“They said my parents passed away around that time. I think it might be because of that.”
“How did it happen…”
“Don’t remember.”
Geun-yeong couldn’t ask anything more. It seemed the man’s memory loss was somehow related to his parents’ death. It appeared to be something like “dissociative amnesia,” which occurs when someone experiences a major psychological shock due to extreme stress or a natural disaster.
The area around his chest that had been itching ever since returning to this house now ached dully. He thought how something that couldn’t even be remembered could be so sad.
“Go to sleep now.”
“…Yes.”
Though he answered, Geun-yeong still felt reluctant.
“By the way…”
“What now?”
“Did you really do a handstand…”
“Try it yourself, and if it’s possible, I’ll answer you. Now sleep.”
“Yes.”
Woof woof. A dog barked again. The man, who disliked the sound of dogs barking, shouted. Soon the dog fell silent. There were no more shouts from the man either. The neighborhood that had been slow to fall asleep finally did. The man who had let Geun-yeong lie beside him also fell asleep.
Geun-yeong watched the man’s face for quite a while as he slept with the shallow wrinkles between his furrowed brows carrying the weight of his difficult life. The man he had thought was both scary and cool now seemed pitiful and sympathetic.
* * *
The morning scene was busy, like in any other home. Geun-yeong in particular was extremely busy.
It was a mystery why sleep came so easily in this house. He slept well even on the floor, but sleep on the bed was even sweeter. It was truly like honey. Geun-yeong, who had been extending his alarm by 5 minutes, then another 5 minutes on the phone Detective Kyung had given him, ended up oversleeping.
Just as Kyung Jiho, thinking it was time to wake him up, was bending down and reaching out his hand next to the bed, Geun-yeong suddenly opened his eyes and, with a scream of “I slept too long!”, jumped up. After that, he had to hurriedly wash and prepare with eyes wider than usual, truly in a fluster.
Meanwhile, Kyung Jiho headed to the kitchen. The thing he had picked up while it was crying on the street had said it needed to eat breakfast without fail. Not just any meal, but one with sufficient carbohydrates, protein, and fiber. So Kyung Jiho took out instant rice and canned tuna from the cupboard.
Even in the midst of his rushing around, Geun-yeong stole glances with eyes of awe at the man who could easily reach the top shelf of the tall cupboard.
The man, who had woken up earlier than Geun-yeong and had time to spare, casually tossed two packs of instant rice into the microwave. Then he opened the cabinet under the sink and took out a pot. He opened a can of tuna, drained the oil, and poured it into the pot. He added the heated rice, threw in some roughly crumbled seaweed, and mixed it all together haphazardly.
Geun-yeong, who had barely finished preparing in time and was still panting, was handed a pot with a spoon stuck in it like memorial food. Holding what he assumed was his meal, he was about to bow in thanks when he realized the man was already leaving the house, so he had to hurriedly follow him out.
Sitting in what had become his designated passenger seat, Geun-yeong gripped and pulled out the spoon stuck in the rice. Then he glanced at the man who was glaring at the side mirror with sharp eyes as he backed out the car. He was sure the food had been given to him to eat, but he wasn’t sure if he should start now. The man, who was turning the steering wheel while looking at the right side mirror and also briefly at the kid sitting there watching him, said:
“Eat.”
“Thank you.”
Geun-yeong bowed deeply, his upper body included, to express his gratitude, and immediately took a bite. A fleeting memory crossed his mind of yard dogs in a TV program showcasing rural scenery eating similar rice from a similar pot, but the taste was very good. Of course, it was probably a sodium bomb full of preservatives, but even that was something to be thankful for. For Geun-yeong, who had almost skipped breakfast, this was more than enough to be grateful for. After taking another spoonful, chewing diligently, and swallowing, he said:
“It’s delicious.”
And as he was taking yet another spoonful,
“Didn’t you take your injection?”
“Ah! I neef to!”
Geun-yeong quickly lowered his spoon and placed the pot on his knees. While mumbling with rice still in his mouth, he rolled up his sleeve.
It was strange.
He had never before forgotten his insulin injection and had to be reminded by someone, but now it had already happened twice in front of this man.
Why does this keep happening…
While berating himself for his stupidity, Geun-yeong continued to chew what was in his mouth. As he did so, he rolled up his sleeve and injected the insulin. He watched until the number on the display of the machine making the “zzzing” motor sound changed to 0, then lowered his clothing and picked up the pot again. As he was about to take another spoonful, he said, “But this is… too much.”
