ACJY C56

After a hearty dinner of samgyeopsal, Taeheun and the man lay side by side on the porch, giving in to the child’s insistence. The child fetched a cucumber from the fridge, sliced it neatly, and carefully placed the pieces one by one on the man’s face.

“Don’t eat them,” the child warned earnestly.

No sooner had the child spoken than Taeheun plucked a cucumber slice from the man’s face and popped it into his mouth. The child playfully slapped Taeheun’s arm.

“If you keep doing that, I won’t put any more on you!”

“Sorry, it just looked too tasty,” Taeheun replied.

Pouting, the child moved to sit beside Taeheun and began placing cucumber slices on his face with the same care she’d given the man. This time, it was the man who sneakily took a slice from Taeheun’s face and ate it.

“Father!” the child exclaimed.

“Sorry,” the man said, chuckling mischievously.

The child let out an exasperated “Ugh” but couldn’t hide a smirk.

“By the way, now that I think about it, there’s no one around to see us even if we stripped and washed at the tap. Right? So why did we bother scrubbing each other’s backs? Such a hassle,” Taeheun said, recalling an earlier moment.

“True,” the man agreed.

“Let’s just wash outside next time. I’m planning to.”

“Sure, let’s do that.”

“You two scrubbed each other’s backs?” the child asked, her voice so loud it startled the man.

“Hey, you’re scaring Father!” Taeheun said.

“Oops, sorry! Did you really scrub each other’s backs? When? Today?”

“Yeah, we did. Not today, last week,” the man replied.

“I see,” the child said, trying to suppress a grin as her eyes darted around.

“So you scrubbed backs,” she muttered to herself, giggling. Then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, she slapped her thigh. “Oh, Father, let’s go catch crayfish in the stream! Junyoung said he caught some yesterday and today.”

“There’s a stream here?” Taeheun interjected.

“Of course! Is there a village without a stream?” the child said, as if it were absurd to think otherwise.

“Where is it?”

“Near the chairman’s villa.”

“He has a villa too?” Taeheun thought, grumbling inwardly about the chairman’s already mansion-like house.

“It’s just a small cabin. The chairman goes there alone to rest sometimes,” the man explained.

“Oh, a cabin,” Taeheun said, suddenly remembering the old drunkard he’d met in the mountains, the old man from Namchon-ri.

“Hey, Mr. Gibeom, is Namchon-ri far from here?”

“No, it’s a bit of a detour, but not too far. Why?”

“There’s someone I owe a favor to, and I forgot about it,” Taeheun said.

The man looked puzzled. “I heard this was your first time here.”

“It is. First time, but there’s a story behind it.”

“Let’s go catch crayfish!” the child shouted, feeling ignored and demanding attention.

“We’re going, right, Father? What about you, mister?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go. Mr. Gibeom, you’re coming too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yay! I’m so excited! Let’s go tomorrow—tomorrow right away!” the child cheered, accidentally knocking over the bowl of sliced cucumbers, scattering them across the floor.

One might expect a scolding, but the man simply groped around the porch, picked up a cucumber slice, and chewed on it. Taeheun followed suit, reaching out and accidentally touching the man’s hand. He grabbed the man’s wrist and guided it to his mouth. The man, momentarily startled, placed the cucumber slice in Taeheun’s mouth.

“Tasty,” Taeheun said, munching like the man.

The child joined in, gleefully eating the scattered cucumbers and securing a promise to go to the stream right after church. She then left Taeheun and the man on the porch and went down to the yard, humming an unrecognizable tune and playing tag with the puppies.

“It’s hot,” the man said.

The child didn’t respond.

Taeheun, ignoring the falling cucumber slices, turned to look at the man, who had his eyes closed.

“Asleep?” Taeheun asked softly.

“No,” the man replied.

“Can I watch TV in your room later, Mr. Gibeom?”

“Of course.”

“Was the samgyeopsal good?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I enjoyed it too.”

The man opened his eyes and cautiously turned his head toward Taeheun. Two cucumber slices fell to the floor.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For the samgyeopsal and everything.”

The man’s face reddened as he turned his head back. Taeheun froze at the heartfelt gratitude. He’d heard countless thanks in his life, but none felt as meaningful as this. He was about to say he was grateful too when the child bounded back onto the porch, calling for the man.

“Father!”

“Huh?”

“Should we pack now? You might forget, so should we get the net, the scoop, and whatever else and load them onto your truck?”

“I’ll take care of it,” the man said.

