ACJY C39

He quickly unfolded the aluminum folding table onto the porch and went to the kitchen to receive the bowls the man handed him. As always, neatly arranged noodles were topped with young radish kimchi. The man, after adding ice to the richly brewed anchovy broth and tasting it one last time, led the way, carrying the pot of broth. Taeheun followed, carrying the man’s bowl of noodles as well.

The man carefully ladled the broth, avoiding the julienned cucumbers. Taeheun took a spoonful of broth first. Fuck. This was it. It was truly delicious. The naengmyeon (cold noodles) he’d had in town was nothing compared to the man’s noodles.

“Did you take cooking classes or something? How is this so good?”

Taeheun exclaimed, and the man blushed.

“There’s more if you want seconds. Just let me know.”

“Okay. Thank you for the food.”

Taeheun eagerly worked his chopsticks. He ate about half without any seasoning, just the young radish kimchi, and then added the red pepper paste, mixed with chopped peppers, to the remaining half. The pepper paste added a delicious savory flavor.

One bowl wasn’t nearly enough. Seeing Taeheun’s empty bowl, the man wordlessly brought more noodles.

“Just a little,” Taeheun said, but he would have been disappointed if the man had actually given him just a little. Fortunately, the man seemed to misunderstand the meaning of “a little.” He twirled the noodles and placed them in the center of the bowl, not forgetting to add more cucumbers and young radish kimchi as toppings.

The man watched Taeheun eat as if he were a child. It was affectionate. Taeheun felt both embarrassed and pleased. It was unfamiliar to have someone look at him so tenderly, especially while he was eating so ravenously.

He was curious about the man. Did this man, who seemed as calm and peaceful as the deep sea, also have intense emotions churning within him like other men? Things like sexual desire.

While Taeheun polished off two bowls, the man ate only one bowl at his own pace and then put down his chopsticks.

“I’ll do the dishes. You sit and rest.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Have you ever seen a chef do the dishes? Rest. I need to move around a bit, I’m full.”

Taeheun pushed down on the man’s shoulder as he tried to stand. He’d unknowingly used too much force, and the man fell back onto his bottom.

“See? This is what happens when you refuse.”

He made a silly excuse, feeling sorry.

Taeheun cleared the table and did all the dishes. He acted as if he were in his own home. He usually didn’t go near the kitchen, yet he was in and out of this man’s kitchen as if he’d lived here for years. He knew exactly what was in each cupboard and where each dish belonged. It felt so familiar that he had the illusion of having lived here for years.

Just as he finished washing the dishes and was drying his hands, the house phone rang. He saw the man tense up at the sound.

“I’ll get it,” Taeheun called out, wiping his hands with a dish towel and hurrying to the living room to pick up the receiver.

“Hello.”

—Detective Park.

Fuck. The curse slipped out.

It wasn’t that he disliked Detective Park. Detective Oh, Detective Park, and the others had all been very good to him. But whenever they called, they always had a specific purpose. This meant he’d have to think about his uncle and Lee Hyeonjun, whether he wanted to or not.

—I’m in town. Could you come out for a bit?

It wasn’t a request, but an order.

“Sure. I guess so.”

Detective Park gave him the location and hung up.

He looked back at the man. He could see the man’s silhouette leaning against the sliding door.

“I’ll pick up some samgyeopsal while I’m out,” he muttered to himself as he put down the receiver.

Dejected after meeting Detective Park in town, Taeheun drank alone and didn’t take a taxi back until after midnight. The man and the child were both asleep.

How long did they wait for me?

Around 11 o’clock, the man had called Taeheun’s cell phone.

—When will you be back?

His voice was timid, as if he’d done something wrong by calling. The one in the wrong was Taeheun, for being late without any word.

The moment he heard the man’s voice, Taeheun realized that he, too, had a home to return to. A place where someone was waiting for him.

He felt pathetic for having pointlessly wasted time drinking. Still, he’d bought the promised samgyeopsal. Worried it would spoil, he had asked the bar to keep it in their refrigerator. He told himself he was a bad guy, but not that bad. He carefully placed the bag of still-cold meat in the freezer.

Trying not to wake the man and the child, he quietly went to his room and closed the door. He laid down on a hastily spread futon.

Yesterday…well, past midnight now, so the day before yesterday.