“What’s too much about it? It’s just two instant rice packs.”
As expected. Though it was hard to gauge since it was all mixed together, it was indeed too much. He should only eat 210g of rice, which is exactly one pack of instant rice. Eating more would mean excess carbohydrates. It was truly regrettable that he would have to leave some of the meal that had been prepared for him when he had almost skipped this meal. With an apologetic expression, he conveyed his regrets.
“I need to eat exactly one bowl of rice, not overflowing…”
“Ah, come on. That’s why you’re always hungry. Ah.”
“Pardon?”
Ah?
Geun-yeong looked at the man with wide, surprised eyes. The man, who was now driving the car onto the main road next to the market, kept his gaze forward but turned his mouth, wide open in an ‘ah’ shape, toward Geun-yeong.
Faced with this unfamiliar command, Geun-yeong malfunctioned and could only alternate his gaze between the rice, the man, and the man’s open mouth. The man, who had been shamelessly holding his mouth open, briefly closed it and explained so that Geun-yeong would understand:
“I’m saying give me a bite. Ah.”
And he opened his mouth wide again.
Blinking his eyes in bewilderment, Geun-yeong moved his spoon to gather as much rice as possible, created a small mound, and then extended it toward the man’s mouth.
The spoon that the man’s lips had passed over was perfectly clean without a single grain of rice left, but there was one grain stuck below the man’s lips. While Geun-yeong was contemplating whether to remove it, whether it would be okay for him to do so, his fingers fidgeting with indecision, the man himself removed the grain with his thumb, put it in his mouth, and said:
“It’s like dog food, but it tastes good.”
Geun-yeong felt a pang of regret for the already vanished grain of rice. Then, after looking at the spoon that the man’s lips had touched, he scooped up some rice. He took less than he had been taking before. He scooped just a tiny amount, with the bottom of the spoon visible, and carefully put it in his mouth.
Strangely… it was sweet. The rice hadn’t tasted sweet until just now, but somehow, it was sweet.
The man, who had said he usually didn’t eat breakfast, continued to readily accept the spoon that Geun-yeong offered, and ended up eating the equivalent of one entire pack of instant rice. Thanks to this, Geun-yeong was able to shake off the apologetic feeling of having to leave food that had been prepared for him.
To the kid who was holding the empty pot and didn’t know what to do with it, Kyung Jiho said to just throw it in the back. Geun-yeong turned and bent his waist, stood up a fallen water bottle at the foot of the back seat, and neatly placed the pot next to it.
After putting down the pot and returning empty-handed to sit upright, the kid was observed by the man who then looked forward again and asked:
“Your bed was against the wall, right?”
“Huh? Yes.”
“Do you sleep better when you’re against the wall?”
“…Yes… it seems… like it.”
And if you put one foot between the bed and the wall, you sleep even better.
Kyung Jiho burst into laughter with a sound like clicking his tongue. And then he explained why he had enough leisure time this morning to even prepare a pot of rice like those commonly seen in rural front yards.
He said that a certain kid with a habit of sleeping against the wall had curled up tightly and pressed his body right against the person lying next to him. Because of that, he felt like he was going crazy from being trapped between “the wall and you.” That’s why he woke up early.
After hearing this fact that he himself was completely unaware of, Geun-yeong rolled his eyes in embarrassment and was mumbling that he would sleep on the floor starting tonight, when the response came:
“Forget it, we’ll switch places today.”
Just as he was about to relax, thinking how pleased he was by the man’s consideration, his breathing hitched. His heart sank at a sudden thought. It occurred to him that he might have done more than just press against him. What if he had actually put his foot somewhere…
No, that couldn’t be. Surely not.
While desperately trying to deny that his sleeping posture would match his preferred position, he tried to recall the previous night, but it was useless. He could remember everything else, but not what happened during sleep. Though he often woke up with his foot wedged between the wall and the bed, he denied and denied again that he would have done something so outrageous as to wedge his foot between the man and the bed—there was absolutely no way he would have done such a thing.
Watching Geun-yeong with his fists placed on both temples and a serious expression, Jiho asked with a face like a child watching a medicine peddler:
“What are you doing? Mind control? Telepathy? Are you sending me something? Correct answer: dog food?”
The man, who started giggling while making silly jokes, decided not to mention what the foot that kept burrowing between his thighs no matter how many times he pushed it away had done. The kid was clearly quite timid, and he didn’t want to create a situation requiring cardiac stimulants rather than just Cheongsimhwan.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
