ACJY C25

There was nothing like TV to clear one’s head.

“Mr. Gibeom, is it okay if I watch TV?”

“Yes? Ah, yes.”

Taeheun casually walked into the main room and turned on the fan first. It was surprisingly ancient, even older than the one in his own room.

He turned on the TV, but for some reason, only the public broadcasting channels and MBC were available. Only three channels! It was a shock. Even in more rural villages he’d visited, everyone had cable. What on earth did this man do for fun?

“Do you have a radio?”

There was no reply.

“Mr. Gibeom, Mr. Gibeom!”

He leaned into the kitchen and called the man’s name. The man, who was slicing tofu, looked back.

“Do you have a radio?”

“Yes? Ah, yes… Just a moment.”

The man fumbled with the knife in his hand, then called out a child’s name. The child, who had been drawing on the living room floor just a few steps away, jumped up and went to his room, returning with a red cassette radio.

“Mister, please don’t bother my dad.”

The child grumbled, handing him the device.

It was a Goldstar model, with a red body and black speakers and buttons. Taeheun had the same model at home, just a different color. His father used it often, and probably still did.

Inside the cassette player was a bootlegged tape of the latest pop songs. Taeheun pulled out the antenna, switched the function button to radio, and tuned to FM. A voice mingled with static crackled through the speaker. He adjusted the round knob on the right side of the device, and the voice became clearer.

The radio DJ read listeners’ stories, chatted with other staff, and occasionally played music. The DJ laughed loudly at stories that weren’t particularly funny and offered heartfelt advice on ordinary relationship problems.

Meanwhile, soybean paste stew was simmering in an earthenware pot. The smell of soybean paste filled the house. Taeheun instinctively frowned. He felt nauseous. The lunch he had eaten earlier hadn’t fully digested yet, and he’d drunk a whole can of that sweet stuff, so he felt continuously queasy.

The child went to the kitchen, placed spoons and chopsticks on the table, and set out rice bowls. He seemed to be setting a place for Taeheun too, so he quickly stood up.

“I don’t really have an appetite. I guess I had too good a lunch. Is it alright if I go in first?”

“Aren’t you going to eat dinner, Mister?”

The child’s eyes widened.

“No, I’m full.”

“What did you eat?”

The child asked, his face still full of disbelief.

“Duck stew. Mr. Gibeom, I’m sorry. I’ll eat the doenjang jjigae next time.”

“…Yes. Um, Manager.”

The man called out.

“It’s not Manager, it’s Taeheun.”

“If your stomach isn’t feeling well, would you like some plum extract? It helps.”

The man asked, avoiding eye contact.

“No, thank you.”

“Then, how about some fruit?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me and have your dinner.”

Taeheun, suppressing his rising irritation, deliberately yawned loudly.

His upset stomach wasn’t the man’s fault. He didn’t want to take his frustration out on an innocent person.

“I’m so tired even though I haven’t done anything. I guess I walked in the sun for too long.”

He added, as if making an excuse.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. He had been baking his face in the scorching sun for nearly two hours, and he felt like he might have heatstroke.

“Jihye, is it okay if I borrow this, Mister?”

He asked, holding up the cassette radio, and the child nodded.

“Dad, did Mister eat two servings of duck stew?”

Taeheun heard the child ask the man behind his back. He chuckled briefly and closed the door to his room.

A breeze blew in through the open window. Several insects clung to the screen, struggling to get inside. Taeheun flicked the screen with his fingernail, and they quickly flew away.

The forest seen through the window was quite charming. The leaves rustled in the wind. Last night, it had sounded so noisy, but now it was like a lullaby. As he listened, sleepiness crept in. He lay down on the floor without even unfolding the blanket.

He drifted off. He had the same dream again. Taeheun was standing in a small flowerbed, looking at the two-story house, and the owner, the father, bowed towards the house as always. With slumped shoulders and lifeless eyes, he walked out the front gate.

As soon as he woke up, Taeheun checked his palm. Fingernail marks were embedded in his skin, despite his nails being trimmed so short that they rarely left marks. His fist throbbed. He stretched out his fingers and shook them out, massaging them until blood returned to his pale hand.

He was thirsty. He left the room, and the living room light was off. It was excessively quiet, like a house where no one lived. The doors to the main room and the child’s room were open. Taeheun walked as quietly as possible to check if they were in their rooms. Both were sound asleep. The clock had just passed 9:30. No wonder they didn’t mind having only three TV channels.

He went to the kitchen and drank some roasted barley tea. The cool liquid eased his queasiness. Taeheun rarely went to bed before midnight, so going to sleep early was unsettling. He blinked, leaving the radio he’d borrowed from the child on. Past 10 o’clock, the DJ spoke less, and music played continuously. He kept getting distracted by thoughts. “Shit,” he cursed, frowning.

He checked his watch. There would be messages in his voicemail. To use a payphone, he had to go to the village hall. There were two perfectly good phones in the house, but he insisted on using a payphone because he didn’t want to leave any trace, either in this house or the one upstairs. He also couldn’t trust them completely.

Taeheun turned off the radio and grabbed his car keys and cell phone. 

The old hinges squeaked softly. He managed to get through the living room without incident, but the wooden porch creaked under his weight. Startled by the sound, Taeheun quickly climbed onto the door frame, holding his breath and observing the inside. Fortunately, there was no sign of the child or the man. The dogs were the problem, but since they hadn’t barked at him earlier that evening, he decided to trust them again.

Just as he was feeling relieved, a sleepy voice asked, 

“Where are you going?”

