The store owner widened his eyes in surprise.
“That’s the new model that hasn’t been released in Korea yet! I heard it doesn’t need calibration with separate blood glucose readings and has no margin of error. Did you buy it from Europe? Or direct import? Group purchase? How much did you pay? Isn’t it quite expensive? Wow, this is my first time seeing one in person!”
He hadn’t shown it to brag.
“Do you… buy used equipment?”
“Huh?”
The man’s already wide eyes grew even larger.
Though he seemed a bit surprised, the kind medical supply store ajussi who willingly bought it at a decent price was also given the latest smartphone as a bonus. Before handing it over completely, Geun-yeong said, “Just a moment,” deleted the recent call history, and then gave it back. He had memorized the man’s number.
Having finished what he needed to do, Geun-yeong sat back down on the bus stop bench. He pretended he hadn’t moved a single step, just as the man had threatened.
He wasn’t just sitting there idly. Though he knew he had memorized the man’s number, he kept repeating the eight-digit phone number in his mouth, afraid he might forget it.
That same ajumma from before was glancing at him again. Now her expression seemed to say, “What is he muttering about?” And there was a greater hint of pity than before.
During his psychiatry rotation, he remembered a man who kept reciting Line 3 subway station names while waving his index finger. He supposed he must look like that person now.
It was fine since he’d never see this woman again. However, he was curious about the bus schedule this ajumma was waiting for.
After sitting there for a while, that car appeared in less than fifteen minutes. The old SUV that had made him wonder, “Why would a gangster drive something like that?”
Geun-yeong stood up from the bench. He felt like crying again. The passenger window of the car stopped in front of the bus stop rolled down, and the man with a frowning face said:
“Get in quickly. I’ll slap you if you cry.”
Geun-yeong strained his eyes to hold back tears.
Earlier, the sky had turned yellow from his overwhelming sense of helplessness. He thought it might have been because of the insulin pump replacement. But that wasn’t it. Now he understood. He hadn’t known where to go. That’s why he had felt so lost.
The sky now wasn’t particularly yellow.
Track 5. Mr. Misunderstood
Sitting on the sofa reading a book analyzing the mental psychology of famous politicians, Ji Seokhun lowered the book upon hearing an uncommon warning sound, though he wasn’t unfamiliar with its cause. His phone screen displayed a sensor disconnect notification from the continuous glucose monitor.
“Oh no.”
He opened the location tracking app he had been checking periodically. Still at the hospital. There was no issue with the location, but it seemed the monitor on his arm had fallen off. What on earth was he doing at the hospital?
This kind of thing was rare for someone who usually behaved so properly. No, it had never happened before. There was that one time when it fell off during sex because he got excited and grabbed the arm, but not once had Geun-yeong ever dropped the sensor by his own mistake.
What’s going on?
Seokhun immediately called Geun-yeong. The fourth ring passed. Just as he was getting annoyed that the call wasn’t being answered promptly, it connected, and he was about to start by asking why the response was so delayed, but he had to close his mouth again.
[Hello?]
The voice from the other end of the phone wasn’t Geun-yeong’s. With an expression resembling the large question mark above the frowning Bush on the book cover he’d been reading, Seokhun asked:
“Who is this?”
[Excuse me? This is Jung Manbok, who are you?]
Though he had asked who it was, the name wasn’t what he was curious about. Seokhun didn’t want to reveal his own name to someone who couldn’t even grasp the point of the question.
“Where is the phone’s owner?”
[I wouldn’t know?]
It was an accurate answer. The man called Jung Manbok, who had received the phone as a bonus when the young man sold his CGM, didn’t know where he was now—he had just answered the incoming call. But Ji Seokhun was extremely irritated.
“Where are you?”
[Sesang Medical Supplies.]
Medical supplies?
The table hit the man’s knee as he abruptly stood up, making a loud noise.
“How did you come to have that phone?”
[Got it as a bonus.]
Bonus?
As Seokhun was about to demand what the phone was a bonus for, the continuous glucose monitor disconnect notification dropped from above his head.
“Who are you! Where is this place!”
