ACJY C16

On the way to town, Taeheun changed clothes and put on his retrieved luxury watch. He felt a sense of relief shedding the dreadful tracksuit. Slipping into soft Italian leather shoes, he finally felt like himself again.

However, his well-tailored suit now hung loosely on him. The change in his physique after eight years wasn’t welcome. I’ll get back in shape soon, he vowed, getting a much-needed haircut at a local salon. He styled it himself with mousse. The salon owner and Detective Park gawked at him as if he were a celebrity. It was a small thing, but his self-esteem soared, and he strutted down the street with uncharacteristic swagger.

Detective Park trailed after him like a chaperone, finally bidding him farewell at the parking lot.

“This is a cell phone and pager registered under the name Kim Taeheun. That house is out of cell service range, so we’ll mainly contact you through the pager. We’ve also set up a landline, so use that if you need to make calls. If you go somewhere with cell service, you can use the phone.” 

He handed Taeheun a box of business cards with the name Kim Taeheun printed on them. Namsan Industrial, Manager. Below the unfamiliar address and phone number were the newly registered cell phone and pager numbers.

“And this is a bank book and debit card.”

The bank book, from a Nonghyup Bank in Seoul, showed a balance of 5 million won. Not bad for an activity fund.

“It’s in my name. Withdraw cash whenever you need it.”

Detective Park reminded Taeheun that while he’d be staying at Yoon Gibeom’s house, his registered address was the blue-roofed house. He emphasized that Taeheun should say so if anyone asked. They had already stocked the abandoned house with a laptop, floppy disks, copies of ledgers and documents—everything Taeheun might need. He thanked Detective Park profusely, acknowledging that while he had received a lot of help so far, things were getting real now, and he’d need his continued support.

Taeheun barely heard a word. He was simply elated to be out of the safe house, his heart pounding with excitement at the prospect of finally eating the yeolmu noodles he’d been craving.

After watching Detective Park drive away, Taeheun reverently climbed into his secondhand Mercedes. A Boston bag sat on the passenger seat, and a suit hung from the handle on the back seat. These were the belongings he’d packed just before his supposed death: a comfortable tracksuit for sleeping, summer suit trousers and cotton pants, three t-shirts including polos, two dress shirts, underwear and socks, sneakers and beach sandals, along with toiletries, hair products, and cosmetics. He’d even packed cologne and condoms, just in case.

Someone had rummaged through his bag; the contents were completely rearranged. The inside of the Mercedes was different, too. The sunglasses and miscellaneous items he’d kept in the glove compartment were now in disarray.

Fucking hell. Couldn’t they have at least organized it?

Cursing under his breath, he shoved the business card box into the glove compartment and put on his sunglasses.

“Won’t that be too conspicuous?” Detective Oh had asked worriedly when Taeheun handed over the car.

He didn’t need a Mercedes, especially this older, silver model that wasn’t his style. He’d insisted on it because it was the same model his aunt had been driving when she died. It made him feel closer to her, somehow.

Come to think of it, he was using his dead uncle’s name and driving the same car his dead aunt was last seen in. He felt like he was acting like a pretentious teenager. Guess I’m having a belated puberty, he chuckled to himself.

His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the steering wheel for the first time in sixteen days. He fumbled like someone who’d forgotten how to drive before finally releasing the parking brake. He shifted into neutral and started the engine, the pleasant rumble filling the air. The rest was muscle memory.

He rolled down the driver’s side window, letting in the humid summer air. Driving cautiously, he headed towards Dongjaem-ri. He didn’t turn on the radio, which he’d listened to ad nauseam at the safe house. He felt like humming, but couldn’t think of a song.

I should have brought a Chet Baker album. He considered returning to town to buy a cassette tape from the record store but decided against it. He wasn’t in a hurry, figuring he’d have plenty of opportunities to go to town.

Passing the sign that read “Dongjaem-ri,” he parked in front of the village hall. He took off his sunglasses, pushing them up onto his head, and asked an elderly passerby for directions to Yongdugol, where the man lived.

“Why’re you goin’ there? Ain’t nothin’ there ’cept Jihye’s Pa.” The old man squinted, scrutinizing Taeheun’s face.

“I know. I’m going to Mr. Yoon Gibeom’s house.”

“What for?”

“I’ll be staying with him for a few months.”