Taeheun turned around in surprise. The man was peeking his head out from the main room. His hair was a mess, and he could barely open his eyes. Rubbing his eyes with his large hand, the man started to come out.

“Sorry to wake you. I left something in the car, I’m just going to get it. Go back to sleep.”

“Ah…”

The man disappeared. There was a rustling sound from inside the room, and then the man came out into the living room, putting on a t-shirt.

“I’ll hold them for you, in case the kids wake up.”

His voice was still thick with sleep.

“You said they don’t bite.”

“They do at night.”

The man said flatly.

“Then it’s okay. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

As Taeheun turned to go back inside, the man said it was alright and stepped onto the porch. His large body swayed with each step.

Oh, this isn’t right.

He scratched his eyebrow.

Is the man watching me? The thought briefly crossed his mind. In a way, it was natural. He wouldn’t have taken him in without some reason.

The man turned on the incandescent light bulb hanging under the eaves and knelt at the edge of the porch. Then he curled his body and looked down. The dogs must have been sleeping there.

“Go ahead.”

The man gestured for Taeheun to go with a nod of his chin, still in that position.

“I’ll keep watch here.”

“You don’t have to.”

“The kids might wake up when you come back in.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Taeheun reluctantly stepped down into the yard.

The dry air had a pleasant coolness. The breeze was refreshing. He took a deep breath through his nose and opened the gate. The gate screeched loudly. Worried that the dogs would wake up and run at him, Taeheun quickly closed the gate.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He hadn’t come out to smoke, but habitually put a cigarette in his mouth. He inserted the car key and opened the driver’s side door. He sat with his legs outside, his buttocks barely on the seat.

He sighed deeply. He chewed on the cigarette, then remembered the man was waiting.

Taeheun rummaged through the glove compartment and console box, looking for something to take back. Two chocolate bars, a recent road map, a laptop brochure he’d picked up from a Sony dealership he’d visited recently, a three-day-old sports newspaper, and the latest issue of Maxim. The man would surely flip out if he saw the Maxim, so he hid it under the bamboo mat. The rest didn’t seem urgent enough to warrant leaving his bed in the middle of the night.

Maybe the newspaper would do. He could say he wanted something to read out of boredom, and it would be plausible. Taeheun picked up the newspaper and got out of the car.

It was truly dark around the house. He felt a strange sense of remoteness. He looked up at the sky, where dozens of stars shone brightly.

Oh. There are still stars.

He turned back to look at the house. He couldn’t see inside because of the high wall, but the incandescent light the man had turned on glowed faintly.

Would the man still be waiting for him in the same position?

Taeheun put the cigarette back in the pack and opened the gate. The gate screeched loudly, as before. The man was standing in the yard. Although he must have heard Taeheun, he stood motionless, looking up at the sky just as Taeheun had done moments earlier.

“Do you know?”

The man asked. Taeheun assumed he was about to say something trivial about constellations and didn’t respond. The man lowered his head and looked directly at Taeheun. He whispered softly,

“I know nothing about you, Manager. I haven’t asked, either. I just heard from Detective Daeho that you are a very important person, someone he’s staked his entire career on. So I agreed. I thought I’d never have the chance to host someone so important, and since Detective Daeho considers being a police officer his calling, and since you’re someone he’s staked his life on, I figured I’d do it as a way to repay him and for other reasons as well. Jihye doesn’t know anything. She just knows you’re an office worker introduced by Detective Daeho, staying with us temporarily while the house upstairs is being repaired. She’s a curious child and will ask questions, but please just keep telling her that until the day you leave.”

The man looked exhausted, as if he had just said a week’s worth of words. He sighed deeply, his chest heaving, and added, 

“Please let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“It’s not Manager, it’s Taeheun. Call me Mr. Taeheun.”

The man didn’t reply and squatted down in front of the porch.

“Go on up. You’ll wake the kids.”

Taeheun looked at the man’s back for a moment before hurrying onto the porch.

Even as he walked to his room, the man remained sitting beneath the porch, watching the dogs. He thought about asking, “Aren’t you coming in?” but stopped himself. 

He closed the door to his room without saying goodnight. He tossed the sports newspaper onto the blanket. He had come up with an excuse and brought it with him, but he hadn’t had a chance to use it.

So, Detective Oh had staked his career on him. Taeheun was grateful that Detective Oh had spoken of him that way. At the same time, he felt sorry for the man. He had taken Taeheun in without asking any questions, based solely on Detective Oh’s words. He seemed completely unaware of the danger. This was how the police operated. 

Detective Oh had ultimately dragged his naive friend from his hometown into this for the sake of the important “Kim Taeheun.”

Taeheun vowed never to harm the man and his child. Who was he to endanger a peaceful family? It had been a long time since he felt the desire to protect someone. His chest felt strangely full, and his mind was oddly at peace.

He lay down on his stomach and opened the crossword puzzle section of the newspaper. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a pen with a hotel name printed on it. It was the same hotel where his uncle had thrown a party to celebrate his early graduation ten years ago. Perhaps it was more accurate to say it was the place where his life had been mortgaged. The day he decided to do this job, he had stayed at that hotel and, sitting at a large desk, written the word “traitor.”

The first question was easy. He scribbled down the answer. He faintly heard the sliding door close. He turned off the fan and pricked up his ears, trying to determine the man’s location. He wondered if the man might come this way, come to his room and say goodnight.

Uneven footsteps echoed on the wooden floor. After a moment, silence returned. The man must have gone straight back to his room. Taeheun let out a small, deflated laugh and turned the fan back on. Then he moved on to question number two of the crossword puzzle.