The sound is distorted, as if muffled by noise or heard from deep underwater.
<…….>
The sound, seemingly cut off, fades in and out intermittently.
The moment he hears someone calling his name, the man realizes he is dreaming.
Simultaneously, his vision, once an empty void, transforms. He finds himself standing before a mirror. His long bangs cover his eyes, and his expression is devoid of emotion. His awkward, ill-fitting school uniform seems even more ridiculous due to his larger frame. The sight of himself as a high school student feels unfamiliar. He wants to turn away from the mirror, but he can’t even blink.
Of course, this is a dream.
Despite having experienced this familiar dream countless times, the man always hates it. This dream is a reenactment of the day he decided to take his own life in high school. Yet, at the same time, he feels a thrill. Because in just a moment, something will happen.
The door slides open with a rattle.
‘Oh, you startled me!’
Yoon Seong-hyeon, dressed in his school uniform, enters through the back door and jumps in surprise. High school student Yoon Seong-hyeon. The man’s heart races at the sight of him. Of course, this feeling isn’t what his high school self felt. Back then, he thought Seong-hyeon was annoying, stupid, and pathetic. Something impossible for the current man to comprehend.
‘Why didn’t you go eat? Today’s side dish was fried chicken.’
The man silently watches as Seong-hyeon speaks to his high school self. Soft brown hair, fair cheeks, and the collar of his school shirt brushing against his slender neck. The sound of his voice, complaining that he should have asked for more food if he knew his friend wasn’t eating, is endearing. To the current man, this sight is heart-wrenching, but his high school self shows no reaction, merely staring blankly at Seong-hyeon. Stupid bastard.
‘…Are you really that dumb? Are you an idiot?’
Seong-hyeon unleashes a barrage of insults at the man, who typically says very little. When the man still doesn’t react, Seong-hyeon tries a different approach.
‘Why are you standing in front of the mirror like that? Do you think you look good?’
Seong-hyeon playfully pokes the man’s body, then smirks.
‘Come to think of it, you must be pretty ugly if you always cover your face…Huh?’
Quickly lifting the man’s bangs, Seong-hyeon suddenly steps back.
‘……What the hell? You…’
With a look of shock, Seong-hyeon glares at the man before muttering under his breath.
‘You’re actually pretty good-looking, damn it.’
The unexpected compliment makes the high school version of the man flinch. Seong-hyeon, stealing glances at the man’s face, is about to say something when his phone rings. Quickly checking his phone, Seong-hyeon grins. Excited, he starts packing his bag.
Seong-hyeon paused, then pulled out his wallet from his bag. “Damn it,” he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the man.
‘Hey, do you have any money?’
A familiar phrase. The man recalled how his high school self often heard this in middle school. Without much emotion, he reached into his pocket. Seong-hyeon spoke urgently.
‘I’m skipping afternoon classes to go to a PC room, but I’m short on cash.’
With a casual expression, he quickly changed his tone.
‘I’m not ripping you off, so don’t worry about the teacher finding out.’
In a threatening manner, he said, ‘I’ll really pay you back tomorrow.’
Any other day, the man would have felt contempt for Seong-hyeon’s promise to repay, knowing it was a lie. But today was the day he planned to die. Money was irrelevant if he couldn’t take it with him. But wait, if I lend Seong-hyeon money and then kill myself, will people think he drove me to it?
The man quickly dismissed the thought. Who cares if Seong-hyeon gets blamed for bullying? Indifferently, his high school self handed over the money.
‘You don’t have to give it to me.’
He didn’t need it anyway, since he was going to die today. The man silently swallowed the rest of his thoughts, but Seong-hyeon scowled as if he heard them. The man flinched involuntarily at Seong-hyeon’s expression.
‘Cut the bullshit. If you say that and then tell the teacher I stole it, I’m screwed.’
‘…..I don’t plan to.’
‘Whatever, I’ll just make sure to pay you back tomorrow.’
Seong-hyeon snatched the money from the man’s hand with confidence.
The man couldn’t say he didn’t need the money back. I’m going to die today. He couldn’t say that out loud. Outside, his father, known for being kind, was actually a monster who beat him mercilessly. He planned to die before his father could kill him. He was tired of living a life of pain and suffering. He couldn’t share this with anyone, let alone a classmate he wasn’t close to.
‘Tomorrow’s lunch is beef stew. I’ll give you mine instead of this guy’s.’
Seong-hyeon said this as if granting a great favor, happily tucking the money into his pocket. He picked up his bag and turned to leave the classroom but suddenly stopped and turned back to face the man. He smiled faintly.
‘See you tomorrow.’
His lips faltered as he tried to add something more. His gaze drifted smoothly to the man’s chest, lingering on the name tag pinned to his left side. Seong-hyeon’s lips moved as if trying to memorize the name.
