ACJY C12

Overcome with excitement, he’d slightly torn the skin on his left palm on the barbed wire, but other than that, he’d cleared the wall unscathed.

He crouched low, surveying his surroundings.

Fuck. Taeheun looked around at the pitch-black darkness, perplexed.

He’d assumed there would be a village nearby since they’d driven him here, but all he saw was forest. What he’d glimpsed through the fence, thinking it a road, wasn’t a road at all. It was the rubble of another building. It looked like someone had started to build villas, carving into the mountainside, then abandoned the project. Several half-finished structures stood on the leveled ground, one of them half-buried in a mound of earth. Taeheun’s safe house seemed to be another piece of this abandoned project, renovated into a prison-like facility.

Somewhere in those buildings, a watcher lurked. There might even be booby traps. Staying low to the ground, almost crawling, Taeheun searched for an exit. They’d put a hood over his head, but the drive hadn’t been long, so there had to be a road leading out somewhere nearby.

After about 30 minutes of searching, he found an exit camouflaged with interwoven grass and branches. It was a fairly wide mountain path, large enough for a van to pass through. His heart pounded with excitement.

He ran as soon as he was through the gate. He wanted to get away from the safe house as quickly as possible. He had a vague hope that a village lay at the end of this path. Although the temperature had dropped, it was still summer, and his long sleeves and pants offered some protection. His slippers were a problem, but he wasn’t in a position to be picky.

The mountain path led him to a village after a steep incline followed by a series of gentle slopes. As expected, it wasn’t a city. He’d hoped for at least a small town, but it was a rural village, not much different from Dongjam-ri, which he’d visited yesterday.

Well past midnight, the countryside night was deep and silent. Not a single house had its lights on. He needed to find someone to ask for directions. But waking someone up at this hour risked a call to the police, which would screw him over. Taeheun searched for a signpost to figure out where he was. After wandering for a while, he found a bus stop instead. Lucky.

Seojeon-ri. That’s all it said. A route map would have been a godsend. He couldn’t spend the night at the bus stop. He slumped onto the wooden bench, which looked weathered and worn. Buses wouldn’t run until daylight, at least six hours away, and he didn’t want to waste that time.

Taeheun got up and walked towards a small grocery store he’d passed earlier. Since it was a business, the owner probably dealt with late-night drunks all the time. He wouldn’t be surprised by a knock on the door at dawn.

Sure enough, when he knocked, a middle-aged man who appeared to be the owner emerged. He looked annoyed but readily opened the sliding door and asked what he wanted.

“Excuse me, but where am I?”

The owner was understandably startled by a large man abruptly asking for his location. He started to close the door, then hesitated and opened it again.

“Why do you ask?” 

The store owner asked cautiously, gripping the door. His words were so clipped, Taeheun couldn’t tell if he had a regional accent.

“I was visiting nearby and got lost,” Taeheun said as gently and pitifully as he could.

The owner looked him up and down, seeming somewhat convinced.

“Seojeon-ri.”

“I’d like to know exactly where Seojeon-ri is.”

“You want the address?”

“Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”

“Seojeon-ri, Hwangmu-eup, Hanju-si, Gyeonggi-do.”

Taeheun couldn’t help but smile when he heard “Hwangmu-eup.”

Dongjam-ri was also in Hwangmu-eup. He didn’t know how big Hwangmu-eup was, but at least Dongjam-ri was somewhere around here. The house he was supposed to be staying in was practically a stone’s throw away.

“But where did you come from?”

“Dongjam-ri.”

“How did you get all the way here from there?” The store owner clicked his tongue. His wariness had eased considerably.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Come in.”

Taeheun followed the man inside. A woman’s voice asked who it was. Presumably his wife. The owner went inside, spoke briefly, and then returned, handing Taeheun the phone.

Since he’d escaped, he might as well make a call.

He paged his accomplice, letting them know he was alright and nothing had happened, in case they started taking action, thinking something had happened to him.

He didn’t know the man’s home phone number, so he returned the phone as is.

“No answer?” the store owner asked with concern.

“No. They must all be drunk and asleep.”

“Oh dear. There’s a guesthouse nearby. Should I check for you?”

“No, that’s okay. Could you just tell me the way to Dongjam-ri?”

“You’re going to walk?”

“Yes.”

The store owner became even more anxious.

“It’s a long way, and it’s dangerous out there. Why don’t you just stay the night?”

“Well, any thief or robber would be more scared of me, wouldn’t they?” Taeheun grinned.

The man seemed to agree, as if acknowledging the truth in his words. He looked Taeheun over with envious eyes, adding, “Must be nice to be young.” He still tried to dissuade Taeheun once more, but when Taeheun remained adamant, he gave up.

The owner explained two routes to Dongjam-ri. One was to follow the main road where the buses ran, and the other was to cross the mountain. Mansu Mountain. The very mountain where, according to legend, a hermit had enjoyed a long and healthy life.

“If you cross that, you’ll be right in Dongjam-ri. It’s about a two-hour walk for a man, but the terrain is rough. If you were wearing sneakers, maybe, but not in slippers. So don’t even think about going over the mountain.”

“Of course not. I’ll take the main road and walk slowly, like I’m strolling.”

“Good. Take it easy. It’s farther than you think.”

