The hand holding the phone was trembling with large amplitude. It wasn’t from tension or confusion. It was rage. Rough breaths passed through his cracked lips, and saliva forced through his clenched teeth created white foam.
With his still unsteady hand holding the phone, Ji Seokhun called that piece of trash who had just taken his money and disappeared without a trace. No answer. He called again. Still no answer. As he was about to call once more, a text message came from an unknown number.
[It seems best not to mess with this man named Kyung Jiho, so I’m washing my hands of this matter. This number will be disconnected soon, so please don’t contact me.]
Ji Seokhun almost threw his phone.
After a long internal struggle with his phone raised above his head, the man lowered his hand holding the phone, exerting force on his arm that wouldn’t move properly. Blaming himself for nearly ruining everything due to the barbaric instincts flowing through his blood from ancient times, he headed to his study.
Sitting at his desk, he pressed the computer power button. He endured the boot-up time that seemed longer than the past 48 hours. Just as the rhythm created by his nervous fingers tapping the desk reached its limit of speed, the monitor screen brightened.
He launched the internet browser and opened the mail tab. He opened a new window and entered the Endocrinology Society website’s admin page. He downloaded the entire member list. He dragged the nearly thousand email addresses and pasted them into the “sender” input field.
When Geun-yeong silently opened the door after finishing his shower, there was no one in the living room. Once again, he walked on his tiptoes and stealthily headed toward the only bedroom in the house. Standing against the frame of the wide-open door, he pushed in just half his face and peered inside. Detective Kyung was sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed, looking at his phone.
He pulled his head back out. He remembered the blanket. Wondering if it might have dried by now, he stealthily crossed the living room, which was only about three or four large steps across, and went out to the veranda. He reached out to grab the edge of the blanket.
“It’s not dry yet. Just come here.”
Startled, Geun-yeong withdrew his hand and looked in the direction of the voice. The man lying on the bed in the room had opened the window facing the veranda wide and was watching everything Geun-yeong was doing.
Though he hadn’t been caught masturbating while standing on his hands, Geun-yeong felt extremely embarrassed and turned away from the wet blanket with his head bowed.
Due to his embarrassment, his steps were quite quick until the middle of the living room, but noticeably slowed after passing the midpoint.
By the time he crossed the threshold of the bedroom, he was taking steps with a narrow stride barely half a step wide. He grabbed the handle of the blanket cabinet to take out a pillow. He tried not to make a sound, but it was impossible. The cabinet door made a “thunk” sound as it opened, making him shrink his shoulders, then he opened the blanket cabinet with a creaking sound. But the pillow he had used last night was gone. There was another one, but it looked too thin to be comfortable. He liked the pillow from last night, and as he was looking around wondering where it had gone, “The pillow is here.”
The voice hit his ear and dropped into his heart. It wasn’t a particularly loud voice, but it sounded that way to Geun-yeong’s ears as he was trying to muffle all sounds. As a result, he had to startle.
“Why do you keep getting startled? Do you have a weak heart? Try taking some medicine. Like Cheongsimhwan.”
He was so startled that his whole body jumped, causing the blanket cabinet door in his hand to be pushed and make a rattling sound, so the man’s words weren’t entirely nonsense to be dismissed. Geun-yeong wondered.
Is my heart really weak… I thought only my pancreas was non-functional, but could my heart and liver also be in bad shape…
Thinking this, he closed the blanket cabinet with a creak… and sure enough, his pillow was exactly where the man had said “here.” That is, from Geun-yeong’s perspective, it was there, on the bed, right next to where the man was lying. Geun-yeong looked at the pillow, then at the man. The man, whose gaze had followed Geun-yeong’s, met his eyes, let out a little “hmph” laugh, and said, “Hurry up and lie down, go to sleep.” Geun-yeong asked him.
“Um… do I sleep here?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d be fine sleeping on the floor too…”
“You don’t even have a blanket.”
“Because of me…”
“It’s not uncomfortable.”
Though he had already left space, Kyung Jiho moved even further to the side, pressing against the window. Geun-yeong hesitated, then sat on the bed. He lay down. No, as he was lowering his back to lie down, “Turn off the light.”
“Yes.”
Geun-yeong, who had answered immediately, had to get up abruptly before his back even touched the bed, turn off the light, and come back.
It was a quiet neighborhood. The area around his previous home was quiet too, of course, but this was a different kind of quiet. It wasn’t an artificial quiet created by hiding noise. It was a quiet created by people who had been working, living, and vibrant all entering into rest. It felt humane. It was a stillness with warmth rising amid the quiet.