“Is that so? What’s your relationship with Jihye’s Pa?”

The old man was inquisitive. Not wanting to prolong the conversation, Taeheun interrupted, “I’m a bit busy, so could you just tell me how to get there?”

The old man, looking slightly disgruntled, gave him directions. Since he might end up interacting with this old man in the future, Taeheun thanked him politely and drove off.

Following the directions, he recalled his previous visit with Mr. Han and Detective Park. The road became increasingly bumpy. As he neared the man’s house, his appetite stirred, his mouth watering. He felt a flush of embarrassment, as if he were some kind of glutton.

The gate to the man’s house was still half-open. Honestly, such carelessness, Taeheun thought, clicking his tongue.

He’d assumed the man would be home, but the truck wasn’t there. As he reached for the gate, the dogs, let loose in the yard, came running and barked menacingly. He was grateful they didn’t try to jump the fence.

“Ugh, you mutts. So damn noisy. Don’t you remember my voice? Are your brains that small?” He kicked the innocent gatepost in frustration.

Taeheun returned to his Mercedes and reclined the seat, feeling disappointed. He’d expected the man to be waiting for him, if not with open arms, at least with some anticipation. Had Detective Oh forgotten to tell him? Or was the man too busy? After running through various possibilities, he finally turned on the radio.

Just as he was growing tired of the music and DJ’s chatter, he saw a van approaching in the distance. A Damas. Taeheun stretched and sat up, quickly getting out of the car, anticipating the man’s arrival. He imagined the man jumping out of the van before it even fully stopped, like an excited child.

The Damas stopped opposite his Mercedes. Contrary to his expectations, a slender, lithe figure emerged. He was, once again, dressed in trendy clothes. His Air Jordans looked particularly large on his feet.

Taeheun was deeply disappointed. Fuck, he cursed inwardly.

“Mr. Daeho asked me to come. I’m Kwon Yongjun, by the way.”

Kwon Yongjun extended his hand. Composing himself, Taeheun shook Yongjun’s small, soft hand. Yongjun’s gaze lingered momentarily on Taeheun’s watch before moving on.

“Nice to see you again. But it seems Mr. Gibeom isn’t here?”

“Gibeom hyung usually eats lunch when he’s working. He’s been busy lately, so he often goes straight to another job after lunch.”

A gentle voice, befitting his physique, answered.

“Shall we go in?”

“Yes.”

Under Kwon Yongjun’s watchful gaze, Taeheun retrieved his bags from the car.

“You’re tall.”

“Yes, about 184 centimeters.”

“Similar to Gibeom hyung. You’re from Seoul, right?”

“Yes.”

“I lived in Seoul for about five years.”

Kwon Yongjun pushed open the gate as he spoke. The dogs, familiar with him, wagged their tails in greeting.

“But Seoul’s not a place for people to live. It’s expensive, noisy, crowded, and the people are unfriendly.”

Unlike the man, he didn’t leash the dogs but stood blocking them so Taeheun could pass. Setting his bags down on the porch, Taeheun agreed, 

“I concur.”

“Still, there are far more conveniences. There’s a reason people flock there.”

“Yeah, well…” Kwon Yongjun replied, walking slowly towards the porch.

“I’ll unlock the door for you, so just put your luggage inside and come back out. The village headman asked me to bring you over for lunch.”

“The village headman?”

“Yes. Didn’t Mr. Daeho tell you? He knows you’re not staying long, but he told the headman about you, saying you might need some help while you’re here.”

Either Detective Park or Detective Oh must have forgotten to mention it. Since he wasn’t a fugitive, he didn’t need to avoid the villagers. That’s why he’d been deliberately polite to the old man earlier. He found himself surprised by his own instinctive assessment of the situation and calculated behavior.

Kwon Yongjun hopped up onto the porch ahead of Taeheun and pulled a key from his pocket. He fumbled with the flimsy sliding door, jiggling it a few times as the key didn’t seem to fit properly.

“This damn thing won’t open.”

“Gibeom-hyung doesn’t usually lock the doors. I told him it’s dangerous, especially with a child, but he doesn’t care. But I guess Mr. Daeho gave him a talking-to since you’re here.”

Finally managing to open the door, Kwon Yongjun nodded at Taeheun.

Not wanting to stand up, Taeheun awkwardly shuffled forward on his knees to push his luggage inside.