It could’ve been put off, but the man didn’t dismiss the child’s words. He peeled the cucumbers off his face and sat up. Taeheun followed, removing his now-warm cucumber slices.

As the man moved, the child and the puppies trailed after him. Taeheun almost followed too, chuckling to himself that the man was like a pied piper. He looked up at the sky, where stars twinkled brightly. He felt truly happy, alive, as if reborn.

---

Sunday arrived as expected, and they went to church for service. After lunch, they returned home and changed clothes. The child wore a one-piece swimsuit with shorts and a pink T-shirt Taeheun had bought her. The man and Taeheun each packed an extra pair of shorts and a T-shirt in case they got wet.

“Why so much stuff?” Taeheun asked.

He and the man had just one bag, but the man had packed a load for the child: towels of various sizes, bandages, and ointment for emergencies.

“Oh, hats,” the child said.

The man belatedly searched for hats. Though the cloudy sky suggested they wouldn’t need them, Taeheun grabbed his too.

Thinking they were ready, the man picked up the packed bags and headed for the gate. It wasn’t camping or a vacation, but the preparations felt a bit sparse.

“What about the burner?” Taeheun called out urgently.

“Why a burner?” the man asked, turning back puzzled.

“To cook ramen there.”

“We just ate.”

“Come on, it’s not the same. Jihye, you want ramen, right?”

“Of course!” the child said.

The man set the bags down and started toward the house, but Taeheun stopped him.

“I’ll get it. Mr. Gibeom, load the bags.”

Taeheun rummaged through the house like it was his own, gathering a burner, pot, butane gas, six packs of ramen, green onions, three eggs, and an icebox from the storage. He put the onions, eggs, and some kimchi in the icebox.

“Let’s stop by the store on the way to get beer for us and a drink/banner for the kid. Water alone won’t do.”

“Okay,” the man said.

“You’re drinking?” the child asked, raising an eyebrow at the mention of beer.

“Just one can each. I’ll make sure Father doesn’t overdo it, so don’t worry,” Taeheun said.

The child looked unsatisfied but didn’t want to ruin the mood and said, “Okay.”

Taeheun took the wheel. When they stopped at the store, the child rushed out, eager to buy a disposable camera. Taeheun realized he’d never seen a camera at the man’s house.

“Mr. Gibeom, you don’t take photos often?” Taeheun asked, picking up a can of beer.

“Only at events. No need otherwise,” the man said.

“Why not? Taking a photo now and then makes for good memories.”

Taeheun grabbed another disposable camera. Though he’d promised one can each, he sneaked six beers into the cart while pretending to browse for peanuts and squid as snacks. The child bought a WorldCon, an Ambasa, and a bag of honey twists, refusing to take more despite Taeheun’s urging—not out of restraint but because, like her father, she wasn’t greedy.

“Mr. Gibeom, let’s get WorldCons too.”

“I’m fine,” the man said.

Ignoring him, Taeheun placed two WorldCons on the counter.

At the store, the grandmother’s daughter-in-law was there. She greeted the man and Taeheun warmly but was cold to the child. The reason became clear on the way to the stream.

“That lady is Suho’s mom,” the child said.

“The kid you fought with?” Taeheun asked.

“Yeah. He only picks on kids smaller than him,” she said.

The man scolded her for using a harsh word, and she apologized, though not sincerely.

“I haven’t seen that kid around here,” Taeheun said.

“He lives in town. That lady does too. She comes to help when the store grandma has something to do,” the child explained, arms crossed, sounding serious.

She seemed to have more to say but stayed quiet, licking her ice cream instead.

The man reached out and turned on the radio. Expecting pop music, Taeheun was surprised to hear a children’s song, too childish even for the child. But the man didn’t care.

The child, initially indifferent, soon sang loudly.

“Up, up, the airplane flies, flies high, our airplane flies!”

The man and Taeheun joined in.

When “Island Baby” played, the child frantically turned off the radio.

“Father, this song! They say it’s haunted!”

“Still telling those ghost stories, huh?” Taeheun said.

“It’s not a story, it’s real! Listen to the lyrics. How does a baby alone have a pillow under its arm? That pillow’s a ghost!”

“That’s a kind ghost, then, giving the baby a pillow,” Taeheun teased.

The man smiled subtly.

“No, really! The ghost eats the baby!” the child insisted.

“Okay, you’re deafening us,” the man said, patting her head as she fumed.

Taeheun barely held back laughter to avoid upsetting her.

“Mr. Gibeom, want to move to the middle? I want some ice cream too.”

“Oh, sure.”

Taeheun pulled over.