He had already said it. Sesang Medical Supplies, Jung Manbok. Having nothing more to answer, the man on the other end of the phone could only click his tongue in disbelief.
[Huh… really…]
* * *
Geun-yeong got into the man’s car, receiving a farewell glance from the ajumma whose bus still hadn’t arrived.
The man in the driver’s seat wore a leather jacket and had his hair casually pushed back, revealing his forehead. Even when his hair had been down before, he had looked like a gangster, and today was no exception. He would probably look like a gangster in any outfit, even if dressed in a patient gown that should make anyone look pitiful, but today he looked even more so. Regardless of whether Geun-yeong was furtively examining the man’s face, the man immediately started the car since they were at a bus stop where they couldn’t stay parked for long.
“Put your seatbelt on.”
Geun-yeong quickly pulled the seatbelt. Then he hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to put it over or under the bag he was holding against his chest, when a hand suddenly shot out from the driver’s seat. Thinking he was about to be hit, Geun-yeong shrank back like a snail’s tentacle. However, the hand that had seemed ready to strike simply grabbed the bag from his lap and tossed it onto the back seat.
“What the hell. Why is it so heavy? You’re not running away from home, are you? I said put your seatbelt on.”
“What? Yes.”
Startled by the man’s words that accurately pierced the truth, Geun-yeong was shocked again and hurriedly fastened his seatbelt. While doing so, he briefly thought that gangsters these days were quite law-abiding.
The car set off. He was curious about where they were going, but couldn’t ask because the man received a phone call as soon as they started moving.
“You bastard. One woman was hiding a gun in her ass. If those women get high on drugs just once, you’re dead by my hand. When I think about how we lost track because your minion was careless, fuck.”
Though he couldn’t understand what was being said, the conversation had a brutal feeling to it. Even after it ended, Geun-yeong still couldn’t ask where they were going. The violent tone of the call lingered in his ears, making it impossible to speak up. Moreover, the man continued to receive several more calls after that.
“Dongjae is watching the women. Yes, they haven’t talked yet. We’ll expand our search to include the women managed by Samsik’s faction.”
Samsik’s faction. Women they manage.
Geun-yeong moistened his dry lips as he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. The car he had gotten into out of desperation belonged to a gangster. He had known from the beginning that the man was a gangster, but somehow it hadn’t felt real until now. It was like watching a handsome actor playing a gangster in a movie—somewhat unreal. But listening to his phone calls made the identity of the man beside him feel very real.
“They found some drugs in the basement of Miari Encore. It seems they’re trying to cover for each other, but if we hold a knife to them and dig deeper, one of them, whether it’s the front man or the boss, will talk.”
Throughout all this, the car continued driving. Geun-yeong, rolling his eyes here and there, wanted to ask where they were going, but the more he heard of the conversations, the harder it became to ask. Just as he thought the call with someone who seemed to be a respected hyungnim had ended, another call came in.
“Yeah. Beat them until they talk. If they don’t talk by the time I get there, throw them a bluff that you’ll kill them.”
[Yes, hyungnim. When will you be back?]
The accent of the small voice from the phone sounded strong. It seemed to be the man who had been poking pineapples at the establishment before.
“I’m going to deliver something and come back. One hour.”
What, something?
Geun-yeong stealthily rolled his eyes to look at the back seat. Besides his bag, what seemed to be the man’s padded jacket that he’d taken off, one unopened water bottle, and another half-empty one, there were no other items. The man’s appearance didn’t suggest he was in the business of delivering water bottles or jackets, so it seemed that the “something” he was referring to delivering was probably himself.
Is he trying to sell me off somewhere?
As soon as that thought crossed his mind, his heart began to pound. His heart was racing, and his head felt dizzy as red warning lights and sirens began to go off inside. Deep-sea fishing vessels. Anchovy fishing. Organ extraction. Organ trafficking. Genital trafficking. No, not that, sex trafficking. Those kinds of words were frantically circling inside his reddened mind. It didn’t seem like the kind of situation where he should just keep his mouth shut and be cautious.
“Um…”
He started to speak but couldn’t continue. The man glanced at him and prompted:
“What.”
Um, and then what? Speak, he meant.
“…are you going to… sell me… off?”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
