ACJY C18

As soon as dinner was over, the man left with the child.

“Jihye, do you even study?” 

Taeheun asked provocatively in the truck on the way home. The child stuck out their tongue instead of answering. 

Seeing this, the man told the child, “You shouldn’t do that to adults.” 

His tone was so gentle it was hard to tell whether he was scolding or praising.

“Mr. Gibeom, what time do you go to work?” 

Taeheun changed the subject.

“5:30.” The child answered.

“That early? Wow. Mr. Gibeom must not be a morning person. What time do you go to bed?”

“Nine o’clock.” The child answered again.

“Nine o’clock? What, you don’t even watch the news?”

“What’s the point of watching that stuff? It’s always boring and bad.”

All the questions directed at the man were intercepted by the child, who answered clearly in their father’s stead.

“You don’t actually not have a TV, do you?”

“We do! What house doesn’t have a TV these days!” 

The child retorted.

“No, I just asked because you go to bed so early.”

“We have everything here, and we do everything. Living in Seoul isn’t all that. It’s a quick bus ride away.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘oppa,’ seriously?” 

The child didn’t yield an inch. Thanks to them, the ride home was enjoyable. The man just drove silently like a chauffeur.

Darkness fell faster in the countryside than in the city. The surroundings, which had been bright just a moment ago, were now pitch black. There were no streetlights on the road to the man’s house, so he had to turn on the high beams.

The truck shook violently. Every time the child, sitting in the middle, bounced, they shrieked with delight. A smile spread across the man’s face.

What a softie. Taeheun suddenly felt annoyed by the affectionate father and daughter, and fixed his gaze out the window.

The man opened the gate and stepped onto the porch first, turning on the light. Then he shielded Taeheun from the dogs. The dogs were ecstatic, jumping on their owner and licking him enthusiastically. The child was about to dash onto the porch, but came back down at the man’s words, “Wash your hands first.”

“You wash your hands too, mister!” the child shouted toward Taeheun as they headed to the sink. Turning on the faucet, water gushed out. The child washed their hands and face as the man had done, then stepped aside for Taeheun. Before the man could even hand them a towel, the child ran to the porch without drying off. They stepped onto the porch and tried to open the sliding door.

“Dad! The door won’t open!” the child yelled, shaking the door as if trying to break it.

“Wait. Dad will open it after washing up.” He glanced at Taeheun. The child plopped down on the porch, arms crossed, their gaze directed at Taeheun, not their father. It was an unspoken pressure to hurry up and wash.

Taeheun chuckled and bent down. He washed his hands and face as the child had done. The cold water quickly cooled the heat brought on by the alcohol.

“Is this water drinkable?” he asked, looking back at the man.

“Yes.”

“Is it well water?”

“No. It’s water coming down from the mountain,” replied the man, still being showered with affection by the dogs.

“I miss this. I used to drink water like this often when I was young,” Taeheun murmured, crouching down and bringing his lips to the faucet. Half the water splashed his face and the other half went into his mouth. True to the man’s words, the water was delicious. He drank until his thirst was quenched and turned off the tap. He went up to the porch and sat next to the child.

“Mr. Gibeom, you should wash up too,” Taeheun said.

“Mr. Gibeom, you should wash up too,” the child mimicked Taeheun, giggling. 

They had said it loud enough for the man to hear, and he probably heard. Taeheun imagined the man blushing, and it made him laugh too.

“Who do you take after, being so cheeky?”

“Who do you take after, being so cheeky?” 

The child mimicked Taeheun again and laughed hysterically.

Water dripped from the child’s un-wiped face. The same was true for Taeheun. The droplets dampened their clothes and fell onto the porch.

The man petted the dogs a few more times before heading to the sink. As he walked, he pulled off his t-shirt and used it like a towel to wipe his neck and body. Then he turned on the tap, washed his hands, and drank some water.

Taeheun also pulled out his shirt from his pants to wipe the water off his face. Seeing this, the child pulled up their shirt and wiped their face as well. Taeheun and the child smiled at each other, and the man approached the porch with a puzzled look.

“Dad, open the door. I need to use the bathroom,” the child said. At their words, the man, still in his boots, took out a key from his pocket.

“Give it here. I’ll open it,” Taeheun snatched the key from the man’s hand. His hand was hot to the touch. For some reason, the man flinched and pulled his hand back. Taeheun barely suppressed his laughter and got up from the porch.

He inserted the key into the keyhole. The door opened on the first try. I’m better at picking locks than a Damas, he thought proudly, sliding the door open. The child sprang inside. They must have been really desperate.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly, his face genuinely grateful.

“Don’t bother locking up for me. A thief would be more scared of me anyway.” Taeheun glanced at his luggage by the door. The man slowly took off his boots. He naturally picked up Taeheun’s bag.

“Give it to me. I’ll carry it.”

“I’ll show you to your room.”

“Give me the bag.”

Ignoring Taeheun, the man walked with his large body swaying slightly.

He opened the door to the room Taeheun would be using and put the bag down. He turned on the light and stepped aside.

“This room was used as storage, so there are some things in here.”

“It’s fine. This is all the luggage I have anyway.” Taeheun put his hands on his hips and looked around the room. It was a tiny room, barely bigger than his hand, with a small window. The floor, covered with a summer mat and blanket, had several patches of tape, and a cheap metal clothes rack, seemingly brought in for Taeheun, stood slanted, avoiding the stacked boxes.

“Should I shower first, or do you want to go first, Mr. Gibeom?”

“Jihye first.”

“Jihye, then Mr. Gibeom, then me?”

“No. After Jihye, you should shower first, sir. I’ll go last.” The man called Taeheun “sir,” and for some reason, it didn’t sit right with him.

“Call me Taeheun. Or Mr. Taeheun if you really can’t.”

“…”

“Otherwise, I’ll call you ‘President Gibeom.’”

The man pressed his lips together. Then he abruptly said, “Rest.”

“Why don’t you answer and just leave? You can speak casually to me. I’m two years younger than you.”

The man turned his back without answering. The back of his neck was bright red. Taeheun laughed, and the child, emerging from the bathroom, stuck out their tongue at the sight. The man, having seen it somehow, pretended to stroke the child’s hair and ushered them back into the bathroom.

“Go wash up.”

“Can’t I wash later?”

“Go wash up now. You can play after.” His tone was still gentle but firm. The child pouted dramatically.

“I’ll get my change of clothes.”

“Dad will get them for you.”

“…Okay.” The child closed the bathroom door, looking dejected.

So the child washed up, followed by Taeheun.

Knock, knock. Someone knocked. Taeheun, in the middle of undressing, replied, “Yes?”

“Here’s a towel.” The door opened just a crack, and the man’s hand, holding a towel, poked in. Apparently, he hadn’t seen Taeheun enter the bathroom with a towel.

“Thank you.” Taeheun took the towel. It was a new one again. He was grateful for the consideration, but somehow embarrassed, so he let out a chuckle.

Finally, the man took his shower. He took a rather long shower. Taeheun lay in his room, listening blankly to the sound of the water.

He was lying in the house he had longed to be in. If he called out, “Mr. Gibeom,” the man would answer. 

If he shouted, “Jihye!” the child would yell back, “What?” irritably. 

Or maybe they would stick their tongue out instead of answering. It feels like a dream, he thought, his heart fluttering with excitement, making his stomach churn.

The chirping of insects was loud. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind occasionally covered the chirping, and the incredibly old fan whirred, circulating air.

The countryside night was noisier than he expected.

And longer.