vines my mother had planted were gone.
The only difference was that a truck was parked in the corner of the clearing, and it seemed like someone was living there.
Knowing someone was living there made me cautious. If it had been abandoned, I would have gone inside to look around, but now I couldn’t. What if the owner suddenly appeared? Should I say I got lost while hiking? I thought up an excuse in advance and casually started looking around the house.
There used to be a small flower bed where my mother planted roses. In summer, they would grow beautifully, climbing the trellis she had set up, blooming so prettily. My mother would pick the most beautiful rose and tuck it into my hair. If we’d had a camera, we could have taken pictures, but back then, we couldn’t even afford to think about buying one. The only photo we had was a small family portrait taken at a studio. Of course, that had been lost long ago.
I lingered around the house for about 40 minutes, feeling wistful, before finally turning away. If it had been empty, I would have opened the door and gone inside. Maybe I could have found an old family photo.
But what good would that do? My mother wasn’t here anymore, and as we had promised, I was no longer her son.
On the bus back home, I called my aunt. When I told her I had been to the neighborhood, she excitedly told me about the redevelopment happening again. She urged me to vote for Candidate No. 1 in the upcoming presidential election, saying that his campaign promise, the Special Urban Development Act, was connected to the redevelopment. It had been a long-awaited redevelopment, and now that compensation money was finally within reach, how could she not be happy? After replying that I understood, I hung up.
Not long after my call with my aunt, I received a call from my girlfriend’s parents. I rubbed my face a few times, exhausted. If it hadn’t been for this brief escape to my old neighborhood, I might have fallen into depression. I didn’t want to answer, but after staring at the screen for a while, I picked up. They brought up the stalker I had tried to forget.
They said they had found the CCTV footage of the handcart that had hit Su-yeon.
I had to get off the bus and head straight to the police station. My mind raced to Cha Hae-joon, the madman. If his face had been caught on camera, could it have been him—the same man who had masturbated while calling my name?
I regretted not asking him outright last night if he was my stalker. But even if I were in the same situation again, I probably wouldn’t have the courage to ask. I was scared.
Jin-wook had once said: There are those who crawl, those who run above them, those who fly above the runners, and above them all, there are the madmen. He was right. I couldn’t beat the madman.
At the police station, I greeted my girlfriend’s parents, whom I had met several times before. They nodded at me expressionlessly, and I listened to the detective explain the current investigation as he played the CCTV footage.
Fortunately, the standalone house in that alley had installed a rotating CCTV after two thefts. The camera alternated left and right every 30 seconds, and in the footage, the handcart that had turned my girlfriend into a vegetable was captured.
The handcart was parked safely between the flat alleys, just as Mr. Park, its owner, had said. It was blocked by bricks, so it didn’t look like it could roll away.
But when the camera rotated 180 degrees and filmed the opposite side for 30 seconds, then turned back, the handcart was completely gone. Even the bricks that had been holding it in place had vanished in those 30 seconds.
The detective froze the frame where the handcart disappeared and said it looked like a deliberate crime. In those 30 seconds, the handcart had been dragged to the nearby downhill slope, and a few seconds later, a woman in heels—my girlfriend—was walking down the slope when it crashed into her back. Her mother screamed, What kind of monster?! Who could do this?!, and collapsed, clutching her neck.
My face turned pale. I had hoped it was just an accident. My girlfriend’s father grabbed me by the collar and shouted, Save Su-yeon! I was dragged around, my face ashen, unable to compose myself. The detectives rushed in to stop him. You can’t do this at the station! Sir, calm down! The place became chaotic. I ended up taking a hit from her father. My lip split, and blood trickled down.
Her parents wouldn’t calm down, and I was eventually isolated. As I was led away by the detective to another room, I could still hear them screaming. Even alone in the interrogation-like room, I sat dazed, touching the cheek that her father had struck. The detective clicked his tongue sympathetically, brought me a cup of coffee, and spoke gently.
“So right now, the most likely suspect is your stalker, Baek Siwoo.”
“……Yes.”
“Cooperation is key. With that, there’s no criminal we can’t catch. You’ve already given your statement, but to catch the culprit, your memory is crucial. If you remember anything or have any suspicions, don’t hesitate—tell us everything. Understood?”
“Yes……”
“The shock must be overwhelming. I’ll come back in 10 minutes. Take some time to collect your thoughts and don’t blame yourself too much.”
“……Thank you.”
The detective patted my shoulder and left the room.
Left alone with a table and a chair, in an atmosphere that felt like an interrogation, I sat blankly. At first, I had been filled with guilt, but gradually, it turned into a sense of injustice. I was just like any other ordinary student. Why did I have to go through this? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Why did I have to feel like a criminal?
The injustice brought tears to my eyes. I didn’t cry, but my eyes turned red. All the arrows of blame pointed toward Sunbae Hae-joon.
When the detective returned after 10 minutes, I began to talk about Sunbae Hae-joon. How he was famously known at school for being gay, how rumors said he was stalking a younger student, how there were whispers that he had masturbated while calling my name, and how he had recently threatened to kill me during a late-night group project.
The detective wrote down every word I said.
There was no evidence that Cha Hae-joon was my stalker, but in my mind, he had already become the culprit behind everything. At that moment, it didn’t matter whether he was my stalker or not. I just needed someone to blame. Only after I had finished my statement did I realize I had only mentioned things that would incriminate him.
I was too exhausted and overwhelmed to know if I had done the right thing. All I felt was relief after shifting all the blame onto Sunbae Hae-joon.
It was already getting dark. The stars might have been out, but the city was too bright to see them.
The weather had turned cold, and my breath was visible. I pulled my clothes tighter and walked a little faster. My boarding house came into view. On the way, I saw election posters twice. There was one in front of my boarding house, too.
I tilted my head at the tall man standing in front of Candidate No. 1. That rare height—even from behind, I could tell who it was. I tapped his shoulder and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Ah…… You scared me. Where have you been? I was just… thinking about who to vote for. Who are you voting for, hyung?”
Ah, this was his first election. I remembered feeling excited during my first vote, even taking a photo with the stamp on my hand. I answered bluntly, “I told you not to ask me that.”
“Oh, right…… Sorry.”
“Forget it. I’m voting for No. 1.”
“……Igiljo?”
“Yeah.”
So the presidential candidate’s name was Igiljo. I hadn’t known that. I looked at the poster for Candidate No. 1. The pale, kind-looking face with a gentle smile, next to the slogans “Happy Family, Happy Korea.” Heon raised his hand to cover the No. 1 and said to me, “Don’t vote for No. 1.”
“Why?”
“He’s a pedophile.”
“……What?”
“He’s obsessed with little girls. Can’t get it up for old women.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