Ignoring the owner’s advice, Taeheun headed towards Mansu Mountain.

Going around didn’t suit his style. The mountain didn’t look that high, and he was confident in his physical strength. He thought a two-hour hike would be a piece of cake. He stepped onto the mountain path without hesitation.

An animal howled. Leaves rustled in the wind, and twigs snapped loudly under his slippers. Steep inclines and declines alternated. As the store owner had warned, the terrain was rough and the valleys deep. Taeheun slipped and stumbled frequently.

Still, he walked on and on. Blisters formed on his toes and the tops of his feet, rubbed raw by the slippers, but he ignored the pain. The problem wasn’t the cuts or blisters. His body wasn’t what it used to be. His stamina had plummeted due to his sedentary life at the safe house. As time wore on, even his initially tolerable feet began to scream in protest. He’d fallen so many times that his clothes and hair were a mess. He started to worry absurdly about being mistaken for a spy and shot when he finally saw a light.

As he got closer, he saw it was a small farming shack. He knocked, but there was no answer. The door wasn’t open either. It was secured with only a flimsy padlock, which he could easily break with a rock. He couldn’t walk any further anyway.

I’m such an idiot. He regretted his escape.

As he looked around for a rock, the door opened.

“Who is it?”

It was an elderly man in his underwear. He didn’t seem surprised to see Taeheun. He yawned widely and scratched his belly.

Should I ask to stay the night?

Despite his intention, different words came out.

“I’m trying to get to Dongjam-ri. Is this the right way?”

“Dongjam-ri? It’s the opposite direction.”

Fuck. He’d gone the wrong way. All his motivation drained away.

“Where did you come from?”

Taeheun pointed in the direction he’d come from. The old man stepped out, glanced at it, and shook his head.

“You have to go further up. To the summit.”

He’d been walking for at least three hours, and the thought of walking further was maddening.

Oh, what the hell.

“Can I come in for a moment?”

He brazenly opened the door and stepped inside. The old man nonchalantly stepped aside. The smell of alcohol was strong.

“It’s cramped.”

“It’s fine.”

As soon as he entered the warm space, the tension drained from his body. His blistered feet throbbed painfully.

Taeheun plopped down in the space barely big enough for one person and took off his slippers. His scratched and torn feet must have been bright red. The old man clicked his tongue and rummaged around for a first-aid kit.

“You need some antiseptic.”

He dabbed some povidone-iodine (red antiseptic) onto a cotton ball and applied it to the wounds. Taeheun couldn’t help but groan. It stung and burned like hell, but at the same time, it felt incredibly good.

“You have quite the tolerance for pain, young man,” the old man complimented him, watching him squat.

“Put on a bandage too.”

“Okay.”

“Want something to drink?”

“Some water, please.”

“All I have is alcohol.”

“That’s fine.”

The old man’s face brightened. He seemed relieved to have an excuse to drink.

He opened a large glass jar in the corner, about the size of his torso, and poured the liquid into a metal kettle. It seemed homemade, as the jar was filled with what looked like ginseng or bellflower roots. He brought the kettle and two metal cups, offering no snacks, and set them in front of Taeheun.

Taeheun downed the cup of alcohol in one gulp. The old man chuckled, pleased, and took a long swig himself. He refilled Taeheun’s empty cup without asking any questions. After a few more cups, Taeheun couldn’t fight off the drowsiness and fell asleep right there. He didn’t know what possessed him to fall asleep in a stranger’s shack. The old man could have been a spy, a murderer, anything.

His sleep was short and restless. Despite his exhaustion, he woke up after only about an hour, tormented by another dream of the two-story house. I’ll never get a good night’s sleep again, he thought resignedly.

Taeheun prepared to leave, watching the old man snoring loudly at his feet. The old man must have been a light sleeper because, despite his previous snoring, he sat up abruptly.

“Leaving?”

“Yes.”

He carefully slipped his feet back into his slippers. The old man watched him and asked, “Want to borrow some socks?”

“If you have some.”

“I do. They have holes, but are you okay with that?”

“Of course.”

The old man rummaged through what looked like a pile of trash and produced a pair of socks.

Holes aside, the socks were too small for Taeheun’s large feet. Still, they weren’t completely unwearable, so he crammed his feet inside. Ill-fitting, holey socks, slippers, and grey sweatpants stained with dirt and grass. He looked like a homeless person.

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Why?”

“I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Just tell people you met the old drunk from Namchon-ri. Everyone knows me.”

“Alright.”

“Repay me with alcohol.”

“I will. Definitely.”

Taeheun climbed back up the mountain, seen off by the old man.

Just as the old man had said, he reached the summit and saw a vast expanse of fields spread out before him. He caught his breath and then followed the signs down towards Dongjam-ri.

Climbing a mountain in slippers had been insane. The socks he’d forced on had come off long ago. The bandages on his feet had peeled away, and new blisters formed on his povidone-iodine-covered toes and feet.

By the time he reached the man’s house, the sun had been up for hours. His feet were a mangled mess. They weren’t bleeding, but the antiseptic made them look like they were covered in blood.

Taeheun sat down in front of the green gate. He’d never been so happy to see the shabby, old gate. At the same time, he cursed himself for his stupidity.