‘â–¡â–¡â–¡’
Seong-hyeon called his name again, naturally. The man’s heart pounded as if being smashed by a giant rock, shattering into pieces. This bastard, fuck, this asshole, this gloomy fucker, this fucking piece of shit, this goddamn son of a bitch.
The name, which had lost all its luster among every title used to call the man, was spoken by the boy.
A mere classmate, with no connection, who had been scorned, called the man’s name.
The heart, thought to be numb to pain, ached and throbbed as if burned by fire. Simultaneously, a faint, soft sensation began to seep through the pain. It was like the taste of a slice of cake his mother had given him just once, the only happiness that kept him going until he was nineteen.
A memory was added to that singular joy, as light as a feather, yet as absolute as the weight of the world that the giant Atlas had to bear.
I can’t die today. If I die today, Seong-hyeon might face unfair blame.
The man postponed his planned end for today.
Seong-hyeon promised to return the money tomorrow. He said he’d share his side dishes with me.
For the first time, he looked forward to tomorrow.
Seong-hyeon called my name. He smiled at me. Will he smile tomorrow too? Will he call my name the day after?
The version of himself from a few minutes ago, who had decided to die, was truly gone forever. Reflected in the classroom mirror was a boy who now had a reason to live.
His face, flushed red and visible even through his long hair, looked ridiculous. But this was inevitable. Because it was Seong-hyeon, it was him.
His heart raced uncontrollably, feeling as if it might leap out of his chest. The man whispered the name of the boy who had become his entire world.
‘…Yoon Seong-hyeon.’
At that moment, a familiar mechanical sound woke the man from his brief slumber.
“……”
He blinked at the flickering monitor and the scattered papers on his messy desk, realizing he had dozed off.
As he massaged his temples with stiff fingers, the monitor flickered to life, displaying a program. The screen filled with footage from the home security camera installed in Seong-hyeon’s living room. The camera was set to activate and stream live video whenever Seong-hyeon’s name was spoken. The man watched the screen with clear eyes. Seong-hyeon was pacing restlessly in the living room.
After having his “womb” created, Seong-hyeon had been confined to bed, cherished to the point of exhaustion. His steps were unsteady, as if he might fall. The man considered calling to tell him to return to bed but was overcome by curiosity. He continued to observe Seong-hyeon’s actions.
In a loose T-shirt and bare legs, Seong-hyeon rummaged through the living room, searching for something. He seemed to be looking for something specific. The man paused, his finger tapping the desk.
Seong-hyeon stood before the bookshelf, scanning the third row.
Third row, left side, second from the end.
“Yearbook.”
The man whispered the name, realizing what Seong-hyeon was looking for. As if hearing it, Seong-hyeon reached for the thick album.
Thump. The man’s heart pounded like it did that day long ago. Seong-hyeon’s long, pale fingers began to flip through the pages. Thump. His heartbeat echoed loudly, drowning out all other sounds. After flipping through many pages, Seong-hyeon’s hand finally stopped. His well-manicured fingertips traced the photos on each page. The man licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.
Finally, Seong-hyeon’s finger paused on a particular photo. Long bangs covering his eyes, an expression devoid of emotion. His finger trembled as it slid down the photo, then jerked away as if shocked. Incredulous, disbelieving.
“Why did you do that, Seong-hyeon?”
The name under the photo of the man was blacked out.
It looked like it had been erased with a marker, the attempt so vigorous that it had also blackened the head of another classmate below.
Seeing this, Seong-hyeon’s fingers trembled—was it from shock or a faint remnant of anger?
The man chuckled softly. What did it matter now? The class reunion, no, the wedding, was in two days. The day he and Seong-hyeon would become a perfect couple. He had promised Seong-hyeon that he would reveal his name before the wedding began. There were no other ways for Seong-hyeon to find out his name on his own.
“…”
The man had known this would happen. He knew that his name in Seong-hyeon’s yearbook was erased, so Seong-hyeon wouldn’t be able to figure it out. But still.
“……Why didn’t you erase the face too?”
You gave me hope. Maybe you erased the name as a prank, and if you really hated me, you would have erased my face too. So maybe, just maybe, if you look through the yearbook, you might remember my name. Why did you give me such a foolish hope, Seong-hyeon?
His words were short, accusatory, yet hopeful. The man’s gaze fell on a small photo frame on his desk. Seong-hyeon, smiling brightly, his face covered in cake. The sight was even more joyful than in his dreams.
Yes, what more could he need? Seong-hyeon had a gaping hole inside him, and as long as that hole was filled, he would never leave. That was enough. That was all he needed.
When the man looked back at the monitor, Seong-hyeon was on the phone with someone. He had looked away for a moment and missed who it was.
The man couldn’t guess who Seong-hyeon was talking to on the phone. He could easily investigate and find out, but he didn’t feel the need to. After all, Seong-hyeon had nothing left now. There was no way for him to discover the man’s name.
That’s what the man believed.
Even as he watched Seong-hyeon’s eyes light up with hope, as if he had found a lifeline.