Two days ago, Detective Park had shown Taeheun some incomprehensible documents after he’d spent seven hours working upstairs. Apparently, the documents he’d worked on in the morning were excellent, but the ones from the afternoon were gibberish.

The documents, sent by a consulting team of tax accountants and certified public accountants, were numerical scribbles. Detective Park had cautiously told him that Taeheun had produced them. He then asked if Taeheun had perhaps lost interest in the work, adding that Detective Oh was very worried. He also apologized profusely for their major blunder regarding the Gyeonggi Provincial Police Commissioner position.

Taeheun pretended to still be angry about the Commissioner position, but then reassured them that, while he was disappointed, he certainly hadn’t lost interest.

After Detective Park left, he’d clutched his head. He had no memory of doing that work. He’d thought he’d been completely absorbed in the numbers, for the first time in a long time. He’d even held off on bathroom breaks to maintain his focus. But the results Detective Park showed him were completely different.

The reason they’d supported him so thoroughly in becoming the “Kim Taeheun” he was now was because he possessed valuable information. If the same mistake happened again, they would start to doubt him. The moment their trust disappeared, Lee Seonjae’s death would become nothing more than a cheap show.

All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind. His sleep was shallow and restless. Whenever he drifted off, even for a moment, the two-story house appeared. Even though it should have been fading, it became clearer each day. Taeheun held up his hand and stared at his palm. Even though it was a dream, he instinctively checked, half-expecting to see pink flower stains.

4:30 AM. The alarm rang on cue. The sound felt like a breath of fresh air. He heard the sound of running water; the man must be washing up. He lingered in bed for a moment before dragging himself and his heavy head out to the living room. Standing on the porch, he watched the sky lighten. It had been so beautiful yesterday, but today it felt tedious. The prospect of living through another meaningless day was suffocating.

“You’re up?”

The man asked, drying his wet hair.

“Yeah. Did you sleep well, Mr. Gibeom?”

“Yes.”

He turned and smiled brightly, and the man blushed a beat later.

“Um… would you like to wash up first? I’ll wake Jihye after you’re done.”

“Okay.”

As he stepped into the bathroom, he was curious about the man’s plans for the day.

“Where are you working today?”

“At Yongjun’s rice paddy.”

“Planting rice?”

“That was finished last month. It’s weeding work.”

“You do that for Yongjun? What does he do?”

“He can’t do that kind of work. And it’s not even his own land.”

The man spoke as if it were obvious.

“You’re not doing it alone, are you?”

“I am.”

“Isn’t it a large area?”

“Even if it’s large, it’s manageable with a brush cutter.”

Since the man had used the word “large,” it must be fucking huge.

“Weeding will take all day, won’t it?”

“Yes. That’s why today it’s just Yongjun’s paddy.”

“How many brush cutters do you have?”

The man blinked, as if unsure of the intent behind the question.

“I need to help. Did you think you’d leave me here and go off to work by yourself?”

Taeheun hadn’t planned on going out today. He hadn’t, but the words had left his mouth before he could stop them. He wondered if the head on his shoulders was even his own.

“But you struggled so much with the melon greenhouse…”

The man hesitated.

“I didn’t throw up because it was hard work. I wasn’t feeling well, that’s all.”

Taeheun protested, but the man still looked doubtful.

“Weeding work is really hard. And if you’ve never used a brush cutter before, you can get hurt.”

“Why would you assume I’ve never used a brush cutter? I’ve been all over the country, to every field, mountain, and valley. I’ve even cleared weeds at other people’s ancestral graves.”

The man laughed. “Go wash up,” he said.

Instead of going into the bedroom with the wet towel, the man went down to the yard. His large frame swayed slightly with each step. The sight still felt strange and unfamiliar. Would the man have lived a better life if he hadn’t injured his leg? He felt a pang of pity for him.

Despite Taeheun’s fleeting pity, the man’s movements were quick and decisive. He hung the wet towel on the clothesline and began taking down the dry laundry. He was efficient, but not hurried or stressed.

Compared to his own impatient, impulsive, and simultaneously listless nature, the man seemed far superior. Taeheun felt ashamed of his own arrogance, simply because he had two working legs. Scratching his eyebrow, he headed for the bathroom.