Geun-yeong smiled slightly at the soothing stillness. Then, as if to show that it wasn’t always like that, a small dog barked “woof woof.” Then a shout was heard, “Shut up, you son of a bitch!”
Geun-yeong turned his head toward the window where the shout was faintly audible. Soon the warm stillness returned. While his head was turned, he looked at the man. He saw the sleeping face of the man who had one leg outside the blanket, supporting his head with his raised left hand. But.
“Why are you looking around instead of sleeping?”
Geun-yeong was so startled that the blanket covering him rustled heavily, and he had to stand at “attention” under the blanket he was sharing with the man.
“Get some Cheongsimhwan. There’s definitely something wrong.”
“…Yes.”
Again, silence. “Woof woof,” the dog barked. As he was half-expecting that man from before to shout again, a different voice was heard.
“If you’re not sleepy, tell me about your father.”
“Pardon?”
Geun-yeong, who had been lying at attention looking at the ceiling, had to turn his head again. The man, who had kept his eyes closed even while making this unexpected request to talk about his father, opened his eyes, rolled them toward Geun-yeong, and looked at him.
“I said tell me about your father.”
“I’m… sleepy.”
Geun-yeong, who didn’t want to talk about it, lied.
“Then don’t.”
The man turned his eyes away and closed them again, and Geun-yeong, feeling regretful, quickly said.
“Actually, I’m not sleepy.”
The man opened his eyes again, and this time turned his head to look at Geun-yeong.
“What are you trying to do?”
Geun-yeong wasn’t sleepy. He wanted to talk with Detective Kyung. But he didn’t want to talk about the man he had to call father. Even though all of this couldn’t possibly be written in his eyes, which were probably just full of regret, the man who was staring at Geun-yeong’s eyes said.
“Then, instead of talking about your father, tell me something you want to say. Like suggestions.”
There were no suggestions. From the man’s house and neighborhood where he had come to stay, to the lifestyle he would have to follow, and even down to the man’s foamy body wash and the Italian towel that was just worn enough to feel even softer—he liked everything. After pondering for a moment, Geun-yeong asked.
“Um… instead of suggestions… can I… ask a question?”
“What is it? Ask me anything except about what happened 18 years ago in front of the jangdokdae. I don’t remember.”
Geun-yeong, who had quickly opened his mouth when the man said “What is it,” had to close it again. He had been about to ask a question to find a clue about whether this man might be that hyung from 18 years ago. Things like where he lived when he was young, who he lived with. But even before he could ask, the man had already put up a wall saying not to ask anything about 18 years ago, so Geun-yeong couldn’t think of any more questions. He couldn’t exactly ask if he really masturbated while standing on his hands either.
Wanting to continue the conversation, Geun-yeong searched for something to ask. He opened the large jangdokdae lid that occupied his mind and even looked behind the jangdokdae, but couldn’t find anything suitable to ask. He already knew the secret of the tattoo, and that his job wasn’t a gangster but a detective. He also knew why he became a detective. He even knew about his recent masturbation experience. Come to think of it, Nurse Bong had told him quite a lot of detailed information. So what should he ask? If he couldn’t ask about 18 years ago, could he perhaps ask about three years ago? Should he ask about a romantic relationship from three years ago? But somehow he didn’t want to ask about that. While he was deliberating, the man said.
“I have no memories from before I was twelve.”
It was the same calm voice as usual, but somehow it sounded lonely to Geun-yeong’s ears. And for Geun-yeong, who could vividly remember even events from when he was 6 years old as if they were played back on a mimeograph machine with the push of a button, the man’s words were hard to accept.
For memories around the age of twelve, of course they couldn’t be as vivid as his own, but he thought there should be at least some impressive events that remained here and there. That’s how it was when he talked with friends like Woo Donghwa. Even those guys who surprised Geun-yeong by immediately forgetting what they had just memorized talked about their childhood. They said things like no longer believing in Santa after finding thousand-won bills in their socks, or never forgetting the taste of plums they ate as snacks during summer Bible school at church. The man lying next to him should have at least one or two such memories, so it was strange that he so firmly stated he had no memories at all.
“…Why is that?”
“What?”
“How can you not remember anything at all?”
“How would I know? I don’t even remember why I can’t remember.”
Geun-yeong felt frustrated. If the man had been a complete stranger, it would be different, but after spending time with him, he seemed to have a subtly caring side that made Geun-yeong think he might actually be that hyung from back then. Yet this man happened to have no memory at all. While Geun-yeong was sighing deeply enough to make the blanket covering his chest rise and fall significantly, the man spoke.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
